𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗜𝗜𝗜 ━━ 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘 125. my life on the line
( song for the chapter: out of the woods — taylor swift)
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october, 1981
𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗨𝗡𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗟.
A gust of wind. Her hair travelled along with the movement of the breeze, billowing in the wind behind her as she let the Autumn flush bit her skin. Her maddening, endlessly confounding aura radiating like the timid sun behind the clouds. She grew used to all the glances of either awe and resentment that people would shoot her— she always managed to stand out even in the most basic of clothes, even with crestfallen expressions littering her pale face.
Even at a funeral. With everybody circling a godforsaken coffin.
Everything felt different in October air.
All those who had ever loved the fierce girl were standing there at the funeral, wondering how to live life after the loss of yet another beautiful young soul.
"I can't do this anymore," Everest cried in the crook of Scarlet's neck, clutching her trench coat as though clutching to her own dear life. The orange-brown of her flannel she wore—that belonged to Marlene—blended into the autumn scenery in the distance. "It hurts."
Scarlet was sobbing. Endlessly. Staring into the dark abyss as though Dorcas Meadowes would miraculously materialise unscathed. Like she would make it out.
Every single one of her Slytherin friends melted like candles; the leftover wax being their memories, a symbol to prompt that they had once been lively souls with glittering eyes, and hopes and ambitious dreams they never got to touch.
This thought—the idea that so many of the girls and boys she grew up with are being snatched away from her—made her clutch onto Eve tighter.
Not her. Please, not her, too.
Dorcas Meadowes died a martyr in the hands of the darkest wizard of all time. Her memories are not mere leftover candle wax, they shall light forever.
