CURSED: FROM THE BEGINNING [D.M]

-(99) she died then and there

ZILLIAH sits on the floor of the Headmaster's office, her back against a pillar. She pulls her legs to her chest and buries her head in between them as Harry gets the pensieve and pours Snape's tears into it. She allows him to go first as she stays huddled up in the darkroom, willing her mind to just stop reminding her that everything in here was most probably last used by Severus.

Severus, who is also dead now.

It's too much. Too many.

Sirius.

Daphne.

Archie.

Xena.

Theseus.

Pansy.

Fred.

Theo, god- even, Theo.

Their deaths- the pain over their loss- it sits lodged right between her throat. And she knows it is something time can never heal. She knows it is something she will forever have to carry in her heart. 

She doesn't even know about the rest of them. She doesn't know how many of their people now lay numb and cold in the hallway. She doesn't know what happened to Ivan. To Fianna and Maeve and Emily. She doesn't know and she doesn't want to know because she is so so afraid. She is so fucking afraid about what she might get to know.

Death was ruthless with her. Always taking and taking and taking. 

Forcing her to take even. Until he no longer had to.

How many lives did she take? Through the thick haze of frenzy and rage, how much blood has she shed? She recoils into herself at that thought. And she so desperately wishes to be in Draco's arms now. The only one who can ever soothe her. The only one who can ever understand her truly.

"Zilliah", Harry's voice finds her ears quickly in the quiet room. She looks up to be met with a whole other person than whom she walked in here with. "It's your turn", he says, stepping back to leave.

"Wait", her words halt him in his track, almost hesitantly like he is contemplating whether or not to just run away. "Where are you going? What happened?", she asks, getting to her feet, not understanding the sudden change- the sudden anger- firmness.

"I have to go, Zilliah", he says, his jaw taut and his eyes refusing to meet her.

She steps up to him and takes his hand in hers gently, carefully, like she is dealing with a glass object. "What did you see? Why do you have to go? Tell me, Harry", she pleads, her voice breaking and that makes him lift his gaze onto her.

"That night at Godric's Hollow when Voldemort killed my parents", he says, his voice a feather that fights to stay afloat, "my mother sacrificed herself and the curse rebounded, claiming his life. And a piece of his soul latched on to the one remaining living thing in that room."

"No", falls the gasp from her mouth. No no no.

"Yes, Zilliah", there is pain in his voice, in his eyes. "I am the horcrux he never meant to make."

"But that means-"

"Yes. And he himself has to do it. Dumbledore made that very clear to Snape."

"But Harry", Zilliah interjects, feeling her breaths hasten, her mind racing. There have been too many deaths. Too many. She can't handle one more. She can't handle even one more. "What we fought for-"

Harry steps closer to her and wraps his arms around her. "Keep your heart, Zilliah", he mumbles into her ear. "I know the war has left us all tainted but keep your heart. And finish everything for me."