Title: A Shattered Phoenix Song
Pairing: Charles Prewett/Helene Potter
Helene Potter huddled in the kitchen of the Burrow, hot chocolate in her hands and screams in her head. The sight of the Dark Mark floating in the sky, of the mayhem and the terror continued to rub her nerves raw, even hours after she was safely away from the Death Eaters and the Quidditch World Cup. Her holly wand lay on the table; without a second thought, she snapped it.
He stepped out of the shadows then, from where Helene knew he had been watching her. His hair was a deep scarlet, not ginger like the other Weasleys. It was also long, and he didn't bow to his mother's loud, aggravating reprimands. He was the one who had apparently inherited Molly's brothers' title: Lord Prewett. He was the second-born, but got the greater title. He was the son who made her feel safe—a concept that was so foreign it had taken her days to understand the feeling or put words to it.
He was Charles Prewett.
Charles stared at the broken wand in her hand, as a shattered phoenix song vanished as if it had never been. "It betrayed you," he said.
Helene nodded, her posture painfully straight. Her wand had let someone else use it. The thought alone made her ill; she had trusted it implicitly, only to be betrayed. He understood, as she doubted anyone else would.
He stepped forward and cupped her chin. "My lady, allow me to take you away from all of this; it's beneath you. It endangers you." His other hand fisted. "I cannot tolerate it."
Helene thought of her parents, who had placed their trust poorly, and she had paid the price. She thought of her godfather, who hadn't fulfilled his duties, and she had paid the price. She thought of her mother's relatives, who hated magic, and she had paid the price. And she tried to imagine a future where she didn't have to pay the price for others' decisions, where she was protected from betrayal and guarded by love fiercer than a dragon guarding its hoard.
"I swear on my magic I will never betray you," he stated.
Charles' magic blanketed her, and Helene truly smiled for the first time all year. Her answer was two words she hadn't expected to live long enough to speak to any wizard. "My lord."