CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
TOMORROW NIGHT

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            Amandla stared at the fire before her intently. Still, they were at the Stature house and still no one knew if everyone was safe. They hadn't heard word from the Burrow and also none from Hermione, but the last part wasn't exactly surprising. Amandla didn't expect an answer from the girl, knowing it would be too dangerous.

         She was holding a mug full of tea, yet her eyes never left the flames. Anastasia was in her room, asleep, and she imagined the same for Caesar at least. Cevira had decided to read by herself, wanting to calm down and not allow her mind to wander to the thought that maybe someone in the Order died the day of the wedding. Amandla didn't want to think about it either, but what else could she think about? What distraction could she fill her mind with? None.

         Of course, when she thought of this, the possibility that maybe Hermione died entered her mind. She tried to push it away, Hermione was too smart to be killed from a simple attack from Death Eaters. That's not how she would end – not how she would die. If anyone was going to survive the war, it would be here. She was too smart to be killed. She had to be. Because if Amandla couldn't believe that, what other hope did she have?

         Hermione was brave, willing to follow her friends anywhere. She followed Harry to the Department of Mysteries, but admittedly so did a whole group. She stood up, said they had to stand against Umbridge and teach themselves. That was bravery Amandla could never achieve. She was only a follower never the leader.

         Amandla...Amandla...

         So the Granger girl had to survive. That girl was her hope that maybe she could survive, she could see the world without a war looming. Without the thought of it. The 'when' of it. It was never if. Even when she thought of it, it was never if the war started, if Voldemort rose back to power; it was always when.

         She knew it would be foolish to believe he was truly dead. She knew it was foolish to deny the truth that maybe there wouldn't be a war, even if she tried to. Because Amandla Fitzgerald always knew that one thing in her life was certain: when Voldemort came back into power, she was going to be a Death Eater. And now that she didn't, another thing was certain: she was going to die.

         Yet, she clung onto the hope that maybe she wouldn't. And Hermione was that hope. She thought of how smart the girl was, how she wouldn't die, and that gave Amandla hope that maybe she wouldn't either. Even if that hope was small.

         The fire crackled before her and there was the sound of the wind blaring outside. She took a sip of her tea, eyes never wavering from the fire. The inside of the house was quiet and dark, being past eleven that night as she was dressed in pajamas with a blanket on top her. It was almost peaceful.

         In her thoughts, though, she wandered to Draco. Her poor cousin. Not a word had been heard from him either, but how was he supposed to? He was in that damn mansion, trapped with the most feared man of all wizard kind with Death Eaters surrounding him every waking moment. There was no way to escape anymore. He couldn't leave, couldn't run, he was stuck in a prison of a place he was thought was safe; once called home.

         Amandla knew her situation was better, yet it felt so much worse. She felt so hopeless in everything, not knowing if anyone was safe outside the four walls of the house. Not even knowing where to go when her and Corey inevitably had to leave. Not knowing anything it felt like. She was hopeless, and that feeling of drowning was beginning to rise inside her.

         She tried to push it down, forget it existed, that it ever existed. Forget that she had been drowning last year, felt like there was hope – maybe she wouldn't – and now she's drowning all over again. Yet this time it was worse. Last year, she was surrounded by people who grounded her, but she couldn't go back.

         There was no more Hogwarts for her. It wasn't an option to go back, resume the life she could have there. Where she might see Draco, be with Cevira, and see Pansy again. No, that wasn't reality. It was a silly, little dream inside her head that would never play out.

         "How are you?" with the sound of Corey's voice, her eyes snapped away from the fire. He sat down beside her.

         "Fine," she whispered, both knowing her answer was a lie and she wasn't okay. She hadn't been for a long time.

         He looked at the fire briefly before turning back to her, "We have to leave soon."

         It was the truth. Soon, they would have to leave, have to run. She always knew that, but it didn't seem real at the Burrow. It seemed like Plan B – not the truth. But it was and now she didn't have the Burrow to help her pretend that maybe they wouldn't have to leave. "I know."

         "It's too late tonight," Corey stole some of the blanket and threw it on top himself, "Tomorrow?"

         Every fiber inside her was telling her to say no. Not to leave because she didn't want to think about Cevira waking up the next morning to an empty bed beside her. Waking up with no friends there for they had left the previous night while she was sleeping. How hurt, how betrayed the girl would leave. No.

         "Sure," she said inside screaming no in his face. Staying wouldn't help anyone. "But where would be go?"

         "I was thinking around London first," she gave a skeptical look, "Yeah, I know there's a huge possibility Death Eaters will be on the prowl there, but it's a large city and we can blend in with everyone else. Plus, graduates from Hogwarts live there and I know they'd be willing to hide us."

         "Like who?" she asked him in confusion, sipping at her tea which had grown more lukewarm than hot.

         "Lee Jordan, first off. He has a radio channel called Potter Watch going on. It's hard to get access into to listen to, but it's good. And he'd be more than willing to hide us for a couple days," Corey listed off.

         She placed her cup onto the coffee table, "And after that? We can't expect him to find another place for us."

         "Honestly? I don't know, but it'll buy us a couple days to figure out at least," Corey admitted, looking at his friend to see her reaction.

         Amandla nodded, "Sure, I guess. I just don't know how safe it'll really be, though."

         A woman named Waverly Hart gave her the news...

         Corey looked at her with a look of understanding, "Yeah, but we need to leave. Anything you think we'll really need? Besides the obvious stuff."

         That caused her to think for a moment. Hermione would know just what to bring, know exactly what they'd need. But Hermione was there. "A weapon? I mean, no one'll be expecting that."

         "Okay, but do you know how to use anything? And don't say a knife because we won't be getting close enough to anyone to use one of those," Corey said.

         "Shit, you're right. But a knife might be useful for other stuff, you don't know," Amandla insisted.

         "Okay, so a knife. Anything else?"

         Amandla shrugged, "Not that I can think of. So tomorrow night?"

         Corey nodded at her, a look shared between letting the other know that they didn't want to do this but they needed to. "Tomorrow night," he confirmed.

―

         Day became night and Amandla was dreading the moment Anastasia announced she was going to bed, the unspoken commandment for everyone else to follow suit. But, like always, a quarter after ten the woman stood up from her chair in the living and spoke the words and left without another glance.

         Caesar, would had been at the kitchen counter silently reading the textbook for next year's Dark Arts with great distaste, slammed the book shut and left it on the counter, as if bringing it to his room would haunt him. Cevira watched her twin leave the room and spared another glance at her friends, giving them smiles, "Goodnight. Don't stay up too late, you two need some rest."

         Amandla offered her a nod and smile in return and watched sadly as the girl descended up the stairs. There was no fire that night, only the sound of crickets filling the air and a lump in Amandla's throat was present. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream at the universe for being so unfair to her. Why did she have to leave? Why did she have to hurt her friend?

         It was weakening, but all she wanted to do was cry. It had been so long and with all these thoughts roaming around her head and the prospect of leaving just made her want to cry. To burst out into tears and weep. But she didn't, swallowing the lump in her throat and looking at Corey.

         "Fifteen more minutes?" she knew he could hear the strain in her voice, how it cracked ever so slightly at the end, but he didn't mention it. He only nodded, and she knew it hurt him just as much.

         So they waited in silence. Fifteen minutes passed and they went to their own rooms. Amandla packed most of her stuff the night before, hiding the bag under her bed. She took it out, looking at the different clothes and the crackers, the water, the knife she took just in case. How much of it would prove useful, she didn't know.

         Then, with tears prickling her eyes, she looked around the room. The walls were barren, Anastasia never liked a busy wall, but there was one Queen poster. Everything was white. White and pristine, clean yet so unclean. There was one bookshelf that wasn't very tall and didn't hold many books, but on top it was the beloved record player with the three records they owned beside it. The amount of times she heard they records...she knew the songs by heart. And the amount of times she had gotten up from their beds to change the record.

         Board games were on the bottom shelf. Clue, Monopoly, Scrabble, a deck of cards. The nights she spent with Cevira mindlessly listening to music and playing these games over and over again. The quiet laughter, the hours they spent together, talking about nothing and everything and trying to forget the world around them.

         But now these nights were just memories. They were little moments for the two girls to remember yet at that point in time, when Amandla looked around at this room she stayed in for over a decade, the moments seemed so large. She called this place home, it was, and the girl on the other bed, sound asleep, she called her sister.

         She wiped away her tears just as Corey quietly opened the door and walked in the room. He had his own bag slug around his shoulder and he spared a glance at the sleeping figure of Cevira. "Ready to go?" he whispered.

         Again, her mind screamed to say no. Cried because this moment was here and she couldn't run from it anymore; she was leaving. "Yeah," there was a total voice crack that time.

         "Come on," Corey held out his hand as Amandla closed her bag and held it in her hands.

         "Wait!" a soft voice stopped Amandla before she could interlock hands with Corey. They looked over to see Cevira getting out of bed and going over to them with tears in her eyes. "You guys aren't very discrete. You also can't whisper that well."

         Amandla's heart was breaking because she looked so sad and she never wanted to leave, but she had to. First, Cevira gave her a hug, holding her so close and so tightly and Amandla knew she returned it with just as much passion.

         The Stature girl pulled back and looked at Amandla intently before taking her hands to her neck, taking off her necklace. "I want you to have this," Cevira told her, handing the girl the necklace.

         Amandla looked at it, "Are you sure?"

         "Positive," she said with a nod, both of them knowing the meaning. This was the necklace of Cevira's grandmother that she held so preciously, and now she was going it to Amandla. "So you'll have a piece of me with you."

         Amandla gave her another hug. Cevira hugged back before giving Corey his own. "I love you," she looked at both of them, "You've been so great to me and I can never repay you. Please, stay alive for me."

         Amandla closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry as she nodded, afraid that if she opened her mouth she would begin to sob. Corey took her hand and Cevira said a last, "Good luck," and the two were gone, leaving Cevira to break down in a sob.

         She didn't know it at the time, but that would be the last Amandla Felicity Fitzgerald would see that room.

not gonna lie, I almost cried writing this chapter.