She could smell the magic around her. Curses have a peculiar smell, she found, much like the colours they exhibit when they are launched in the middle of a battlefield. Yet – it was just the lingering smells that surrounded her – them. They were hundreds of ragged soldiers, clutching friends, family, lovers. She casted a look around, seeing a platinum head somewhere, kissing a brown-haired girl – Granger and Malfoy. Who the fuck knew?. She smiled but it barely stretched her pale lips.
Clumsily, she walked towards the edge of the plaza, where they had all fought, where the Dark Lord died. Merlin – she was tired. Her legs were lead, blood.
Blood was spilling from the cuts across her back, from the Flaying Curse that took the skin off her ribs but the pain did not soar anymore. She didn't know if it was good or not. She had lost her wand – she recalled. No, it was broken; the rage she felt explode as she threw the Killing Curse at Lucius broke it.
Lucius.
No, he didn't deserve to be called by his first name anymore.
Nott was sitting somewhere, clutching his head, ripping his hair. He had fought for the Light, turning his back on the Dark Lord – much like Pansy, Draco, Goyle and Crabbe. She smirked tiredly, pushing off a greasy black strand of hair.
She walked towards the circle that had been drawn hastily in the ground and dropped on her knees, the cut on her arm throbbing, remembering the blood magic Minerva asked her to perform there.
Somehow, it was odd, putting blood magic and Minerva in the same sentence but they did what had to be done to survive.
The Dark Lord's dear idea of blood purity bit him in the ass, at the end.
"Hogwarts" Her voice was broken too, hoarse, cracked.
When was the last time she drank water?
Days ago.
Fuck.
"We're maimed (she thought of Neville's hand), we're tired (she thought of Potter, who passed out after his victorious fight against the Dark Lord), we're exhausted (she thought of herself, how she wished to sleep for weeks), we're injured (she thought of Granger, who's arm was burnt), but we're not dead. We haven't lost a single one soldier today. You protected us. You kept us alive. I am here – I am here to pay my debt to you. I uphold my bargain, Hogwarts, for the protection you granted us, you can have my magic."
And so, the good Riddle girl stood, bowed and broken and tired, her eyes on the ground, shaking like a leaf, as the whispers of thousands of dead people surrounded her mind, invading her privacy, prying her memories. She put her fists on the ground, holding herself up, barely, blood dripping from the nasty cuts on her upper arms. A great shiver ran down her spine and she was left gasping, an invisible hand clutching her heart.
She wondered if the Dark Lord was claiming her – his daughter, his monster - from his grave.
But a great laugh echoed around her. The great animals – the lion, the eagle, the badger and the snake – all rose up, mists, ghosts, and collapsed on the ground, empty.
"Sleep" The snake hissed in her ear. "You will be a teacher here, as payment of your debts. Sleep"
She fought against the order, her eyes fluttering open, stinging, and black eyes met hers, but they were not black and cold, like they used to be, they were warm and alive. Alive.
Snape.
No.
Severus.
She smiled and fell asleep.