ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛᴇᴇɴ

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(ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛᴇᴇɴ: ʀᴇᴘᴇʀᴄᴜssɪᴏɴs)

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(ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛᴇᴇɴ: ʀᴇᴘᴇʀᴄᴜssɪᴏɴs)

She stared blankly down the driveway of Selwyn Manor. Her robes flapped in the wind, and her skin was flushed from the cold, the most color she'd had in a while.

Narcissa stood besides her, head turned slightly to watch the young Selwyn's facial expressions.

"Are you ready?"

Aven remained silent. She didn't have to answer because it didn't matter what she said. She didn't have a choice. She never did.

She would damn Narcissa Malfoy to hell until the end of her days for having picked Aven off that roof. Ten more minutes and she would've been dead. Ten minutes and this nightmare would be over.

But Narcissa had appeared. She'd stupefied her, led her to her, casted a warming spell as well as various blankets, and left Aven's body to repair the damage that had happened to her. The remainder of the week Aven laid still in bed. Every movement hurt her, every sound scared her, and every time she saw the mirror she wished the be dead in the snow.

Narcissa continued to degrade her for being selfish to leave the task upon Draco's shoulders, but Aven saw through it. She noticed the pitying glances and the fear that Narcissa held- the fear that Voldemort would do the same thing to Draco that he'd done to her.

Narcissa had come everyday. She had come to Aven's room, checked on her, re-dressed her wounds without magic, and then left. No words were exchanged. The silence ate at them even now. Aven hadn't spoken since the Dark Lord's visit.

Narcissa didn't touch Aven's left arm. Instead, she moved to her right side, mindful of Aven's battered palms. She looped their arms and Narcissa closed her eyes. Aven let the emptiness of her stomach heave as she swirled through locations and appeared on King's Cross Station. The platform was crazy busy, people pushing back and forth. Narcissa scanned the area in discomfort before turning to Aven.

"Survive," she softly said, and she gave Aven a once over before apparating away.

Aven stood alone. She re-adjusted her grip on her luggage and inhaled, turning to face the train. She forced her heavy legs forward, nearing the train steadily.

People hurried past her slow paces as if in a hurry, but Aven wasted as much time on the walk down the platform as she could. She made a bee-line for the bathrooms as soon as she stored her belongings. She had no interest in sitting in a compartment, therefore she pushed open the stall to the loo and leaned against the wall. She slid down to the ground, knees against her chest, as she twisted her wand around her fingers in boredom. Occasionally girls came by, demanding in as they pounded on the door. Aven wouldn't say a thing and kept the door locked until they stomped away.

What seemed like hours later, the train finally screeched to a halt, and Aven straightened her tie before she stood and exited the bathroom. She supplied a nasty look to the people near her, opening a path for her to walk as they backed away.

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