The fire in the common room was cracking and burning steadily. The flames danced above the wood and Gabriella sat on the floor transfixed by them. If given the right things, air, dryness and more wood, they could dance forever. They could stay alive forever. So why couldn’t people? Give them food, air and stop them from getting hurt and they should live forever. But it didn’t happen like that. People could fall down ever so easily.

For the past few days Gabby’s thoughts had been on remembering day. She couldn’t stop thinking about her mum. Ten years ago she’d have been getting ready for this big battle. For the night she would die. How could she have willingly gone into the fight? Gabriella had always asked herself that. She’d asked her Dad and got no reasonable response. She’d asked the rest of her family and each had said the same thing; ‘To protect you, Gabriella’.

“I don’t need protecting.” She grit her teeth and tossed another piece of paper into the fire. The Gryffindor, sat cross legged in her pyjamas and surrounded by food and pop, was trying to write a poem for tomorrow’s ceremony. She’d been asked to, but did no one have any idea how difficult it actually was?

She took another Bertie bot’s bean from the bag and popped it into her mouth only to pull a face. “Ew, spinach.”

Remembering day brought back tons of feelings she felt that she was growing more and more heart broken. With each passing day she remembered it more, the loss of her mum, the zombie like state her father fell into. Those were the hardest of all years after she passed leaving Arielle almost without any hope.

People were not like flames, or maybe they were. Dancing for a while but one way or another they could be extinguished. Her mother was a firecracker, stole her fathers heart easily and with one swoop of Death's sharp scythe she took his heart and their lives were never the same.

So in defiance she planned to skip the ceremony and all those things involving remembering day. To stay locked up in the room she shared with Gabby and a few other fourth years. However when she woke from her nap she looked to see that that Gabby was no where to be. Arielle knew it was foolish to keep herself locked away and hiding from the light considering how cross her Aunt would be if she didn't show her face.

Arielle ventured out of her room in search of Gabby. Taking the stairs two by two she spotted her best mate staring at the flames. "Oi, you're going to ruin your eyes that way," she called out before sauntering over in red and gold striped pajamas. Taking a seat next to her on the couch she laid her head on her shoulder, "How are you mate? Trouble sleeping?"

Gabby heard footsteps behind her and her head shot around. Was it someone coming to tell her to go to bed? It was past curfew and everyone else was in bed after all. Her expression quickly changed from that of worry to relief when she recognised her friend making her way down the stairs. She turned back to the flames, allowing their reflections to dance in the lenses of her black glasses.

When Ari made a reference to her eyes, Gabby realised just how tired they were and she lowered the glasses, rubbing them softly with her palms. “You could be a healer with that kind of intuition.” As she spoke, a yawn fought to escape and the young girl allowed it, putting a hand over her mouth and pushing the glasses back up.

Hearing Arielle sit down behind her, Gabby rested back against the sofa by her friend’s legs. “Don’t you ever worry that if you go to sleep, you might not wake up again? Like a flame dying down, losing life for no apparent reason?” That was a little too deep for Gabriella so late at night so she shook her head and picked up the pack of beans, offering them to her friend. “Bet you get a broccoli one again.”

Arielle tended to be one of the last people to bed every night. It was during this time she was usually told to head to bed or scolded for staying up far too late. That might have been why she was always dragging during classes, well that and her lack of desire to be in class ever.

“You could be a healer with that kind of intuition.”

"Well mate you seem to forget that in order to be a healer you have to have grades supporting that career." She yawned in response to her friends. "It's not healer's intuition it's just something my mum used to say when we watched the fire dance back home..." she rarely talked of her mother anymore. What she could remember was her mother reading her a book in front of a fire and kissing her forehead to calm her fears of creeps in the closet or monsters stirring under her bed.

How she wished she could go back to those care free days. They seemed so far away from her. The thoughts were discarded when Gabby asked her a question. "No, I don't think that is my worry. If I never wake up again I don't think I will notice that things have changed because in my dreams I am back home..." she dreamt of what her mother would look like now and how her father would be happy just to be with them both again. Taking a bean she popped it in her mouth, "Sardine... not exactly something you want to taste before bed," she looked over at Gabby with a quizzical brow, "Why are you talking about flames dying out?" As if she didn't know.

Arielle mentioned her own mother and Gabriella suddenly felt cold and she shivered slightly. This made her realise just how similar she and her friend actually were. They probably had very parallel feelings at this time of year. Both had lost their mothers and both still constantly asked why. What’s worse, neither girl would openly talk about it. They would talk about the war, but just not their own separate losses. That somehow made it more real. Perhaps that was why they’d not really been around each other much recently.

“My mum always told me off for trying to put my hand in the fire.” Gabriella replied quietly with a soft smile. She’d always been an inquisitive child, she still was. If someone told her something, Gabby wanted to find out if it was true. She wasn’t exactly a gullible girl. So when her mum told her not to go too close to the fire, it was hot, she had to see for herself. What child wouldn’t?

A smirk spread onto Gabby’s lips due to Ari’s fantastic choice in bean. “I’ve not had sardine before.” She delved into the packet once more and pulled out a yellow one. That looked ominous… It was placed cautiously into her mouth as her best friend asked her next question.

Thankfully the steady chewing and relief at having a perfectly normal chicken flavoured bean gave Gabby time to think about her reply. She frowned and rested her head back against the sofa, closing her eyes.

“They could stay dancing for eternity. Why can’t we?” She paused, opening her eyes to watch the flames once more through her black glasses. “And why do some last longer than others when they all emerged at the same time? And…are they fighting for survival? Like a constant war or battle? Or do they just live there in peace together; ready to fight off intruders if the need presents itself?”

Their similarities sometimes made Arielle a little unnerved. How often it seemed you came across people in this school who were opposites. Oil and water mixing into rivalries and prejudice. Yet these two girls, both being fourth years found themselves to be so very alike, so eerily similar in the worst of ways. To both lose their mothers in the Battle of Hogwarts was a tragic event indeed. Considering how close they were it seemed they also had the same way to deal with their pain, AVOID. Avoid it and everything about it at all costs.

That got Arielle in a spot of trouble, she was always pushing off the pain. The same way she pushed off school work and chores. Don't think about it and you won't feel anything. Or in the case of her essay's don't think about it and your mates will nag you until they are completed. George fancied himself down to the books and tried to drag her into that nonsense with him. She might have liked being around him but not that much.

She blinked at her best mate, "Well you shouldn't stick your hands in the fire... it's hott... that just seems silly to do so." Arielle tried to think back into what her mother used to say. Something about dry socks, always wear clean underpants, and to mind her manners. Two out of three wasn't bad... and manners were only forgotten when people gave her a reason to spout off at the mouth.

Grabbing another one from the bag she hoped to remove the vomitous flavour, "Yes, well do hope never to experience it either." A purple one came out and she feared it might be grape. Taking a bite she sighed, "Plum not as bad," Arielle hated the taste of grapes.

"But they cannot dance for eternity Gabbs, they eventually die out like everyone else. There is no way to constantly feed a fire so that it might forever live," she didn't want to think where this conversation was going. "A battle is just the way it always is some live and some are not as fortunate..." she didn't like this conversation. "Not everyone can get along always  look at the houses here, separate because together they might very well kill eachother."

After asking her many questions, Gabriella felt herself zone out, just wondering what it would be like if people could live for eternity. She wondered what her mum would look like if she was alive. Would it be like she did in the picture of the two of them Gabby had beside her bed in the glass frame? Would she still have the long flowing dark hair, the large brown and smiling eyes? Would her skin still be perfectly tanned and her lips rouged and glossed? Would she still be wearing that smile, only emphasising her proudness at wearing the sleek auror’s robes while holding her baby daughter?

Arielle’s voice brought Gabby back to the present and she frowned. No, it was true. Even flames had to die out sometime. But maybe some died before it was their time. Kayleigh Cox had gone before her time. She’d had many years left. Many more hours and days to spend with her daughter.

Once her best friend had finished Gabriella turned to face her; glancing up over the tops of her glasses. “But…even the strong flames fall.” She muttered before sitting back down on the floor and picking up her notepad and quill once more.

Glancing at the paper, Gabriella found her mind was still full of question. Granted, Arielle, a fellow fourth year and griever wasn’t the best person to ask, but she was there then, wasn’t she?

“Do you think the other flames celebrate the deaths of their fellows?” Now it really was obvious where to conversation was going. But if Gabby would feel alright talking about it with anyone, surely it would be her right hand girl, the one she knew inside out and who knew her. “Do you think they mourn by drinking and singing and partying? Celebrating how it all happened and that they are the ones alive?” Her voice grew somewhat bitter as she spoke and her face screwed up.

While Gabriella was zoning, Arielle focused on the flames brushing off the same advice she just gave her best mate. There she thought of her own mother but not of what she would look like now more of what she lost by her not being around. Arielle always wondered who her father might have been if her mum was about, happier she was sure. They probably would still live in their old home, and she wouldn't have to talk to her father about girl stuff. If it wasn't for her two aunts she might have very well slipped into total tomboy hood with no hope to return.

She was the bearer of bad news about the lack of life expectancy for fire. They could lick at every stick of tinder about and still they would die. This was all too obvious to her, she lost so many people too soon. Her mum was just the beginning, and she was a bright light which burned, flickered, and died.. too soon.

The look on Gabby's face made her sigh deeply, "Flames are not people Gabbs. They are die quicker, and not even close to the different ways that people can. Flames extinguish, where as people expire..." but sometimes sooner than their expiration date.

This conversation was turning her fair mood foul. Arielle was not one to talk about her feelings or her mum. It was best kept in the past. When talking about death she shied away from it entirely. So there in the common room she could feel herself being trapped by the truth of the holiday. This was no holiday, it was a death sentence. All the warmth she felt while coming into spring was usually pushed away by this so called festive event.

Logic was winning over her love for metaphors. "No, I think flames don't realize because they are just flames," she looked at them and could feel tears forming about the lids of her eyes. "Do you want my honest opinion," she said with a hiccup forming as she kept the tears at bay, "This is not a cause for celebration." Arielle practically croaked out her confession of bitterness, "I'm alive and they are not and to be quite honest, I don't feel jolly or thankful. I want them back," a tear slid down her cheek as she pushed Gabby's metaphor about flames.

"Flames are not people Gabbs.”

Gabriella frowned as her friend continued. Arielle obviously wasn’t convinced by the wavy haired individual’s metaphor and Gabriella had to accept this. It was just that talking in metaphors was easier. It was less direct which meant it was less real. She could avoid things by comparing them to something else.

The talk of expiry versus extinguishing made Gabby’s stomach turn. She’d much rather think of an extinguished flame rather than an expired person. It reminded her of food that had expired and was going mouldy and horrible. She didn’t want to think of her mother ending up like…Her hands reached up and she wiped a tear away. She wasn’t about to get emotional. That was for wimps and old ladies.

After Arielle’s small outburst however, Gabby realised that right then it didn’t matter that crying was reserved for old ladies. A few more tears rolled down her cheeks and she looked away from both Arielle and the fire. Her now welled up eyes were trying to focus on the parchment on her lap. On the empty page waiting to be filled with thoughts and a fantastic few words to say tomorrow night.

“It’s just a huge farce.” She muttered through a broken voice before taking a deep breath. “They’re all celebrating how people died to save us.” A few more tears rolled down her cheeks as her now croaky voice continued. “How can you celebrate that?”

She sighed and closed her eyes before taking her glasses off and wiping away more tears. “I want to just going to go to sleep now and not wake until it’s all over. Wait until people stop being ecstatic that people died so they could drink and be merry.”

It's not that she wasn't convinced, for surely she understood the reasoning for using a metaphor rather than discussing actual feelings on the matter. However she knew what in her heart she did not want to give into it. To let their talk of flames be symbols for the ones she loved. The ones she was slowly forgetting with age, it was tragic and she hated to think they might be reduced to nothing more than ash and embers by the time she was grown.

The thought of food expiring was not what Arielle had in mind when she mentioned expiring but really what could one do to turn the back the sands of time and change the topic from ever being brought up. It was inevitable, the castle shifting around them like a temperamental child, everyone cavorting and carrying on. She had little hope of escaping it. Little did she figured that her own best mate would do this to her, bring her to tears in the common room.

Her outburst had not been meant to upset Gabby, in fact it was involuntary. Arielle was never fully in control of her feelings so when it was time to face them she generally lashed out or caused a ruckus of some sort. Maybe that was why she always landed in hot water? She couldn't be sure of it.

Well she may have had an inkling, let's put it that way.

"Agreed. A way that they can make themselves feel better about the whole thing. Every year it gets worse and worse. It seems to become less about the remembering and more about the partying," the drinking and carrying about drove her positively nutters. Another tear slipped out and Arielle kept her eyes away from Gabby's view. "If you figure a way to sleep through the whole thing be sure to clue me in. I would love nothing more than to miss the spectacle completely."

Taking a deep solid breath and keeping herself from shuddering she sniffled. Giving her attention back to Gabby, "I'm starting to forget her. I remember a lot, but not everything. It's been forever now and I think I am starting to forget her," she felt her eyes well up again this time she made little effort to stop the tears. "Her scent is gone, I cannot find it on a stitch of the things I have of hers, I wonder if it blended with my own years ago, and I just got too caught up to notice..." A choking feeling wracked her body as she wrapped her arms around herself.

Gabriella tensed and frowned. The first question that came to her mind was ‘who’. Who was Arielle forgetting? Finally Gabby’s brain caught up and she frowned. Her crying ceased and she twisted around to look at Arielle. It quickly became obvious that her friend had also externalised her emotions and Gab bit her lip. The young Gryffindor had never considered the prospect of forgetting her mother because she thought about her so much. But what if her memories had become distorted over time? Like on big game of Chinese whispers, but with memories, not unimportant messages.

Once her best friend had confessed her worry, Gabby grabbed a large packet of crisps from the ground next to her and lifted herself off the floor, sitting next to her friend on the sofa instead. She offered her the bag of fried snacks and sat back, frowning.

“You won’t forget her. Not if you keep thinking about her. You won’t forget what she looked like. You’ve got pictures. And your memory. And I bet your Dad will talk a lot more than mine ever does. I ask him something and he gets mad. Like really angry or he just refuses to speak to me.” She suddenly felt a few tears coming. She never got to talk about her mum with anyone. Her Dad refused to talk and the rest of her family never knew her enough. Gabby hadn’t met Kayleigh’s parents for a long time, either.

“I don’t know anything about my mum. So I don’t think there’s anything to forget.”

The thought of forgetting her mum was terrifying. Memories were misty and she had pictures, even stored away some of her mother's things in her room where her father could not see them. She didn't want to remind him of how in pain he was, with how in pain she was. Maybe it was why they didn't talk much around this time, she knew he would be under pressure around remembering day always feeling the numbness of the past circle round. How could she tell him she felt it too, the loss of not having a mother to raise her to give her the knowledge a child needs growing up. Where he felt the loss of his wife, she had the lost the woman who had been meant to teach her everything about being a girl. Something she failed to latch onto even now. If it wasn't for her aunt she might have been in a completely irreversible state of Tom Boy.

Arielle didn't want to think about it now. Hell she didn't want to think about it ever. Maybe that was why she despised Remembering day so much. Or it was just one of the many reasons.

When Gabby offered the crisps she too a couple and sighed crunching down on the greasy chip. It wasn't going to solve anything but the taste of fried grease potatoes made her feel a little bit of comfort. What she wanted to do now was grab a bag and curl up in her bed. Maybe that was too much to ask.

"It hurts to think about her. It hurts worse when I don't. I know that sounds crazy," leaning against the cushions a little harder she closed her eyes. The fire warmed her face as she fought back even more tears as they threatened to blow the gates and flood her skin. "It's just that when I am off having fun, or doing something for myself and I realize she slipped my mind there is this..." pausing she opened her eyes to look at Gabby, "Guilt. It's guilt. I am enjoying this and she is gone. How is that fair?"

"My father is complicated when it comes to my mum." Taking a deep breath she looked at fire, "I'm sorry about your father. I guess fathers are like all boys difficult to understand. He shouldn't get mad at you... that just seems... weird. It's not your fault at all."

"Nothing at all? You don't know anything about her...?"