Beatrice Lestrange has always been an outsider in her own story. Born into one of the darkest families in the wizarding world, she grew up under the looming shadow of her infamous mother Bellatrix Lestrange.
Despite this, Beatrice is nothing like th...
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Beatrice was sitting on the edge of her bed, her hands moving slowly over the last few items in her trunk. Her body felt heavy, like she was carrying a weight no one could see, and yet she still couldn't bring herself to unpack the emotions that had been locked away since that night.
The soft knock on the door startled her, and for a moment, she thought maybe it was just the wind. But then, it came again, clearer this time, and unmistakable. She stood, the heaviness in her chest settling deeper as she walked to the door.
When she opened it, there stood Theo, his hands shoved in the pockets of his cloak, his face unreadable. He had always been able to hide behind that stoic expression, but today, there was something in his eyes, a flicker of uncertainty, maybe even concern.
— Hey, — he said quietly, his voice softer than usual.
Bea didn't say anything right away. She just stepped aside, letting him in. The silence that followed was thick, heavy, and she could feel the tension between them, the unspoken words, the memories of what had happened that still clung to the air like smoke. She closed the door behind him, and for a moment, neither of them moved.
Finally, Theo broke the silence, his voice quieter this time, almost hesitant. — How are you? —
Beatrice's throat tightened at the question. How was she? It was a question that didn't have a simple answer. She opened her mouth, but no words came. Instead, she turned back to her trunk, picking up a small book and running her fingers over the cover.
— I don't know, — she finally muttered, not looking at him.
Theo seemed to take a step closer, though he didn't push. — Bea, you can't just bottle it all up. I know you've been holding everything together, but it's okay to fall apart sometimes. —
Her eyes flicked to him, and she opened her mouth, ready to argue, to say she didn't need anyone's pity or advice. But the look in his eyes, the way his voice had broken through the mask of indifference he usually wore, stopped her. She looked down again, the weight of everything pressing down on her chest until it felt like she could barely breathe.
— I'm just... tired, — she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.
Theo didn't answer right away. Instead, he moved to the window, staring out at the grounds below. The light was dimming, and the castle was settling into the quiet of evening. It was like the world outside was holding its breath too. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke again.
— You don't have to carry it alone, you know.—
Beatrice's heart skipped a beat. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, things would get better. But there was still a part of her, a deep, aching part, that was afraid, afraid of what might happen next, afraid of what she might lose.
— I don't know what to do anymore, Theo, — she confessed, her voice raw with emotion. — I don't know how to fix any of this.—
Theo turned back to her, his gaze softening. — You don't have to fix it. You just have to let us help you carry it.—
