Between the Cracks // 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓦𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂

38. Incredible Girl

TW: death/bodily harm.

Chapter 38: Incredible Girl

Leigh took a breath.

Dust and debris entered her system, burning her lungs. Despite the scorching feeling she barely noticed it. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, chapping her breathing and making her chest rise and fall in short, ragged movements.

Her gaze frantically shot around her surroundings, eyes bloodshot and wide with fear.

The world was going up in flames around her. The world as she had known it for the last seven years crumbling to dust and rubbish; the corridors she had hurried through, arm linked with friends; the stairs she had ran down on her way to her favourite classes; the big, grandiose doors leading into the great hall, which had become an unmistakable aspect of what constituted her home. All crumbled to pieces right in front of her eyes.

Her heartbeat thumped in her ears, as if adding rhythm to the chaos which surrounded her. Wands raised in combat, bodies being flung through the air, cloaked figures hiding in the shadows, seeking the protection of the solid stone walls behind their backs.

There was an urgency which rose in Leigh's chest, a power pulling her forward, making her take one step in front of the other.

Sensing a darkened silhouette by her side, she immediately defended herself as a spell was shot her way; her head snapping to the side as she averted the oncoming attack with the flick of her wand.

Normally she would feel scared, petrified, about the prospect of defending her own life against the unforgivable curses being cast her way, but the last few days had blunted her nerves. She had somewhere to be, and her wand swiftly snapped through the air time and time again as she rushed through the bustle of the chaos, delivering counter-curses where she could.

Her insistence ascended in her chest, rising in her throat like sickly bile threatening to force its way up.

Pushing through the bodies, bloodied and beaten, her gaze kept searching for its target. It always seemed to be just out of reach – just hiding in the shadows or having just slipped behind an obstacle.

The strain in her gaze only grew, her movements tense. Nothing in her mind mattered except getting there - getting to him. Getting to Evan.

Her throat burned, her sore body carrying her across the stone floors. Her head immediately snapped to the side as she saw the familiar head of hair moving in a flurry on the other side of the corridor - the wonderful head of dark fluffy curls whirling in the air before it disappeared around the corner.

Leigh's breath hitched in her throat, and she clambered her way through the tumult and towards him. In that moment nothing else mattered.

She heard his name leave her lips, the rushed yet relieved sound echoing across the stone walls, or what was left of them. She scrambled desperately through the blocks of stone and ruins before she turned the corner and set her eyes on him again.

"Evan," she breathed out, for a second standing static as she relished in the feeling of seeing him again – knowing he was there. Although her voice was too quiet to be heard by anyone, perhaps even by herself, the boy in front of her somehow sensed her presence and started to turn on his heel.

His face, normally clad in wide, childish grins was serious and focused as it entered her view. Dust stretched across his skin, extending up his jaw and cheek and disappearing into his hairline. The dark curls were tousled and messy – streaked with dirt and falling unpredictably in his face. Yet he looked so absolutely perfect.