❝Good people are like candles. They burn themselves up to give others light.❞
order of the phoenix » deathly hallows
plot credit: vioietends
amandla fitzgerald stand alone
cover by lokidyinginside
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CHAPTER TEN. TOAD-LIKE GRIN
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Amandla found comfort with only her friends after returning from Hogwarts. Draco had tried to speak to her after their return to the beloved school, but instead of listening him out and forgiving him like Amandla used to do, she gave him the cold shoulder and walked away. To say that the Fitzgerald girl was furious at him was an understatement.
They ratted her out - her family ratted out. Family was supposed to protect each other, like her parents protected her, but they gave her away to save themselves. Amandla wasn't one to trust the words of Bellatrix LeStrange, but she did trust the guilty expressions of the Malfoys upon the truth being revealed to their beloved Amandla. She thought they cared, she thought they would do anything to protect her like she would them, but she guessed wrong. But she was especially wrong about Draco.
Weeks had passed but the cold air still managed a little tint of pink to stain her cheeks. Amandla was never fan of the cold weather, finding it a discomfort, but now she welcomed it. Amandla was sitting with Cevira in the quarter of Hogwarts, her head in the Stature girl's lap as she continued to read aloud.
"But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?" Cevira recited, a focused expression written on her face, "It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief."
She continued to read as Amandla concentrated on her. Cevira was her family now, as was Corey, and it seemed like they were the only family that she had left. Maybe her blood had left her, betrayed her, but at least she had her friends - the family that she chose. Amandla's eyes then fluttered to the wilted flowers still planted in the quarter. They looked so beautiful - so broken - and so cold, overcome by the storms that she cold brings. It probably tried to fight, to still be seen as the pretty, vibrant flower that it once was, but it had failed. It had succumbed to the cold and the color had drained from its soft petals and it had wilted and died, yet it was still so beautiful.
The white noise around her stopped, signalling to the Fitzgerald girl that Cevira had stopped reading the famed and loved Shakespeare story. Her eyes trained back on Cevira, who only looked at her with concern.
"You weren't listening to the story," the Asian girl commented, "And this is your favorite."
"Sorry," the dark skinned girl half-heartedly apologized, "I was daydreaming."
"You've been doing that a lot lately," Cevira placed down the warren copy of the play on the bench, "Especially since Christmas. Amandla, what's wrong?"
What's wrong, Amandla thought bitterly, what's wrong? No, the question is, what isn't wrong?
There was a lot wrong in her life, not that she could tell Amandla. The Stature girl would be angry, betrayed just like her, because of all the secrets that Amandla had kept from her after all these years. Maybe she wasn't better than the rest of her blood, keeping secrets from family - the people they loved - to benefit themselves. She often tried to assure herself that she was keeping Cevira in the dark because it was better for the girl, that it would be dangerous for her to know who Amandla truly was, but that was a blatant lie to allow Amandla to feel better than she did for keeping the secrets she did.
