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Title: She Flew Higher
Rating: PG
Strange Brew Prompt: I am a bird girl now
I've got my heart
Here in my hands now
I've been searching
For my wings some time
I'm gonna be born
Into soon the sky
'Cause I'm a bird girl
And the bird girls go to heaven
I'm a bird girl
And the bird girls can fly
Bird girls can fly

-- Bird Gerhl, Antony and the Johnson

Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I have not made, nor will make, any attempt to infringe on the copyrights held by the Corporations or Individuals that are part of Harry Potter. This is purely for the enjoyment of the fans and no monetary gain is made from it.
Author's Notes: Originally written for the [community profile] snuna Strange Brew fest. Many thanks for the great prompt. Kisses and gratitude to my betas [ profile] zebraspots05 and [ profile] forty_licks.

The wind whipped, icy cold against her face. It burned her lips so that they parched and broke when she grimaced. She soared higher.

She was nearly blinded by the bright sun. It blazed and her fair skin ached… the strange combination of cold air and hot sun prickled her skin. And still she flew higher.

She reveled in it; the cold, the burn, and the dampness of flying through the few clouds that loomed low. It pained her but it was a pain she knew she could control. It was tangible and external and therefore enough to distract, however briefly, from the pain within. The agony inside was soul crushing and she knew of no escape. So she flew higher.

As fast as she could, she flew. The wind whistled past her ears, her eyes stung, but this time not from the tears. She was sick of crying, he'd never have endured it. She loved that strength and resolve – and he took it with him. So she flew higher.

The broom bucked and protested her ascent. She knew the charmed broom needed the magic inherent in the earth and the air, in proper accord, to function. Now the earth was becoming increasingly distant and the air thin. She pressed on – willing the broom to fly.

Her lungs throbbed but it still could not match the ache that gnawed in the core of her. Her chest had been torn open and there was nothing there. It gaped, begging to be whole, but there was nothing to be done for it and no one cared.

She coughed a bitterly painful cough. They'd both faced scorn and derision all their lives and in the end, when they'd finally found each other, they took comfort in that acceptance.

She'd been drawn to him, not because of his pitiable state but because she understood. He had been shunned from the world and left without. She could not turn away where others had.

She was relentless in her wooing. He derided her and mistrusted her, of course, and yet she prevailed. Soon he was no longer alone in exile. He often questioned why she stayed – how could she endure the scorn of their world - but there was nowhere else she wanted to be. And now, there was no reason to go home. There'd be no one there to welcome her with an appraising gaze and a quiet cup of tea. There would be no derisive dismissal of her work for her father, nor the glee she felt when taunting him with it. So she flew higher.

She was numb to the chill and she felt so light now but the deep ache persisted. The broom faltered but she would not descend. Forcing the broom up, she flew higher.

Higher and higher still… she gasped and coughed and before her eyes she saw stars and still she wrenched the broom up until she felt nothing. She knew she could find it if she flew high enough. There was a place where the pain went away and she could slip through to oblivion. So she flew higher.
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