the girl who lost it all [d.m]

seventy two: somnium

somnium: dream, fantasy, vision

———

ELARA could get used to this.

After everything that had happened to her, after everything she'd been through, she should've been empty. She should've been drained of any emotion, should've been dead to the world. Maybe even insane. She didn't know how she'd held it together—because, frankly, a lifetime in St. Mungo's didn't seem so bad, compared to everything she'd been through.

Yet, she'd survived. She'd fought and gone against everything and everyone that tried to bring her down. Had glared stubbornly in their faces and refused defeat. And she'd done it all while still remaining soft and kind, caring and forgiving.

The world had taken so much from her but she still treated it with respect.

It wasn't easy. She still had nightmares that she woke up screaming and crying from. Still had to crawl to the bathroom and empty her stomach into the toilet. Still curled up on the cold floor, shivering, her teeth chattering and waited for the pain to end.

The first few weeks had been the hardest. She'd passed out for days as soon as they'd reached safety. She hadn't been able to eat or drink, had hardly gotten any sleep and quite frankly, remembered nothing.

Just Draco across the courtyard with a slash across his face in the metal of his mask, exposing blood and muscle underneath. Just him falling to his knees and sinking to the floor. Amelia's raw scream echoing off the stone as she tried to haul him to his feet.

But Orion had been merciless. Had only dragged Elara out of those gates, hadn't even given her a chance to help. Apparated her out of there as soon as they crossed the wards, made sure she was in safe hands with Astoria and Theo—and then Apparated back.

Astoria had held her as she sobbed.

She'd stayed there for the next couple days. Had wandered listlessly around the house with no news of the battle. Things had been so chaotic that even after Malfoy Manor had been brought to the ground, no one knew who had had won and who hadn't.

Theo had kept her company. He'd follow her into the gardens to sit with her. Given her books and told her stories and jokes.

Astoria had even offered her own painting set to Elara.

Exactly a week after the night at Malfoy Manor, Orion had returned. He hadn't said anything to Elara. Had only thanked Astoria and Theo and then whisked her off to his own house.

The streets of Paisley had been quiet—and considering that she was walking in the open, Elara knew who had won. But there was no relief in her, no joy.

There was only Draco's limp body, his hand hitting stone with a thud that she shouldn't have been able to hear—but which resonated through her own bones.