QLFC Season 7, Round 2

Chaser 2 for Appleby Arrows

Prompt: Cancer (June 21-July 22). Cancers are highly intuitive, and their psychic abilities manifest in tangible spaces. These crabs are highly sensitive to their environments, as well as extremely self-protective. Write about a character(s) who has the power to read something about people, i.e. minds/emotions/moods/colors, etc. OR write about a character(s) who is highly intuitive when it comes to others and is great at solving others' problems but is always obtuse when it's something concerning them.

Optional Prompts: (profession) Astrologer, (Word) Zodiac, (Song) Livin' On a Prayer- Bon Jovi.

Word count: 1009

Bold and Italic is song lyrics.

QLFCQLFCQLFCQLFCQLFCQLFCQLFC

We've got to hold on to what we've got

There are students running, screaming, terrified. When I can, I point them in the direction of a common room, or the Room of Requirement, to get them out of the school. The younger years shouldn't be here. The older years shouldn't be here, but I can't argue and make them leave. I look around wildly, still searching for the one person I know wouldn't have left the students.

She's safe.

The air in my lungs leaves a little easier as I spot Septima ushering the younger years up a staircase. She looks unharmed and I am happy to see her concentrating on the younger ones. We share the briefest of glances and she seems startled to see me rushing down the stairs, away from safety, but I know she will be happy I've finally made my decision. We'd been arguing for months about what I was going to do about the war. About what we were going to do about the war.

"I am a teacher! An Astrologer. I study the sky, the stars, the planets! I don't study human behavior. I don't study war and conflict, I don't make the hard decisions to back one or the other!" I exclaim at her sudden question. Her lips quirk in a small smirk like she' expected this answer.

"And what of your zodiacs, Aurora? Your constellations, the fairytales you tell the children? They're full of right and wrong, war and conflict. They're full of creature and human behavior."

So Septima HAD expected that reaction.

"I'm not going to fight a war that doesn't concern me, Mia."

"Doesn't concern you? Just because your gaze is in the stars or in the future doesn't mean that the present doesn't mean anything!"

"The future is just as important! What if we don't make it? What if we can't see the students grow old, what if you don't see your niece again? Fighting in this war could change the outcome!"

"It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not! The children have more of a future than we do. What about them!?"

It had always come back to the children. The ones she loved to teach. The ones I loved telling stories to. The first years were always fascinated by the constellations; the second years, the stars and their names. Around third year they got into the zodiacs and if their crush's sign matched well with theirs or not. It was entertaining to see the girls whispering around each other and pointing at the charts I had them draw.

Every future I saw lately had the children in it. Maybe because of Septima constantly mentioning it, maybe because the decision I made was the right one. I wasn't sure. I just know that in almost every vision I have now, the children grow up, and for the most part, they get married and have their own kids. Whether Septima and I are still teaching by then, I am unsure.

"Aurora! Proffessor Sinistra, Over here!"

I hear one of the Weasley boys that graduated a few years ago, Bill, call for me, and I rush down the hall and turn the corner, nearly getting blasted with a spell. I shoot a volley back in response and I'm stuck in the battle with the black-robed men and women and the weary-looking Order.

Something brushes my back and I barely have time to react before Septima is there, firing off just as many spells as I am.

We've got each other, and that's a lot for love.

I told her once I couldn't pinpoint the time I fell in love with her. I knew by third year; like everyone else, I was checking her zodiac against mine. Gemini and Aries, one of the most compatible. Her Ravenclaw against my Slytherin wasn't the best choice, but I wasn't concerned about that. The futures I saw us having were what I wanted, and when she had agreed to start dating me in fifth year, I'd already known that I was in love. I didn't tell her until seventh year, and by then she had admitted that she was in love with me, too.

And now we are both putting our lives on the line for a future I can't see.

We'll give it a shot, we're halfway there.

Hearing his voice, Voldemorts voice, over Hogwarts sends a shiver down my spine. I keep an eye out for the Potter boy, Harry, because everyone knows that he would give himself up in a heartbeat. I help the injured get to the Great Hall, and I help the teachers and Order members get the dead in as well. I float one of the twins to rest on the ground just seconds before his family converges, and I turn to Septima, who is looking at our good friend, Remus Lupin, and his wife, Nymphadora Tonks. She looks horror-struck, but before I can move to her side I see McGonagall making her way to her. I turn back to the Weasleys and give them what comfort I can before I move to help Poppy heal minor scrapes and bruises.

When people start screaming and running outside, I follow blindly, stopping dead on the stairs when I see the sight before me: the Potter boy, dead in Rubeus' arms, and Voldemort making a show of it.

Take my hand, we'll make it I swear.

Septima's hand slips into mine and I squeeze tightly. This doesn't make sense! In every future I saw, every outcome I wrote down, the Potter boy lives! Whether it be in captivity or in triumph, he was kept alive!

Septima stifles a sob next to me and I pull her close. I had reassured her multiple times that we lost very few students, in every vision I saw, and she's already seen two dead now. She was a Gemini, the kind, the loving. She wasn't a fighter. We wasn't fighters. We didn't put our lives on the line like the Leos and the Sagittarius. The only reason I was fighting was because she asked me to. Because I saw Harry winning!

"This isn't right," I murmur to her. She gives me a confused look, but before I can explain what I mean, the Potter boy is up, moving, firing, alive. There's a moment of stunned silence before we're moving, still locked at the hand, fighting, helping the boy win.

Whoah, living on a prayer.