Between the Cracks // 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓦𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂

44. Are You Growing It Out?

Chapter 44: Are You Growing It Out?

Leigh's own chapped breathing was everything that occupied her senses. Her airways burned, the dust clawing painfully in her lungs as her body moved hectically and sporadically through the ruins surrounding her. Her eyes searched desperately for something just out of reach, her feet stumbling over the debris and rubble lining the floor.

She had lived through these memories time and time again, yet each time was as horrifying as the last. Shadows hovered in the corners as she ran, the urgency beating in her chest overshadowing the aching and stinging sensations scattered across her body.

Loud noises tore through the corridors around her – fearful screams and manic laughter, accompanied by flashes from curses etching themselves into the stone walls. Bodies moved along the edges of the path, defending against attacks, protecting loved ones, or lying lifeless against the cold floor. Bile rose in her throat at the mere sight, and she reluctantly ripped her gaze from the forms as she desperately stumbled forward. She couldn't stop, not now.

The relief was as overwhelming as always as her gaze finally found their target. Evan's locks were sweaty and messy, his face dirty and tired, yet he had never before looked as gorgeous as he did in that moment. The second she laid her eyes on him the heaviness fell from her chest. She never thought she would be able to smile in the middle of a battle, but there she was – a grin of relief curving her lips as she fell into his embrace a few moments later, sinking down against his chest.

He was fine. He was fine.

His scent filled her nostrils, relaxing her muscles one by one, and a breath was finally able to slip down her throat. He responded similarly, letting out a relieved exhale as his arms encircled her, eyes squeezing together as he basked in the feeling of being able to hold her again.

The moment was short but needed, and after a few exchanged words they took off down the corridor, aiming to get further from the growing concentration of dark figures surrounding them.

Despite having lived through her memories what felt like a thousand times, she was completely immersed in them, experiencing each moment as if it was new. And despite knowing, somewhere deep down, how the story would end, the shock paralysed her as she watched the next moments transpire.

Her gaze meeting his. Him forcefully slamming back against the stone wall behind him. A crack. Green flash. Blood drenching the back of his head, staining his curls.

The dread painfully ravaged in her chest after a moment of silent disbelief. His grey eyes stared up at her, and her world immediately crumbled. With no regard for the attacker, or what would happen next, her eyes were set on Evan, hoping he would move any second – blink, or wiggle a finger – anything.

The moment never came.

The agonising scream shook in her throat, its intensity leaving an excruciating, claw-like print in its wake as she sat shocked in place. Tears had not yet reached her eyes, the air pricking them dry.

Evan's brown curls sprawled against the stone wall behind him, the strands becoming increasingly wet as the velvet liquid trickled down and pooled upon the floor.

She blinked, blinked again, her heart beating mercilessly in her chest, before something suddenly changed. The hammering in her chest jolted forcefully, and her eyes widened at the shocking view.

Where the dark, damp hair previously scattered against the wall, was now strands of a different colour – a lighter complexion staring back at her. She blinked, the action doing nothing. The long lashes, fair skin and ginger hair of Fred Weasley looked back up at her, his mouth slightly agape, lips already turning into a cold blue, and eyes staring emptily back at her.