[This is how the life of a regular girl who has lived just to lose everything is to tragically end.]
-- MAY 2, 1998 --
Maia Rose chooses not to celebrate and let herself feel that blissful freedom that everybody else has settled into. Even though the Dark Lord has finally been defeated after years of fighting, she does not allow herself to run into the roaring crowd that surrounds Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.
It is tempting to join them and let herself be engulfed in all their combined triumph. Just imagine how simple it'd be to let herself sink in. Their screams of pure joy almost taunt her.
Yet, she knows that she would not be able to enjoy it. The nagging guilt would not leave her side. Oh, the guiltiness of celebrating while her loved ones are all dead would eat her alive.
She numbly drags herself out of the courtyard, where everybody is cheering their voices sore.
She is confused. She is confused as to why everybody else can forget so quickly about the dead. As to how they can let themselves be happy so easily.
She wants to find somewhere, just somewhere else to go. She lets her legs and her feet take over, and is unsurprised when she finds herself at the doorstep of her old dormitory.
The door creaks loudly as she pushes it open. At least, what's left of the door. She thinks not of who currently resides in this room, but who used to. She looks up at the ceiling and there they are, still etched into the hard stone.
M.M
E.V
M.R
D.M
L.E
For a fleeting moment, she wonders if it is still under the floorboards- but no. That's ridiculous. It's been nearly thirty years. However, she still finds herself bending down and prying open a specific floorboard. She holds her breath, wondering if it's still there.
When she finds nothing, she is neither surprised nor particularly disappointed. She is about to place the wooden plank back before she catches the sunlight winking at her through the reflection of a glass cover. It's scratched and dusty, but she knows that it is what she was looking for.
She pulls out the picture frames and gently lets out a puff of her breath onto it, causing the dust to fly off in haphazard trails.
She stares at the picture of the auburn-haired girl who could not stop laughing, the elegant girl who tried desperately to keep a straight face, the kind-faced girl who, no matter how hard she tried, failed at making everybody look at the camera, and the red-haired girl who radiated warmth and kindness.
Her eyes travel to the next picture of the smirking boy who effortlessly had everyone swooning, the boy with the jet-black hair that refused to let the picture be normal, the brown-haired boy who looked so tired but affectionately caring for the others nonetheless, and the fucking traitor of a rat.
Lastly, she sees an image of a tall boy with lanky black hair that is her brother and the frail yet smiling frame of a woman that is her mother.
She sits there in frozen sadness, her eyes never leaving the old, tattered pictures. She almost wishes that she hadn't looked at them, because the pain is beginning to swallow her. So much pain that she wishes to join them in death.
She doesn't react when Aurors burst into the room with their wands at the ready.
She doesn't react when they arrest her for her murders.
She doesn't react when she is thrown into Azkaban forever.
She doesn't react when dementors near her and attempt to bring only darkness.
She is no longer affected by anything because she has already lost everything.
YOU ARE READING
the second last ending
Fanfictionbeginning, middle, end. that gets boring over time, don't you think? what if the beginning was the ending, the middle was maia rose falling for sirius black, and you knew what happened after the ending? this is, after all, the second last ending.
