Cigarette Daydreams- ꜱɪʀɪᴜꜱ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

39.

A/N - I don't usually do authors notes at the beginning but I am because I feel like it ;) I'm thinking of changing the cover of this book to something more celestial. Like the image below. I need ideas, inspiration, if you know what I mean. Enjoy this chapter - I don't know what it's gonna be like because I have no idea what I'm going to write. 

Update - TW.

"Did you do it?" 

"No."

"Really?" Silas chuckled. "It seems like something you would do....I'm no saying that you did, just that I wouldn't put it past you-"

"That's what you think, is it?" Aurora said, her gaze shifting from her essay to Silas. "That I'm a liar, that I slithered my way into becoming a champion?"

"W-what-"

"You think that I want all this, that I wanted to be entered into a death tournament? No! And the worst part is that nobody fucking believes me, because they think I'm a snake!" 

Silas stood up. "Aurora, did you or did you not put your name in that goblet?"

"No!" Aurora stood too, so that she and Silas were eye-to-eye. "I didn't! We both agreed that we wouldn't, remember? Do I really seem like the lying type?"

Silas fell silent, and Aurora's heart crushed painfully, as if she had just passed it through a juicer.

"Fine." She said. Her voice was steely, not a hint of emotion present - she didn't cry, nor did she yell. Instead, she wiped her face of all vulnerability.  Emotion was a dangerous business; it was like a game of Russian Roulette - you either miss, or get shot. Silas had the gun, and he had fired the bullet directly into Aurora's chest - only this was no accident. He had purposefully picked the gun with the bullet, and had knowingling fired where he knew that it hurt most. She became closed off, a wall was now built between her and Silas, because now she knew. She needed that protection - she always had. 

"Fine." She repeated. "Fine."

The door didn't slam when she left, it glided shut gracefully, the sound barely echoing, as if the wall was cushioned with silk. Aurora's hands shook. She pushed and shoved through the hoards of students heading for lunch, not even stopping to apologize when she knocked Neville Longbottom's newest plant out of his grasp. All that mattered at this point was getting back to her dorm room.

The dorm was empty when she arrived, since everybody was in class, and so Aurora wasted no time in folding her uniform or stacking her books. Her bag hung over the wardrobe. Perfect.

A small matchbox lay under a knitted yellow cardigan; it wasn't much to look at, tattered and grubby, sticky fingerprints and scratches on its side. It was red. A pretty colour.

She hastened to open the box; it's once sharp corners were blunt with age, and no longer dug into Aurora's palm. A shy glimmer of silver caught her eye, and the box was discarded.

The knife wasn't much to look at. Silver with a black handled, a little more that three inches in length, it was merely a pocket knife. The blade was painted red; artistic swirls that twirled and whirled, delicate edges and sharp lines. To an outsider, the knife wasn't as interesting to look at as sword, but to Aurora, it was beautiful.

She sat on the cold tiled floor, her head resting on her knees. The knife was held between her thumb and pointer finger, parting ethereal porcelain and staining it red. Aurora examined her wrist, as pure as an Angel and unblemished, like lamb waiting by it's mothers side, watching as his friends were packed into bags. She closed her eyes.

Silas. He was the one person that she was counting on, the one person that she thought would stand by her, even if the world was crumbling at her feet. He hadn't believed her; called a liar, ripped her beaten dignity to shreds. He had been distant lately, not even joining Aurora for meals. Was her tired of her already?

Fred. He took his tea without sugar to seem manly, but Aurora knew that he secretly poured about three table spoons in when she wasn't looking. Fred with his chocolate eyes and pierced ears, Fred with his mothers jumpers and his warm nature, Fred with his freckles, Fred with his red hair, Fred with his charm. Suddenly he was gone as well. They never saw each other anymore, never spoke. He had switched places in defence against the dark arts, and now he and Angelina sat together. He had gotten them both detention on the first day, too. 

Was she too much? Too much to handle, too heavy to hold, too much of a burden. Had she upset them? Scared them away with all of her problems. Was she untrustworthy, a waste of space, unnecessary; her father certainly thought so, would it be too much if Fred and Silas thought so too? 

Yes. Yes because that would mean that it was true; Aurora had always tried to deny it, pointing the blame at her father her entire childhood in hopes that it would stop the thoughts, the urges. It never did, but attempting to convince herself of something was easier than wallowing in years worth of guilt, at least it was to her nine year old mind, anyway.

When she arrived at Hogwarts it had gotten better. She had been fine, an airy space between Happy and Sad - at least she had been emotion-wise. She had never been comfortable, always feeling out of place, constantly paranoid. The moon never helped; her scars grew each month, and it wasn't long until Aurora had mastered every single beauty spell in the Library in hopes that it would, at the very least, make her feel normal. It didn't, in fact it just worsened her paranoia.

Her third year was when everything fell to pieces, and it didn't get much better after that.

People always tell you that you have a lot to live for. "You have your whole life ahead of you" they'd whisper, their voices comforting.

And so she let the metal dance along her wrists until silver turned to red; because she did have a lot to live for.

But she had even more to die for.

Lets say you had the choice to bring two (dead) Harry Potter characters back to life, who would you pick?