Fierce Consequences [a main character x Snape/Malfoy fan-fiction]

Chapter 47: Payback

Songs for this chapter:
Listen before i go - Billie Eilish

TW for scenes of violence and death. This is a heavy chapter.

A centimeter.

A mere fucking centimeter.

Elora had dodged the green flash just before it hit her. This was the most intense battle she had ever fought in. She realized now why Draco insisted she stayed home, but her stubbornness won over his request. She was beginning to regret it now.

The Order's soldiers were relentless, abandoning whatever morals they once had about not using dark magic. She was almost hit with an Avada two- fuck! make that three times.

She was alone; Draco and Theodore were needed for their assignments. They had people to capture and an artifact to find. Dodging and weaving through hexes and curses, she found an abandoned car to dive behind. She gave herself seconds to catch her breath before throwing a powerful slicing hex at her opponent. She heard the thump of a body fall to the ground and forced herself to move, knowing staying in one place for too long would be an invitation to be killed or captured.

She was more than prepared for battle, with Draco and Theodore being excellent teachers. She had foregone her usual ensemble she wore for interrogation sessions, instead opting for more traditional battle attire. Her two precious and familiar knives were strapped to her thigh in their normal place, her wand never leaving her hand. The comfort of knowing she could throw a knife with deadly accuracy and cast an unforgivable curse without thinking twice grounded her as the chaos continued to erupt around her.

She stood and darted out from the cover of safety the automobile provided. She almost dropped her wand when her eyes met a familiar set starting at her as if they had seen a ghost.

Oliver. Oliver Townes. Oliver fucking-traitor-of-a-brother Townes.

Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. Memories of the last time they saw each other flashed through her mind. She was conflicted.

She should kill him.

Those were her orders during battles. Familiar voices rang in her mind, kill any member of the resistance on sight, unless they potentially had information on Potter and the inner workings of the Order.

She should kill him.

That was what her mind was screaming at her. The torture that would follow if she didn't throw an Avada haunted her. The Dark Lord was ruthless now; surely he would make her suffer.

She should kill him.

Her heart was screaming at her also, begging her not to. He was her brother, the only remaining piece of her family that would love her no matter what.

"Kill him!"

A crazed voice shouted above the noise of the war waging around them.

Bellatrix Lestrange. Sadistic, twisted, masochistic Bellatrix. Elora's eyes shot over to where her deranged figure stood. A sick smile crossed over her face as she anticipated Elora's actions. Without even looking, Bellatrix dodged a hex, casting her own Avada behind her, instantly killing whoever it was dared to try her.

"Are you deaf?" She screamed. "Kill him!"

Elora looked at Oliver. He looked...defeated. Tired, maybe? She knew the resistance was far from winning this war, and the war was far from over. Months and months of never ending battles, mountains of bodies, the stench of death hung heavily over them for too long.

A tear slipped down her cheek when Oliver dropped his wand in defeat. He stood there, unmoving, waiting for his sister to kill him.

"Go on, Elora. Do me in just like you did Freya," his voice shook. Elora felt a strangled sob escape her.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. She didn't want this, any of it. If only he could see what had happened to her. If only she could make him understand.

She shuddered as Bellatrix stood behind her, raising her arm to hold Elora's shaking one more steady, keeping her wand aimed at her brother. Bellatrix's fingers were ice cold, not a flicker of a beating heart present in her dark body.

"Think of how proud the Dark Lord will be of you," Bellatrix whispered in her ear. "Your own brother? You've done it before. Remember poor little Freya? Or Blaise? It was easy. Just a little flick, a tiny spell..."

Elora swallowed harshly. She wished desperately that someone would rescue her from this torment. She could never overpower Bellatrix, she was one of Voldemort's most powerful forces and Elora's superior as far as ranks went. Her ways put Elora's skills to shame. She had no choice. She had to kill him.

She shook her head weakly and whispered softly.

"I'm sorry, Oliver."

She regretted it as soon as the sparks left the tip of her wand. The world went silent, the only thing ringing in her ears were the psychotic laughs of Bellatrix as she hopped away and onto the next victim. Her vision was blurred, everything moving in slow motion as her body desperately tried to block out the reality of what she had done.

Elora collapsed to the ground on her knees the second her brother's lifeless body hit the dirt below. She screamed, a guttural, rasped, and painful scream.

He was the only person in her family that hadn't completely abandoned her. Yes, their relationship was strained, but they were siblings, tied together by one of those fateful strings of life. He understood her in a way, cared for her no matter her alliance. He helped raise her, taught her how to be a person in this world, guided her through her first weeks at Hogwarts.

And she had killed him.

A flash of burnt orange hair came barrelling from behind her and towards her brother's body. Ron Weasley skidded to a halt in the dirt as he shook Oliver's shoulders. Elora heard him beg for Oliver to come back, for him not to be dead, but it was too late. Her curse hit him exactly where she had aimed it and his soul had left his body instantly.

Another strangled sob left her as she watched Ron mourn her brother. The redhead turned to face her, still cradling Oliver's head in his arms.

"You!" He shouted. Elora shook her head, sobbing out.

"I'm sorry" she cried.

She was frozen in place as he aimed his wand at her.

Elora closed her eyes in anticipation, bracing herself for the worst. She had pondered what death was like many times in the last months. She realized now that she was prepared. She was ready.

I deserve this. I deserve it all, she thought.

She was stunned when instead of death, she was greeted with unrelenting pain. The red sparks from Ron's wand flew to her as he cast the Cruciatus curse. She screamed in agony at the unfortunate yet familiar torture. He was going to make her suffer just as they had when she had killed Freya.

After what felt like hours of pain, she had a brief moment of reprise. She had to flee, had to get out while she had a chance, but the residual effects of the curse refused to let her move.

A searing pain slashed through her arm, then her shoulder and abdomen as Ron threw multiple slicing hexes at her. Through her own sobs and labored breathing she heard his cries. He wasn't enjoying this, he didn't want to do this, but he was avenging his friend. This was payback.

Elora looked down as deep stains of crimson dampened her clothes, the power of the hex clear as it was immediately darkening her already black attire. She coughed, sputtering a small amount of blood over the dirt as she desperately tried to keep herself up.

She collapsed forward, barely catching herself with one hand against the earth. She was losing a lot of blood, quickly. She thought to all of her victims, all of the horrible things she had done.

I'm not a good person, her mind told her.

I deserve this.

Just before she drifted off, the glimmer of chocolate brown curls came into view. Theodore picked her up in a swift motion and yelled something she couldn't hear. The world around her began to float away as her vision went dark.