Okay dearies, this is my first try here, so I'll be keeping my fingers crossed!
If you have the time, leave a small little comment and let me know what you think of it. Mind you, might be a little OOC.
You can read the Italian version of this on EFP (it's entitled "Oblivion - Run).
All of my contact info, including the links to EFP, can be found on my profile.

Love,
Clarisse


Obliviate
-Run-

She had to stop being a child.

She dried those little tears before they rolled over her cheeks, before they streamed down her face for all the world to see.

She knew it was bound to happen, she knew that, sooner or later, it would have come to this. She knew it because it was her fault.

She had kept to herself too many secrets, too much pain and also too much joy. Things could have never ended differently. She had ruined it all, keeping to herself what had to be protected, what had to stay unspoiled, untouched.

Because they wouldn't have been able to comfort her. They would have misunderstood her tears, making her feel even worse. And she really didn't need to feel any worse. They wouldn't have shared her smiles, simply because they wouldn't have been able to understand the sheer happiness raging within her. And she couldn't have taken their confusion.

She had made too many mistakes, as they did. It didn't matter who made them, though. There had been too many and it didn't matter how hard she'd try to patch things up. She couldn't forget. They couldn't either.

It was over.

She had to accept it, she had to get up. She wasn't seven anymore, she was seventeen already. She had to act like herself, like the proud Gryffindor she was. She had to take her own responsibilities, load her shoulders with pain – the pain of those who didn't know what she was up do.

She had to do what had to be done.

She climbed down the stairs, her eyes filled with tears she wouldn't shed. Because she was strong – or that was what she kept repeating herself as she peeked in the living room, where her family was sitting on the couch, watching TV. They were smiling. They didn't know.

It had to be done.

She knew how, she had studied the perfect plan to complete her task. She didn't want them to hurt because of her – to feel responsible, to worry, to despair. She didn't want them to be hurt because of her – to become a target for the Death Eaters. She couldn't stay, and she couldn't simply talk to them because they weren't going to understand. She had but one choice.

It had to be done.

She gritted her teeth, she swallowed her pain and she fought her tears. She took a deep breath – she couldn't hesitate. Her lips whispered a quiet spell.

«Obliviate

She said it right, even though her voice sounded bitter – a voice that spoke goodbye.

She had to go.

She ran out before her family could recover from the typical confusion caused by the spell, clinging to her beaded handbag – everything that she had left of her home, a home which was no longer hers and that would have never been hers again.

There was no going back, no matter how many times she told herself that she would have made things right again once everything was over, because she knew she couldn't. There was no forgiveness for what she had done. They were never going to be her family again. She no longer had a place to call home.

And she knew, because her tears were flowing now; she couldn't keep them back anymore.

She could only run, farther and farther, run to her friends – the only people that were still going to be there for her. She had to leave, she had to go and save the world. But she couldn't concentrate enough to Disapparate, and she had to vent a bit first.

So she ran.