Sage | H. GRANGER

forty

When Sage Whitaker was born she didn't cry. The moment the fresh air entered the newborn's lungs, the only sound heard was a faint gurgle. Her father had been worried, insisting to the staff at St. Mungo's to make sure his daughter was okay, but her mother was calm and collected. The woman held her daughter to her chest as she lightly traced the features of Sage's face.

"She's fine, Theodore." Ingrid Whitaker murmured, careful not to disturb her daughter. Her skin glistened underneath the hospital lights as she slowly cradled her baby close to her bare chest. She didn't have the energy to calm her husband down, he didn't matter in the moment. Only Sage did, her sweet sweet Sage.

"She is an hour old and has yet to cry, Ingrid. I wouldn't classify that as fine." He barked, trying to keep his voice steady. Ingrid ignored his anger as he began to argue with the healers once again. That was the thing about Theodore Whitaker, he had a temper of a tea kettle. Ever since they were young students roaming the halls of Hogwarts, he had this rage that Ingrid just simply didn't understand. Regardless of his steady voice and calm mask, his emotions were crystal clear. That was one thing Ingrid prayed that Sage didn't take from her father. Ingrid wanted Sage to let others in, because a sheltered life isn't one worth living. And Merlin, did Ingrid want Sage to live.

As Sage stared up at her mother, her angelic eyes drinking in her surroundings, Ingrid felt a tear escape her eye. Theodore trailed after the healers who walked out of the room, his voice echoing through the hall as he followed. Ingrid sighed as she adjusted the hold she had on Sage.

"I know why you aren't crying." Ingrid whispered, smiling at the sight of her daughter blinking up at her. "It's because you, my sweet darling, are going to be strong."

Sage's mother had been right. Sage did grow up to be strong. She was fierce and protective and wore her heart on her sleeve (a trait she had gotten from her mother). Sage had a life filled with turmoil and hardships, but she handled it with grace. Granted, she had her moments of weakness, but these fickle moments didn't stop the girl from getting back up and moving on. But, now, As Sage was pushed through the familiar doors of the Malfoy manor, she wasn't sure if this was true anymore. The doors groaned as they swung open to reveal the snatchers gripping onto a beaten and bruised Sage Whitaker. Yaxley stood at the front of the group, leading them to the common area, walking a path Sage had walked a million times before. Blood trickled down the side of her cheek, stinging the open cuts on her face.

She felt weak, oh so weak. All of the strength her mother had raised her with had simply vanished as Sage was limply dragged to her doom. She could hear Hermione in the back of her mind telling her to stand, to fight, but Sage didn't. This, she decided, was her fate. Once, Sage Whitaker was strong, but now? Now she was just a shell of the girl she used to be.

The snatchers that held onto her arms tightened their grip as they pushed Sage to her knees, in the middle of the foyer. Her heart was pounding, her hands trembling. The day had quickly faded into a haunting night, the moonlight cast its ghostly light into the manor. Sage kept her gaze on the floor, studying the shadows of the monsters before her.

A wicked laughter broke the silence of the manor. Sage flinched at the familiar sound. Bellatrix, dark and dirty, danced her way towards Sage. Her twisted joy sent chills down Sage's spine.

"Look what we have here!" Bellatrix exclaimed as she stopped in front of Sage. The Lestrange woman sunk to her knees and grabbed Sage's chin. She forced Sage to make eye contact with her, Belllatrix's wild eyes holding nothing but destruction. "Wittle Whitaker, finally here to meet her end."

"Are you going to beg for your life?" Bellatrix roughly pushed the young girls face away as she stood up to face the others behind her. Her sickly sweet voice made Sage want to vomit. "Plead for me to spare you?"