FicWad

Days passed in a strange twilight. Gryffindor students were bridling up, which neither surprised Draco nor did he care about it. But the abating conversations when he was around, the professors' strange looks, and the depressing silence of the Slytherin students were devastating to him.

What was he supposed to do? What was the right thing to do? How to live? What to hope for? Tormented by those thoughts, he was entering the divination room when upon his ear fell a strange, unearthly murmur. He managed to understand only part of it.

"...will return to second; thus light can not exist without darkness." Draco pushed through the door and saw Professor Trelawney, wrapped in her green shawl and hundreds of beads, asleep in her armchair. Elfy looked out of the window, her face on the verge of crying.

Professor Trelawney, who usually predicted physical harm, now talked to Draco about rejection and shame.

"Strangely accurate prediction, don't you think? What else would we expect for the future of a death eater? " Dean Tomas said, with a loud laugh, as they were descending from the divination tower.

"Maybe you want to say something to my face rather than behind my back, like some rat?" Draco crossed his arms as he blocked the brat's way.

"Maybe I do. I am sick and tired of pretending that nothing has happened. Why are you here while Fred, Tonks, and hundreds of others are rotting in their graves? "

"It is an ill achievement to persecute a child for their parent's sins." Every head turned towards Elfy, who talked calmly as if she was discussing the weather.

"I am not talking about his parents' sins, Elvein. I am talking about the evil he did with his own hands. How can you defend him? Were you not fighting by our side while his "friends" were killing us? Did you not almost lose your leg because of his fellow death eaters?"

"I do understand your anger, Dean, but if the same terrible people had raised us as Malfoy, and if we were born in the same horrible home as he was, who knows what we would have been capable of? Don't you think so?" Elfy paused with a glance out the window. "How strange. I thought it would be sunny today. Clouds are thickening. I hope it doesn't rain. I wanted to go for a walk." Everyone was shocked, including Draco, who decided not to stay silent anymore.

That day, words like coarse offspring, filthy squib, and even mudblood returned to Malfoy's vocabulary. Slytherin students embraced his example.

Everything was starting to get back to normal. Then why was the emptiness in his chest bigger than ever? Why couldn't he feel anything? Anger was the last trace of emotion, and he was clinging to it as if it was the last floating buoy. When he punched a cold, stone wall in a blackened corridor, he had those thoughts. He did not feel the pain, and the rubicund drops of blood were the only reminder of what had just happened.

"Your hand is bleeding." The quiet voice reached Draco's back, and he recognized it instantly.

Elfy, not waiting for his reaction, took a handkerchief from her pocket and bandaged his crimson-covered fist. She had very pale, cold fingers that pulled Draco from his stupor. He pulled his hand away from her, feeling as if thousands of needles had pierced his skin. She did not notice his rude gesture or at least decided that it was not worth her attention. She was looking at something in the distance while twisting a letter with a dark green wax stamp.

"We have so many reasons not to read letters sent to us and the only basis for opening an envelope." She continued, "And the fate of those papers solitarily depends on the solidity of the last one. Have you ever thought about it?" Not waiting for an answer, she left.

That night, Draco dreamt of snowy white fingers.

...

The Dark Lord's servants surrounded Hogwarts. Elvein was observing them from Ravenclaw tower. Dark figures were closing in, just like ants descending from their nest. What were some students and a few dozen professors supposed to do against the army? And Harry Potter? Elvein truly believed in his dedication, pure motives but saw how his fair anger blinded the young wizard.

The protective arch was split with cracks, and the last barrier between good and evil counted its final minutes.

She eyed the room for the last time, which had belonged to her too for years. She ran a hand across the dark blue chairs and breathed deeply in the smell of old books that saturated Ravenclaw Tower. Then she said, very, very quietly: "That's it. Goodbye."

She descended the stairs and went wherever her legs would take her. She did not feel fear or adrenaline from the war calls. She just walked. Soon, the walls thundered, and Death Eaters hurtled in like leaves blown by the wind. Her wand rose, and her opponent was crushed on the wall. Elvein did not spare him a look, just continued walking. How many Death Eaters fell from her hand? She did not count. It did not matter. She just walked.

She spotted several DA members ahead. Dean and Seamus fought like lions against the cursed hail.

"Elvein!" Dean called out to her while a green sparkle flew by a millimeter away from his face.

For the first time, Elvein felt anger's crescendo. She threw a column of blue fire on the enemy. Her strength, however, left her. Still, she rose.

"Are you wounded?" Dean was by her side instantly.

"No. I'm fine." Only now has she recalled that she had barely eaten for the whole week. Has she even slept? She did not know.

"I'll take you to Madam Pomfrey."

"No! Dean, Seamus needs you. "

Finnigan fought against two death eaters. Thomas roared and ran to the rescue. Elvein continued her walk.

Walls were collapsing. Screams and pleas were heard. She knew that walking around just helping the ones she came across was a feeble plan, but the acknowledgment of the absurdity of this whole situation was also crystal clear. So she walked on until a sharp pain in her leg made her fall. Enemies in masks circled her. They kept talking, but Elvein's eyes lost focus. She sat in a puddle of her own blood. The light was slowly leaving her, and she embraced the darkness. The young girl submissively advanced to nothingness and stopped acknowledging the sharp pain. This was the end. It's OK. Sooner or later, everything comes to its end; pain, suffering, and even life. Embrace cold. Give up.

From nowhere, viciousness filled her and made her open her eyes. Why? From where? How? What was going on? Whose screams did she hear? Was that her? No. Her lungs simply did not have enough air for riots. She made herself concentrate, even for the last time, to see how the Death Eaters around her roared in agony. The last glimpse of light was reflected in deranged ruby-red eyes. Lashes shut by their own while familiar, warm hands embraced her to saturate her with ocean aroma.

...

Elfy was drenched in sweat as she sat up in her bed. The old wound showed itself by pulling invisible strings and tearing from the inside. She patted her leg and looked out the window.

The morning turned out to be as caliginous as her mood. On top of that, an early morning visit from a big, colorful owl brought a new letter sealed with a green wax stamp. Elvein became so annoyed that she almost snatched the paper from the bird's clutches, but then she remembered that nothing was the owl's fault. She treated the night guardian with a nut and told him, "You are such a pretty one," then tossed the letter in the fire. Only after that did she find her neighbor, who stared at her with confusion.

"Good morning." She greeted the Head Boy. Her voice made the pale witch in the portrait stop loud snoring. She mumbled something incoherently and continued her drunk sleep. Malfoy nodded as she passed by.

Breakfast was tasteless to her. The worst part of the already bad day was Draco's comment: "I have told you, mudbloods can't play," as he was returning from quidditch training with a broom on his shoulder. As he passed Elvein, she did not try to hide her dissatisfied expression. Draco kept his eyes on her till someone punched his shoulder to get his attention.

"Such a pity," thought Elfy to herself as she returned to reading a book of magical signs and marks that had taken Madam Pins a great effort to find.

...

For some strange reason, Draco has gotten the most mysterious girl of all as his new neighbor. Was that good? He had no idea. However, he noticed that the elf girl was digging deeper and deeper under his skin day by day. Thinking of her became habitual. The first thing he did when entering a room was search for her. He kept trying to be near her, which was not easy. He kept noticing that he was not alone in similar attempts, which was irritating. Once, he even found Gregory Goyle, who had changed a lot after Crabbe's death, trying to charm her with his Godzilla-like grace.

An elf girl was sitting cross-legged in the small garden with a book on her lap when Goyle approached her and put a muffin in her hand.

"That's for you. You should eat more." He said in a gruff voice.

Elfy looked up with surprise. Goyle sat by her side and continued, "I have noticed you don't eat enough. If you stay this skinny, you'll get sick." The perplexed girl turned her gaze back to the muffin again.

"I always eat a lot and exercise. I can do a hundred pushups without stopping." Goyle continued.

Draco, who was listening to this charming attempt, could not hold back his laughter. He was holding on to his stomach while chortling behind a wall.

"That's very remarkable, Goyle. Thank you for the muffin. If you will excuse me, I need to go now."

Elvein passed him, not even noticing the red-faced Head Boy because she was still looking at the muffin in her hand, clearly not knowing what to do with it.

Every time Draco saw her, his heart would freeze for a second, then continue beating like crazy until he forgot how to breathe. And he felt! Once again - he felt!

When she took his side after divination, he was so happy. But her support was so strangely presented, even he did not know what to think of it. Malfoy was inspired by someone other than a Slytherin student trying to understand and forgive him and not judge him unilaterally.

Draco was sure that Elvein's ancestor was a Veela because ordinary people were not unbelievably beautiful. A human couldn't have such bright green eyes and pearly white hair, more so than his own. Humans did not illuminate like that. However, her character contradicted everything, Veelas had.

Her dissatisfied expression was stinging in his heart, but Draco hoped he could fix everything during their patrol, which, of course, did not go as planned. At first, the elf girl answered his questions shortly; then, she ignored him. In the end, she even strode several steps ahead of him, so she would not have to walk beside him.

That night, Draco was blustering in his room. He has decided that his illusion that someone will ever try to understand him should end. The old Draco was coming back, and to hell with everything else!

The following day, he referred to Elvein as an arrogant idiot who was always bubbling over with something he addressed her as "squibs' offspring." Insults were piling up. Draco's mindset was permanently harmed by Elvein's response, which was always the same: silence. But he made sure no one heard his assaults, though. He did not want others to insult her. The second and more significant reason was that those insults were the only thing connecting him with Elvein. He knew it was stupid and insane, but that ugly bridge was the only thing he had in common with her, and he was not planning to share it with anyone else.

Weeks passed. Every time he closed his eyes, her face was there. Green eyes haunted him, and he felt he was slowly going insane.