the girl who lost it all [d.m]

twelve: conquinatus

She blinked. "Like who?"

"George Weasley. Stuart Banks. Malfoy. Even Pansy Parkinson at one point." He snorted, lightly.

But Elara's eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry—what? Malfoy?"

Of course, it explained a lot of things—like the flashbacks she'd been seeing whenever he touched her. But being romantically involved with someone was completely different from—

"I don't think it was ever true," he responded, flicking a piece of lint off his sleeve. "Just—rumours. You know how kids are."

"Yeah." She sounded far away. "Yeah."

He side-eyed her. "You want me to do the dishes?"

"What? No, I'll—"

"It's okay. You can stay out here a little longer—"

"No. No, Luca. I need to do something or I'll go insane." She shook her head, watching him as he stood.

"Okay," he said, cheerfully, holding out his hand. "But I'll help you anyway. Don't you dare say no—I need something to do too."

She smiled and took his hand. He pulled her up, his hand warm against her own and didn't let go till they reached the stairwell.

"The others should be arriving soon." He let her pass into the kitchen first a minute later. "Mariko and Jasper are organising the healing supplies—they think they'll need it."

"Malfoy said the Patil twins were captured for a few hours," Elara answered as her eyes fell on the pile of plates stacked up in the sink. "If nothing else, they'll probably need Calming Draughts."

Luca was quiet as he followed her to the sink.

"You soap and I wash?" she inquired, glancing at him.

He nodded and picked up the first plate. They worked in comfortable silence for the next few minutes, the only sounds the running water and the squeak of the sponge against the dishes.

He could easily clean them with just a flick of his wand—but everyone knew Elara liked to do them by hand and didn't complain as he helped her.

"You don't take them," he spoke suddenly, his hands covered in soap suds as he finished another plate and handed it to her.

"What?" she asked, puzzled, holding the plate underneath the running water. "Take what?"

"Calming Draughts." His mouth was a firm line. "You were in captivity for much longer than the Patil twins and you said they'd need Calming Draughts...but you don't even take them yourself."

Elara felt something in her stomach curl. "Do I seem un-calm to you, Luca?"

A smile formed on his lips and he shook his head. "That's not what I mean. I just mean—they were only captured for a few hours before Malfoy got them out but you were there for two years. Don't you—feel like you need to take them?"

There it was. She was suddenly a fragile specimen to him.

"No," she said, sharply, aware of how rude it sounded. "I don't."

He blinked, seeming to be taken aback and turned his gaze back to the glass in his hands. "I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine."

His mouth snapped shut and she knew she should've felt bad—he was only trying to help—but couldn't bring herself to muster that much empathy.

She couldn't care about someone else when she could barely handle herself.