a long sigh escapes your mouth.

the war is over. the games are over. riddle is dead. and yet, you're not happy. who could be? so many people have been lost. marlene, barty, rabastan, sybill.

and pandora found out about one more. her dad. she missed him by fifteen days.

you look and see pandora, fiddling with her blonde hair and sitting on the grass next to the grave. her nails are bit to the quick, and she's not glowing, ethereal, like she usually is.

but then again, war has changed them all. dorcas hasn't left her room for days. nor have james and effie, who lost monty as the war ended. sirius hasn't been looking great, either.

you've also looked better. being a victor from district five at eighteen has meant your life hasn't really ever been easy, but this war has taken it out of you. losing one of your best friends, marlene, and sustaining your own injuries.

damn it, you also thought pandora was dead. when riddle shot those people and snape announced it to be pandora, the first bloody person - you were inconsolable. twelve people it took before snape told riddle that he was shooting his own board members, not the captured rebels.

pandora was safe.

then you found out about everything else.

“i really am the angel of death.” pandora croaks, her dark skin looking pale, tired.

“no, dora. you're not.” you say, desperately trying to reassure her.

this belief is clearly deeply rooted in the blonde girl, because she shakes her head firmly. “i called their names. everyone from district six. reg, sirius, james...”

she clenches her jaw. “and then i killed rita. and- and i can't even find it in myself to regret that.”

“good.” you say, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “and you're not an angel of death. that's not you, pan. do you hear me?”

she squeezes her eyes shut. “i don't know what to do. everyone else has... everyone, and i'm alone.”

you shake your head. “did you forget about me, pandora?”

“no! no, it's just- you have your district. and i have-” she cuts herself off before she says nothing.