name: reigns supreme
word count: 850
pairing: shay/lav
warnings: minor !trio bashing. also second person POV.
Evil now reigns supreme.
-Hua Zhong Xian
The castle rumbles.
"Seamus! Help! Please!"
You're running, flying, leaping over walls. The castle is under siege, and you are a soldier. This is what you've spent a year waiting for. You can't give up. You won't.
Lavender is waiting, waiting for someone to save her.
She's waiting for you.
You have to get to her.
Ignore the pain. It can't be worse than what she's going through, right? Stay focused. Lav is waiting. Stay focused. Remember days on the Quidditch pitch, playing with Dean and Ron and Harry. Focus on the goal.
A large shape blocks your path. It's a werewolf. Big eyes, big teeth, big claws, thirst for living creatures. He's blocking Lavender, and you need to get to her. She's the goal. You charge, yell. The creature falls, hit by a curse that left from your mouth unknowingly.
"Shay?"
The creature is dead. Lavender is near you. You can sense it, but you can't see her. There are too many sounds. Too much smoke.
Too much blood.
You look at your hands.
Blood.
You feel you face. Blood. Is it yours? You don't really care. There's too much smoke to really know, anyways. And Lavender is waiting. You have to get to her. She's waiting. Hurry up, damn it!
Adrenaline. Running.
Shoes clicking on tiled floors slick with blood and soot. Dead bodies litter the grounds.
Death is in the air.
Death is seeped into the ground.
Death is everywhere.
Where's Harry? Where is the boy who lived? Isn't he supposed to be fighting? People are dying, and he doesn't even care. Ron? Hermione? Where are they?
"Shay!"
Piercing scream. You turn sharply. You fall. Lav? Where is she? There's too much smoke, too much blood, too much death. You don't know where she is. But she's close. And something hurts. A lot.
You're bleeding.
The castle burns.
Dark shapes.
People? Creatures?
Both. Death eaters and dark creature alike. They invade the castle, swarming and taking over until there is nothing left. You-Know-Who reigns supreme. He conquers and hurts, regardless of the losses, because for him the goal is all that matters. So what if a thousand wizards and witches die? So what if the oldest magical school in England is destroyed? Who cares?
You hate him.
You cast spell after spell. Curse after curse. The dark creatures fall. More take their place. It's an army of the un-dead; you can never escape them. You run instead, trying to put distance between you and them. And you keep an eye out for Lav. You dodge falling bricks as the walls collapse. People scream. You try to ignore them but cannot. You hope that none of those screaming people are Lav.
Lavender is waiting, waiting for someone to save her.
She's waiting for you.
You have to get to her.
Then you see something. A shape. A slender body and wavy blond hair, crumpled on the floor. Fair skin. Pale blue eyes, opened, staring at the ceiling that no longer exists, never wavering. You run towards the body, your heart thudding. You see the marks that only a werewolf could have inflicted. You see the gashes on her throat. The blood doesn't bubble where her wounds meet the air, and her chest doesn't rise.
Lavender is dead.
Blood. Death. Smoke. You can barely breathe. Everything hurts- your head, your body, and your heart. You can't see. Everything blurs. You cradle her body and sob. Once upon a time, you would never have sobbed in public, but now you couldn't care less. You sob. Blood mixes with tears, and your hurt. You don't know if you were in love with her. You loved her, but you weren't in love with her. But you still love her.
Footsteps. Your mind hasn't cleared. You can't see, can't hear, and can't think. Someone runs towards you, but you will never find out just who it was. In a flash of consciousness, you remember that you were supposed to let your owl out. You remember that you haven't finished your homework. That you left your journal open.
You remember other things too.
Like the twinkle in Dean's eyes when he paints a picture.
Is he still alive?
The shape of Harry's scar.
Where is the boy who lived?
The bushiness of Hermione's hair, the freckles that dot Ron's face and body, the shape of your mum's smile and your dad's dimples. But mostly, all you see is Lavender's pale blue eyes as she laughs. It's a memory and it's a dream, and you know it's that because Lavender is dead.
Your mind wanders. The air is rank with blood and soot and death. You see a shape in the smoke.
Then there's a flash of green and everything goes black.
The castle falls.
"The boy who lived is dead."