Chapter 28: Neville's Observation
March 6 th
Elara had successfully made it through the first week of March with little nagging or interruption. She had spent long minutes staring at Harry from across the Great Hall, wondering if he was okay, mentally pleading he look at her, wishing for him to even throw a hatred fueled glance her way. She should have known better. Harry simply pretended she didn't exist. If he felt her prying eyes, he never met them. He had apparently tuned into his Occlumency to shut her out of his emotions. He had even gone as far as taking a new path to their shared classes so they wouldn't intersect and changed his seat to be furthest from her.
This was what she had wanted.
She wanted him to hate her. She wanted him to stay away from her so that she could figure out a way to protect him that didn't involve him getting dragged under, suffocated by her mess.
She had stopped talking to Hermione and Ron, dropped her Divination class and her Muggles Studies class and stopped using her free periods to go to the library. Instead, she sat in her room, or in the Slytherin Common Room, and tried to prepare herself for a life without everything she had come to love in the last six months.
She became what every single person had expected her to be upon her initial arrival at Hogwarts. The very person she tried actively avoiding being. She had embraced her lineage, channeled her inner wealthy aristocrat, and painted a permanent sneer across her face.
No one else could be used against her, like this. She could keep people at a distance. She could keep them away so no one would be used to turn her into something she didn't want to be. And while she played her part, she would figure out a way to bring Voldemort to his knees.
She would watch him burn or die trying.
It was during a defense against the dark arts class her physical manifestations began to show again. She was practicing wandless spells when she felt the tingle of magic, warm and familiar caressing her fingertips like it had before she ever got her wand. Their task was to levitate a quill without using their wands. Elara not only levitated the quill, but she wrote her name effortlessly on her parchment and then watched the quill spark into a purple flame and fall to ash.
Snape raised and eyebrow at her, gave her full marks, and continued on with class as normal.
That afternoon she squeezed herself between Draco and Blaise at the table during lunch. "I need to talk to you." She said to Draco.
"We were having a chat about Quidditch, thanks for interrupting." Blaise said.
She looked at him and scowled. "Shut it, Zabini." She said. "You can talk about Quidditch any time. I need to talk to my brother now, privately."
Blaise pointed to her, doing a figure eight motion in the air while he spoke. "I know I told you to straighten yourself out but this? This is not what I meant. You're supposed to continue being nice to me."
She laughed. "I'm always nice to you." She softened her face. "But I really do need to talk to Draco."
She looked to Draco, expectant. He sighed, pushed his plate away and stood up. "Yeah, alright." He said. "Let's go. I'm done with my lunch anyway."
She smiled brightly and hurried out of the Hall, Draco on her heels.
"What's this about then?" He asked.
"Once we get there, I'll explain." She said, racing up the stairs and taking the short jog down another corridor before stepping onto a moving staircase. They climbed the stairs and kept their pace swift as they made their way to the seventh floor, headed to the room of requirement.
"You haven't worked with me in ages." Draco grumbled.
"I have a theory." She reasoned. "And I needed to test it."
She paced the floor, waiting for the heavy wooden door to show itself. When it did, she wrenched it open and sped down the cluttered aisles and right to the workspace she had been doing her best to avoid.
"The concept of these cabinets was faded out nearly a century ago." She began. "That got me thinking… Our understanding of what was considered dark and light magic were different back then. So, it could be possible that someone born with a natural aptitude for supernatural magic may be considered a dark witch or wizard."
"I don't follow." Draco said, his eyes scanning her in confusion.
"Draco. My abilities aren't unique to me. There have been plenty of Empaths over time. Plenty of magical beings with strange powers. Most of them are learned now, but even today there are still things like natural animagi and telepathy. These people were the kinds of people that would have needed vanishing cabinets back then. To escape persecution. I think…"
She felt her magic thrumming through her fingers, nearly sparking off the tips. She walked closer to the cabinet. "I felt it before, when I came here a couple weeks ago. I could feel the pull of magic to the cabinet, but I didn't think anything of it."
She lightly pressed her palms to closed door of the cabinets and she could feel its magic give way. She gasped and stepped back. "Draco, give me something to pass through."
"What?" He asked, looking at her wildly.
"I don't know! It doesn't matter! Anything!" Her heart was racing. This could be it. This could be what makes them succeed. What puts them back in control.
You already did that. She thought You made your deal. The deal was not contingent on the success of the task. She batted away the thought. Maybe it wasn't. But she knew that if they failed, even after she had conceded to the Dark Lord, there would be hell to pay.
Draco handed her a piece of parchment and a broken quill. "Write a note." He said. "See if there's a response."
She nodded. "Good idea." She scratched a quick note into the parchment.
If you have read this, please respond.
She folded the parchment in half and placed it into the cabinet, closing the doors. She took a deep breath and focused. "Harmonium Nectere Passus." She whispered three times, each breath coming out slow and shaky. She could feel the magic pulsing out of her hands and into the cabinet.
She stood back a moment and opened it, the parchment was gone. She looked to Draco.
"This is where the problem lies." Draco said. "Every time I pass something, it comes back wrong."
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing it nervously and shut the doors again. After a few moments she heard it. The passing, as if it were rustling through fabric. She looked to Draco and his eyes were wide, his body trembling with nerves.
She could feel the tension as she slowly pulled open the door and pulled out the parchment. She unfolded it and her eyes went wide.
If you have read this, please respond.
It worked. Congratulations.
She gripped the parchment, her knuckles going white. Her heart sped up and she was instantly thrown into a strange cross emotion of absolute terror and pure bliss. Draco ripped the parchment from her grip and stared at it. He looked back at her and his face split into a large grin. He hollered loudly. Cheering and crying with relief. Her own eyes welled with tears as he hugged her, gripping her tightly.
"You did it, El." He said. "You did it. We aren't going to be killed. We're going to live."
When the joy of the moment settled and Draco began testing the cabinet again without the use of Ellie's magic, she sat on the ground and pulled her knees to her chest, her hands clutching the parchment as she stared down at it.
I did it. She thought, bitterly. Had she just figured it out sooner. If she had thought to try and use her abilities on the cabinet sooner… She could have…
She sighed, the tears running down her cheeks were no longer tears of joy or relief. They were bitter and full of anger and loathing. She felt so stupid. Of course, she had conceded. Of course, she would agree to join Voldemort before exhausting every other option. Before she had even thought to use her own magic, her own abilities to further their success with the task. She had been so wrapped up in trying not to be become the very thing she agreed to be, that she hadn't even thought to try it.
And Harry…
Oh, God. Harry.
What was she going to do? Harry was number one on Voldemort's hitlist! He was the reason there was a war to begin with, because Voldemort was so misguided that he thought killing Harry would be the crowning jewel to his morbid throne. She had saved her family, sure, but she could have done that without agreeing to take on the Dark Magic of the Mark. She could have let her body reject it and take her chances of not having her abilities anymore.
Her head began spinning as she realized the weight of her agreement with Voldemort and what it meant. She was going to be used. "Walking Imperious Curse" the healer had told them when she was young. She was a walking Imperious and she had just signed her free will over to the Dark Lord. Because she hadn't used her head. She had been so preoccupied and so terrified… He played her. He played her like a violin, and she hadn't even seen it.
Idiot. Stupid, stupid girl. She felt disgusted with herself. She deserved this though. She had lied so often for so long that it had become natural to her. It was only fitting that she fall into a sinister web at some point. A demise met by her own hands, her own stupid, thoughtless hands.
Her family would have survived, if the Order won. They may not ever come back out on top, but they would have lived. They would have probably spent some time in Azkaban, but she'd willingly go now, if that meant they lived. They would have lived. She was sure of that.
She should have told Harry. Or Dumbledore. Or someone. She should have let the fever consume her and bury her. If she would have thought to use her abilities sooner, they still could have still fixed the cabinet, proved it to be working and then defected. She could have gotten her and Draco both out and gone back for their Mother. Harry would have understood that. He would have agreed to get their Mother, too. She felt her face crinkle up as she held back a sob.
They could have gotten out. If she would have only thought it through. Thought every option through.
She was rubbish. She was worse than rubbish, she was scum. She was the dirt beneath Harry's shoes. How could she do this to him? How could she do this to herself?
You hate yourself though, don't you? Harry's words ringing in her head, screaming over every other thought.
She offered Draco a watery smile as he looked at her in confusion. "Ellie? You okay?"
"I… I messed up, Coco." She said. She had to tell someone. Draco would understand. Draco would do the same for her, he had already proven that. He had already taken the mark and accepted a suicide mission in attempts to keep them safe.
Draco stared at her for a moment, confusion blurring his features. He sat next to her, draping an arm over her shoulder and leaned her head on his.
"I told the Dark Lord I would join him." She whispered. "I agreed to help him, to keep you and mum and dad alive because I didn't think we could fix the cabinet in time."
"Ellie." Draco said, his eyes wild with fear. "Why would you-
She shook her head. "I was petrified." She said. "He was in my head, he had his fingers wrapped around my magical core, threatening to take it all from me. To take you all from me… And if I would have just used my abilities sooner… If I would have thought…" She shook her head.
"That's why you broke it off with Potter." Draco said. "Because you accepted the Mark?"
She nodded. "I was afraid I would be the reason he gets killed. But it doesn't matter what I do, he's going to be killed anyway if the Dark Lord wins."
They sat in silence, the only sounds the soft sniffles as Elara tried to collect herself. At least her family would be safe. She could at least hold on to that.
As the week wore on, Elara discovered her abilities strengthening to nearly inconceivable levels. She and Draco spent much of their free time in the Room of Requirement, still sending messages through the cabinet to be sure that the connection remained open. Once they received a reply, they spent time working with her abilities. She had discovered she could make Draco feel any emotion she wanted him to feel. That wasn't necessarily a shock, she had always been capable of pulling forth emotions from people, but now she could consume them with it.
She had a good laugh when they practiced it and she made him feel intense joy. He had lit up like a Christmas Tree and began dancing around the room, a large smile splitting his face as his laughter rang through her ears. He had admitted he didn't mind being used as a test subject, if she let him feel that joy after the harder emotions.
She obliged.
She sat with a journal, documenting his reactions as she changed his moods from happy to foul and everything between. He had said some right hurtful things when they experimented with anger and resentment. She never took it personally, however. She continued to make her notes, trying to keep it as clinical as possible so she wouldn't feel too upset for exercising her abilities on him.
She also discovered she could easily manipulate his mind without touch, now.
Before, it was possible. She could read moods without touch, and to some extent she could calm emotions without it, but to really make a difference she had to press her fingers to their temples. Or have some sort of skin contact. That had proven to be unnecessary now. Simply a second of eye contact allowed her the same ability that a touch was required for before.
"You aren't testing everything though." Draco said, one afternoon as he panted and came to sit next to her, pushing his hair from his sweating forehead.
"What are you talking about?" She said. "I've tested an array of emotions. I've been able to pull you into all of them, and out of them."
"You haven't done pain, fear, or sadness." He said. "I've been keeping track too, Ellie. You know those are the ones he's going to force you to use. You need to see how well you can control those."
"Anger and fear are nearly the same and I don't see the point in putting you through agony."
"Do it." He said. "I want you to do it. I need to know you'll be able to control it if… when he tells you to use it on someone again."
She looked up from her journal, closing her quill between the pages and stared up at him. "This isn't going to be pleasant." She said.
"I get joy afterward." He said. "That's the deal. I'll do whatever other emotion or feeling, but you end it with happiness."
She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "I don't know."
"Ellie."
"I don't want to cross that line." She said. "Not on you. Not on anyone."
"You reckon the Dark Lord gives a shit about what lines you want to cross?" He said, arching an eyebrow and pursing his lips. "You know as well as I do, the first thing he's going to make you do is torture someone."
"I don't want to do it if-
"I didn't want to crucio you on the floor in front of everyone, and I did." He said. "You told me to. I'm telling you now, Ellie. I can handle it. Just do it."
She nodded, adjusting her spot on the floor to look at him and she focused onto his mind. It was as if her magic pulsed around them, weaving through the air before sinking claws into the back of Draco's mind. She waded through his emotional wall. His default feelings and coping mechanisms and latched onto hurt and suffering, bubbling it up to the front and shoving it before everything else.
She watched as his eyes filled with tears. He gasped and doubled over, clutching his chest while he tried to catch his breath. He began to sob, moaning and begging for her to stop, to bury the horrible suffering back into his head. She replaced it with fear and watched his face turn white, his eyes grew wide and his pupils dialated as he searched the room, looking around him as the paranoia crept into his lungs and gripped them into hysteria. Finally, she buried it and brought joy back to him, the little light in his mind that was so much dimmer than the rest of his emotions.
When he settled, she stared at him for a long moment. "I can't control what you think of when you feel things." She said.
"I know." He said. "The first one was you. When I had to torture you. The way I felt when I looked at you on the ground, on your hands and knees trying not to give in. The fear wasn't anything specific."
"Your fear manifests as paranoia." She said. "Which is interesting."
"Is it?"
She nodded. "I think so. A lot of people turn to anger when they're truly scared. You turn paranoid, as if nothing you do will get you out of the situation."
"What do you turn to?"
She pondered the question for a moment before answering. "Desperation." She whispered.
As the afternoon turned into evening and Draco left to have supper with Blaise and Theo, Elara remained behind. Mealtimes at the Great Hall had become a little more difficult with the newfound power in her abilities. If she wasn't careful, she would stare idly across the hall and make eye contact with a fourth year Hufflepuff and send them into fits. No, it was best she avoids the hall as much as possible. At least, that was what she told herself. It certainly had nothing to do with Harry consistently sitting with his back to her, unable to look her in the face for the last two and half weeks or so since she had ended things with him.
She had made an effort to remain pleasant. On Ron's birthday, last week. She had approached the table he and Harry sat at during Potions and wished him a Happy Birthday, handing him a small parcel of treats she got on her trip to Hogsmeade with Draco and Blaise. Ron accepted them after a long, apprehensive look to Harry, who suddenly had become extremely interested in his porcupine quills.
She wanted to apologize again. Tell him she was sorry, but it was for the best. That he deserved better and she couldn't give him what he needed. That she was marked, properly marked now, and she couldn't keep lying to him. So instead of telling the truth, she would break his heart. Because she was a coward. And that he had more courage in his pinky finger than she possessed in her entire life, and how could he possibly love her after everything she had done? After everything she was still doing?
Instead, she clenched her jaw, steeled her gaze and turned around to walk back toward Draco.
She was back to feeling sorry for herself. Back to giving herself a few minutes of pity every day, to allow herself to cry and feel bad about the choices she had made. To let it consume her for five minutes. And then, she would wipe her tears, straighten her robes and hold her chin out.
She gathered her belongings and wandered out to the grounds. Although it was mid-march and the first hints of spring were teasing, the night air was still nearly frigid and she mentally kicked herself for not changing into something warmer before coming out.
She wandered to the greenhouses, feeling guilty for the snare pet-project she had neglected and decided that some time with the plants may help ease her mind. She smiled to herself as she entered greenhouse five and saw that the bloomed snare had grown exponentially since she had last seen. She was surprised however, to see someone was already present.
"Neville?" Elara said, touching his shoulder lightly.
He turned and looked at her, looking unsure at first before giving a sigh of relief and a small smile. "Hi, Ellie. It's gotten big, hasn't it?"
She nodded. "I haven't been here since… Well, honestly… I'm not sure. Well before Christmas, I think. Professor Sprout has been keeping us busy in Greenhouse two."
Neville nodded. "Yeah. Those tentatculas have a mind of their own this year. She's taking a lot of time on them, but I think it's because they're feeling extra rowdy."
Elara chuckled. "Funny plants, aren't they?"
"Yeah." He sighed. "Funny."
They stood in silence. Elara could feel his nervousness and a steady thrumming of confusion laced with fear. She wondered if it was because of her presence or if he just always felt that way? Neville was, after all, one of the most anxious people she had ever met.
"You seem different." He spoke, his voice soft. "Since you and Harry split."
"How do you mean?"
"You seem more… Well, Slytherin." He looked at her, an uneasiness clouding his eyes. "Before, you weren't so…" He trailed off, trying to find the right word.
"Malfoy." She offered.
"Yeah." He chuckled. "It sounds ridiculous. But, I'm not the only one who thinks it. You stopped coming to study groups. Hermione even seemed pretty put out with you, saying it was rude to be friends with someone and then suddenly stop just because you broke up with Harry. I think she's hurt that you've stopped coming around us."
"It's for the best, Neville." She said, feeling her heart clench with sadness. "Trust me. It's the only way."
"He's not doing well." Neville turned to face her full on. "He's back to having nightmares nearly every night. When you two were together, they had stopped for the most part. Maybe once or twice a week. Now he's up every night from them. He's on edge all the time, snapping at everyone and seems really stressed out, you know?"
"Why are you telling me this, Neville?" She asked, arching an eyebrow.
"You aren't heartless." He said. "Anyone who cares for plants like you do can't be heartless. You have to have a lot of compassion to care for things that can't care for themselves."
"Yeah, but those are plants Neville. It's different."
"Is it?" He asked. "Because I know you treat plants the same way I do. You talk to them, sing to them, nurture them. You learn about them and try to understand what will help them grow. People aren't much different."
"People are far more complicated." She said.
"That might be true." He said. "But Harry isn't. He's always looking out for everyone else, you know? Always trying to make sure that everyone else is taken care of. I think he didn't realize that he needed to be taken care of too, sometimes. I think you did that for him."
She sighed. "Neville, it just… It wouldn't have worked. We're too different."
He gave a lopsided grin, his buckteeth sticking out over his bottom lip. He took a few strides, crouching next to the snare and giving it a tickle. It responded by swirling one of its great vines around his hand. When it released, there was a fluttering white bloom in his palm. He crossed the way back to his previous spot and handed the flower to Elara. "It did cross with a Flitterbloom. It's still mainly carnivorous, but it's producing blooms at night and instead of attacking with touch, it warms to it."
She stared at the pretty flower dancing about in her palm. "You were right then." She said. "About the nature of the snare and the Flitterbloom being close enough that they could cross breed without intervention."
"Seems that way." Neville said, staring fondly at the Snare. "I don't know what all has happened between you, but you should know that if Harry cares about you, he doesn't just stop caring about you because you distance yourself from him or change your attitude around everyone else. He can see through all that."
Neville gave her shoulder a soft pat as he offered a tight-lipped smile and he pushed past her, leaving her to her thoughts in the green house. It became violently clear to her that Neville Longbottom was not the blithering idiot that a lot of her peers believed him to be. Sweet and a bit dense, maybe. But he was observant and kind.
She stepped closer to the Snare and crouched down next to it. She stretched out her hand and gently touched its vines, her lips tugged upward as the vines leaned into her caress and produced several fluttering white flowers. Her mind reeled, thinking of Neville's words. How could she have been so stupid? Of course, Harry wouldn't just stop caring about her. Of course, he would become distant to her and withdrawn, he was hurt! She had hurt him! He had bared his soul to her, connected with her more than once on a deeply emotional level. They had given their bodies to one another, something neither of them had shared with anyone else. Of, course Harry was upset with her.
She was upset with herself!
She stared blankly to the bloom in her palm and allowed her mind to wander. If something as vicious as a Devil's snare could become entranced by the calling of something so sweet, like a Flitterbloom, could she do the same?
They weren't plants, though. And it would never be as easy as just having compatible core structure, like it was in plants. Because when it came down to it, a Devil's Snare was a Devil's Snare and a Flitterbloom was a Flitterbloom and while this strange Flitter Snare existed, it served no purpose. If it warmed to touch, it could not be used as a Devil Snare. If it couldn't flourish in sunlight, it could not be used as a Flitterbloom. It was useless.
And they had purpose to serve. Harry was to be The Chosen One, whatever that meant. Elara was to give her freedom to save her family. Black and White, Light and Dark, Cut. And. Dry.
.
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a/n: Hello lovely readers! A very out of character mid-day chapter upload for you! I know the updates have been coming rather quick, is that okay? I mean, I feel like the faster the better right?
I already have the next chapter written and I've started on the chapter after. If you've read the first chapter of Alliance, I'm working on the second chapter slowly but it's a side project to give my brain a break from this project, so I don't have steady updates for that one just yet.
Anyway, I hope you're all staying safe and staying home. Wash your hands and all that. I'm venturing out into the world today to get groceries and maybe pick up a Lego set or two. What are you guys doing to stay sane? I've been writing A LOT (obviously) but my brain is fried most days from lack of doing anything else. Also, my husband has banned me from buying any more Jameson. Which I guess I should be thankful for.
***Song for this chapter is Hard Feelings/Loveless by Lorde ***
Does anyone listen to the songs? You guys want me to put them at the start of the chapter? As I've stated before, I listen to music after I write, something that makes me think about what wrote hits me different than trying to put myself into a mood while I write a chapter.
Okay, I'm done rambling. THANK YOU for reading and reviewing! Please continue to review! I love them! I reply through PRIVATE MESSAGES to reviews. I hate reading review replies in a chapter, so I'm not gonna do that. But please review! they make me oh, so happy!
xo
mimi
