⫶⫶⫶ ᴇ ᴅ ᴇ ʟ y ɴ ⫶⫶⫶
― Edelyn Aurélia Black learned
from a young age that h e r o e s
aren't always the ones who win.
They're the ones who fight. And
so, Edelyn fights, until the green
lying dormant beh...
A thick silence fell upon them, and Harry stared fixedly at a button of her cardigan as he racked his brain for the right words. Straightening his stance, he took a deep breath before saying plainly, "You're not coming."
Her hands fell from his shoulders.
"Look, Ron and Hermione are both of age, and soon, I'll be too. But your birthday's not until November, which means you'll still have the trace and you won't be able to use your wand—"
"I don't need to use my wand to protect myself." It felt like she was arguing with Remus again. "I can perform magic without it."
"What, like you did when Greyback attacked you in June?"
His words tumbled out like a smack in the face, and a deep frown fell on her lips.
Harry sighed. "Lyn, you don't understand. You don't understand what it was like when Remus brought you to the hospital wing. You were so pale, and — and — we all thought — even Madam Pomfrey thought—"
"But I'm not dead, am I? I'm perfectly alive." She shortened the distance between them and made to grab his hands, but he pulled them away. So close were they standing now that her nose almost grazed his chin as she looked up at him.
Harry, however, avidly avoided her gaze. "I can't — the thought of you in danger—"
"Worries you? Yeah, well, glad the feeling's finally reciprocated." She could have snorted from the irony of his words. "Do you not realize how much worry you've put me in over the years? For Merlin's sakes, Harry, it's a miracle my heart hasn't given out. From Quirrell to the bloody Triwizard tournament to your scar hurting and your visions to the prophecy. Honestly, you owe me some worry."
There was a slight teasing in her voice as she tried to coax a smile out of him, but Harry did not smile. Instead, he simply continued to look ahead, unable to meet her gaze.
"This is different. This isn't Hogwarts anymore."
"Quite frankly, I was never deluded with the idea that Hogwarts was ever safe." A bitter taste invaded her tongue. "In case you've forgotten, Cedric died at Hogwarts. Dumbledore died at Hogwarts. Godric, Moaning Myrtle died at Hogwarts..."
"Lyn—"
"No, Harry, you don't get to just push me away!"
"Yes, I do, because I can't — I can't lose you."
"And what makes you think I'll be safer away from you?! We're in the middle of a war. There are no safe zones, no time-outs. Danger's around every corner. Death is lurking everywhere. There's no escaping it."
"But Lyn," Harry implored, finally looking down and meeting her eyes, "how do you think I'd — if you die—"
"And how do you think I'd feel if you die?" She could feel an ache begin to rise in her cheeks, and she swallowed thickly. "Harry, if there's anything I've learned from losing my mum, Cedric, Sirius...it's that we're all running on borrowed time. Yes, I might die. You might die. Ron and Hermione might die. Hell, we might lose the war. But if I am going to die in this war, I'd like to spend every passing second until my downfall with the ones I love. And Harry James Potter, despite the fact that you can be a bloody dimwitted, stubborn, nutty, dunderhead—"
Three words hitched in her chest. For a fraction for a second, she hesitated. For a fraction of a second, she denied it. But then, with a shaky breath, she finally exhaled, "I love you."
Silence.
Deafening silence.
Her heart — it was pounding so hard it thudded in her ears. She stared up at him, gunmetal blue searching emerald green, waiting for a response. Anything. But all Harry did was stare blankly back at her, every passing second like a stab to her chest.
Harry's mouth ran dry, a dizziness in his head as the ghost of her words echoed in his ears. His whole body burned as he watched her eyes search his, and he realized just how close they were standing — mere inches separating them. He could lean down, simply lean down and his lips would be pressed into hers. She would cup his jaw with her hands, and his skin would tingle under her caressing touch. He would thread his fingers through her hair, lose himself in her sweet, strawberry scent. Lose himself to that blissful moment of one-sixty. Nay, lose himself to her because she was his one-sixty.
But he didn't lean down.
He didn't lean down because he knew that if he did, he'd never say the words that needed to be said. So, instead, he took a step away, and the words that then rolled off his tongue dripped with a poison that brought a pain she had never quite experienced before.
"Edelyn, we — we shouldn't — can't be together anymore."
"W-what?"
Harry swallowed away the painful lump that had formed in his throat. "Voldemort knows how to use people, and if he knew...if he knew what you meant to me—"
"I'm not a damsel in distress, Harry. I can take care of my self."
"I know." His eyes stung and he blinked rapidly. "I know that, Lyn, but...we just...we can't."
"So...so, you're breaking up with me?" She tugged at the sleeves of her cardigan, her whole body aching, hoping that he would say no. Hoping that this wasn't happening. But Harry didn't, and the cold "Yes" that slipped past his lips brought the aching to her very bones.
The tense silence that then fell between them was broken as a voice suddenly rented the still air. "Oie! It's the dead of night. What in bloody hell are you two doing?"
Edelyn sniffled, hand reaching up to wipe her eyes, and Harry wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and hold her—
"Nothing," she spoke flatly, and with that, she spun on her heels and walked away, tears threatening to spill as she passed Ron on her way back into the Burrow, and knees screaming at her to stop, for they were certain, they would soon buckle and give out.
▃▃▃
❛ One-sixty ❜
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published, 06. 09. 2018
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