A/N: TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE AND GRAPHIC IMAGERY
Written for The Hunger Games Fanfic Style III Competition. Prompts listed at the bottom.
Rose-Red
The sharp smell of whiskey permeated through the tavern, coupled with mingling scents of sawdust and firewood. James ran a finger around the rim of his glass, leaning back on his elbows against the bar. The small pub was packed, with customers squashed into corners, tables haphazardly scattered throughout. The wood of the floor and walls had a weathered look to it, its shine dulled by many years of wear. James's eyes roamed around the room, fixating for a moment on the two men at the back; they had their heads bent together in muttered conversation, glancing around occasionally as if worried they would be heard. One was large, muscular, and blonde, while the other was dark-haired, with beady eyes and a slim frame. James let his gaze linger on them briefly before looking away.
"Get you something else?"
The barman had sloped over, and was eyeing James with a bored expression.
"Another scotch on the rocks," said James, pushing his empty glass toward the barman.
"Make that two."
Someone slid into the seat beside him. James glanced at her, his lip quirking up slightly.
"I must say, I quite like your order," he said as the barman filled up two glasses and shoved them across the bar before stalking away to deal with a particularly rowdy group of men on the other end.
She swirled her glass before taking a sip. "My husband put me onto it. Frankly, I never thought I'd like the stuff before he convinced me to try it."
"Well, he sounds like a very lucky man," James said, taking a sip of his own drink.
She grinned. "Yes, he is. And he would do well to remember it." Leaning in, she whispered, "Padfoot was over for dinner. He says he misses you."
"Padfoot said that? Out loud?" said James delightedly.
"Well, no, what he actually said was, 'Where's James been lately? I need someone to practice this new hex on.'"
James waved a hand dismissively. "That's his way of saying he misses me."
"My thoughts exactly." Lily took another sip of her drink before setting the glass down. "I don't know why men can't ever just say what they feel."
"Love you," said James, smiling cheekily.
She rolled her eyes. "That doesn't count. It's common knowledge."
"I'm offended you think I'm such an open book."
"And the fact that you're offended only proves my point," said Lily, grinning sideways at him. "But while I'd love to spend all night talking about your feelings, we do have a mission to complete."
"Right you are." James reluctantly took his eyes off her and gave a slight jerk of his chin toward the back of the room. "Twelve o'clock."
She followed his gaze, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the two men, who had stopped talking and were now copying James and Lily, looking around the tavern. "Thorfinn Rowle," said Lily quietly, "and Evan Rosier."
James wrinkled his nose at the names and went to take another sip of his drink, but Lily pushed his hand firmly down. "You'll want a clear head for this," she reminded him.
"This stuff's got nothing on Firewhiskey," James pointed out, but he set his glass back down. "Have you found out anything about them?"
"Not much," said Lily, idly flicking a peanut shell off the bar. "They're suspected of murdering that Muggle family out in Cardiff last month, but no one could prove it. Since then, they've been lying low. Dumbledore reckons they've been put on smaller jobs, considering how conspicuous those murders were." She bit her lip, gazing into her drink. "Anyway. What about you? You've been tailing them all week, you must have found out something."
"No more than you," James sighed. "I haven't been able to get close enough to hear anything important, they've been too careful. I think they nearly saw me yesterday, I stepped on a branch and they turned around."
"You weren't wearing the cloak?" said Lily reprovingly.
"Forgot it at home," said James unconcernedly. "Don't worry, I'm sure it was fine."
Lily pursed her lips. "You ought to be more careful. If they'd noticed you—"
James shook his head, smiling. "You worry too much."
"You worry too little!" Lily said accusingly.
"We ought to split the difference." James grinned at her. She gave a small smile, despite herself, but it faded quickly as she looked back at the Death Eaters.
"I don't like that they're here," she said in an undertone. "What do they want from a Muggle pub?"
"Let's hope we never have to find out," said James darkly. "Incidentally, how are we supposed to stop them without turning this place into a warzone?"
"We'll have to be stealthy, of course." Lily had a shrewd look in her eye, that spark that lit her up whenever she was trying to solve a difficult problem. "Maybe I could lure one of them away and try to quietly knock him out—"
"Absolutely not," said James immediately. "It's too dangerous."
"Oh, is it?" said Lily sarcastically. "I had no idea when I signed up to be part of the resistance against the Darkest wizard ever known that it would be dangerous. I suppose you'd be fine with it if you were the one luring him away?"
But James was no longer listening. The blonde Death Eater had just nudged his companion, and they were both looking straight at James and Lily. In the instant that their eyes connected, all three men drew their wands.
"Get down!" James shouted, seizing Lily's wrist and dragging her behind the bar not a moment too soon; a jet of red light streaked over their heads and collided with the shelf behind the bar. There was the sound of glass shattering, and a thin stream of amber liquid began to trickle down between the slats of wood.
"Oi!" The barman's voice boomed over the panicked cries of the patrons. "You'd best not be throwing things in my pub, unless you want to be booted out by your—"
Another streak of light shot directly toward him. From behind the bar, James raised his wand, and, ignoring Lily's hiss of warning, deflected the spell so it bounced away at an angle, scorching the ceiling.
"What the hell?" the barman muttered, his eyes widening as he stared up at the burn mark.
James flung himself to his feet. "Get everyone out of here!" he bellowed at the barman. Perhaps out of shock, the barman listened. Customers were already running for the door as jets of light began to fly around the room. Lily cast a shield charm so forceful that James actually felt a gust of wind ruffle his hair, and a spell aimed at the back of a blonde woman's head bounced off the invisible shield, gouging a long mark into the floor.
"Over here, you big lugs!" Lily shouted as the woman doubled her speed, galloping across the room with her arm flung protectively over her head. Rosier leapt backward, avoiding Lily's stunner by an inch. The pub was now nearly empty; Rowle shot a jinx at the barman, who was ushering out the last of the customers, and James leapt in front of him, deflecting the jinx. Spells were flying like lightning; the temperature in the room seemed to increase as Lily and James were pushed back against the bar by the force of the spells, and Rowle advanced on them, whipping his wand so quickly that it looked like a blur in his hand.
"Leave them!" Rosier barked, yanking Rowle back. "We've got a job to finish!"
"What's the point now all the Muggles've gone?" Rowle snapped, aiming a hex at Lily; she barely dove out of the way in time. James redoubled his efforts, but both Death Eaters repelled his spells with ease.
"Do you want to tell the Dark Lord we failed?"
Rowle glanced at Rosier briefly; then, suddenly, he smiled. It sent a chill down James's spine. "Maybe we haven't failed yet," he said, so quietly James almost didn't hear him over the roaring of the spells. "I think he'd be a lot more forgiving if we took out two of the Order, don't you?"
James felt a lurch of fear; his next spell went wildly astray, missing Rowle by a foot. Rosier mirrored his partner's grin—then both wizards aimed their wands down at the floor.
There was a blast of sound and heat; James was lifted off his feet, his back slamming into the bar with enough force to make his teeth chatter. There was a loud thud as Lily landed beside him, groaning. As James struggled to his feet, a wall of heat met him—flames had erupted into being before him, growing impossibly quickly, their tips licking the ceiling. Screwing up his eyes, James barely made out the shadows of two figures darting through a gap in the flames and out the door. Within moments, the fire had spread to block the exit.
"They're getting away!" James tried to say, but the moment he opened his mouth, ash and smoke flooded his lungs. He fell into a coughing fit, his eyes watering as he tried to cover his nose with his sleeve. Beside him, Lily was coughing, too.
"We have to get out of here!" she choked out, but no sooner had she said it than the curtain of flames seemed to expand, roaring and crackling at a deafening volume. They formed an arc around James and Lily, herding them against the bar; they were utterly trapped.
"Ag-aguamenti!" James cried through a rasping cough. A thin stream of water shot out of his wand and toward the flames, but it immediately dissolved into mist.
"Protego!" Lily's shield charm rippled against the force of the flames, holding them momentarily at bay. She tried to move forward; James could see the muscles in her arms straining to maintain the charm. Then, with a gasp of pain, she jerked back, dropping her wand. A black scorch mark had appeared on her palm. "It's no use!" she shouted, snatching her wand back up again.
She looked at James, a rare flicker of fear in her eyes, and James's resolve hardened. His instincts kicked into gear; glancing around wildly, he saw that the flames had now formed nearly a full circle around them, squeezing them in against the bar as the fire began to devour the wooden shelves behind them. The arc of flames closed in, tighter and tighter, the ends almost touching…
Without thinking, James pointed his wand at the wall behind them. The wall exploded in a blast of splintering wood and glass; James pulled Lily against him and shielded her body with his own as shards of debris rained down on them and fresh air flooded into the room. James gulped in a grateful breath.
"Come on!" He seized Lily's hand and together they clambered over the bar, leaping through the hole in the wall just as the flames closed in behind them.
James landed hard, feeling sharp gravel slice into his hands and knees. He coughed violently, clearing his lungs of smoke.
"Move!" Lily said in a hoarse voice, yanking him to his feet. She broke into a run, and James stumbled after her; moments later, an explosion shook the ground beneath his feet. For the second time that night, James flew into the air, his hand ripped out of Lily's. He landed on his side and rolled for ten feet before coming to a painful, grinding stop. Just as he drew in a breath, Lily fetched up against him, knocking the air out of him. She coughed, spitting hair out of her mouth.
"The pub," she rasped, struggling to sit up. James followed her gaze; all he could see was a blazing ball of fire against the black horizon as it swallowed up the last of the little building.
"It's gone," said James quietly.
Lily pushed herself up to her feet, a hardened look on her face. Limbs trembling from exhaustion, James joined her.
"At least we got everyone out," he reminded her.
"They would have burned it down anyway. Killed everyone in there. Killed us." The scarlet flames reflected in her shining eyes. "How can anyone be that cruel?"
James looked away. "I wish I knew."
She shook her head. "And we let them get away. How could we—" She broke off with a gasp, her eyes widening as she looked past James. "There's someone there! Running into the town!"
James squinted, barely making out the hazy silhouette of someone, his figure thrown into shadow by the fiery blaze. He pelted away from the burning pub, disappearing between the surrounding buildings.
"Go after him!" Lily shouted, pulling out her wand.
"What about you?"
"I'm staying here." She sounded decisive, authoritative. "If we don't find some way to contain this fire, it'll wipe out the whole town."
James locked eyes with her. "Be—"
"Careful, I know, go!"
She shoved him, striding toward the fire. After a moment's hesitation, James took off past her, following the figure. James ran flat-out; his singed lungs screamed in protest as he sprinted across the loose gravel, his feet finally finding purchase on the cobblestoned roads of the town. He glanced around quickly, then dived past the burning pub into the adjacent narrow alleyway. Instantly, a strong scent of garbage flooded his nostrils. Holding his breath, he sprinted down the passageway; if he could somehow cut the person off—
His foot snagged on something, and he pitched forward, unable to stop his momentum in time. What little air he had managed to regain was swiftly knocked out of him as he fell to the ground with a crash. Gasping out a swear word, he twisted around to see what he had tripped over.
His stomach gave a nasty lurch.
It was a body…or what was left of one. James might not have recognized it as human if not for the mess of brown hair tangled against the scalp and what looked like a crumpled pair of violet glasses by its head. But aside from that, there was nothing about the body that marked it as human. It was grotesquely disfigured, skin peeling off in chunks, muscle and bone exposed, shining in the light of the fire and the moon. What James had thought was the reek of garbage he now realized was the smell of rotting flesh. A dark wound marred the space over its heart, glittering blackly. The little skin that remained on the body clung to its emaciated frame, stretching over bone, sagging in the hollows—and every inch of bare skin was warped and mutilated by spiky black runes, like nothing James had ever seen before. They sent a chill of horror over him, speaking undoubtedly of something evil and sinister.
His muscles burned; without realizing it, he had thrown himself backward, skittering on his hands and feet away from the body until he collided with the brick wall. His breath was coming out in short gasps, his head spinning. His wand was in his hand, emitting frantic sparks, but no spell came to mind, because how could anything fix this, how could he—
The body twitched.
James went utterly still, not daring to breathe. For a moment, he was convinced he had imagined it—but then he saw it again, the slight flex of fingers, a tiny convulsion of the chest. Then, slowly, with a creak of bone and sinew, the head turned toward him, staring at him with sightless eyes.
He fought the urge to vomit.
Inferi.
The corpse flipped onto its stomach with a sickening crunch, dragging itself toward James. He scrambled to his feet, his wand trembling in his hand.
"Incarcerous!"
Ropes shot out of the tip of his wand, binding themselves tightly around the corpse. It struggled for a moment before going limp. James looked around wildly—were there more of them?
A soft moan made him freeze in his tracks. He looked back at the body, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
"Please…"
He caught his breath. Inferi couldn't speak—which could only mean…
She raised her head an inch off the ground, another low, guttural moan scraping through her throat. "Please." Her voice gurgled; something black trickled down the corner of her mouth.
Simultaneously repulsed and frightened, James didn't move for a moment. Then, carefully, he took a step toward her. When she made no move to attack, he took another step, crouching several feet in front of her.
"How are you alive?" he whispered, almost to himself.
"Alive…?"
She gazed up at him, her blue eyes dull and blank; there was no spark of life in them, nothing alive at all. Wind whistled through the alley, causing her loose skin to flap absurdly.
James forced himself to move toward her. With a trembling hand, he placed two fingers against the base of her neck, feeling for any trace of a pulse.
There was nothing.
His stomach turned over, and he lurched away from her. "You're dead," he gasped.
"Yes…dead…kill me…" She twisted her arms; with a strange popping noise, they forced themselves through the gaps in the ropes, sticking out at strange angles. She pulled herself forward, broken nails scraping against the ground. "Please…kill me…it hurts…"
James was shaking violently from head to toe. She moved closer and closer, but he was frozen to the spot, and no matter how loudly his brain screamed, his feet would not move. She reached out a crooked arm, her fingers latching onto his ankle.
"Kill me…KILL ME!"
The fingers tightened; James gave a shout of agony as he felt the bones in his ankle shatter. Pain shot up the length of his leg, and his knees buckled. With a tremendous effort, he wrenched his leg out of her grip, staggering backward as black spots popped in his vision.
"Impedimenta! Stupefy! PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"
The spells hit her one after another in the chest, but they hardly seemed to slow her down. With a violent strength, she burst out of the ropes, bringing herself to her feet with sharp, jerky movements.
"No—get away—Incendio!"
He said the spell without thinking; flames erupted from his wand, wrapping themselves around her like a cloak. She gave a piercing shriek, igniting like kindling. The fire blazed around her, glowing white-hot; as James looked on in horror, the black runes seemed to melt off her, turning silvery-white and then vanishing altogether. The fire spread up her body, evaporating into the air, and her scream cut off abruptly as she collapsed in a smoking pile of charred bones.
James trembled madly, sinking down to the ground. He stared at the crumpled skeleton, waiting for it to awaken and unfurl itself…but as he watched, the bones began to crumble, turning to ash and dust.
"James? JAMES!"
There was the sound of running footsteps; then Lily's face swam in front of him, pale with worry. "What's happened? What's wrong? I heard screaming and—God, what is that smell?"
James opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Lily's eyes searched his. "What's wrong?" she said again, in a softer voice. "You look like you've seen a—"
"Ghost?" said James, finding his voice.
"Well…yes."
He shook his head, trying not to vomit at the thought of the disfigured corpse, the way it had moved toward him…he swallowed hard, drawing in a deep breath. The air tasted like smoke; it was only then that he realized that he could still hear the fire roaring nearby.
"You couldn't stop it?" he said, looking up at the sky. It was tinged scarlet, almost as if the stars were bleeding.
"No." Lily sighed. "I don't think anything can. It's not normal fire. But I made a trench so it can't spread into the town."
"Good. That's…good."
Lily surveyed him once more, her eyebrows drawing together; he could practically hear her brain trying to work out what had happened. "Come on," she said at last, sliding her hand into his. "You can't sit here in this awful alley."
She pulled him to his feet, and he immediately collapsed onto her; he had forgotten about his ankle. It throbbed painfully, making his whole leg spasm.
"What is it?" said Lily anxiously, struggling to hold him up.
"My ankle," James grunted, clutching her arm with one hand and bracing the other against the wall. "I think I broke it."
"Here…" She crouched down, pointing her wand at his ankle. "Episkey!"
He felt the joint grow quite hot, then cool. Gingerly, he put weight on it, exhaling when it held. "Thanks."
She nodded, leading him out of the alley. "So did you find him? I thought it might be Rosier, it looked too thin to be Rowle…"
"I didn't find him."
Perhaps it was something in his voice, but Lily stopped and turned around to look at him again. "James," she said softly, "what happened?"
He slowed to a stop, leaning back against a smooth stone building. Lily faced him, waiting for him to speak. For a moment, the only sound was the crackling and spitting of the fire behind them.
Finally, James spoke. Gazing down at the cobblestoned path, he told her what he had found in the alley and the fight that had followed. When he had finished, there was another long silence. He chanced a look at her; she had gone very pale, her face standing out starkly against her fiery hair.
"But that's…" she said finally.
"Necromancy."
She shook her head, stepping away from him. "It's not possible. You can't bring back the dead. No magic can. It must have been—an Inferius, or something—"
"She talked to me," James said quietly. "She asked me to kill her."
Lily went even paler. "It's not possible," she said again, and now her voice was a shaky whisper.
"It shouldn't be," James agreed. "It was—vile, what they did to her."
"What did they do?" said Lily in a hushed voice.
"She…" James swallowed, pressing himself back against the wall to steady his trembling limbs. "Never mind. But that man was running away from the alley, I'm sure of it. We have to find him."
Lily stared along the pathway. "I don't think that'll be too difficult."
James followed her gaze. Glinting in the light of the fire was a trail of dark droplets, winding its way out into the distance.
"Didn't you say she had a stab wound?" Lily said quietly.
They looked at each other—and then, simultaneously, they set off down the road, following the trail.
They walked quickly, keeping close to the shadows. It was hard work: the trail meandered and wove its way through the town, occasionally doubling back or leading them in circles. They had been walking for five minutes when James finally spoke.
"Are we sure we're following the right trail?" he said, relieved to hear that his voice had stopped shaking. "There couldn't have been this much blood just from that wound."
Lily shook her head, crouching down to examine the trail. "I don't think it's all her blood. See here?" She pointed to a small cluster of droplets. "These are still fresh. And those" —she indicated what looked like flakes of rust— "are probably from the knife. But they stop here, see? Her blood dried up. The rest must be from him. He's hurt."
"Then he can't be moving very fast," said James decisively. "We'll find him."
Lily gave him a sideways look, but said nothing. She straightened. "Come on, then."
They continued on down the path, passing the town hall. A notice board stood in front of it, stuck into the ground by a splintering plank of wood. James glanced at it briefly—then he stopped in his tracks, staring at it.
"James? What is it?"
Lily appeared at his shoulder. He moved forward, snatching a missing persons flyer off the board.
"This is her, Lily," he said, his hands shaking as he showed the flyer to Lily. "It's the girl."
The flyer was dominated by a picture of a smiling girl with sleek brown hair and square purple glasses. She smiled out at them, incongruous against the bold headline: MALLORY ASHWORTH, 18, MISSING SINCE 14 JULY. LAST SEEN WEARING A DARK BLUE T-SHIRT AND JEANS. PLEASE CALL THE NUMBER BELOW IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION.
"The fourteenth of July," said Lily softly, her eyes scanning the paper. "That was—what, five days ago?"
James nodded, his throat tight. He couldn't take his eyes off the girl's face—she looked so happy, entirely unaware of her fate.
Silently, he folded up the flyer and stuck it in his pocket, moving past Lily to continue down the road. She followed.
Suddenly, she gasped and seized his arm, dragging him into the shadow of the town hall. Before he had the chance to do more than give a startled yelp, she had clapped a hand over his mouth.
"Look," she hissed, pointing at the small building at the end of the block. James narrowed his eyes; the surrounding shops were darkened, their owners long gone to bed, but there was a light moving in this one, revealing the silhouette of a familiar figure…
James moved before he could think. He darted across the road, keeping to the shadow of a lamppost. He could hear Lily's light steps behind him as he skirted the edges of the buildings, crouching down in the brush at the foot of the last shop. Lily nudged him, pointing; scattered droplets of blood ascended the steps, vanishing through the door. A padlock lay crumpled on the ground beside a bloodstained kitchen knife.
They looked at each other; Lily nodded. In sync, they leapt onto the stoop and slipped quietly through the door.
They found themselves in a tiny shop, crammed with neat little rows of brightly-colored merchandise. James ducked down beside the register, Lily copying him. In the corner of the shop, a beam of light swung wildly, accompanied by frantic mutterings.
"Gotta find…where is it?" There was the sound of boxes clattering to the ground. The voice swore. It was a young man's voice, shaky and rather high-pitched. "Here…yes…." There was a choked sob. "I'm so sorry, Mal…"
Lily and James exchanged a look, but before they could do anything, footsteps rapidly approached.
"It'll all be fine, I'll be—who's there?"
The beam of light flashed over them briefly. Lily sprang to her feet, pulling James up beside her. "Lumos!"
Her wand tip ignited, flooding the room with more light than the boy's torch could. He gave a squawk of fear; James could make out a pale, thin face, dotted with freckles, and mousy brown hair that curled around his ears. He was clutching several oddly-shaped bottles and canisters.
"You can't stop me!" he shrieked, dropping a couple of the things he was holding. "I won't let you stop me!" And he darted away from them, shoving his way through the back door and taking off into the night. Lily swore; her Stunning spell shot over the boy's head, missing him by an inch as he ducked and scampered away, his gait a strange sort of gallop. James dove through the aisles, Lily close on his heels.
They burst outside. James, squinting in the darkness, could make out the figure of the boy running flat out across the road and vanishing out of sight as he leapt down a hill. James broke into a run, sprinting across the path and skidding down into the valley; ahead of him, the boy was heading for a small copse of trees, his gasps carrying back on the wind. James was breathing hard, too, a stitch forming in his side, but he didn't let up. He and Lily were gaining on the boy slightly; the boy was limping, leaving a thin train of blood behind him. He disappeared between the trees, and James followed him into the woods, branches snagging on his clothes and scraping against his skin.
The boy was making no effort to be stealthy; he crashed through the undergrowth, dropping another canister with a loud curse. Lily leapt over it without a moment's hesitation, but James wasn't so lucky—he tripped and fell hard, sprawling on the ground.
"Hurry up!" Lily called behind her, not stopping to help him. Spitting dirt out of his mouth, James staggered to his feet and followed her.
He nearly collided with her as she skidded suddenly to a stop. They had emerged into a large clearing, flooded with moonlight. The boy stood in the center of it; he had dropped everything he was holding, and was now brandishing something long and thin.
"Don't come any closer!" he cried. "I—I don't want you to get hurt!"
"Drop your wand," James ordered, holding his own out steady. Lily copied him.
"My—what?" He looked momentarily bewildered, but then his face crumpled in anguish. "You can't stop me!" he said again, and tears spilled down his cheeks. "Please, just let me do this!"
"Do what?" James snapped. "Kill more innocent people? Make more of your sick Inferi, or whatever they are?"
The boy was sobbing now, tears flowing down his face unchecked. "I—I didn't mean for it to happen! But it's my fault, it's all my fault…Mallory…"
"Wait," Lily whispered as James raised his wand, intending to disarm the boy. "Let me talk to him."
James searched her eyes for a moment; then, tersely, he nodded, dropping his arm. Lily moved forward into the clearing.
"What's your name?" she said gently.
He shuddered. "S-Sam."
"I'm Lily. This is James. We want to help you, okay?"
"Help him?" James said before he could stop himself. "Lily, he brought someone back from the dead!"
"No, he didn't," said Lily sharply, shooting a look at James. She turned back to the boy. "You didn't, did you?" she said softly. "It wasn't you."
Sam shook his head. "But it's my fault…" he whispered.
"We can help you," Lily said in that same, soft tone.
"Wait," said James. They both looked at him. "First, drop your wand. So we know you won't try to hurt us."
"My…wand?" The boy stared at the object clutched in his fist. "You mean this?" There was a small click, and a tiny flame erupted from the end of the stick, illuminating his gaunt face.
Lily exhaled. "You're a Muggle."
"A what?" The boy seemed agitated now, fidgeting slightly as he let the flame go out with another click of the lighter.
"It's okay, it doesn't matter," said Lily reassuringly. "Will you tell us what happened?"
He chewed his lips, looking utterly terrified…and James knew Lily was right. This boy, this frightened, distraught boy, didn't have a shred of evil in him. He wouldn't have been able to cast a Dark curse even if he had been a wizard.
The three of them stood in the clearing for a moment, the silence pressing down on them. Finally, Sam spoke in a trembling voice. "Mal was my girlfriend," he said. "Until…until about a week ago. She kept…pulling away from me. And she and I, we were the last ones either of us had. My parents are dead, she doesn't talk to hers anymore, and neither of us are any good at making friends…but I thought we had each other, at least." He took a ragged breath before continuing. "But then a week ago, she broke up with me. She wouldn't tell me why, she just kept saying she couldn't do it anymore. She told me to leave her alone, but I went looking for her anyway…" He was shaking now, crying again. "We used to come here and talk. She said it was her favorite place in town. But when I got here that day…she was dead." His voice broke on the last word, and he crumpled in on himself. "She'd hung herself," he sobbed. "And I should've known, I should've seen how depressed she was, I should've found some way to help her…"
"I'm so sorry," Lily whispered, her eyes shining.
But Sam went on as if he hadn't heard her; it seemed as if he couldn't stop talking now that he had started. "But I—I couldn't leave her there. I got her down—and then he showed up." His voice roughened into almost a growl.
"Who, Sam?" said Lily.
Sam shook his head. "I never found out who he was. He was wearing a big cloak, he never showed his face. And he said he'd been looking for her. He said—he said he could bring her back." Sam's breath hitched. "I wasn't thinking, all I knew was that she was gone and I needed her—and he—he said he would take her, and bring her back here when he was done.
"And when I came back the next day, she was waiting for me."
The temperature seemed to have dropped in the clearing. James held his breath, waiting for Sam to go on. With a shuddering breath, he did.
"It was—horrible. It wasn't her anymore. He'd destroyed her, done—done terrible things to her. But she was there, and I couldn't let her go. Not again. I couldn't—I couldn't let her die again. But she wanted to. She kept crying, saying it hurt…" A tear trickled down his cheek. His voice was hollow. "She wasn't alive. Not really. She didn't even have a pulse.
"And then she started to…fall apart." He looked slightly green in the pale moonlight. "But I was sure that if I could find him again, I could get him to make it right, get him to bring her back properly. But nobody in town had even heard of him, and by now people were starting to get suspicious about Mallory, no one had seen her in days. I tried to keep her hidden, but—it was like every day she got a little less human. And I knew…I had to let her go.
"So tonight, I snuck her into town, into that alleyway, and—" He shook so hard that the lighter fell from his hand. "She wasn't herself. She attacked me, and I didn't think, I just—" He broke down, crumpling to the ground. "It's all my fault," he sobbed, his voice wracked with guilt. "I should never have let him touch her! I should've just let her go, like she wanted…"
"Sam," Lily whispered, and James saw that she was crying, too. "It wasn't your fault. This man—I don't think he would have stopped at anything to get what he wanted. If you had refused, he might have killed you."
"Then I should have DIED!" Sam screamed. "I should have died rather than let her go through that!" He curled in on himself among his bottles, his shoulders shaking. Then, abruptly, he gave one last hiccupping sob and drew in a long breath. "But now…now I'm going to pay for what I've done," he said, and the coldness in his voice made James feel as if his stomach had turned to lead.
"Sam…" said Lily in a carefully controlled voice.
The boy shook his head violently, snatching up his lighter and two of the bottles on the ground. He unscrewed them, dumping the contents over his head. The pungent smell of kerosene filled James's nose, and he felt a thrill of horror.
"Sam, NO!" he shouted, leaping forward, but it was too late. Sam clicked the lighter.
Instantly, he was engulfed in a blazing ball of fire; his shriek of agony exploded through the clearing. Lily screamed, staggering backward into James. Instinctively, he grabbed her and pulled her away from the burning boy, who had fallen to the ground and was writhing, the fire catching on the dry leaves around him and spreading rapidly through the clearing.
"AGUAMENTI!" Lily cried. James copied her, and streams of water erupted out of the tips of their wands, flying in arcs across the clearing. Slowly, the flames fizzled out; all that remained were smoldering leaves, a thick haze of smoke, and a charred, crumpled body.
Lily ran to the center of the clearing, dropping to her knees beside the boy. For a moment, James could only see the curtain of red hair that concealed her face as she bent over the boy, listening. Finally, she straightened and turned to face James.
"He's dead," she said.
There was a long silence. Then, slowly, Lily sank to her knees, covering her hand with her mouth as her body shook. Without a moment's thought, James crossed the clearing and dropped down beside her, pulling her into a hug. She pressed her face into his shoulder, clutching him as she sobbed.
He held her for a long time, tears pouring silently down his own face. At last, she took in a shuddering breath and pulled away from him, mopping at her eyes.
"I wish we could have saved him," she whispered.
"I know." James slid his hand into hers; she squeezed tightly before releasing it and standing up. She seemed to be steeling herself. With what seemed like a tremendous effort, she turned to face the burnt body behind her.
James got slowly to his feet, putting a hand on her shoulder as they looked at what had been a living, breathing boy moments before. Then Lily raised her wand. With a gentle sweep of her wand, the charred remains of the boy swirled on the ground, reforming themselves into a delicate, ruby-red rose that burst from the soil, incongruous against the blackened leaves.
"Go in peace," Lily said softly. They looked at the rose together; it glistened in the moonlight, petals fluttering softly in the breeze.
"I want to go home," Lily said after a long moment, turning to look at James.
He nodded. "I just need to do something first." He took her hand; she leaned into him, and he knew she was placing her trust in him as he turned on the spot.
They reappeared with a crack in the dirty alleyway. It was as silent here as it had been in the clearing; the fire seemed to have burned itself out, taking the pub with it. James released Lily's hand and walked toward the pile of ash in the center of the alley. Holding out his wand, he mimicked Lily's motion; the ashes seemed to dissolve, transforming into a rose identical to the one that now stood in the clearing.
"Go in peace," he said, his voice a little rougher than Lily's. He swallowed. "I hope…I hope you find peace, Mallory Ashworth."
His throat tight, James turned away, facing Lily. "Someone is trying to bring back the dead, and we need to stop him," he said bluntly.
She gazed at him. "I know." Her hand found his, their fingers intertwining. "We'll figure it out. We have to. For them."
James's eyes searched hers. Then, slowly, he bent his head, brushing his lips against hers. He tasted salt as she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"I love you," he breathed into the infinitesimal space between them. "I don't say it enough."
"I love you, too," she whispered.
At long last, they broke apart. Then, hand in hand, they turned and walked out of the alleyway, the red rose waving gently in the wind behind them.
A/N: Well, this was supposed to be a oneshot, but I think it might turn into a multichapter. But if it does, I unfortunately can't promise regular uploads - college life is fun. I was supposed to write a paper this weekend. I did not.
Written for The Hunger Games Fanfic Style III Competition (Day Three)
Prompts:
(Emotion) Guilt
(Pairing) James/Lily
(Setting) A bar
(Genre) Crime
(Weapon) Fire