No one would ever know the story of the blue eyed warrior. No, as her dead body lay limp alongside the other casualties, no one could guess all she had sacrificed for her cause. A dark aura of curls spilled around her. Her eyelids were closed, never to open again. And, despite his friends' sneers of disapproval, one red haired Death Eater placed a single dandelion next to her, shedding a tear.
I suppose I should start from the beginning, and not the end. Skye Sweson and Matthew Murdid were unlikely friends. Matthew came from a pureblooded family, while Skye was only introduced to magic at the age of eleven, when she received her Hogwarts letter. The summer she got her letter, Matthew took an interest in her. He always wondered what made mudbloods so inferior to purebloods. As he soon discovered, she wasn't very different than him.
Despite their opposite backgrounds, Matthew and Skye became close friends. Skye soon revealed her obsession- flying. She told him her favorite baby story- when asked what she wanted to do when she grew up, she responded with "I'd like to fly", flashing a smile before shyly looking at her shoes. She explained how she was obsessed with speed, how she adored the feeling of wind in her hair. Hearing this, he offered her his broom. Soon, he taught her how to play his favorite sport, Quittitch.
On August 28th, merely a few days before the boarding of the Hogwarts express, Skye interrogated Matthew about the difference between mudbloods and purebloods.
"It doesn't matter much." Matthew's timid eleven year old self explained. "Purebloods are just full of themselves. No one will be mean to you just because you're a mud...muggle born" He lied, using the politically correct term for the first time.
"Good! I'd hate to be an outcast." Skye replied, and inquired a bit more about Quittitch tryouts.
At their arrival at Hogwarts, Skye and Matthew were separated to different houses. Matthew was sorted into Slytherin, while Skye was taken to Ravenclaw.
Skye and Matthew both made friends in their houses- Matthew was asked by his parents to stick to purebloods, while Skye found comfort with staying in halfblood societies. Matthew and Skye both made their house's Quittich teams- Matthew was a beater, while Skye was a chaser.
Skye excelled in charms, while Matthew found transfiguration was his area of expertise. The years passed, and it seemed as though Matthew was being swept away with the pureblood mania.
In their sixth year, Skye finally confronted him. No longer could she turn a blind eye to his scornful comments towards her friends. She took him up to the astronomy tower, away from his malicious friends, and finally asked him.
"In Merlin's name, what's wrong with you?" Skye demanded.
"What do you mean?" He replied.
"You're friends… I don't like them." She said gently. He laughed.
"Well, I don't like yours either. Let's face it, Amanda is bloody clueless." He said.
"At least she doesn't go around hexing people in the halls because they're muggle born! Seriously Matt, I didn't think the rumors were true, but now… I don't know anymore." She whispered, on the verge of crying. He just stood there awkwardly.
"They're not all that bad…" He tried comforting her, wondering what happened these last five years that caused them to drift so far apart.
"Not all that bad?" She spat, nearly hysteric. "They're awful! And so are you! They could hex me left and right for all you care, as long as you get to keep your precious blood status!" She said, realizing the truth of her statement only after she's said it. Looking back at the past few month, she realized how stupid she'd been. They never went out in public anymore, he always declined when she offered they meet at Hogsmeade instead of sneaking out of their dorms at the dead of the night.
"Keep your blood status. Murder some muggles, if it suites you. Just remember, I was the one who practiced Quittich with you. I helped you pass your OWLs. Did those… did those Death Eaters ever stay up with you when you were afraid of the boggard in the closet? No. And they never will. You have a choice. Throw away your life for… for status, or start to accept that not everyone was born with a wand in one hand and a broom in another." She said, looking him straight in the eyes. What she saw made her want to burst into tears- familiar hazel eyes, boring deep into her soul. He hesitated, and she sighed.
"You're no better than the Death Eaters." She said confidently. "I hope you'll be happy with your pureblood life. I truly don't give a shit." She said. She paused before leaving, but finally spat in his face and ran down the stairs. However, she wasn't fast enough- he could hear her sob.
If only he would have grabbed her wrist or ran after her as he so desperately longed to, it would have made all the difference in the world. He could have wiped her tears, told her it would be all right. But he didn't.
The next day, she attempted to approach him, but his "friends" were in the way.
"Matt?" She asked, tapping him on the shoulder. One of the larger boys of the group sadistically grinned, expecting Matthew to response violently. He hesitated, not sure what to do. However, another boy responded for him.
"Why would he have anything to discuss with you, you filthy mudblood?" He snickered. Skye stood her ground.
"Matt, this'll only take a minute…" She repeated, practically pleading. He still didn't turn around, but just stood there, torn. Meanwhile, a girl in the group muttered "scum". The Slytherins all starred at Matthew, waiting.
"I'm sorry… I can't talk to a… a… m-mudblood" he whispered scornfully, still refusing to look at her.
She could barely disguise her shock and disgust. "I see" She said, turning around. "You made your choice. Now live with it." She said calmly as she walked away. The Slytherins all giggled, giving each other looks of "what was that?". Matthew stood still, contemplating his choice. He knew it was wrong before he even made it. So why did it feel so right?
Years later, the war was in full swing. Matthew was a sworn Death Eater, while Skye naturally chose to join the Order. It was a cold October, the coldest it had been in years. The previously white, pure snow turned shades of red, saturated with blood. The excited buzz had died, to be replaced by mournful sighs. Death was a familiar scent, cries of torture no longer taking the Order members aback. Voldemort had heard the prophecy and it seemed all was lost.
Matthew, ever the transfiguration genius, was responsible for planting recording devices in the Order's meeting places. However, one night, as he was listening to the recordings, he heard a voice he never expected to hear again.
He nearly wept as he realized Skye was involved in this entire mess. She didn't deserve the treatment mud… muggleborns received nowadays. She was a splendid witch, better than most purebloods he knew. He supposed he couldn't blame her for attempting to save her friends, but he wished she wouldn't. What did he want? He wanted her to hide. He didn't want to be viewed as a monster. He didn't want to be pressured by his parents to hold up to his surname. He wanted her to be happy… and if possible, be happy with her.
He learned she was assigned to help guard the Potters- a futile task, as Voldemort has specifically set out to destroy them. No matter how great the effort, there was no way to protect them. Worst- he knew he was part of the force dedicated to infiltrate their defenses. He felt as though he had to warn her- and so he did.
"Skye!" He yelled after her, she turned around, pointing her wand at his chest. He dropped his wand and raised his hands, a gesture of peace.
"Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you" she seethed. However, as his features registered, her eyes softened. Even with the Dark mark on his arm, he still had the shaggy red hair, the mesmerizing hazel eyes… he was still Matt. And yet, he was a Death Eater. He was vicious. And if she had to fight him, so be it.
"I introduced you to Quittitch. I know Sirius Black was your first crush. I helped you pass transfiguration." He said, taking slow, steady steps toward her, his arms still in the air. Finally, he added "you'll never forgive yourself for killing a friend."
"How dare you?" She yelled. "How dare you come here, after all these years, and call yourself a friend? After what you've done to my friends? I'll be in my right mind to kill you right now, or bring you in, you foul git!" She shouted. A single tear rolled down her cheek. He reached to wipe it off, but she slapped his hand away.
"Don't touch me!" She shrieked. "How could you? Wipe my tear off with the same arm your lord marked, why don't you? Why makes me any different?" She asked, looking him in the eyes. "What makes me any different from the countless muggles and muggleborns you tortured?"
He paused. She started walking away, but he grabbed her shoulder. She shook him off, but still turned around.
"Just… Listen to me, alright? There's going to be an attack. October 31st is when it'll take place. Promise me you won't be there." She looked at him, calculating.
"This isn't a trap!" He said, grabbing her shoulders again. "Promise me, right now. Promise me you'll be safe." He said.
With tears in her eyes, she promised she wouldn't be anywhere near the Potter's. They agreed that she'd drink a polyjuice potion and, the next day they'd meet at Hogsmeade. She'd be carrying a dandelion, so it would be easy for him to recognize her. They'd flee the country, possibly head over to the New World. She swore she wouldn't try and fight. At the time, she thought she was telling the truth. But as we later learn, she wasn't.
The state of the Longbottoms shook Skye so much that she went half mad. She couldn't keep it in anymore- she informed Dumbledore of the attack planned on the Potters. She was so far gone, she didn't even feel the guilt of betrayal. He dismissed her, but she wanted something in return.
"I want to be there." She said, a raw desire for vengeance stirring inside of her. "I want to be there when it all goes down."
Perhaps she had a death wish, or perhaps she was already half mad. Dumbledore didn't have time to investigate. He informed her she'd be doing broom patrol, along with a few other members and that they'd probably get the worst of it. It would be their job to eliminate as many Death Eaters as possible.
She was a backstabber, and she knew it. But by that point, she didn't care. If she was going to hell, she might as well take as many Death Eaters as possible down with her.
The night crept by- that fateful night of October 31st. Skye was on her broom, feeling the wind in her hair for the last time. They came- not very discreet, mind you. Four dozen Death Eaters wearing cloaks and masks, somehow still ashamed of themselves. And it started.
Lights flashing everywhere, curses spinning out of control. Various cries for help as people were knocked off their brooms. And she saw him- sitting on is broom, starring at her in shock. She had a perfect shot, but… she couldn't bring herself to do it. How would one more death help? The hovered there for a minute, just gazing at each other. Speaking without words. They seemed oblivious to the cacophony around them.
A Death Eater crept behind Skye, and Matthew attempted to cast a killing curse his way. However, his vision was blurred due to tears, and he missed. He hit Skye. She fell off her broom, dwindling to the ground.
There you have it. The dismiss of Skye Swenson, the girl who always wanted to fly. The girl who's beautiful blue eyes stopped everyone short. The girl who never got to hold that one dandelion, the signal of safety.
I suppose closure is called for. Matthew could never forgive himself, nor love again. He was found in his flat about two weeks after her death. Drunk, he tried to obliviate himself, but it went all wrong and he ended up dead. He was found with a picture of two teenagers in his hand, with deep creases, seemingly unfolded and refolded in his palm countless times. The picture was a bit faded, featuring a boy and a girl laughing at some joke lost between the folds of time. A short girl with shocking blue eyes and a strong boy with red hair, both so innocent and young.
It might have been different, if not for the prejudices of purebloods. If not for one undeniable evil man, Matthew and Skye would have been happy together. If not for Tom Riddle, Skye Swenson and Matthew Murdid would both be alive, as so many others would.
A/N: What do you think? Should I write more? I love haters. I'm hungry for reviews. Feed me? :)
Faithfully,
-M.A. Ehrenreich