the girl who lost it all [d.m]

thirty: sol

sol: sun, sunlight, sunshine

———

ELARA was half-convinced she was dreaming.

It had been two years of being kept away in the safehouse with nothing to do but pick herbs, watch the others train and sketch in her room. Two years of watching from the rooftop as  her friends left for yet another dangerous mission, wondering if they would all return safely. Two years of washing dishes to calm herself, prodding her friends for answers they couldn't give and wondering when her life would change.

But then Draco Malfoy had re-entered her life five months ago and suddenly, everything had been turned upside down.

She'd learned more about her past than ever before, had fought a Death Eater and won even without a wand, had healed Draco's werewolf wound and had been taken right into the heart of a Death Eater stronghold to work on getting a Horcrux off him.

And now he was asking her to come with them while they got Ginny Weasley out of a dungeon.

Everyone else in the room seemed to be as shocked as she was because no one made a sound. Draco didn't seem fazed; he only pushed off the table and folded his arms across his chest, his eyes on Elara.

"What?" she finally asked, her whisper breaking the silence.

"She's not coming." It was Hermione. "She can't even use a wand and her magic is unreliable at best."

Draco didn't move. "She's coming."

"Are you trying to get her killed?" Ron hissed, stepping forward. Again, George seized his arm, halting him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Elara." Mariko glanced over at her, giving her a sympathetic smile. "Have you ever been able to use your magic at will?"

Elara swallowed and opened her mouth to respond but Hermione beat her to it. "No, she hasn't. It's only showed up when she's overwhelmed or scared." Seeming to realise Elara was still in the room, she glanced over. "Right?"

Reluctantly, Elara nodded. She'd never been able to conjure anything unless she was under a swarm of emotions. When she produced Hermione's Patronus, it had been desperation. When Draco and Hermione had confronted her in the living room and her magic had blasted them away from her, it had been rage. The time Draco had grabbed her when she'd been sitting in the snow, it had been pure fear like the time when the Death Eater had her in his hold. And when she'd healed Draco, she'd been filled with both an arsenal of emotions that she couldn't even decipher.

She herself didn't think she could be relied upon in a battle.

"She's not going to do anything but put herself in danger and slow us down," Harry spoke, harshly, and then flashed an apologetic look at Elara. "She's a liability."