WILD FLOWERS ✿ d.malfoy

22.

I was roaming the halls aimlessly – Dumbledore finally complied – when I stumbled upon this room. I've read about it; it's called the Room of Requirements. Or the Come and Go room – it appears exactly as what you ask of it.

The light sparkles against the sharp silver blade of the dagger. I brush one finger against the pointed edge – one of the sharpest knives' money could buy.

All I need is to think of it; it emerges from thin air. Th polished mahogany is enough to make my lips twitch upwards. I'm glad I stumbled upon this room.

The centre of the opposite wall bears the unmistakable circles of a target. The white, black, blue, red and yellow glow against black marbled wall.

The room is circular; half the circumference is lines with shelves and rows of the many ancient weapons – daggers, rapiers, swords, shields, bows and arrows, clubs , axes, spears and javelins, tridents and more that I couldn't name – along with the more modern ones – pistols, rifles, snippers, AK 47, shotguns, M4 Carbine – the other half with targets.

I choose the daggers. I fasten a leather belt around my waist, the six daggers resting in their spots.

The first target is about five yards away – the distance doubles with every new target.

I stand with my legs parted, the dagger in my hand. I move my wrist. Nice and free. I look and look and look at the black dot in the centre until it's the size of Jupiter. Easy peasy. Not really though, it's still a blasted grain of rice on the marble. I pull my hand back and then with one swift motion, the dagger leaves my hand. The handle rattles as the blade gets embedded in the dead centre. Bull's eye. Why can't it be the Cat's eye. Or the eye of the storm? Ugh, whatever.

The second target appears farther, the third even farther – following the trend – the last target is on Pluto.

"Do it my girl," Mum whispers.

A shiver runs down my spine. "Why are you here?"

"I feel accused," she scowls, "it's not like I was going to abandon my little girl, was I?"

"why didn't you come before then?"

There's silence.

"Mum?"

"Right here, sweetcakes."

"How are you?"

"I'm okay."

"How's Rosemary?" I shiver again.

"She misses you. We all do."

"I miss you too."

"I know, darling. I know."

"I wish I'd done something – I wish I'd saved -"

"Don't you dare blame yourself for any on this," She scolds me. "It's not your fault, Celestia."

"You always knew," I sob.

"I know," she says weakly. "I should have told you sooner. I would have, but I had no idea that things were so grave in the Wizarding world."

I take a shaky breath. "I am all alone."

There's a pause. "I'm sorry, honey."

I sniffle, "me too, mom. I wish, I could hug you."

I'm crying now. On my knees. The dagger is on the floor. I'm crying, hard. Heart racing, breath quaking.

"I wish you'd just come back," I cry. "I hate it, I hate this world - I want you all back."

"You should wish for something more realistic, baby. Like a dragon," she makes a weak attempt at laughing. I can hear her crying. I can feel her crying.

"I'm all alone, mom. I have no one." I'm ugly sobbing now. "I feel so weak."

"You are anything but weak, Amabel Julia Harper," she says sternly. I still hear the strain in her voice. "And you are not alone."

"Who have I got?" I scream. "You're gone. Rose is gone. There's no going back into the muggle world now."

She doesn't say anything. I crave her answer. I crave her presence. I crave my mom. I'm ugly crying. I don't care. I don't care. Every part of me hurts.

"You have your friends," she says quietly.

"They're not you," I sob.

"No," she says weakly, "but they'll be your saviours."

"I want you mom," I shout. "I want you."

"Don't be a child now, Amy," she laughs/cries. "You know that can't happen."

"But I am a child mom," I sob. "I'm only fifteen. Only a child."

"This hurts me too," her voice wavers. "Seeing you hurt hurts me."

"I don't want to live like this anymore," I scream. "I don't want to live without you!"

"Don't you dare, Amabel," her voice is suddenly icy. "I didn't give my life so that you could waste yours. Neither did Rosemary."

"But -"

"Listen darling," she pleads. "You're stronger than this. You are. I know you are."

I remain silent.

"Please, promise me you'll live."

"I -"

"Please," she pleads. "Please Amabel. Please. Cassiopeia wanted you safe for a reason. Don't throw all the sacrifices away."

I'm crying silently now. I take deep breaths. Deep breaths. I inhale all the oxygen in the world. I wipe my tears away with a shaking hand.

"I know you can do this," she encourages me.

"And if I can't?"

"You'll do it."

I get up. My chest hurts. Everything hurts. And I want to end it all, but I can't. I can't be selfish. I can't do that.

The dagger flies to my hand on command. I look up. I have to be stronger that this. For them.

I look and look and focus and focus and look and focus on the sixth target until it's the only thing I can see.

I loosen my muscles and roll my head from side to side. I look at the target again and swing my hand back and – bull's eye. The handle rattles violently.