The Girl Who Lived

Promise

June 27th, 1996.

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Elena Jean Clairmont knew she was dreaming the moment she appeared in the doorway of Grimmauld Place alone.

She looked down at her hands and realized she wasn't in her human form by the long fingers and she reached up and touched her pointed ears prodding out through her hair. Her white hair. Holy gods- her beautiful, long and richly brown hair was bone white, all of it and it was shorter. Instead of brushing her tailbone, it was mid length, just barely past her chest.

She was in her Fae form, white hair and new scars and dark tattoos decorated her arms. Holy hell.

Elena took a cautious step forward, testing the boundaries of her dream and nothing happened as she continued down the hallway, breezing past the numerous framed photographs that Sirius and Remus had used to decorate the grim house.

The living room was empty, perfectly the same, just as she had last seen it. The throw pillows were untouched against the couch and the coffee table had the same book that Elena had last been reading, the same flowers that Draco had gifted her on the night of their first date.

She could see all of the memories in there, all of the love that had been poured out between her family in this room. A small smile pulled at her lips and it felt wrong to smile, to feel any sliver of joy, especially so soon after Sirius's...

Her lips downturned into her natural face again and she pulled her attention away from the living room as she didn't bother to look at any of this anymore.

Technically, it was her house now. She loathed that fact.

Her heart threatened to hurt, threatened to make her crumple to the ground of the house and face everything she had been avoiding for years but she instead reminded herself of everything she was.

Murderer. Liar. Killer. White Demon.

Those words had been wrapped around her heart ever since Sirius fell through that veil. Those filthy words described what she was, everything she had done, the blood on her hands...

Bellatrix had spat those words into her ear, drilling them into her brain while the Cruciatus Curse had ripped through Elena's body. She had called Elena the "White Demon" which according to Bellatrix, is what the Dark Army referred to Elena as.

A White Demon because the life had left her every time Voldemort saw her. A demon because she had murdered two of their men with nothing but her bare hands and had smiled while doing it.

With each step she took, those words imprinted them deeper into her heart.

Murderer. Liar. Killer. White Demon. Murderer. Liar. Killer. White Demon. Murderer. Liar. Killer. White Demon.

She didn't even notice she had gone up the stairs until she landed on the second floor and noticed there was a sheathed knife strapped to her thigh. She wasn't wearing her usual belt of knives. Slowly, she pulled out the knife and it was beautiful, possibly better than any necklace or bracelet she had ever bought herself.

The hilt was made of gold and there were small emerald and ruby gems embedded into the hilt. The hilt had a clear side with an engravement there. "Burn Bright".

Her hands shook as she sheathed the knife and looked up. The door to the library was open and the shadow of a crackling fire was flickering against the door. Elena didn't bother to take out the knife or conjure any fire to protect herself.

This was just a dream and she couldn't figure out what she was doing here.

She stood in the doorway of the library and her heart stopped. The world stopped.