𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗜𝗜𝗜 ━━ 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘
088. a girl in the midst of a fire

( song for the chapter:
running up that hill — kate bush
(stranger things, remix) )

          𝗔 𝗖𝗢𝗥𝗥𝗨𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗟𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗦 𝗜𝗡 𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗕𝗢𝗗𝗬 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗦𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗘𝗟𝗧 after Apparation. Regulus Black followed her all the way through the process by holding onto her arm; the two landed simultaneously a bit far away from the Bridget Manor, and so, she started to run. As fast as she could.

She could see from afar through her blurry vision — there were a lot of 'pop' sounds to indicate many Apparitions by other witches and wizards from the wedding. Orion Black was standing nearby, very close to the Bridget House. Many of the families from the wedding Apparated to the area, appearing quickly, including Lucius and Narcissa.

      Scarlet had never run so fast in her life.

      Run, run.

Her throat dried, and her body ached. She did not believe it, she wouldn't believe it until she saw it with her own eyes. Whilst running, she almost tripped over the silk fabric of her black gown, and she ignored the struggle as though it was nothing but dust in her way.

"Scarlet, slow down!" Regulus called, his hand holding the high-heels Scarlet threw off to run better towards the scene.

An audible gasp left both of their throats when they had finally arrived at their designated place. All she could smell was smoke. All she could see were sparks and flames and clouds of gas wafting around her in the summer air. Shards of glass broke beneath her feet—more likely from explosions. It was everywhere, the glass was everywhere—the windows completely shattered, leaving silvers on the floor and fragments all about.

Individuals loitered around the expensive area, and they were all wizards and witches. The place erupted in bright, flashing light, so blazing that it blinded the night sky. Aurors held their wands up in the air, trying to dim the fire of the popular house.

A house that Scarlet called home. Eternal flames rose, sizzling with red-orange strips to burn down every corner of the manor.

A gut-wrenching scream left Scarlet's throat, one that was so loud that everybody else present in the scene winched. "NO! NO!" She screamed, her throat burning more and more. The air she inhaled felt toxic. Inhale more. Exhale more. Everybody looked at her, alerted. Concerned. 

Flames rise into the night as if they were challenging the heavens itself to stop their consumption of what was Bridget's home and place of sanctuary. Yet fire is impatient, and the heavens breathe aeons and moments as if they were one.

"Hey, hey! Stop her! Don't let her go in!" A woman yelled, pointing towards the blonde girl. 

Despite the blazing fire that caught on the entire manor, Scarlet stumbled forward hurriedly, running past all Aurors and individuals from the Ministry. Her nose stung, it stung badly from the fumes. It was hot, really hot.

"Scarlet, SCARLET!" Regulus dropped whatever he held, and wrapped his hands around Scarlet's waist from the back, stopping her movement.

Scarlet lashed out, twitching away from Black's tight grip and shoving his body away from hers. Sliding through the crowd of people, she entered the burning house of hers. The heat from the sparkling fire radiated onto her figure, attacking the black fabric she wore.

Her chest rose and fell in a panic she'd never quite known before. Inhale quickly, exhale faster. Her fingers burned as she held onto the railing to go up the stairs. Others protested, calling for her from the main door. Highly alerted. A girl in the midst of a fire. A girl on fire.

Her heart battered against her ribcage and her body sprawled in a fear unlike any other—a consuming, panic-ridden, terrible aching fear. Hands shook as they wrapped around the railing tighter, feet stepping on the last stair at the top.

She stared with wide eyes—her throat closed up and she could not breathe. She was not the only one. A short, small body lay on the floor by her mother's bedroom—marble-like green eyes threatening to fall shut, lungs constricted.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Run towards the house-elf.

"Jaggy?"

Her crooked voice spoke, coughing through the fumes. Scarlet held him closely in her arms, sobbing lightly. "Stay with me, Jaggy, everything is fine." His already ghastly skin was burned, blood sizzling in anger over his wounded skin.

"Jaggy tried best to save Mistress Bridget, Jaggy has failed..." The statement was followed by a harsh choke which caused Scarlet to widen her eyes. Inhale. Exhale. Exhale... Exhale.

"What happened to Mama?" Her heart was in her throat and her lungs fell out of her body. Everything was destroyed. Everything was out-of-order.

"Jaggy is sorry, Little Mistress. Please, forgive Jaggy—it's Jaggy's last wish... to be forgiven." With a small, pained gasp, his eyes fluttered shut and the girl shed tears, holding his body tightly.

Softly, she placed her dainty fingers and closed Jaggy's eyelids.

She inhaled the smoke every time and felt her chest tighten from the fumes. All the sparks. The heat that stung her skin, scratched her face and coated her body in sweat. Her sleeve was caught on fire, burning her skin through the lace fabric but she did not care.

Her eyes were watery from the flushes of it.

No amount of protection would have helped her brace for the moment she lost everything.

A blood-curdling scream sounded from the back of her throat, and she kneed down to the floor with loud sobs and gut-wrenching cries. Her body ached with fear and ached with grief. Inhale. Exhale. Another explosion of sparks, erupting in farming embers thrown back in her direction.

"NO, NO! PLEASE!" She cried, holding the lifeless body of a wonderful woman. The lifeless body of a powerful and unbeatable individual Scarlet loved with all her heart. In the end, even those who possess great power cannot beat the strength of fate itself. "MAMA!"

The worst part of it was that nothing of Celeste Bridget was left. Her full-of-life cobalt eyes faded into a ghastly colour. Her body was drenched in burns. A side of her head was completely ablaze, raw skin on show whilst most of her hair was igniting, scorched bits falling into pieces. There was nothing left of her.

There was a physical ache flooding through her body like a tsunami through a large city, destroying everything in its path. She let out a yell, screaming with all her might as she shook the body. A mere body. As if her cries will change destiny.

Her hand burned. Her nostrils stung. Her lungs heaved. There was smoke everywhere.

"Please, Mama... mum, mum, mum..." she sobbed horribly, tightly holding the horrifying figure in her chest. 

Celeste Bridget may have looked morbid at the moment, but it was not how Scarlet wanted to remember her. She wanted to remember the exquisite and graceful woman she had always been. That was no longer possible. The last portrait she would have of her mother in her mind was someone who looked nothing like her mother. Someone with horror-filled eyes and ugly marks and unbearable looks. At first glance, anyone would finch away seeing the dreadful figure.

Her mother.

Her mother.

Her dear mother.

But in her heart, she knew Celeste Bridget. The heart of pearls she possessed, the sweet tone and utter beauty she held. Inhale. Exhale.

"Please, don't leave me," she sobbed, ignoring the flames around her encapsulating them. She was not ready. She was not ready to let her go. Let go of her hand and never be able to hold her again. "Wake up... WAKE UP!"

Please, please, please.

"Mama, please, MAMA! No, no, no, no... please, Mama... I love you," She cried; Scarlet wished she had only said it to her mother whilst she was alive. "I love you."

The heat burned her face, and her hair stuck to her neck.

"Please, don't leave me. Mama, please? Wake up, wake up..."

Wake up, she told her mind. Perhaps, Scarlet was the one who needed to wake up, perhaps all this was a nightmare and she would wake up to a world that makes sense again. To a world where her mother was alive and would wrap her warm arms around her.

A feeling of fingers clutching onto her shoulders made her squeeze her eyes shut in despair. It hurt.

"Leave, leave me alone!" She shouted over the blaze, watching a group of Aurors surrendering inside the room. "LEAVE!"

The woman did not listen, instead, she made her stand up and asked her to get out of the place.

"LET ME GO!" She screamed on top of her lungs, "Please! I'm not ready, I'm not ready to leave, please..." she cried, feeling her throat closing up and an ugly burn in her chest. "Let me stay, let me stay."

"You'll have to step out, now, darling," the Auror muttered in distress. "It's not safe, step out."

Whilst she kept screaming, another individual dragged her out of the house; the burning, daunting house where nothing was left anymore. She hit the wizard in the face, and cursed him off but he still pulled her out of danger. Her breathing stopped.

Scarlet never felt such pain before; Merlin knows Scarlet understands pain. She had been through all sorts of pain. However this pain... It was wrenching. The sky had broken down on her. A thousand stars burned into her skin. The pain of feeling someone reach into her chest and rip her heart out.

Stepping out of the gates, with blurry visions, she could see Walburga running up to her, gripping her upper arm and pulling her away from the burning mansion to the road. Inhale, Scarlet. Exhale, Scarlet. "It's not fair," she cried in the Black's arms, for a moment, forgetting she was sobbing in Walburga's arms. "It's not fair."

Walburga said something caring and sympathetic, she was crying too and her hands trembled. Abraxas was screaming, taking his rage and hurt out at the Aurors and firefighters. 

"Let me get in!" Abraxas yelled at the poor guards, "That's my sister, you foul gits! Let me in!"

Then came Regulus who protectively wrapped his arms around Scarlet's frame. She could not feel his touch, or the shouting commencing the area. She could not feel anything.

Her fingers were burned. Her eyes were glossy from the smoke. Smoke everywhere. Hot everywhere, stinging everywhere.

For a moment, Regulus thought—if he could—he would voluntarily take away all her pain and suffer on his own. But he could not. He could only stand and watch. 

Narcissa was silently crying in Lucius' arms in the corner, still in their wedding attire. Evan stood closely behind with rosy cheeks and teary eyes, a hand on her back as Scarlet and Regulus kept one single, long hug.

They were all there — Blacks, Rosiers, Lestranges and many more.

Everybody was there but nobody mattered.

Within a blink of an eye, Scarlet was the last Bridget standing.

With the night sky black as coal, Scarlet felt her heart burn until it too turned just as black.

Inhale, exhale.

Inhale, exhale.

      FUNERALS WERE GUT-WRENCHING. Scarlet had been a part of her father's funeral. She remembered standing with a white rose in her little hands. No pain capsized her heart. And due to the dark and cruel soul she possessed, young Scarlet felt a sense of relief.

This was different by a mile. With a tissue clutched in her hand whilst the other held a single rose, she shook relentlessly. White roses. Her favourite. Her families and the community they were close with attended.

By the casket which held a woman who lost everything—from her power and dignity to her looks she carried so proudly—stood Scarlet, staring at the meaningless black box with nothing but a haunting look in her eyes.

By her side was—again—Regulus, who held her hand through all of it. On her other side was Abraxas Malfoy—crestfallen about his sister's life coming to an end. Opposite was Scarlet's father's sister—Amethyst wept with her husband and two daughters. Scarlet wanted to drag them away by their hair and throw them off a cliff. How dare they? How dare they show up and make a mockery out of her mother's funeral by pretending to sob, especially after all they have said about Celeste?

Perhaps her hateful glares were visible, the venom burning and spreading a scent. That is why Uncle Abraxas put an arm around her shoulder, squeezing it in an assuring manner until her face softened.

Celeste Bridget's funeral should not be about hate.

Nobody there knew who Celeste was—not truly. It bothered Scarlet to no end. Behind her was the Black Family—at least they were truly sympathetic about losing Celeste. Walburga was particularly close with her before the events that happened over Christmas. The Rosiers and Lestranges were in the back, ready to pay their respect.

All eyes were on her when she was asked to deliver an eulogy, and with trembling hands taking out a piece of paper from her pockets, she cleared her throat in front of everybody. Burning gazes watching her intensely.

Inhale, exhale.

"Celeste Bridget has always been a cunning woman. Someone who possessed power and beauty that left everybody in awe. But she was much more than that. She was a mother. A sister. A loving woman who did not hesitate to run into clocks of fire and destruction to save the ones she loved. And she had so much love in her heart."

Her eyes glanced around anxiously and she saw Abraxas Malfoy sending her a tight-lipped, assuring smile which led her to continue.

"She knew how to fight, and she fought like hell for everything she believed in," tears spilt out of control and shredded down her cheekbones relentlessly. Her voice started to shake so much that it sent an ache into everyone's hearts. But she does not cry.

"She was the victim of a ruthless crime which she will get justice for, I'll make sure of it," it would not have been a funeral of a Bridget if she had not reminded everybody of the family's motto. Oeil pour oeil. An eye for an eye.

"My mother once told me that a woman's reputation is all that matters, and I fundamentally believe it. Her reputation is what made Celeste Bridget the woman she is. Fierce, independent, loving. She had a quality to gather everybody's attention as she walked into a room, with her grace and elegance... and someday, I wish to be just like her. She was patient, especially when I'd use her position at the Ministry to threaten people who angered me."

That earned her a breathy chuckle from the crowd of people, and Scarlet did not want the end of Celeste Bridget's road to be so depressing. Yet, it was. "And Mama... if you're hearing this, I'm sorry I gave you a tough time, I'm sorry for spending so long showing you anger instead of love. I want you to know I appreciate everything you did for me, and I'm so, so sorry for not being better."

Scarlet Bridget did not cry.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF
CELESTE C. BRIDGET

1936 – 1978
MOTHER AND SISTER

After the end of it, she stomped away with heaving lungs and trembling hands, she saw the open arms of Narcissa Malfoy who stood beside Lucius, and the blonde woman instantly took her into her arms, stroking her hair gently. 

Scarlet was not sobbing, the tears did not come. Scarlet did not cry.

In the next few moments, Abraxas Malfoy was the one to pass an eulogy where he spoke of their childhood—and it was heart-warming to listen to how much of an extroverted soul Celeste used to be. The version Scarlet never got to meet.

After the event ended, people were chattering softly, starting to move past the area. Scarlet took a step back, starting to walk away.

Lucius held her back, standing before his parents who sobbed lightly in the back. "Come and live with us, Scarlet..."

Scarlet shrugged a little, coughing to steady her broken tone. "Thanks, Lucius... I actually have a place to stay."

"Honey, come with us, we'll take care of you." Lucius' mother chimed in, holding onto her husband's arm tightly. "You should be with family."

"I'm glad you offered, Aunt Priscilla but... I'm off-age, I'll manage," she shot her a tight-lipped, assuring smile—although nobody really believed she would manage. Scarlet may have been a mature woman, however, the pain of losing a parent was beyond imaginable for anybody, no matter how strong or unfeeling they are assumed to be. After all, she's only eighteen.

"Take care of yourself," Lucius muttered softly, looking down at the ground as his parents guided him away from the place. Narcissa passed by her and pressed a kiss to the temple of her head, telling her to owl if she required any assistance. After everything, And Scarlet stood behind.

She stayed right back. Scarlet did not cry.

Scarlet wondered if Celeste found peace. If she would ever find forgiveness in her heart, find the beauty she desperately deserved whilst living in this cruel world. If she came across colours, the light blue sky and pink flowers she adored so dearly. If she could feel time flowing rapidly like water down the hill. Or the horrid of how pathetically slow it moves whilst you sit and stare with dust collecting in your hair. She wondered if Celeste Bridget could forget time, forgive life and be evermore at peace.

She wondered if her mother ever forgave her for never being the daughter she always dreamt of.

Whoever said death was poetic never experiences watching their loved ones get snatched into cruelty. Because whoever did would know nothing ends poetically. Clarity was never in death and goodbye—these matters were only full of hurt and misery and blood. The intensity and depth of blood is not an artistic metaphor, it's only red and ache. All that blood was never poetic, it was just red. Nothing ever ends poetically.

To everybody else, Celeste Bridget was an intimidating woman. And it was no surprise that people could not easily love her due to the terror she brought with her presence.

It's haunting to mourn somebody so mysterious and secretive. Because whilst everybody moves on, you stay right there grieving, finding it agonising that nobody is experiencing the same misery you are. It's mortifying to be the one who remembers whilst everybody has forgotten.

Slowly, the area cleared out. Her friends, family and classmates ran to their loved ones, prepared to go back home whilst she watched from the sidelines. Scarlet stayed right there though, because her mother's presence was her home. She could not bear to go back to that empty shell and a poor excuse of a haunting house where nobody lived.

Grief is an ugly thing. It's agonising. It is a poorly constructed boat hitting the shore over and over again underneath the ruthless constellation of a stormy sky.

It is the frustration of watching everyone move on harmoniously, unblemished by the tragedy that hypnotises you to stay right where it left you.

In times of distress, it is other people who can pull hurt individuals from remains of a tragedy, and it is other people who can help us come to terms with it.

And those other people included the friends she grew to love dearly. Her tears were dried and her eyes were lifeless by the time she exited the graveyard area and found the people she sought comfort in standing near the gate. All in black.

Everest stood in front of all of them, coming to pay her respects. None of them were exactly allowed inside, so they waited out of sight until the strict, pureblood community was gone. James Potter stood with his parents—Mrs Potter cried relentlessly, tears falling like a waterfall.

Everybody was there. Everybody came. Everest, Aster, Marlene, Lily, Alice, Dorcas, James, Remus, Peter. Then Sirius.

Upon laying eyes on Sirius, the mask she somewhat managed to slip back on was forced away again, and she broke down. With blurry vision, she could see him practically running over to her, and with a loud sob, she allowed her body to fall onto his with full weight.

And Sirius held onto her as nothing else mattered. In a world full of darkness, there was a bolt of light in the soul of Sirius Black that warmed up Scarlet Bridget. The sight of them—the stone-faced girl crying in agony in Sirius' arms—made the others let out small sobs and sniffs, not being able to bear the misery emitting.

He whispered comforting, soft things in her hair as her mascara smudged into his white shirt, fists clinging onto his black blazer for her sanity. Please, make it easier, please.

"It hurts," she whispered. A sobbing mess.

Sirius was running a hand down her long hair, "I know, sweetheart. I'm here, hm? I'm here. I'm sorry."

Scarlet wished... she wished to split open his chest, pry apart his ribcage and hide away into his heart where nothing but golden luminescence existed. Where nothing could ever hurt her because it was Sirius Black she handed her trust, safety and pain to. 

After a few hours passed by, Scarlet was sitting beside Lily Evans, picking apart a white rose in her hand.

Nothing felt better than being with Lily at the moment — the redhead cried with Scarlet as they sat on the bench by the graveyard. Out of everybody, Lily would understand the pain the most. The girls' chests were hollow and for Lily, it was like reliving an agonising memory. Scarlet was so very glad she was there for her — someone like Lily to be there and tell her what to do now. How things will be. How she was ever going to live without Celeste Bridget. Her shelter. The woman who built a cage around her daughter with her own blood and tears and bones.

What happens from the day onwards when she forgets her mother's sense, or her voice.

"I think this is the first time I'm feeling the pain of losing a parent," she whispered.

Lily whipped her head towards her, squeezing her hand in hers. "Not your father?"

"When he died, I often wondered when the pain was meant to hit but it never did because I didn't care," she spoke as though she was giving in on her biggest secret, and she hated herself for breaking down. "I felt relieved because he was so cruel. I thought with him gone, I can finally see my mama in peace... I made it so much harder for her."

"You were her peace..." the redhead told her comfortingly. "Even from afar, I could see the look of pride in her eyes. Every interview she gave regarding her investigation, somehow, she always mentioned you. You were her everything, sweetheart."

Scarlet merely shook her head and took a deep inhale, "Will it ever get better?" Lily didn't know what to say because it didn't. It didn't get better. As time passes, it feels easier to deal with it but the pain never goes away.

"It gets easier," Lily said in all honesty. 

Everybody else went to get a drink due to the long time they had spent there, and Mia came to ask what Scarlet's plan was in terms of living and taking care of herself just until everything falls into pieces.

"I'm so sorry about what happened," Peter handed her a warm cup of coffee, and softly wrapped his arms around the girl. The mousy-haired boy's cheeks were rosy and damp, and he was frowning the entire time.

"Thank you, Peter," said the girl politely with the best smile she could muster, warming her hands around the hot coffee cup underneath the chilly afternoon. 

"Sweetie," Aster Chasseur started, "I know I don't have much to offer but Eve does have quite a large room," she trailed off, hoping she sent the hint across.

"I think I'd really love to be with Eve for the time being..." her eyes glanced at Aster who stood with her daughter. "If that's okay with your family."

"Of course, darling, I told you, you're family." Aster approached her and swung an arm over her shoulder. It felt... odd. To have so many people care for her, be there for her. Her eyes found Sirius in the midst of everything, and he stared at her in an assuring manner — never taking his eyes off of her. 

𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑨 𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑺

happy new year everybody.