Look at me.
Potters green eyes fading. Liquid, warm and wet, trickling down his neck, from his eyes, from his nose. The shuffle of footsteps and murmured voices. Far away the battle rumbled. And then silence.
Strangely, there was no pain. Time stood at a standstill, the moments between one breath and his last encompassed an eternity.
I wish…I wish…
Lily's hard emerald eyes the last time he had met them. Cradling her body in the wreckage of Godric's Hollow.
His life on the edge of a knife, never belonging anywhere, to anyone. What would it be like, he wondered in the space between one breath and his last—this one moment that went on forever—what would it be like to be a normal man? To have a normal life, working a normal job. To come home to a family. Be part of family. He'd been alone so many years…
Regrets came to him now. Regret that he had done so little with his life. Ten years of peace wasted on grief and self-pity and anger. Ten years of bitterness. Ten years of emptiness that could have been filled with…what? Love?
I wish…I wish…
Just for a moment, this long endless moment, he allowed himself to imagine a reality in which he had changed himself at the Dark Lord's first fall. He imagined himself joining his colleagues at their weekly meeting at the Hog's Head, meetings mostly filled with good food and drink and laughter and companionship. He had never allowed himself to attend, certain he was not truly wanted but what if, just…once…he had gone? Could he have teased Minerva into peals of laughter with a quick sly comment? Perhaps discussed herbology with Pomona—herbology so closely linked with Potions—
Potions. He could have published his experiments, continued to create new spells. Again he imagined what it would be like to share his life with another, to confide his secrets, to be comforted, to just once! Be told that everything would be all right, that there were no Dark Lords, no Headmasters and nothing could hurt him anymore.
From far away he heard the sound of battle once more, cries of anguish and triumph echoing in the dark night. The sound of spell fire and struggle. Silence. Silence. Silence.
For an eternity, silence…and then….
Cheers erupting everywhere, like that Quidditch Cup at the end of the year, cheers like children being told that exams had been cancelled.
It's all over, the man thought. Everything. Even me.
Time resumed its forward course, and the man exhaled.
And…inhaled?
Pain exploded in every cell. He was acutely aware of his neck, jaw and ear, specifically that there seemed to be great gaping wholes where that part of his anatomy should be. His body felt as though it was made of stone, hard and heavy stone that could crumble to dust at any second. Dimly, he heard his heartbeat in his remaining ear and the slow swooshing sound did not inspire confidence in his well being.
Eyes. He had eyes.
He focused all his attention on his eyelids until he cracked one open. Above his head the ceiling of the Great Hall showed a clear blue sky. Sunbeams illuminated the dust in the air. He couldn't move, but only stare in something like wonder at the dust motes floating gently in the sun, drifting….
A gentle touch on his forehead brought back his awareness somewhat. I wish…I wish… family…home…love…
With extreme effort he managed to glimpse the person…cradling him? Sunlight backlit her hair, giving her a golden halo. Her eyes were kind. Tears left visible tracks in the dirt and blood on her face. Her face was gaunt and purple shadows stood out under her eyes. He realized that one of her hands was pressed into the left side of his neck, holding painful pressure into the deep wound.
He closed his eyes, and felt the brush of lips against his hair. A whisper brushed his cheek. You'resafeyou'resafeyou'reokayyoou'reokay everythings gonna be okay, everythhing's gonna be all right, you're safe, you're safe….
Safe? He could hardly imagine. Safe. Warm arms around him, warmth behind his back and every so often a feather light touch on his cheek.
Comforted, he slipped into sleep –coma—and dreamed.