𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗜𝗜𝗜 ━━ 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘
111. should've, should've, should've

( song for the chapter:
voyager — boygenius )

MINISTRY
october, 1980

          "𝗠𝗢𝗢𝗗𝗬, 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟 𝗜𝗦 𝗚𝗢𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗡?" A disturbance at the centre-point of the Ministry building caught her attention when she was working in her office, when she ran out and saw Alastor Moody guiding everybody to positions, alarm bells rang in her mind and she wielded her hand.

Moody grabbed her by the bicep, tugging her away into a less crowded corridor, "cover up, now, there's been an attack."

"An attack—? Merlin, how bad is it?" She asked, pulling out a purple scarf from her purse.

"Pretty terrible, hurry up, Bridget, they'll recognise you," he pointed a stern finger in her face before moving away to the crowded area, trying to get people to safety and shouting orders left and right.

       A dark-purple scarf was wrapped around her head, and over her mouth as she shot countless hexes towards Death Eaters in her way. Shadows emerged everywhere, and curses were flying around.

"Are Order members here?" She asked Moody after finding him, fighting side-by-side as they shot spells in rhythm.

"We've got Chasseur, Meadowes and Black on their way, and a lot of other Aurors; this was not a calculated attack, I think we've got the upper hand."

      Most casual workers made their way out, and some laid on the ground injured. What the hell was Voldemort thinking—? Attacking the Ministry? Aurors lined up, starting to attack the Death Eaters. Scarlet managed to recognise Yaxley, Rosier and Goyle. Truly, it seemed like the death eaters were losing due to how unbalanced they were. Rosier seemed to be the only skilled duellist.

      In the midst of everything, a violent curse hit her back, and she knew a gash of ugly wound would scar her skin once again. It hurt, like a knife piercing through her flesh. She turned around and shot a spell, the attacker fell to the ground. She was bleeding, and paid not attention to it.

      Her eyes darted around and she tried to find Sirius—mind racing at the thought of losing him. Sirius was there, he caught her eyes and sent her an assuring nod, refusing to approach her as he continued to fight. She made it very clear that he needed to stick by her side whenever they went on missions—and he did not listen. Stubborn idiot.

      A renovating gasp left her lips; a hand gripping onto hers tightly. Scarlet whirled around furiously, snatching her arm away harshly and pointing her wand at the neck of the person—

"What the fuck," Scarlet let out the painful breath she had been holding upon the presence of Everest Chasseur; the girl slapped her wand away, flickering it like it's a fly.

"Get that shit away from my face—what are you doing—?" Everest scoffed and despite the momentum of the situation, Scarlet could not help but let out a sigh of relief and a tiny smile, Oh, how badly she missed her best friend.

      Ever since the Chasseurs moved away to the West Country of England for safety, away from the bizarre bloodshed occurring in London, the two Slytherins haven't had the time to talk much.

"Helping, you bitch, what does it look like I'm doing?" She hissed back, tightening the scarf around her head so nobody would recognise her.

"They said we have to get out of here." Everest huffed out, sparing a moment to pull the blonde into a tight, one-handed hug and kissing her cheek.

"Who's they?" Asked Scarlet, pulling away.

"Moody. He says he'll handle it." Everest told her, pointing towards Moody who was duelling a masked Death Eater whilst Aurors started to handcuff those in black masks. "He's starting to arrest Death Eaters."

"Everest?"

"What?"

"Duck."

       Everest's knees buckled as she ducked, and a knife flew directly towards Scarlet's figure. With ease, she caught the weapon in her gloved hand and a deathly chuckle left her crimson lips.

"A knife. We're using Muggle weapons now?" She wondered to the Death Eater who stumbled back. Scarlet threw a hex at him, "Confringo!" The Death Eater's shoes lit on fire, and he stepped backward in pure fear, trying to get rid of the blaze by throwing spells.

       Everest got to her feet, and hexed another attacker right behind Scarlet. The girls fought side-by-side, together, throwing hexes everywhere. Victorious smirks on their lips.

"Nice one, Eve—BEHIND YOU!" Scarlet exclaimed, and Everest turned around to knock out another. As attackers bombarded them, Everest and Scarlet remained duelling them with all the skills and techniques they had learned. For a blissful moment, Eve thought this was what she was made for—protecting others. Helping. And helping some more.

      She found quite the enjoyment fighting, all the adrenaline rush she was addicted to—right next to the girl she grew up with. Throwing multiple hexes and curses, verbal and non-verbal, she wondered if this was where her ambition lay. If this was one thing she would die doing.

    Scarlet would never mind dying by Everest's side.

      Everest took down the last one, and Scarlet grinned victoriously, wrapping one arm around her best friend whilst the girl reciprocated with both of her hands around the blonde's shoulders.

"That was fantastic," she was panting with a wide-eyed gaze. "We were fantastic."

"We were really good," Scarlet agreed, her hand still safely around Eve's waist as the two walked away from the bodies on the floor. "All right—now get out of here, and stay safe—okay? We don't know how many are still here."

"What about you?" Everest asked with her smile dropping faster than possible.

      That evening at the Ministry was one she always remembered. An evening she repeated in her mind every night, retracing her footsteps and finding herself drowning in violent misery.

Scarlet remembered quickly ushering something to her friend as the brunette took a step back, prepared to move to safety. Prepared to stay out of harm's way.

Distinctly, she remembered countless adults telling her that in moments of panic, it is hard to remember crucial details. That your brain is hit with such a gruesome trauma, it hides the painful memories into a tiny corner where one cannot access it. Into a nice, neat pile.

Scarlet remembered the ruby on Everest's necklace glistening brightly as she ran. Then came the thud of a wand dropping to the ground.

She remembered the incandescent.

      She remembered a shard of bright green—like a bolt of lightning surging from her point of view. Her vision grew increasingly blurry.

The pattern of light mirrored a constellation and glinted in her vision.

Then faded into nothing.

As though all of the blissful memories—the life that was taken meant nothing.

With one curse and a single willowy glow, all of it ended. Years worth of laughs and memories and pain.

Her body shook in pain as she waited for everybody to disappear after the gruesome attack. And when they did move away out of sight, she ran through the place with trembling lips and trembling hands and a solemn prayer, shoes clicking against the tiles as she dropped to her knees beside Evan Rosier's body.

      Then, she pulled his lifeless head towards her lap and cradled his face softly. Tears blurred her vision. Helplessly, she was muttering healing spells she learned from Lily—a plea that resulted in nothing. Call it delusion but Scarlet hoped that life had played a cruel joke on her. She leaned forward and pushed his sweaty, blonde hair back, kissing his forehead.

He betrayed you, he ruined your life.

He's the reason you lost your mind.

She cried. She cried as she held him in her arms.

He was your friend, he loved you. He made you feel better, believed in you.

"Please, wake up," she spoke, looking into Evan's dead, unseeing eyes. She waited. She waited for him to let out the laugh that brightened up the entire Slytherin Common Room, or make a funny joke that caused everyone to wheeze. Don't leave. Wake up, wake up!

It hurt her. She was holding the dead body of a traitor, but even before all of that, he was her friend. She loved him. She loved him like a brother. They did everything together, laugh, cry, and fear.

And now he is gone.

And he was never coming back. And she would never hold his hand in moments of loneliness and nightmares, dwelling on a better life. And he was never going to be able to hold her again. Or make her laugh.

And no matter what agony he must have caused in other's lives, there will always be a part of Scarlet's heart that will cherish him. The lively boy. The boy she could have saved. She should have tried harder to save him.

"Wake up," her weak voice whimpered, despite already accepting the defeat.

'I don't want to be alone,' Evan once told her in trust. She used that insecurity against him the last time they spoke, she told him that she wished he died alone.

But he did not. Evan Rosier did not die alone.

He died in the arms of a girl he begged for to stay in his life. A girl he spent late nights with, going out for drinks and laughing at inappropriate jokes. Evan Rosier did not die alone.

He died in the arms of a girl that—even after everything—truly loved him. Still.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She wondered if he felt betrayed. She wondered it because her heart was so weak and full of feelings, "I'm so sorry."

She should have never left him. She betrayed him. She should have stayed to help him when he was desperately pleading for her mercy, begging for help. She should've... should've, should've, should've.

"For the love of Godric," a deep voice sounded behind, mixed with irritation and a knowing tone. "Fuck... Blondie, we've got to go."

Sirius wrapped his hands around Scarlet's arms, trying to tug her away from the lifeless body of Rosier.

"We have to go, we can't be seen," he harshly told her. "They can't see you crying over a Death Eater."

"I could've saved him," Scarlet repeated the phrase countless times as Sirius dragged her away. "I could've saved him, I should've saved him."

SOMEHWERE IN LONDON
october, 1980

      Once again, Scarlet was stood silently, in deep and morbid misery underneath the overwhelming November flush of London. A black-dress coat, black heels and an elegant black hat sat atop her white-blonde hair. Black gloves, black eye-liner, everything black but the white rose in her dainty fingers, and the livid crimson lipstick. 

      Vinda Rosier draped an arm over the blonde's shoulder the second she arrived, violently sobbing in her neck. 'My boy, my sweet boy,' she had cried. Scarlet took her hands in her gloved ones, all the words sticking in her throat. I'm sorry, she could not have possibly said that because it felt wrong, too sour. 

      Not only would her so-called reputation and teachings engraved in her blood be tarnished if she allows herself to be vulnerable, weak, but also for Vinda who did not deserve an apology from Scarlet or any other. This was the same woman who had proven to be a wretch over Evan's head for years, never proud no matter what. 

"Oh, Scarlet. Evan was just talking about you the other day. He was wanting to invite you—" a dry sob. A tremor goes through her entire body. "He always liked you."

"I loved him too," she honestly answered softly, glad that there was finally something to say instead of sheer silence. Then came Bellatrix who dragged Mrs Rosier away, muttering the same delicate and proper words Black always use at weddings and funerals. 

      Scarlet recalled the very second Mrs Rosier saw Evan's pale, fragile body last evening. Initially, there were women all around Vinda, comforting her. Scarlet was standing alone by the fireplace with a drink of her hand. 

      Usually, at gatherings such this, she would be accompanied with equally bored Regulus and Evan. And now they were both gone. Only Scarlet remained, having to attend both of their funerals in such gruesome pain that she would never forgive them for. She could never forgive them for leaving her. All alone. 

      Mr Rosier came along and dragged his wife away to the outside yard. Everybody else waited quietly. The silence was pierced by a scream, the sound of a deeply wounded animal, a pain beyond words. It was nightmarish. 

And then the part that Scarlet really didn't like to think about. It sent a chill down her spine every single time, and it made her insides crumble to pieces. Every night, it was the same recurring nightmare that plagued her mind. The green light flashing her eyes, blinding her. Evan Rosier's limp of a body dropping to the ground. Head full of luxurious light hair, pale skin, one of the most skilled duellist of their year — dropping to the ground within a second. Like nothing.

      She was so scared that night, the night it was after that, that she'd sort of drowned out the details. But it all came back to her in nightmares, so it was no use anyways. But she remembered the motion of things—she remembered it all so vividly.

      The nightmares started almost instantly. And at first she was embarrassed, angry even, because nobody else was having nightmares and she wasn't all that involved in the grand scheme. But the first time she'd gotten one about Rosier, she woke up in her bed crying, and Sirius woke up beside her— instantly bringing her into his arms as she cried. That's when he realised something had to be done. He was terrified, rocking her back and forth that night as she sobbed, terrified for Scarlet and how the whole thing affected her— but also terrified of what came next. Rosier may have been dead but he lived in her nightmares.

      In the sitting room, there are drinks on the tables with the black clothes, pitchers of water, decanters with firewhiskey, house-elves out of everybody's sight still working relentlessly. 

      Pictures of Evan had appeared everywhere, forcing Scarlet to see his face every way she turns. One of them featured Scarlet, a proper smile on her face as she locked arms with Evan at the Malfoy wedding, both of them dressed in the most expensive of clothes. Appearing like royals. 

      Her lips almost tugged upwards from all the memories of them, all those hours spent in the Slytherin Common Room and talks of nonsense. Then came an agitating voice that snapped her out of her haze. 

"You," venom laced Barty Crouch Jr's tone, some odd vexation in his irises that she'd never seen before. 

"Don't cause a scene," she warned, looking around and speaking through gritted teeth. "this isn't about you, act proper for once."

"I know what you said to him the other night." He told her.

"Then you must also know what he did to me." She replied in monotone. She cared, she cared so much about Barty and his feelings but at the moment, she stayed completely focussed on how to conceal her own hurt. To not break down screaming at the sky. 

"He trusted you, he loved you, Scarlet," Barty shook his head in disbelief at her stoic face, pressing his tongue against the top of his mouth to neglect his urge to hex her head off. "You told him he'd die alone and in pain, you— you think you're any different?"

"No, I don't," Scarlet answered honestly because she has never been a pathological liar when it came to speaking to Slytherins; only due to her knowledge that she needn't to prove anything like she does with her current friends; that, with the exception of Everest, of course. 

Barty brought up a finger and pressed his index against the valley of her collarbones, "I wish you too die a excruciating death with nobody by your side."

Scarlet nodded once, firmly taking in his cursing words. Serious, stern, unwavering. Crazy how a facial expression can mask the chaos of screaming emotions. 

      "YOU SAID YOU'D TAKE CARE OF HIM!" Scarlet barged through the doors at the lair where Moody and Dumbledore were having a chat, Sirius followed suit with a wry smile and a hand on her arm to keep her calm. She lunged towards Alastor, not attacking him but her rageful tone was enough. "I will tear you apart to shreds, you heartless bastard. You killed him!"

"It had to be done." Alastor sharply said. "He resisted arrest. He blew my bloody nose off!" They were not all there for nothing, Dumbledore had called for a meeting earlier about how enraged the other side would be about the Rosier death. Scarlet missed it due to the funeral, some of their friends — Lily, James and Remus were waiting in the tent nearby, waiting for Scarlet and Sirius.

"Should've aimed for your head." She snapped, shoving away Sirius' arm and failing to do so due to his tight grip around her waist.

Scarlet turned to Dumbledore who sat quietly.

"You fuckin' liar, you said they'd be safe and now two of them are gone—and it's your fault!" She exclaimed hysterically.

"Miss Bridget, I say you calm down, and take a seat—"

"Calm down? You lied to me—you, you ruined—" her shoes clicked with every single one of her furious stomps towards him, and filled with rage, she lunged towards Dumbledore with all her strength. Sirius stood in between, pulling her back and holding her arms in place.

Dumbledore did not flinch once and stayed nonchalant despite her outburst. "What are you speaking of, Miss Bridget?" He asked cluelessly. 

"I'm talking about Evan Rosier, you dense bastard."

His chin raised, and a flicker of recognition flashed through his eyes. "I can only offer you my condolences—"

"Bullshit!"

"I did not give order for anybody to be killed at the battle of the Ministry, if harm were done, then I am sorry for your loss."

"I never asked anything in return," she choked out, lips trembling suddenly. She hated being weak as she held onto a silent Sirius for support. "All I did was ask you to not attack three of them, just the three of them and you couldn't even do that."

"What's done is done, Miss Bridget—Evan Rosier was a Death Eater—I cannot defend them." Dumbledore states with no remorse, and Scarlet's hand clutched onto Sirius's shirt tighter in pure rage. "It is best if you stay close to the Rosier Manor, supporting them to remain unsuspicious."

Her pain did not matter as long as her actions brought advantages.

      Sirius and Lily had gone inside to speak to Dumbledore about the next Order mission, they were being informed about how they would be working with a couple of other low-ranking members of the Order next month, attending frontlines with them and simultaneously training them. 

James and Scarlet were still in that tent, a record player in the corner. She was sitting on the floor with her knees being brought up to her chest, chin resting on her knees as she stared in space. James was not too empathetic about Rosier's death but he did care about Bridget, of course, he always did. 

James slowly got up from his seat where he was fiddling with his fingers, her gaze following him as he stood in front of her and extended a hand.

Alerted, Scarlet locked eyes with him, her chin still resting on her knees like a little kid as she stared at the record player playing the same notes that were played at Evan Rosier's funeral. The black disc spun and spun, hypnotising her.

She accepted his palm, and he helped pull her up to her feet and guided her to the middle of the ground.

Potter led the dance even though he was not very good at it, arms swinging back and forth as she silently held his gaze with watery eyes. A bright source of luminescence in the form of James Potter peeking through sets of bricks to illuminate her dark emotions and dark black heart.

Potter smiled at her in a hopeful manner, raising his brows in a funny way; Scarlet could not help but reciprocate his grin. James Potter's smile was contagious and even someone as cold-hearted as Scarlet Bridget was infected by it. His fingers intertwined with her dainty ones, feeling her engagement ring underneath his palm.

James was so very glad his best friend had this girl in his life. Surely, he did not know details of their relationship but he knew Scarlet and Sirius. Scarlet who was always so keen on fixing everything and Sirius who merely wanted to be fixed. Scarlet whose power and strength was a beacon of light and Sirius lived on that light.

Scarlet was Sirius' safety net, and when he falls, it would always be there to catch him.

James merely wanted to make sure Scarlet had a safety net too.

It did not feel like a cruel obligation where she would dance at pureblood gatherings, having boys place their hands a bit too low, lean forward until she could feel their warm breath on her cheeks.

It felt... safe.

He spun her carefully, grin only getting larger. James did not have balance when he was moving but Scarlet did. He tripped over her black stilettos a couple of times when he recklessly twirled her or circled around her with an immature laugh.

The music gradually slowed down and ended with Scarlet and James resting their chin on each other's shoulder. James could not help but laugh childishly as her chin's weight tickled him. They still slowly rocked back and forth.

Suddenly, he pulled away, the hand he had on his back slid off as he stared at his own palm.

"Bridget?" James called her name softly. "I–I think you're bleeding."

"Oh," all she said.

"Oh?" James repeated in disbelief, eyes wide as hell. "Oh? That is what you have to say?"

Scarlet was sliding a hand up her shirt, and took it out to see metallic crimson over her fingers.

James scoffed, at the sight of blood "Christ's sake, SIRIUS? LILY? WHERE'S PADFOOT?" He called out, peaking his head out through the tent; Scarlet pulled him back in by tugging at the back collar of his shirt. 

"Why do you scream so loudly?" Scarlet asked in disbelief. "Seriously, must you always yell so loudly that my ears fall off?"

"Shut up, Bridget," James snapped, turning around to regard her with distaste "PADFOOT?"

GODRIC'S HOLLOW

      The four of the friends apparated to Potter Manor, Lily was breast-feeding Harry whilst Sirius sat on the rocking chair, intensely staring at a silent Scarlet with an emotionless expression. 

"You didn't tell me you were injured in the attack that night," said Sirius disappointedly, shaking his head with concern and regret for not noticing. Scarlet always concealed her pain, mental or physical, and Sirius was meant to see through it. 

His jaw clenched tightly as he stared at her, scrutinising her expression and wondering when it would all get better. Scarlet was sat on an uncomfortable chair with James sitting behind her, dabbing a sterile cloth against her bare skin where blood was stained. Occasionally, he used magic, stitching up her wound that she received at the battle of the ministry. 

"I tried to do the stitches by myself... apparently, I'm not very good at it." She muttered quietly, a nonchalant mask evident on her face. 

"You're not," said James bluntly, pushing the needle through her skin one last time before using his teeth to cut off the thread. "Sorry if it hurt."

"'Didn't feel a thing," she lied to make him feel better.

      James pressed a white cloth against the stitched skin to remove the excess blood. Sirius cringed a million times as he watched, flinching even more than she was. "All done, love," James said, scooping all the gauges and discarding them into the bin. 

      Scarlet chained up the black dress she has been wearing since the funeral, aware of the way Sirius was looking at her. She did not know if he was worried about what could happen, or enraged about her hiding all the scars from him. She hoped it was not the latter. 

      Then, she knew he was not pissed of at her because he came along to sit next to her, pressing a kiss against the temple of her head and holding her by the back of her neck to pull her closer to his chest. 

"I'm glad you're okay," he whispered softly, and she smiled. 

"What did Dumbledore talk to you about?" James asked his wife, "are you sure you want to fight again? Times are dangerous."

"I know," Lily softly uttered, "but I want to help."

"He also said given Lily is one of the brightest witch, she's the best option to train the younger witches and wizards in the Order," Sirius grinned lightly, sending a sharp wink in the redhead's way to which she rolled her eyes.

"So, if he required assistance, why on earth would he ask for you?" James grinned too, "you're the least helpful person in the world."

"Shut up, Prongs," Sirius rolled his eyes with annoyance, grumbling with offence, "I'm a very helpful person, ask Blondie."

Everybody turned to Scarlet, and she could only focus on the way his hand tickled around her hips, urging her to be on his side, "My mother said I musn't lie." 

The Potter couple laughed, and Sirius glared at her playfully. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, giving her a feather-like touch with his lips as his warm breath tickled her neck, "you'll pay for that."

𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑨 𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑺

I did not even realise scars now has no one
to speak to at pureblood gatherings until
this chapter (which I hope u guys liked)

the jamesxscars parallel with harmione 
almost killed me, god it was hard to write.

let me know what you guys want to see.