The Bonfire

by echoing noise

Narcissa hates fighting: Hates how she has to give herself up, hates how she becomes a savege, hates how nothing she loves matters anymore. She hates that for every hex, a part of herself burns to ash. Written for Hogwarts Online.

They need to march on, and the bodies must be thrown into the bonfire - they'll rot and be forgotten, just for this moment, this second, this year, this lifetime.

They need to fight, and the memories, for just one second, have to be fogotten. They need to destroy themselves in the bonfire before they can move on, need to become the animals they once were before the can sharpen their teeth. The smoke will sting their eyes, yes, and blind them, but it will also help them see.

They'll see red and lust and they'll snarl for the fight, snap at meat and limbs and rip apart tendons, destroy their enemy, destroy themselves, fight through the smoke, cough, choke.

And then when the dust clears and the battle - the war - is done, they'll look back and see flames.

They'll see themselves burn.

And she hates that.