She was standing on a battlefield. One she knew all too well. There was no one for miles, at least, that's what it seemed.
She couldn't see very clearly as she was covered head-to-toe in muck and grime. Her greasy, lank hair didn't flow down her shoulders in their usual velvet waves. And her once long flowy black dress was torn due to numerous battles.
A feeling of uneasiness took over her body, the sword, once held in her hand, abandoned long ago. The feeling could be placed down to the fact that there were unmoving, non-breathing corpses in front of her – but they were of no significance to her.
Though she looked to be alone, she could sense another. Even not seeing them – she practically smelt their emotions; anger, sadness and... regret? She could feel them hesitating. And like Ares, God of War, she hates people who hesitate in battle.
What would regret a battle so inevitable? For all battles end in chaos and bloodshed. And to regret would bring one insanity and a life full of bitterness.
She whirled her head around at the sound of a branch breaking under ones foot.
And there he stood: The Man of Gold. The man she knows she loves – or at least, used to.
Each step he took closer to her left a trail of gold. The sword he picked up on the way, too, turned to gold at just his touch.
Her haunted and cold eyes looked at him with sadness as she knew what was to come. For a brief moment, she closed her beautifully compelling gold eyes – the ones he so cherished.
And as she opened them once more, she, too, had a sword in her hand, but instead of hers turning to gold – it remained as it was: sharp and silver.
She stalked toward him and met him halfway. They both gazed deeply into one another's eyes: knowing it would be the last they were able to do so.
She took a deep breath and continued to look at him mournfully, "I knew this would happen." she whispered low enough for no one to hear, but the silence from the dead bodies around them made it so loud.
He raised his hand as if to stroke her hair, but at last minute decided not to. Which was good, as she didn't want to turn gold like the others before her.
He peered into her eyes that were filling up with tears much like his own. "I need to do this. I'm sorry; believe me, please!" he pleaded with her as if to reassure her, but in reality, it was to reassure himself.
She shook her head, black hair moving with her, "I know." was all she said as she looked at him for the last time, "I am too."
And with the finality of her words, they both raised their sword and quickly plunged them into one another; you could hear the plangent music across the battlefield.
They both fell onto their knees, in front of each other, whilst looking into the eyes of each other. But instead of gold watching gold, it was now blue clashing with green.
They both smiled at each other, blood running out of their mouths.
He was free – they were free!
With all their strength, they moved forward and embraced one another for the very last time.
"I... love... you." he gasped out as she laid her head under his chin and his arms eloped her tightly.
"I know," she whispered back.
And with those words — all his sins left him, along with all the gold attached to him and everything he had ever touched.
And there they would forever remain.
Long live Queen Damodice and King Midas
★
Estelle gasped and shot up in her bed, wrapping her arms around her legs. Her frizzy and crazy tresses spilt over her face, creating a barrier between her and real-life, that she so desperately wished to be real.
She kept muttering to herself that it wasn't real and it was all a dream. Oh, how she wished that were true. She was doing so well, and then that popped up. She should have known – known that this peace she has had the past few weeks would be snatched away from her.
As if sensing her troubles, Flora pawed from her spot at the end of the bed over to her and brushed her soft mane against her legs. Estelle looked up and brushed a shaky hand over Flora.
Her lips pulled into a small smile, "What would I do without you, Flora?"
Flora gave a look as if to say crash and burn, which Estelle full-heartedly agreed with.
And that's how the two stayed for quite some time. Estelle softly petting Flora as she purred in her sleep, content.
★
Estelle was on a mission. In the past few weeks, she has been able to, subtly, gain a group of Hufflepuffs (mostly first and second years) into her little circle. And now she has to confront Tom or Quirrell – not that she really cared.
Checking to see if anyone was around (there wasn't), she slipped into his office.
He was hunched over his desk, looking at something, like a crazed man – which he is.
She quietly walked across his office until she was stood right in front of his desk. He still hadn't noticed she was there. And she took great pleasure in that. She counted and it took him three minutes and seventeen seconds to realise she was there.
When he did notice – his expression was so priceless that she just had to laugh. He quickly became angry, angry that he was being laughed at by a mere little girl, and she could tell as his eyes shone red.
"Took you long enough, Professor, or should I say, Tom?" snarked Estelle, her Avada eyes shining with pleasure with having more knowledge than him over this situation.
Quirrell, or Tom, gripped the desk tightly, knuckles turning white, eyes flashing a blood red that she found she loved. "What do you know?" he asked quickly, standing to his full height. Which for Quirrell was embarrassingly too short to be intimidating, which he obviously knew as he rolled his eyes in frustration.
Estelle cocked her head to the side innocently. "I have no idea what you mean, Tommy."
His eyes blazed with anger, "Don't. Call. Me. That!" he hissed, slipping into parseltongue. He was now standing right in front of her with an expression that would have many people quivering, but not her as she was not someone to take shit from a dark lord drama queen.
"Don't call you what, Tommling?" Estelle hissed back, smirking.
Tom visibly pulled back, hearing her speak parseltongue. As far as he knew: he was the only in the country, or even the whole of Europe, that could speak it. "I'll ask you once more. What. Do. You. Want?"
Estelle shrugged her shoulders and plopped down on the chair in front of his desk with a lopsided grin. "Murder," she replied offhandedly.
Tom turned around so fast she was almost afraid his neck would snap.
Almost.
Estelle laughed, almost falling out of the chair, "I'm kidding... kinda. You should have seen your face; that's my new memory for my Patronus."
Tom huffed and sat down in his chair, "So, child, tell me what you want."
If only he knew.
Estelle leaned forward, hand spread out in front of her, palm facing down on the desk, "Exactly what you want... revenge, revenge on those who have wronged me. And of course the philosophers stone."
He raised an eyebrow curiously, wondering how she knew about that. "Revenge," he tasted the word in his mouth and smirked, "I like it. As for the philosophers stone meet me tomorrow, same time where we'll make plans."
Estelle stood up and offered her hand, "Great, see you tomorrow Tommy."
Grudgingly, he accepted her hand and shook it. "Tomorrow, 8 pm, do not be late!"
Walking through the door backwards to still look at him, she replied, "Eight it is, Tommyboy."
Once she was gone, he could help but think of how much of an agenda she is. She's nothing like he thought she would be.
And he would do anything in his power to find out everything about her.
★★★
hi...
also, again, can i mention. can you please not use my lines in your story as this is my work that i spent countless hours on.
i've had prelims and they're all finished, so i'm off school until next year, so i have lots of time.
hope you enjoyed and happy reading!
-abi