CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
FROM THE ASHES

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The thing was, the year was ending. Slowly but surely, the year had been ending since it began and now there were only weeks left. Weeks. Weeks to finish everything that had to be done and Amandla didn't know how to feel. Everything was happening so quickly and she didn't know what do to, how to feel.

For one, her cousin was still recovering from his attack that Harry fucking Potter committed. Two, he had cried to her only nights ago in broken sobs because the day was coming – he had finished the Vanishing Cabinet after a year of working on it and now all he had to do was tell the other Death Eaters and then kill Dumbledore. He had to become a killer, something that Amandla never wanted for him. And it was beginning to become too late to run; he had already told them, they were expecting Draco to be there to welcome them. Everything was happening that night and she just needed a moment to breath, but she didn't have that moment. There was no more time to run, only hide and hope for the best. She didn't know what that would be.

And third, Corey was losing his mind. She was too, with him. And they were both drowning, especially him. Because that night there were going to be Death Eaters – which he didn't know about – and if they found him, he was going to be taken. If he went home, he would be taken. If they found him at all, he would be taken and killed and that could not happen. Amandla was already conjuring a plan to save him, to hide him in the Stature house.

Amandla, though, just felt so useless. Because she knew everything and knew what was going to happen yet she couldn't do anything to stop it. She had all this knowledge she would never share that would help save Dumbledore – help save people, but be the downfall of her cousin and of herself. So yeah, everything was happening and she was letting it and she was just a terrible person. Sounds about right.

And she was standing in this room with Draco, staring at the Vanishing Cabinet for the first time sober, and she wanted to run. Wanted to run away, back to the beginning of the year, back to their childhood. The childhood without Voldemort, with the garden they ran about with smiles adorning their faces where everything was simple. To the days when her parents were alive and they held her hands as they walked the streets and taking her out to dinner. No, to the family dinners her mother cooked, her favorite always being pasta. Those were the days when she didn't have to keep secrets, when she smiled so bright and the sun glistened in her eyes and her cousin didn't cry because he felt so tired and ready to die, for life to end, but when he cried because he hurt himself or when Amandla pushed him into the sidewalk on accident.

But those days were gone. She would never see that sweet girl again who loved her parents more than anything and had dreams of becoming a princess because that sounded just so wonderful. That girl was gone. And even when Amandla looked into the mirror she couldn't see that girl. Too many things had happened, changed, and she didn't recognize that girl. And that girl would never recognize this Amandla. Because, according to her dream, she was sixteen when she moved into her castle. Everything was pink and there was glitter and magic and wands and everyone was happy. The world had never been brighter. She had a nice prince beside her and she was beautiful. Not this...not drowning as she was.

"You'll need to hide," Draco commented, breaking the girl from her thoughts as her eyes went from that thing ruining her life to her beloved cousin. "Tonight, I mean."

"I know," she whispered back, "I'll lock the door to my room, have Cevira and Corey in there if I can."

He shook his head, "They'll easily break the lock, so don't even try that."

"What else can I do? Where can I go? Not here, not in the kitchens, not anywhere. Plus, the basement is locked, remember?" Amandla questioned.

"Alright...I'm just, I'm just worried. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"And I don't want anything to happen to you," she said back, "But there's nothing I can do."

"I'm sorry."

"I know," she said back to him, "And I don't blame you for any of this, you know that right? None of it's your fault."

"But it is! It's all my fault because I'm the one who's going to kill him! I'm the one who fixed this fucking cabinet and is letting them in here! It's all because of me!" Draco exclaimed, raging at the world for this life it had given him.

Amandla was quick to comfort him, "And if not you then someone else. You said it yourself, if you ran they would just find someone else. Like...like Nott. So it's not your fault, don't blame yourself."

She was a fucking hypocrite saying that. Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault. Those were her words for him yet they applied to her so much more. She felt so much guilt, took the blame for everything and it just ate her alive and she didn't know how much more life she had to give her guilt. Don't blame yourself. When did she not? In what situation did she let the blame fall on someone else? Never. Or at least, none that came to mind. Because she was the mistake, she was the problem, and everything was her fault.

"How can I not? I have to kill him, Amandla, I have to kill him tonight. I'll be no better than him," Draco looked her dead in the eyes, tears brimming in his own.

She shook her head, bringing him into a much needed hug. "You're nothing like him," she whispered, "You're so much better because you don't want this. You didn't kill so many people, manipulated even more. You're so kind, Draco, and you don't deserve this fate. Don't ever compare yourself to him."

Draco returned her hug, "I don't want to be a killer, Amandla."

And inside her chest, she felt her heart breaking. His voice was so timid, so scared, and they shared one feeling; they didn't know what to do. Amandla just held him close, whispering the only thing she could, "I know."

It didn't feel like enough though. She felt like she should say more, but she didn't know what to say. There was nothing she could say that would comfort him, nothing but those two words. He didn't cry, he didn't say anything, he just clutched onto her.

"I'm sorry," he muttered after minutes of silence, the two of them just holding each other.

Amandla frowned, "For what?" Really, she couldn't fathom what he could be sorry for.

"Dragging you into all of this," Draco answered, "If I had kept my mouth shut you wouldn't be all stressed about this. You wouldn't have to worry about this...or me."

"Draco," she cupped his face, looking at him, "I'm always going to worry about you, no matter what. You're my family, and I care about you more than anyone else."

"But if you didn't know..."

"I would still notice the damage this task's done to you, I would still worry about you. Like I said, you should've blame yourself, it's not your fault," if only she could take her own advice.

Draco nodded, "Make sure you're safe tonight. It's happening after dinner."

"I'll be safe, as long as you promise the same."

"Nothing unexpected going to happen to me," Draco answered her.

Amandla knew what that meant. It was code for I'm going to kill someone, nothing's going to be fine, but I won't get hurt.

―

Everyone was outside. Everyone had heard what happened, heard them in the halls, knew what had happened. In the middle of their circle was his dead body – Dumbledore's. Amandla looked down on shame, knowing that this was partially her fault, knowing that her cousin was the murderer.

Cevira squeezed her hand and Amandla's stomach churned because she didn't deserve this act of kindness. She knew this information, she knew that he was going to die yet she did nothing. She did nothing. It was all her fault. She still blamed herself, even after everything she told Draco. She wanted to cry. He was dead.

Someone raised their wand. Then everyone else did. Cevira did too, standing beside her but Amandla didn't feel worthy of it. That was a sign of remembering the dead, recognizing them and honoring them, but she unworthy of it because she knew of the murder. She knew what had happened, what was going to happen, yet she did nothing. Cevira nudged her, signaling that she should raise her wand as well. She was dishonoring Dumbledore by doing this, but she raised her wand anyways.

She feigned innocence; she didn't know about the murder. Didn't know what happened that night prior to anyone else at the school. She was innocent.

―

There was a girl, clad in black with her friends by her side as the sun was shown and a breeze in the air. The other students of the school were there, excluding one named Draco Malfoy, who had been taken the night Albus Dumbledore was murdered, letting everyone know where his loyalties lied. At least, where they seemed to lie.

But he wasn't the murderer. The truth of who murdered Albus Dumbledore was learned only a day after his death, told by Harry Potter himself who had witnessed the whole event. Draco Malfoy had disarmed the dead man, but Severus Snape came along and finished the job. Amandla had never been more relieved; her cousin wasn't a killer. Not yet, anyways.

She felt ashamed to be there, but everyone else was going and it would look back if she didn't. Amandla was wearing a black dress, short, and she looked nice in it. Nice for service of the late headmaster, nice for anyone looking. She had to look nice, keep her head up, and pretend she was innocent through it all.

"I'm sorry about Draco," Cevira sincerely told her, as if he was the one who ended up dead, "I'm sorry about where he ended up."

Amandla wanted to tell her "he didn't have a choice" and "that isn't who he is – that isn't what he thinks" but she just nods. It's easier to nod. That way nothing else will escape, that way no one can suspect her of knowing. Of letting him die.

The service was beautiful, no one could deny that. And when it was over, they went over to the food. People were talking to Harry, to the other adults, to each other, but Amandla didn't feel like talking. Cevira went to Caesar for a moment, and she turned to Corey.

"We can hide you in the attack," Amandla whispered to him. Talking about something else was better, better than talking about the murder.

"That won't work," Corey shook his head, "At least not for long. You can't hide me there forever without Anastasia thinking something's up."

"Well it's not a permanent solution, I know that, but it'll give us time to think of somewhere else to hide," Amandla took a sip of the drink she took.

Corey nodded, "I'm going to talk to Luna. This might be the last time I see her."

"Don't say that. Please, don't say that. You'll see her again, don't worry," Amandla pleaded with him, and Corey nodded, muttering a small 'sorry' before walking away.

Then Amandla was alone. Sipping at her drink as she tried to think of anything else except the meaning for the event and her nice dress. When she closed her eyes she was reminded of the time she first learned about what was going to happen. It was only the beginning of the year, before Cevira and her split, before Corey apologized, before she slept with Hermione and Pansy, when her only problems were her drinking and worrying about Draco. That was when she learned everything.

The kitchen was dark as it always was, there was a bottle between them and he muttered Dumbledore and she had taken a large gulp before responding. He hadn't cried, hadn't shown emotion, told her and then said goodbye and where to meet him the next day so that they could talk some more. She was just there, sitting in that chair with the bottle in her hand as she just stared into the darkness. At the time, she hadn't been drowning, hadn't been pulled into the darkness, this was when she was looking at the water, peering into the darkness, and it stared right back at her. It grabbed her and forced her down into the water where no one could help her, water where she couldn't swim and she was just drowning.

And she saw those drowning beside her. She was pushing against the current, trying to reach them, pull them up and to the shore that seemed nonexistent so that she could save them. But she was drowning alone because she couldn't even save herself; how could she save anyone else?

Because even though Draco wasn't a killer, he wasn't safe. Even though he hadn't taken out Dumbledore, he was still trapped in a house with them and who knows what was happening to him because of what he couldn't do. If he was safe, if his parents were alive, Amandla didn't know. Her heart tugged at the thought of her aunt and uncle being dead. Even after everything they had done to her, put her through, she still didn't want them to die. They didn't deserve to die. She didn't want Draco to be an orphan just like her.

"Hi," a soft voice caused her to blink. Amandla hadn't even realized she was just staring at her drink, but she looked up to see a scared Hermione standing before her. "How...how are you, Amandla?"

Such a soft voice for someone who was so cruel. It was a mistake. I like Ron. I'm not gay. Those words cut like knives to her and she bled almost to death because of them. Amandla stiffened, but she still couldn't help but notice how nice Hermione looked in her dress.

"Hello," her tone was cold, defensive because she knew what the girl was capable of. What she could do to Amandla. It was a simple rejection but to her, to the girl who had fawned over Hermione for so long, it was crushing. Her words were crushing.

"Look, Amandla, I wanted to say that I'm sorry. For Draco and all," Hermione said, "I know he was...harmed before everything. And, well, what he is now."

"You mean when Potter hurt him," she couldn't keep the malice out of her voice when she spoke of that boy, her friend. Hermione looked alarmed, "Draco told me who hurt him."

"Oh...I didn't know you two still talked this year," Hermione said.

"Well you don't really know me at all, Hermione, so I don't blame you for not knowing this," but I blame you for breaking me.

Hermione sighed, squeezing her eyes for a second, "Right. Uh, I didn't mean to hurt you earlier. And what I said about being friends...I really wanted to continue having you as a friend."

The Fitzgerald girl shook her head, "You know I wouldn't be able to be happy with just that, so why even ask for it?"

"That was then. Look, I was confused and scared. It was easier to like Ron, but I could never forget you Amandla, and that scared me. I thought that I just wanted to be your friend or something, so I started hanging around you and asking you to events and everything. Then I started to get these...other thoughts of you. I thought they would just go away if you had you for one night, but they didn't. But I was so scared so I avoided you and then I let you go. I said no because liking Ron was easier than facing the truth, so I hid."

"And you hurt me so much in the process," Amandla finished, "Why are you even telling me this? It won't change anything."

That was a lie. It was changing things, because Amandla was a sucker for Hermione. Even after all this hurt, all this heartbreak, she still thought of Hermione. Still thought of the girl she had one night with – a magical night – and how she wished she had enjoyed it even more.

"I know that. I know. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am and, yeah, I kinda hoped you would find it in yourself to give me a second chance," Hermione admitted.

"You shattered me. You really did, Hermione. I was fucking ruined because of you and you didn't care."

"And I'm so sorry for that. I was scared but I'm not anymore. I'm okay with who I am now, and I want to become more confident with you by my side," Hermione sucked in a breath, intertwining their hands, "I like you, Amandla. A lot. And I was so scared by that because of what people would think of me. I was so scared of what my parents would think. I was scared because of what people say about those who like the same gender, but I'm getting over that fear. Because of you. You've opened my eyes and I just want a chance with you, to see where this goes. So please...can you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

She looked so hopeful. Her eyes were wide with slight fear of rejection and hope for Amandla to forgive you. Her lips were parted and she looked adorable, with her hand still interlocked with her own, not letting go, and that sent butterflies – no, elephants – flurrying (stomping) in her stomach.

Maybe this was a mistake. It probably was, but Hermione was her dream. Had always been her dream. Amandla always knew that Hermione Granger would ruin her, and that came true, but from the ashes there was a new girl. There was a girl willing to try, willing to face her fear. This was a new Hermione Granger, willing to have a relationship with her, Amandla Fitzgerald, a girl herself, and she was willing to take this chance.

"Sure," she said and Hermione smiled, "But on one condition."

The smile immediately dropped from her face, thinking something terrible but responding with, "What is it?"

"I need a favor from you; I need you to help me hide Corey. The Death Eaters are after him."

END OF ACT TWO.