charityburbge:
She had never felt this way before. Her stomach was so tight she was scared organs would snap and she would die of internal bleeding as eyes scanned through the crowds. People had died, people had died, people had died and she felt tears burning in her eyes. All she could do was walk, not responding to anything as she felt relief each time she saw someone she knew, but she kept pushing and pushing through the crowds.
She wasn’t there.
Her lips were shaking at that point, trembling as she kept looking, but did not find anything. Charity told herself she was panicking, that her close friend was probably trying to cheer some younger student in a corner, and that she was there. She had to be. But still — it felt like a lie, and the optimism that she used to compromise her stress was suddenly g o n e. Rosmerta was gone.
When she heard words spill out of Lily’s mouth like a raging storm she let go. Tears left her eyes, and she felt pathetic as she looked at the fiery Gryffindor, wanting to scream the way she did but noticing that her throat had been blocked. Was this the price she paid for not allowing negativity into her life? Ending up crying when she suspected her friend to be —– what, exactly? Gone? Missing? Captured? DEAD? She wished someone was there to slap sense into her, and perhaps that was what Lily’s words did in a way, too.
“Rosmerta,” she breathed — hiccuped, actually, “I — I will help you, okay? We have to find her, Lily —- we have to. She can’t be – she has to be somewhere.”
Lily felt like she was either going to scream or cry, and neither of those things were in her comfort zone. She wished she could be her mother - a woman who was always calm and collected, had a level head, was supportive, and looked out for every single person around her even when she was in absolute distress. This was the first time Lily really understood how difficult that was, and she would have traded anything in the world for her mother to be there at that moment. ( What would she say? Would she tell you to be strong, would she hug you, would she tell you to walk out that door and look, would she tell you to take care of others? Or would she just hold you and tell you it’s going to be okay? )
Suddenly she wasn’t alone, and when she saw Charity, she instantly wished that she hadn’t shouted, hadn’t lashed out. Her heart sank and anger was replaced with nothing but sadness and fear, and she felt sick. ❝Charity,❞ she said, but the lump in her throat turned the name into a whisper, and Lily bit her bottom lip. ( Dad would tell you to let it go, you know, he’d tell you to cry because you deserve it."If you want to cry, Lily, you can. It’s okay to cry. You’re not weak, it doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. Never feel weak for feeling something.” ) As Charity started to cry, Lily wondered why she hated it so much in herself, wondered why it made her feel so weak even though while she was standing there, looking at Charity, and all she saw was strength.
( “You are strong, Lily,” her mother’s voice said. “Remember that. You are strong.” )
Lily pulled her friend into a hug and nodded. Despite her fight against tears she felt her eyes begin to sting and she tried to blink them away, but she was beyond the point of control. ❝You’re right,❞ she whispered, nodding into her friend’s shoulder, wondering whether or not what she was about to say was true, and trying to keep her voice from shaking. ❝You’re right, we will find her. Charity... I’m - I’m just - I’m so -❞ ( afraid ).
