𝐎, 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃 ⎥ "He wants a fight with
a God? I'll give him one."
﹙ from stardust we came, to stardust we return ﹚
Prisoner of Azkaban - Deathly Hollows
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ELARA'S FEET HIT SOLID GROUND AGAIN; HER KNEES BUCKLED A LITTLE AND THE GOLDEN WIZARD'S HEAD FELL WITH A RESOUNDING CLUNK TO THE FLOOR. she looked around and saw that she and harry had arrived in dumbledore's office.
everything seemed to have repaired itself during the headmaster's absence. the delicate silver instruments stood again upon the spindle-legged tables, puffing and whirring serenely. the portraits of the headmasters and headmistresses were snoozing in their frames, heads lolling back in armchairs or against the edge of their pictures. elara looked through the window. there was a cool line of pale green along the horizon: dawn was approaching.
"lara. . . . ?" said harry quietly.
"i know," she said, wrapping her arms around his middle tightly.
the silence and the stillness, broken only by the occasional grunt or snuffle of a sleeping portrait, seemed almost unbearable to her. if her surroundings could have reflected the feelings inside her, the pictures would have been screaming in pain. she tried not to think, she only wanted to focus on harry, how warm he was, and how safe she felt.
"i'm so sorry," mumbled harry into her hair, "its all my fault."
elara pulled away from him, but her arms were still wrapped loosely around his middle.
"hey, no," said elara in the softest voice she could manage, "its not your fault."
"but — "
"i want you to say it."
harry shook his head.
"but if i hadn't been so stupid, if i had just listened to hermione — "
"i also didn't listen to hermione. harry, its not your fault," said elara, gently emphasizing every word.
"do you think its your fault?" said harry, and elara looked down at her feet.
"we're talking about you, harry."
"it's not your fault, lara," he said, pulling her back into his embrace.
"its not yours, either," mumbled elara into the crook of his neck.
it was unbearable, she would not think about it, she could not stand it. . . . there was a terrible hollow inside her she did not want to feel or examine, a dark hole where sirius had been, where sirius had vanished.
