❛❜I hang around Thestrals because, unlike humans,
they don't treat me like I'm damaged.❛❜
°∘❉∘°
- in which, Gryffindor's golden boy
refuses to let go of his summer love story
but Ravenclaw's lucky charm
refuses to let him back in
°∘❉∘°
[...
"I am the best Seeker in Ravenclaw, I intend on keeping my title."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⭒ 𓅓 ⭒
She wasn't breathing.
She lay there on the floor, her breath was nonexistent.
Her eyes stared up at the stars above her head, the usual warmth in them vanishing slowly as her soul completely left her body. It was as if nothing else was around her; No sound, no odours, nothing touching her, only the sight of the constellations. Her senses had stopped working to make her death easier.
The Moon saddened at its old friend's pain and ensured it shone brighter that night, hoping to send her into the light. The stars did the same as they would miss this old friend. Faye Amara Hewitt had been with them for so long, why did she have to leave so soon? Why did she have to leave her children behind?
Her blue eyes filled with sparkles as questions were asked and a scream was heard, but Faye stayed unmoving, completely hypnotized by the sky. She was ready, the universe knew it. It had planned it for quite a long, but the time had finally come.
Faye had this grin on her face, one that assured her she would be fine. But Amara Verity Hewitt wasn't.
The fifteen-year-old's screams were heartbreaking. Even the cruellest hearts would melt if they heard them. She was pleading, begging, for Faye to wake up. Tears poured down her red cheeks and her hands were shaking her mother's body. Sobs escaped her mouth each time she opened it to scream once more. Her hair, normally a bright golden, was grey, matching her sorrow.
She tried compressions and magic, but nothing could bring back the most important person in her life. Amara's fist collided with the wet grass after she punched it for the millionth time, blood covering her surroundings.
There was too much blood, she thought.
From her fingertips to her arms, her mother's blood stained her skin like paint stains on a canvas. And now her blood covered her broken fist. Amara panicked while Faye appeared peaceful. Those two emotions weren't a good pair, especially when one person was dying, the other trying to bring her back by any means necessary.
"Come on, mamma," Amara's voice broke after the affectionate word she used to address Faye. She slowly realized that she would never get to call her that way anymore. She would never see her mamma alive again, and it hurt. It was as if the air got knocked out of her lungs.
