𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞-𝖙𝖜𝖔
hollow kisses

✦

          AMARA WAS A murderer. There was no point hiding from the term, hiding from her removal of Albus Dumbledore on the thirtieth of June because the Dark Lord told her to do so, and who was she to disobey him when he and his followers had the power to remove her own family and threatened to do so as well? Amara Carrow was a murderer. She had taken a life, she had seen lives taken, and she removed people from this world.

Her father may show her off as a valiant diamond, but there was nothing valiant when she whispered out the killing curse to Dumbledore while trying not to choke on her tears because all she wanted to do was cry. She was losing herself, a part of her soul, to end the life of Albus Dumbledore and remove him as an obstacle for the Dark Lord. She sacrificed so that he could prosper. She murdered so that he could live and continue to thrive, to grow so large that he overtook the Ministry and now it acted in his accords.

Amara Carrow was a murderer – there was no changing that. It wasn't as if the Death Eaters wanted her to. She was just another pawn in their game, and she was too scared to disobey which was exactly what they wanted. She would do whatever they wanted, and that made them grin, especially her father.

Demetri Carrow in his large house and unlimited bank account and loyalty to the Dark Lord loved the fact he could manipulate her into doing whatever he wanted just so that she could protect her family from harm. Their sacrificial lamb to keep them all alive, their murderer and shame so that they can thrive. Amara followed the firm guiding hand of Demetri for her family, and she lost herself.

Amara was a murderer – not only had she killed Albus Dumbledore, she killed herself. She killed Maia Greene and all her fanciful little dreams. All those ideas of growing up and being a powerful duelist were gone because she couldn't have that anymore. The Death Eaters had taken everything from her, and Amara Carrow dealt the final strike that ended her life.

She couldn't be that girl anymore.

Maia could have never survived here, so she had to die, and Amara made sure she did. Now Amara lived in her body, took over her life, and survived for the both of them. Amara Carrow was a murderer, and the Dark Lord needed that – wanted that, praised that – so she had to murder again.

"Reporters have such influence over the community," her father said with a taste of distain for the people. Obediently, Amara kept a blank face and didn't say a word, "Sadly, sometimes they don't report the truth, or what's right. Instead, the make up all these lies and attempt to slander people."

There was a flame in his eyes, and she was sure that he had been through the media fire before. Of course he had, everyone knew he murdered his wife, Nancy Carrow, though he denied it to the day. Nancy was a betrayer; she took her children and ran, hiding them where she thought they would be safe forever, and then when Demetri found her...well, Nancy became a ghost.

Amara's eyes went down to the newspaper on the dining room table which Demetri's eyes burned at. Nancy Carrow thought that her children were safe, but they never were. Amara was here, Leo was a muggle and that meant he could never be safe in this world especially with his special ties to the magic community.

Nancy didn't run far enough away with them, so she ended up right back with her father and the one man Nancy tried to protect her children from. Nancy may have died, but Amara was the one who really paid the price for her betrayal. Amara was the one who had to give up everything, Amara the one who murdered, and Amara was the one who could never see her brother again, never see her mother. Amara paid the price for her betrayal.

"Helen Greenberg is no exception," Demetri continued and her eyes returned to him, as a dutiful daughter was supposed to, "That filthy mudblood who tries to claim some right to magic slanders us, slanders our movement, and she's becoming a problem."

She knew where this was going. Her father said that the Dark Lord had a task for her, and this right here was her task. Helen Greenberg, like Dumbledore, had been a problem. She was getting in the way of things, getting too much in the way if the Dark Lord wanted her gone before any other reporter and it probably didn't help that she came from muggles instead of magic.

Amara wasn't only a murderer; she was also the one who got rid of problems. Not just regular filth that cluttered up the wizarding world, but those who caused a ruckus and made too much noise.

"You, my valiant diamond, have a talent with removing such problems," Demetri's gaze turned to her. She met it without wavering, "The Dark Lord called for you specifically to silence this upcoming problem for us. Do not disappoint him."

Though he spoke singularly about disappointing the Dark Lord, she knew that he meant himself as well. She could not disappoint her father otherwise there would be consequences. She failed and it was the end of not only her life but the lives of her old family as well. She couldn't have that. She couldn't be responsible for their deaths, she couldn't bare it if that happened.

"I won't," she told him firmly, not a moment of hesitation. And his cold stare turned into a proud smile.

✦

He dreamed of Jasper again that night. He dreamed of Jasper kissing him, holding him, whispering all these wonderful and beautiful things that made him feel so high and so free, so wonderfully blissful until he pulled away and it wasn't kindness in his eyes but death and evil corruption until he felt his body give out and he crumbled to the ground. It was so sickly sweet, turning from candy in his veins to poison, slowly taking over his veins and his senses until there was nothing but pain pain pain.

And it ached so wonderfully, for a moment, before it turned sour and he just wanted to scream. He looked at the walls of his room, remembering for a moment how Jasper had kissed him here, held him here, and he wondered if this was where the nightmare took place. Here, in these rooms he found comfort in. If they had closed in enough, opened enough for Jasper to slip in, and he died.

These comforting walls brought no more comfort, and he wanted to run far away and escape them. These walls weren't safe anymore. They were his destruction, his sickly sweet pain turned poison in his veins just like Jasper and Thea.

He went to 12 Grimmuald Place where Calypso and Regulus were living. It used to be a prison, somewhere that trapped his soul and held it captive for a year, a place that paralyzed Maia when she was his sister and he loved her so greatly...she wasn't his sister anymore.

Maia was nothing to him.

(Maybe if he kept repeating it, he would believe it, and her actions wouldn't hurt so much.)

"Leo?" he heard Calypso's voice first, and reflexively he softened for a moment before he felt that bolt of pain through his body that made him so numb. Her voice was soft, and it was nice, and he looked to see his cousin who looked at him with so much concern he instinctively wanted to turn away from it.

He sat down on the couch instead, holding himself as she cautiously came over and sat down next to him. There was some distance between them, reminders that they had drifted apart because she used to have no qualms with invading his space. But he was the one who pushed her and everyone else away; he was the problem.

He was always the problem, wasn't he?

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, different from how before she asked if anything was wrong and he brushed her off. It was obvious that something was wrong, it was written on his face with the bags under his eyes, written on his body as he pushed everyone away and sat alone by himself.

There was no question if something was wrong, they could all see that there was, it was the question of whether or not he wanted to talk about it. But he just couldn't see how talking about it would help. Talking about it wouldn't take away the pain, talking about it wouldn't change Jasper's decision, wouldn't change Thea's corruption of him. Talking wouldn't change anything.

"What for?" he muttered, stray curls falling over his eyes as a reminder of how long it had been since he had gotten a haircut. It didn't matter, but it still rattled him for a moment.

When he was alone, time seemed to stand still, but it kept going even when he was stuck. It felt like only days, but it could've been months. He didn't know, hadn't noticed, and that frightened him for a second.

"Well, talking could help take off the weight from your chest, or at least lighten the load," Calypso suggested, and it was so kind but his first reaction was to scoff at it. He didn't want to lift the weight from his chest because that meant transferring it to her, and he didn't want that.

"Just means you'll have to carry the burden," he looked into her eyes that still sparkled, like stars where in them, even after everything, "You don't need anymore."

He watched as they dimmed for a second, and the stars weren't as visible as before, but instead they were covered in darkness as the light went away. He felt like an asshole for causing them to leave, but as quickly as they disappeared, they were lit up again as her eyes met his. "It won't go to me, it'll be returned to the universe," she said, though they both knew she was trying to make him feel better and it was all a lie.

Who knew where the burden would go, if it would stay with him or transfer to her, but he didn't want to take the chance. He didn't want to say something and watch the light in her eyes die again, because that would just confirm that he was the problem. He was the one who made the light die, he was the one who got in the way, he was the one who was supposed to die.

Maybe Jasper should've just finished the job instead of leaving the corpse behind. He was already dead, and maybe it would be better if his entire soul left his body instead of leaving some behind while some went off to purgatory. Maybe he should've been killed that day, at least he wouldn't continue to drag people down like now.

Thea shouldn't have saved him.

"I don't believe you," he shook his head, looking away from her because he couldn't stand it anymore. He couldn't take looking at her and seeing how he was continuing to ruin everyone.

"Leo –" she reached out, touching his hand and all he could feel was pain pain pain where Jasper used to hold him until the pain took over and he snatched his hand away from her. He turned enough to see the sad look in her eyes at the motion, and he felt even worse.

"I should've just died," he concluded, snapping out of shame, "I just – he should've just killed me."

The room went quiet, quieter than it was before. It felt like everything went silent and nothing dared to move. "What?" Calypso broke the silence with her whisper, and he turned to her to see how scared she looked.

She was petrified, and he knew he shouldn't have said anything at all. Here he was again, ruining everything like he always did. Jasper shouldn't have let him live.

He squeezed his eyes shut, curling more into himself because maybe then he could forget the world around him and it would disappear from him forever. It would be better that way, if he just disappeared never to be found again, it would save everyone all the heartbreak he caused without even meaning to.

"Jasper," he cried out, because he at least owed her something more now after he spilled that, "He was – we were –"

"You don't have to say it," Calypso said softly, to comfort him, but he shook his head.

He needed to say it, he needed to face it, he couldn't just hide it all like Jasper did. How Jasper hid his disgust, how Jasper hid how much he hated Leo, how Jasper lied and lied and lied...

He couldn't be like Jasper; he refused.

"No, I do," he insisted, "He was my boyfriend, I really liked him, but he – he lied to me. Thea, too. I thought – I thought they were my friends, I thought they liked me...but it was all a lie. The Death Eaters sent Jasper to kill me like my father wanted to do originally. It was all a lie."

He couldn't stop the tears now, the tears that came when Jasper struck him with that horrid spell, the tears that littered his face as he only felt pain pain pain again and again for hours as he just lied there twitching trying to move and feel something else to not avail.

Calypso rushed to hug him, and he didn't flinch at the contact like he always did. Instead he clung onto her as she clung onto him, and he cried, wept because he needed to, and all he felt from Calypso's touch was love love love.

✦

It wasn't easier after the first time. She thought, maybe, it would be easier to stomach after the first time, knowing exactly what would happen and how the light would die in their eyes. She thought, maybe, it would be better this time, but she was wrong.

It was not better, nor was it easier, to raise her wand and whisper the incantation of Avada Kadavra and watch as her target slowly came to death by her hand – her magic – and she just had to stare and watch. It was not better or easier because someone still died, and this time she did it alone. Draco and the other Death Eaters were not by her side, to comfort and control her, she was utterly alone and the same outcome came.

The person still died, she was still a murderer, and she still wanted to cry as she felt part of her soul be ripped away at the action. With every kill, she was dying, another part of her lost to the bloodshed and she couldn't stop it. She had to go through with it even though her bones ached for her to stop, to run away, but she couldn't.

And Demetri's hand still came to her shoulder, holding her there with the same proud smirk on his face as he proudly proclaimed how his valiant diamond completed her mission and served the Dark Lord as she was supposed to. Nothing changed, and it wasn't easier, and she absolutely hated it.

The only part that changed was that night she was allowed to be alone with Draco. She hadn't had this type of moment with him, like before at Hogwarts where they were always together, since Dumbledore's death and she almost felt this pool of relief in her stomach – almost. She could never be truly relieved or relaxed her.

She doesn't say anything about his ghoulish complexion and he doesn't say anything about her dead eyes. Instead, they sit together with drinks in their hands and they look out at the night sky. She saw stars and she wanted to cry, for they were forever tainted in her brain. Maia was named after the stars, as was others in her family, but now the stars were painted with Dumbledore and Maia's deaths.

"Heard you were victorious today," he said in a low voice, only a little above a whisper.

She couldn't turn to face him, knowing that he hadn't killed a single person – not directly, anyway – and she had killed another two today. The problem and her husband, of course.

"Yes," she confirmed, and there was nothing victorious in her voice. He nodded, and his hand reached out to find hers in a semblance of comfort. It did nothing, she still felt hollow inside, but she didn't break away from it. It was better than nothing, at least.

She looked down at her hands, stained with blood and death, stained with the wicked acts she had been forced to commit, and she closed her eyes. At sixteen, she was a murderer and she hadn't even done things a normal teenager did.

A normal teenager had their first kiss, their first time, their first boyfriend, not their first kill. She hadn't had anything of those firsts teenagers dreamed about, and she felt even hollower than before.

She turned to Draco, taking her hand to touch his cheek and turn him towards her, and brought their lips together for a short kiss. It didn't feel warm, or anything magical like she expected it to from the stories and giggles of other girls, instead it just felt hollow like everything else.

They broke apart and she sat back down in her seat. "What was that for?" Draco asked her. He didn't give away whether he was disgusted by her kiss or if he liked it. She assumed that he was just as numb as her, so it didn't matter either way.

She shrugged. "Didn't feel right, having killed someone without having a first kiss before then," she told him, and he nodded, not saying another word.

Their hands were still interlocked, and it still didn't mean anything. Maybe in another lifetime it would've, but it just meant that there was someone else there, with the same hollowness as her, and they couldn't do anything about it.