The Potion Princess

The Funeral

She doesn't want to go home, but Snape says she has to.

Which is bad, maybe, that the only reason she walked through the door of this place is because she got ordered too.  Her mother was hugging her, all bony elbows and sharp ribs and unpleasant suffocation, but her father was just standing across the room and refusing to look at her.  He's clutching to an old photo of Vance from when he was a child.  Audra doesn't know which is worse.

"I'm sorry."  She thinks she should stop saying that, because the more she does the less it seems to mean.  "I tried, but I couldn't help.  I was too late, and-,"

"Who did it?"  Her father's voice was flat and hard, making it more of a demand than a question.  Audra flinches.  "Who killed my son?"

"The Weasley girl."  That had been the story they agreed on, because she was already a target and had order protection.  And it was true, in a twisted sort of way.  "Reductor curse, the shelf collapsed."

"Now do you see?"  Her father crossed the room and grabbed onto her shoulders, shaking her.  He was hurting her, something he'd never done before.  "Do you see why we can't be with these people?  They murdered your brother!"

It was twisted logic, really, especially when you take the time to wonder why he had been there in the first place.  Her dad must have seen it on her face, because he pushes her away, sending her stumbling back into her mother, who forces herself between them.

"Enough," she says, and that is final, because her voice is thin and brittle, and neither Audra or her father want to see her start crying again.  "What matters is that she's safe and home.  Finally.  And that in the future," She tightens her grip on Audra's arms, and her eyes, red and puffy from crying, flashed with something dangerous.  "She'll kill that little bitch where she stands, won't you dear?"  Audra finds herself nodding, finds herself wanting to at least hurt someone, even if they weren't responsible.  "You make that family pay."

Vance looks better than the last time she saw him.

Which was strange, because he's dead now.

Like, really dead.

She takes a step up to the coffin, placing her hand inside, almost brushing her fingers against his but not quite.  She cannot bear to actually touch him.  "I'm sorry."  She whispers, and cleared her throat, repeating it louder.  this is why she had snuck out of the house and come early.  Audra wanted to say a proper good bye when no one was listening, just so she didn't have to pretend.  "I never meant to hurt you.  We just ended up on different sides, that's all."  She wiped away the tears she was refusing to spill, turning away.  "I love you, big brother."

The second time she sees him is even worse.  She's standing farthest away from the coffin, on the other side of her mother and father, nodding and shaking hands and accepting condolences as everyone files into their seats.  Audra still catches sight of the Vance that isn't Vance out of the corner of her eye, and it makes her sick to her stomach. 

There's a long procession of people, just a blur of faces that she doesn't know but all seem to know her.  All of the teachers came, all of them giving her nods and hugs accept for Snape.  He bypasses her and goes straight to her parents, but she can feel his eyes on her from across the graveyard.  Draco and Narcissa come, heads held high despite everything.

"I'm sorry," Draco says, awkward in the way that only a fifteen year old can be.  Awkward wasn't a word that she normally uses to describe him.  "He was a good guy."

"No, he wasn't."  He wasn't good, and he wasn't a man, he was practically a boy, just looking to prove himself.  The injustice of it all carries her through until it's time for the actual funeral.

Her father speaks.  Her mother doesn't.  Audra never got the chance to.  She doesn't listen to him, partially because it hurts to hear Vance's name spoken out loud, but mostly because it wasn't true.  That boy you loved so much doesn't exist, she wants to say, but doesn't, just holds tightly to her mother's hand as the casket is lowered into the grave.

Audra leads the procession to throw a rose into the grave, because Clary had mentioned that muggles do that, during that phase when they were thirteen and Emmeline had them all just a little obsessed with death.  Audra's mother had latched onto it, so now each of them got a rose, the bright red making vivid spots of color amid all the black.  She gets one that still has a thorn on it, so she pricks herself on purpose, smearing her blood along the stem and throwing  it down onto the dirt.

She wanted something of hers to go with him.

Emmeline finds her at the end, after Audra had extracated herself from the group of well wishers.  She looks gorgeous as ever, even when she's not trying to steal the spotlight.  "Clary sends her love."  Clary couldn't come, for obvious reasons.  "Wants me to make sure you were okay."

"I'm not."  Emmeline climbs up on one of the tomb stones, high heels tapping against the stone.  Audra normally wouldn't approve, but she's had a long day and this was one of her ancestors, anways, so she climbs up beside her.

"Yeah."  Emmeline reached over to grip her hand, tapping her pointer finger twice in the middle of her palm, the way she used to when they were little and Audra would get so angry that her hands would shake.  It was their silent thing to do to bring her back to herself.  "But you will be."

She makes her way up to the library, still in that awful dress that she had to wear earlier.  It looks the same as it had at the beginning of the year, but now there was body to step over and no anxiety coiling up in her stomach.  The tims, she knows what she's going to do, and in the wake of all that happens and the emotions fighting for space inside her, Audra can't bring herself to bother with being afraid. 

"I thought you lost to me, when you didn't come back with Bellatrix." 

He was staring at her through those snake like slits.  Audra wants to look away but doesn't.  "I was hiding."  One corner of her mouth twitches up.  "When the Weasley's heard how bravely I defended the youngest two, they didn't hesitate to hide my involvement."

He's pleased by that answer, she knows.  It's fun for him, to think that people's feelings leave them open to more pain.  "I think you've had enough fun with them, don't you?"  He waves a dissmissive hand.  "Wouldn't you rather put your skills to more use than just acting as a plaything for a blood traitor?"

She bristles at that, a little, and he laughs, because he must have seen in her mind that she htought that if anyone in the relationship was a plaything, it would be Fred.  That makes him happy, too.  "I want to make them pay."  This, the rage in her, the anger that never seems to go away no matter how exhausted she was or how many deep breaths she takes, was not a lie.  "I want revenge."

"Then you shall have it."  He touches her cheek in a way that can only be described as a caress, but she doesn't care, because at least now she'll be around people who won't mind the ugly parts of her.  Who won't care when she goes into a fight ready for the kill.  "You can burn entire cities and there will still be more."

Audra thinks of Fred, who would tell her that this isn't who she is.  That even if she has bloodlust and anger roaring in her chest, there are quiter things, gentler things, that she should listen to.  Of dropping a necklace into an open hand, a good bye. She thinks of Ginny, who loved her friend so much she was willing to die for them.  And then she thinks of her mother, not crying or panicking, but steady, asking her for revenge.  Most of all, she thinks of Vance, telling her to run before it's too late.

"I swear to serve you, My Lord."  Audra is not sure of much, but she knows that she's in pain and wants others to feel it, too, and that doing this will get her there. 

"Good."  He picks up two glasses and hands one to her.  He raises his in a toast.  "To paving the way for victory."

Audra taps the rim of her glass agaisnt his, thinks of the boy who tells her that she's better than this, but she cannot hear him, not over the voice crying out for blood.  "To burning this whole world down."