❝𝐈 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝.❞
Jupiter Black has been isolated from the outside world her entire life up until the age of thirteen. During a duel with her mother, Jupiter tragically witnesses her death and flees from h...
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𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 10
THE FOREST HUMS WITH SOMETHING UNSEEN, something ancient and waiting. I can feel it in the air, thick like mist curling through the trees, brushing against my skin like a whisper. The moment is drawing closer, the weight of it pressing against my ribs, tightening around my lungs. Every nerve in my body is alight, thrumming with anticipation.
Harry is coming.
I do not know how I know it. I just do.
Voldemort does not notice when I slip away. I vanish into the darkness as though I was never there at all, dissolving into the trees like a ghost. He is too caught up in the moment, in the hunger of what is to come. He believes I am beside him, unyielding, devoted. He believes I am his.
But I have never been his.
The night stretches before me as I weave through the trees, silent as a shadow. The ground is damp beneath my feet, the leaves slick with the remnants of the storm that passed hours before. My breath is slow, steady. I cannot falter now.
And then, I see him.
Harry stands alone in the clearing, just beyond the gnarled roots of the trees. His back is to me, his shoulders tense beneath the weight of what he is about to do. He is holding the Snitch in his hand, fingers tight around the smooth, golden shell.
I step forward, and the moment my foot touches the earth, he turns. His breath catches, his body going rigid. "Jupiter," he whispers, and I see the flicker of confusion, of disbelief, in his eyes. "You—"
"I know." My voice is soft, careful, threading through the stillness like a delicate thread. "I know what you saw." His eyes flicker over me, searching for something—proof, truth, a reason to believe that I am real. But I am not.
"The version you saw die," I murmur, stepping closer, "was the real me." He stares at me, his lips parting slightly, his expression unraveling into something raw, something fragile. "I don't—I don't understand." I reach out, my fingers just barely brushing against his hand. "This is my projection," I say, voice barely above a whisper.
"I am not really here."
Harry exhales sharply, his body trembling with something too heavy to name. "But I feel you," he says, almost as if he is trying to convince himself. "You're standing right in front of me." I nod, offering a small, sad smile. "Because I want you to." For a moment, he just looks at me, eyes searching, lost in something deep and unknowable. Then, suddenly, he steps forward, his arms wrapping around me in a desperate, crushing embrace.
I sink into him. His warmth, his heartbeat, the weight of him pressing against me like an anchor. His fingers clutch at my back, like if he holds on tightly enough, he can stop the inevitable.
"I'm so sorry," he whispers, his voice breaking against my shoulder. I close my eyes, my hand coming up to rest against his chest. "Don't be," I murmur. "This was always going to happen." He pulls back, just enough to look at me, his eyes dark with something I cannot quite name. "Then why?" His voice shakes.
