Chapter 8: Felix Felicis

October 4th


Elara sighed out of aggravation. She was properly buried to her nose in essays, charts, and notes for her classes while Draco did the bare minimum to skate by. She eyed her brother and Blaise, playing their third game of chess while she worked tirelessly.

"Will you two be quiet?" She hissed, as they began laughing at yet another inside joke. "I've got to finish this assignment and you're breaking my concentration."

"You're the one who took every class you could." Draco said, giving a careless shrug. "It's not my fault you're buried in work."

"You could drop a few." Blaise suggested. "Like Divination and Muggle Studies…"

She huffed. "One more word about my class choices from either of you and I swear I'll hex you the bottom of that lake."

"Testy." Blaise said, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"She's been biting my head off all week." Draco agreed.

"Don't talk about my like I'm not here." She warned. "It's rude. And if you would do your own assignments, I wouldn't be biting your head off, as you like to put it."

"I didn't ask you to write my essays! You took that upon yourself!" Draco argued.

"Because you're going to get another detention if you don't turn in your transfiguration work!"

"None of it matters anyway!" He said. "Classes aren't going to make a difference this time next year!"

"You keep saying that." Blaise interrupted. "What are you on about?"

"It doesn't matter. We've got bigger things to worry about than fucking McGonagall and her essays."

Elara rolled her eyes. "Can you get through one day without-

"The language. Yes, I know." Draco huffed. "You really need to get over it. You're driving me mental."

"You know what, I'm going for a walk." She said, putting her work into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "I need to get my work done and you two are no help. Enjoy your game."

"Go on then." Draco goaded. "Try not to break your bloody foot this time around!"

She glared at him, her lips pursed in a tight line, before grabbing her wand off the table and leaving the common room. "Git." She muttered under her breath.

She wandered the quiet corridors, only passing a few other students here and there. She had noticed her moods seemed rather volatile the last week or so, and apparently it had shown. Being constantly surrounded by people was becoming exhausting. She couldn't even sleep on her own, since she shared a dormitory with three other girls. She was desperately missing her own bed in her own room. She missed the quiet afternoons at the Manor, when her mother would leave to do whatever new project she was getting herself into and she had the entire property to herself. She missed laying on the floor of their ballroom, the charmed string quartet playing lovely music as she stared up at the glass dome ceiling, looking at the clouds movement while it rained.

Most of all, she missed the absence of suspicious eyes following her everywhere she went. Draco paid no mind to it. He reveled in it. He loved that other students feared him, that they respected him simply because they were afraid of what he could do to them.

Elara hated it.

It made her sick to her stomach, the things people whispered about her, about her family. She had spent so long tricking herself into believing that her family wasn't that bad. That they were just misunderstood, and perhaps, she thought, perhaps that was true—to an extent. However, hearing the whispers of terrible things Draco had done to bully younger students, hearing of the crimes her father committed… It was taking a toll on her. She wanted to believe that she was doing what she had to do, that her family was making decisions that had to be made. But were they? Did she have to spend her time trying to manipulate Potter into liking her? Did she have to work on this task that would allow death eaters into the castle? Did she have to show such loyalty to her family, when she was questioning their motives, questioning everything they stood for?

Her chest began to feel tight and she could feel a lump forming in her throat. As she reached the main floor, she picked up her pace and by the time the doors were in sight, she was sprinting. Her breath was ragged as it pushed past her lips, uneven and sharp. She ran as fast as her legs would carry her until she got to the Black Lake. Finally, doubling over to catch her breath, she stopped. Her chest constricted, her lungs burning for oxygen as panic swam through her, turning her blood cold.

She collapsed in the grass next to a large oak tree that the leaves were beginning to change color. She rested her back against it and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and pressing her forehead into her knees. She drew in long, shaking breaths. Tears burning her eyes and blurring her vision as she tried to calm herself.

Panic attacks weren't abnormal for Elara. She had experienced them since she was a young child. Having the ability to connect to people so deeply burdened her soul after time, especially being surrounded by other emotions constantly. Her fingers were buzzing, the itch of magic tingling through her nerves. This will pass she thought. It always passes. You're just being sensitive to all the people.

She slowly pulled her head up, looking around. She sniffled, her breath catching as she realized she was not alone. There was someone watching her.

Confusion. Suspicion. Interest.

The same three emotions she felt from everyone else… But there was something else under them. A strange guarded curiosity. She blinked a few times, the tears spilling over the rim of her storm cloud eyes and rolling down her cheeks. She sniffled and closed them, trying to focus. She was being watched, actively. It wasn't just someone in passing, the emotions were lingering too long for that.

There was a hesitance to these emotions—as if the person was feeling torn between themselves.

"H-hello?" She looked around, her voice cracking from the lump still in her throat. "I know you're there." She slowly stood up, brandishing her wand as she turned from left to right, pushing her hair out of her face. "Come out before I start hexing!"

From behind a large boulder sat a few meters away from where she was standing, a shock of messy black hair appeared, large green eyes sparkling with amused inquiry. Harry held his hands up in surrender, walking halfway to her. "I'm sorry." He said. "I was here, and I heard you. I didn't want to startle you."

"Why is it always you?!" she shouted at him.

"It wasn't intentional!" He defended. "I was already here! I just left Hagrid's and I sat for a few moments."

"By yourself?" She asked. "You're always surrounded by your fan club!"

"You're alone too." He pointed out.

"Yes well, I don't have classes on Monday afternoons." She said.

"Neither do I." Harry said. He took a few steps closer to her and realized she had tears rolling off her chin. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" She said, more bite than she intended, she hastily wiped the streaky tears from her face.

"Okay." He said. "I'll just go then."

He turned to walk away. He leaned behind the boulder again and she saw him grab his bag and put it over his shoulders. As he began to move toward the castle, she had a tug in her stomach, something telling her that now would be a good time to talk to him. He was alone, after all. And this time, she hadn't hurt herself—It could be an organic conversation. She cursed herself, angry that she still felt the need to continue with her plan after just questioning her own motives.

"Wait!" She said. "Wait."

He turned and looked at her, puzzled.

"What were you doing out here?"

"I was watching the lake." He said. "I like to come out here from time to time. It's quiet, and there's no one else around… well usually. Sometimes you can see the mermaids…"

She took a deep breath and moved toward him. "I thought you liked being around people. You seem to be popular."

He shrugged. "It's tiring." He admitted. "Having people talk about you and whisper about you every time you walk into a room."

They met in the middle, between the boulder and the tree. She nodded. "It's really difficult." She agreed, sniffling and lowering her wand.

"Are you okay?" He asked again. To his own surprise, his tone was much softer than he expected. He looked her over, taking notice to her harsh breathing and puffy eyes.

"I'm fine." She said. "I'm just homesick."

Harry involuntarily scoffed. And she clenched her jaw and sucked her teeth. "You know what. Never mind." She said, beginning her walk back to the castle.

Harry stood in place for a moment, watching as she passed him. He groaned internally, annoyed with himself for ruining the chance to talk to her again. He concluded after taking time to think about their conversation in the hospital wing, that if he wanted to know what the Malfoys were up to, he would need to get to know them. And the easiest way to do that would be to talk to Elara, since she seemed to be at least halfway rational.

"I'm sorry!" He said, doing a short jog to catch up with her. "Elara, I'm sorry. I just—it's hard you know? Your brother hasn't exactly been a fan of mine and your father-

"You just told me that it's tiring to have people talk about you constantly, and yet here you are! Doing the exact same thing!"

"And that's not fair to you!" He said. "I know that now. It's just… you have to admit that your name may come with some… some preconceptions!"

"The version of me that you created in your own head is not my responsibility!" She roared. "It's not my fault that you have prejudice against me!"

"I'm not prejudiced!" He said. "It's just hard to believe that you aren't!"

"Well, I'm not! I'm not my father, or my brother for that matter!" And as the words slipped past her lips, she realized where the tightness in her chest was coming from. Where her irritability had come from. She was enjoying her time at Hogwarts—until she had to think about the task. Until she had to think about doing something that she felt was against what she believed.

On whim—without thinking, without trying to make sense of the urge, Harry grabbed her wrist and pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her. He didn't know why he did it. Maybe seeing the petite blonde crying made him feel compassion for her. Maybe it was the conviction in her voice when she yelled at him. Maybe it was just teenage boy hormones. Maybe he wished someone would embrace him, tell him that it was okay to be upset… But he held her for a moment, and she didn't pull away. She smelled like cinnamon and orange blossoms and he noticed how small she felt against his chest. He again noticed her warmth.

Elara was baffled, but she'd be lying to herself if she said she didn't need the comfort. Draco had been far from comforting since they arrived at Hogwarts and she was craving the warmth of another person. Her heart desperately missed her mother's soothing songs or the tight hugs she would get from her father before… before he ruined everything. She stayed for a moment, her erratic breathing calming to a normal pace. His heartbeat was thundering under her ear. She slowly wrapped her own arms around his waist and held him back.

The embrace was longer than Harry anticipated. He expected her to pull away, maybe even to slap him for his rash show of affection. She seemed just as confused as he felt, but she then wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer to her and he felt a very bizarre sense of calm. Like she was radiating reassurance, washing away the exhaustion of the last six weeks. If he was honest with himself, she was the only other person in the castle who could understand how he was feeling. She was right. He wasn't the only person people were whispering about—even if the reasons were vastly different.

"Tell me something good then." He whispered into her hair, his breath moving a few of the white blonde strands.

"About what?" She asked, her voice thick from crying, still not breaking the embrace.

"Your family." He said. "You said I have misconceptions. Tell me something good about them. What is making you miss them?"

She sighed. "I miss my mum's songs."

"She sings?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. He couldn't picture Narcissa Malfoy singing soft songs to anyone.

Elara nodded against his chest. "She used to sing to us a lot when were kids. Not so much anymore, but every once in a while, she will. She's always humming something though. There's always music at the Manor."

Harry finally broke the hug, slowly pulling away. He looked into her eyes, they were sparkling with tears and still slightly puffy. He took her hand and walked back to the boulder he was sitting against earlier. "This is the best place to look at the lake." He said.

They sat down, shoulder to shoulder, and stared into the abyss of the Black Lake for several long minutes.

"What songs did she sing to you?" He asked. "When you were young?"

"I don't know what it's called." She admitted. "But she always sang it to us at night, or if I had a nightmare, or a bad storm came that scared us. And now if I'm having a bad day… I just could really use it right now."

"Sing it for me." He said. "I want to hear it."

She craned her neck to look at him, her eyes narrowed slightly. "You'll just use it to make fun of us later." She said.

"I won't." He promised. "I… I could really use the comfort too."

She sighed and looked at him a long moment. He was being honest, and he seemed surprised with himself for that. She cleared her throat and sang the short tune. "If you've got time enough for me, sing me a song and send me to sleep. Slip into my headspace while I dream. Spin me a yarn, wrap it up around me…"

He sat quiet, listening to the lyrics as she sang the song. She was quiet and sounded nervous. He could tell she was allowing him a very private moment of her life. "It's beautiful." He said.

"I can't sing like she does." Elara whispered. "But I hum it to myself a lot. I just miss the calm. Everything here is chaotic. I always have a hundred things to worry about."

"Tell me more." Harry said. "About your life before now."

"Why?" She asked. "You don't really want to know."

"I do!" He said. "I told you about my life with Muggles before I came here… Tell me the happy stuff. The reasons you miss them."

And she did. She told him about her daily life at the Manor. She told him about the days she spent in the gardens tending the plants. She told him about how she learned to cook from the house elves, about her father teaching her to fly. She told him about how she and Draco would often lay outside in the grass at night, staring up at the stars and talk about moving somewhere tropical and warm. She told him about her vacations to France and Italy, about the time she was chased by one of the white peacocks on the lawn of the Manor. She told him as many happy things she could remember.

The sun began to sink, casting a deep orange hue across the sky as the air grew a bit colder as it swept between them, tugging her hair out of place and rippling the waters before them. Harry listened intently, noting her smiles and small giggles as she reminisced. He had never seen someone so human. So ripe with emotion and the ability to perfectly communicate them. He was fascinated by her and he could feel his prior judgements melting away. Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe she was different.


Elara entered the Slytherin common room just after eight in the evening. Draco was sat on the leather couch by the fire, a copy of the Daily Prophet in his hands and he looked bored and slightly agitated. She sat next to him, setting her heavy bag on the floor by her feet.

"And where the hell have you been the last five hours?" He said, not looking up from the paper.

"Talking with Harry by the lake." She replied.

He lowered the newspaper, arching a blonde eyebrow at her. "Oh? Calling him Harry now, are we? Date night with Potter?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know, he's really not that bad."

"He's a self-righteous wanker." Draco muttered.

"A lot of people would say the same thing about you." She pointed out. "Besides, I told you before, the best way to keep him away from you and the task is to convince him to be friendly with me."

"That doesn't mean you have to get under him."

Elara tightened her jaw. "You're extremely irritating, you know that?"

He shrugged. "At least I'm not shagging the enemy."

"We aren't shagging!" She snapped. "We talked."

"I know what talking leads to." Draco said, turning to look at her. "Especially when that talking is to someone who looks like us."

"You are so full of yourself." She snorted. "Just because you'll bed anything with a pulse doesn't mean I will. I just want him to change his mind, to not have every reason to be suspicious. If he's able to talk to me, I can keep him off your scent while we continue. I've explained this to you already."

"You seem happier right now than you have been in days. I'm not as thick as you think I am. This entire plot of yours won't work if you develop feelings for Princess Potter or his court of jesters."

She folded her arms over her chest and huffed. "You're an imbecile." She said. "I know what I'm doing. If you'd rather him keep stalking your every move, I can just ignore him from now on. And I'm happy because I got away from you and your terrible attitude for a few hours."

"I don't trust Potter. He's going to figure it out eventually. And my attitude is bad because I've been awake for three days working on this damn cabinet while you're off in your study sessions with mudbloods and hufflepuffs!"

"I don't like that word." She said. "Sorry for caring about my marks! But one of us has to. And if he does manage to piece anything together, I'll just make him forget that he figured it out." She shrugged. "It isn't that difficult."

Draco looked at her, eyes narrowed. "You can do that?"

She nodded. "Do you remember when we were thirteen and you fell coming down the stairs in front of all of mum and dad's company?"

He thought hard for a moment. "No." He said.

"You're welcome." She said, a smirk etching into her face. "You were so embarrassed you begged me to do something so you wouldn't have to relive that humiliating moment. So, I buried it."

"You did not." He said. "I can always tell when you've been in my head."

She reached out and pressed her fingers against his temple, thinking of the moment. Suddenly, Draco remembered. He felt the embarrassment. The humiliation of landing on his ass in front of a dozen or so influential people. He looked at her, eyes wide. "You'll make him forget? Just like that?"

"Just like that." She agreed.


Elara and Draco entered the potions classroom a few minutes late. They had been caught up in the room of requirement, working on the formula to try to get the cogs moving to the cabinet.

"Sorry, professor." Elara offered, taking her seat next to Draco.

"Not a problem, my dear!" The large potions professor boomed. "Now this next potion," He continued, addressing the class. "Is the most dangerous one of the bunch. Who can tell me- well of course! Miss granger!"

"Amortentia. Or more commonly known as the Love Potion. It said that it smells different to each person who smells it, based on what attracts them."

"Correct again!" He said, a smile across his face. "It doesn't create love though. Just deep infatuation."

"What do you smell?" Draco whispered.

She took a deep breath in through her nose. "The geraniums at the manor, treacle… and… I don't know… something woodsy? Like earth. You?"

He smirked. "As if I'd tell you."

She rolled her eyes and began scribbling down the notes that were written on the chalk board, listening to the rest of Professor Slughorn's ramblings.

"Sir." One of the Patil twins said. "Sir, you haven't told us what the last one is."

"Oh yes! This is what you will be competing for today! Whoever makes the best Draught of Living Death will get a small vial of Felix Felicis!"

"Liquid Luck!" Hermione said.

"Exactly!" Professor Slughorn said. "Whoever takes this will find that all of their endeavors go their way! Well, at least until the potion wears off."

Draco looked at Elara. "We have to get this potion." He said. "One of us has to win."

His voice was urgent, and she understood. If they could get the potion, they may be able to figure out exactly what they need to do to fix the vanishing cabinet.

An hour and forty-five minutes into the brewing process and Elara had to restart for the third time. Her cauldron bubbled a sickly green color before the contents congealed and then turned rock hard. She sighed in frustration, pulling her hair out of her face.

"This is ridiculous." She said, emptying her cauldron once more. "How is yours coming along?"

Draco gave her a very pompous look, looking far too proud of himself. "I'm nearly there. I just can't get this damn Sopophorous pod to- oh!" He jumped as the pod shot across the room as he tried to pry the blade into it. "fuck all!" He said, aggravated.

"This is impossible. No one is going to win it at this point." Elara said, beginning to brew all over again.

She jumped as a loud bang sounded and she turned in her chair, seeing Seamus Finnegan trying to put out the fire that had exploded with in his cauldron. Hermione looked vexed and several of the other students looked as though they had all but given up.

Everyone was out of sorts. Everyone except Harry, who was as calm as could be.

"Times up!" Professor slughorn announced at the three hour mark. "Let's see where you've all landed, shall we?"

He made his way around the room, chuckling at different cauldrons, looking concerned at others. When he got to the table Elara and Draco were working at, she was already flustered.

"Ms. Malfoy." He said, looking into her cauldron. "A bit of trouble with the Sloth Brain?"

She looked at the jelly like substance coating the inside of the cauldron and sighed. "You could say that."

"Ah well, it is a tricky potion. Timing is very specific here… Mr. Malfoy, yours looks nearly perfect! Just missing the full juice of the Sopophorous Pod?"

"I got as much of it in there as I could."

Slughorn nodded in understanding. "Slippery little devils, those pods!"

The last table was Harry, Ron, and Hermione's. Elara couldn't make out what he said to Ron and Hermione, but to Harry- he boomed with excitement! "Ho Ho! It looks as if we have a winner! Perfect potion, Mister Potter!"

"Fucking Potter!" Draco mumbled under his breath. He looked at Elara, suddenly very serious. "I've made it clear that I don't like you hanging around with that twat. But you'd better make it worth your fucking time. Get that potion from him. We need it."

She winced at his harsh language, but the message was loud and clear. Draco may hate the idea of her becoming friendly with Harry and his friends, but he needed her to continue to talk to them. To play nice. There was now something tangible in it for him, something more than just promises of keeping Harry off his trail. She knew what that potion could do for them. She wasn't in love with the idea of using Harry to get it, but at this point she had sold her morals to the devil.

The only problem was her own head getting in the way. Because the earthy smell she had experienced with the Amortentia she had just recently experienced the night before… When Harry had wrapped his arms around her.

As she packed her bag, she tried hard not to think about what that meant. It won't work if you develop feelings for him, Draco's voice ringing in her head. One evening of someone being nice to her, and she was faltering? No. No this simply wouldn't do. It didn't matter what she felt, what she believed in. She had to get her head together and continue on with the task, as planned. They didn't have time for her to fall apart anymore.


Blaise opened the small box his mother had sent him. Predictably, it was full of a few of his favorite treats from Italy, The new Quidditch Monthly magazine issue, and a few small knick knacks from home. He picked up the letter, his name written across the parchment in his mother's curling, slanted script.

"Amore Mio

I have heard the news of Elara Malfoy joining Hogwarts this year. I ask you to offer your best to her, keep her accudita. I know your heart, I know you will do the right things. I look forward to you coming home for the holidays, the elves company does not compare to yours. I will wait your next letter.

Tu sei il sole del mio giorno

Mamma"

"Your mum?" Elara asked, looking up from her Charms notes.

Blaise nodded. "Yeah. She's asked me to care for you." He chuckled.

She held her hand out to see the letter, he handed the parchment for her and pulled out a bottle of Chinotto that had been charmed to be very small. He reversed the spell and poured them each a glass of the sparkling beverage.

"This last line… what does that mean?" She asked, accepting the goblet.

"Tu sei il sole del mio giorno." He said, Italian accent perfect. "It means 'you are the sunshine of my day'. She always says that to me"

Elara smiled. "I didn't know that. That's quite sweet Blaise."

"Don't speak too loudly, the others will know I have a soft side." He joked.

"Having a soft side for your mum isn't a bad thing." She said.

"I suppose you would understand that." He said. "As much you and Draco care for your mum. Have you heard from her lately?"

She shook her head. "No… I think… I think they've moved in." She whispered. "She said once they moved in, she wouldn't be able to write much."

Blaise shuddered. The thought of having a house full of Death Eaters around made his stomach churn. His mother, as well known for her sordid past with husbands, was famously neutral. She spent as much time that she could out of the country, floating between their property in Tuscany and their villa in Naples. As of late, she only returned to England for work or to see Blaise off for school. She had warned him before the start of this year that the war was coming, and she was not going to be apart of it. And neither would he.

"Have you heard from your father?" He asked.

She shook her head. "No. I'm not sure if I'd want to though."

He put the letter back into the box and took out the Quidditch Magazine. "Why?"

"I- I'm not sure anything I would have to say to him are things a daughter should say to her father."

He raised an eyebrow in question and then pointed his wand between them, casting a Muffliato charm. "What's going on?"

Elara looked around, there weren't many students in the Great Hall, a few at Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, all studying just as she and Blaise had been. "I'm just… I don't think I want to follow in his footsteps. I don't think he'll be happy to hear it." She admitted, choosing what she said carefully.

"You don't believe in the cause?" He questioned.

She shook her head. "I just don't understand where the hatred comes from."

"Beats the hell out of me." He said. "Mum's fifth husband was a muggleborn, and he was the only decent bloke she had been with since I've been alive. I was quite upset when he died."

"Was that… Oh what was his name!? Charles, right?"

"Yeah that was him." Blaise said. "Barmy Charlie, we used to call him."

Elara laughed. "That was cruel."

"He was mental." Blaise said. "But he was kind to me and mum. He was just so suspicious of everything. Convinced there were people following him all the time… Although come to think of it, being a muggleborn, there may have been."

"Blaise," Elara began. "Do you… Do you think they're going to win the war? Our side?"

"Your side." He corrected. "And honestly? No. I don't. I think Dumbledore will find a way to get you-know-who to surrender… Or to disappear."

"What if he doesn't?"

"You aren't marked." He stated. "Get out. Leave the Manor and find a place to hide."

"Is that what you're going to do?" She asked.

"I'm going to Italy as soon as we're done next year. I'll live with my mum until I figure something else out."

She nodded. "Draco tried to send me to France before I came here."

"Did he?"

"Yeah." She said. "He didn't want me to come. He doesn't want me involved in anything."

"That might be the only smart thing that git has ever said." He joked, his eyes sparkling.

She smirked. "I don't know if I want to fight. But I don't want to run from them. Leave them behind?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes you have to. Use that self-preservation you've inherited and tell your family to sod off."

"Maybe. Finite." She concluded, cancelling the Muffling charm and looking back to her Charms book. She wondered if Blaise would be so willing to tell her to run away from everything if he knew what she was doing. If he knew about the task, about the hold the Dark Lord had on their family, about the lies they've weaved to keep her safe.

"Elara, you know if you ever need out… I can get you out." He whispered.

Before she had a chance to look at him, to catch his eyes and see if he was joking, he stood up. "Duty calls." He said.

She shook her head, biting back a laugh, as she watched him walk away and stand by the door, arm slinking around the shoulders of a fifth year Ravenclaw girl with shoulder length mousy brown curls and large blue eyes.

Elara decided for a change of scenery and packed her belongings into her bag and took to the grounds, wandering toward the greenhouses. The air was crisp, but the sun was bright and she appreciated the warmth of the autumn rays on her face. She stepped into the third greenhouse, one that was almost always empty of students due to the nature of the carnivorous plants.

She reached out and gently stroked the stalks of the fanged geranium nearest the door. It seemed to lean into her touch and nibbled at her. Dangerously misunderstood plants, these were. She thought. So beautiful, so dangerous, and capable of so much. Their fangs can be harvested for potions- although they're nearly impossible to take without losing a finger. Unless you can get a positive response from them, then they'll allow you to take fangs, since they're able to regenerate them much like a newt or gecko regenerates a tail after it is lost.

She smiled, humming to the plant and held her palm out as it spit a few small fangs into her hand. She pocketed them. They were valuable, and if a potion might come in handy for her endeavors with Draco, having a few on hand to strengthen the potion wouldn't hurt.

"Thank you." She whispered, massaging the petals lightly, listening to the plant hiss back to her.

This was how it should be, she thought. Give and take. Offer something of value and receive something of value. Not just taking what you want because coexisting peacefully irritates you. Not just taking what you want without fear of consequence—or even in spite of consequence. Not being pressured into results out of fear of death. She envied the plants and their small existence. Not having to worry about family, about friends, about whether or not to stand and fight for something you don't believe in. Whether to run so that your short life isn't ended before it's time. She wrapped her arms around herself and allowed herself a moment of self-pity before turning and walking back to the castle. A few moments a day, she decided. A few moments to feel absolutely shattered, and then she could pull herself together and chip away at her already shaking morals to do what needed to be done.


a/n: New week, new updates! I'll have a few posted for you in the next day or two! Review, follow, fave, all that good stuff? Let me know it's worth reading? No? Yes?

Anyway, the song is once again called headspace by Lewis Capaldi. It's a lovely song, a bit dark, but it makes a nice lullaby- at least that bit. Give it a listen, or don't, I suppose that's up to you!

The Italian is through google, so if it's all wrong, I'm sorry! I do not speak Italian at all, I hear it frequently because of where I work, but I can't speak it to save my life. So again, I apologize if the grammar this is actually a bit wonky if you're italian speaking.

Also a big huge THANK YOU to everyone who has followed and favorited lately! It makes my day every time I get an email about someone following or favoring! Seriously! Thank you!

I'm off to edit the next chapter now, and who knows, I may even post it later tonight!

xo

-Mimi