A Little Less
"Oliver!" Katie yelled as a bright green curse flew right by Oliver Wood. She quickly sidestepped towards him and pulled him down as Death Eaters sent more curses towards them. "Protego!" she shouted and a shield appeared and hovered for a moment as more curses were shot towards them.
"Stupify!" Oliver attempted to Stun the Death Eater again before Katie's charm wore off. Another curse flew by, and Oliver felt Katie pulled him further by his collar. On the ground, together, side-by-side, Oliver and Katie shot curses out at any of the Death Eaters they could see, but they seemed to be multiplying before their eyes.
"Those gits are just shooting the Killing Curse at every bit they could get," Katie gritted through her teeth as she sent another nonverbal Stunner at a Death Eater.
Oliver silently cursed the hooded figures, as a curse grazed his cheek. "Petrificus totalis!" he shouted toward the Death Eater who sent the curse at him. Spells like Full Body Binds and Stunning weren't doing the job anymore. There were too many of them; there must be a way to get rid of a few of them at the same time. He quickly surveyed the area and found the exit of the hall. "Katie!" he looked at her and flicked his eyes toward the granite arch and she understood him.
"Alright, on three then," she said as they readied themselves.
"One…two… three!"
The two of them ran for it. Curses after curses sent their way. Oliver grasped Katie's hand and began to pull her toward the arch hallway. Once there, the two of them turned back and began to blast the granite apart.
"Reducto!"
Katie and Oliver threw themselves onto the hard floor as the stone began to fall apart. They could hear the Death Eaters scream in agony as the stones crushed their bodies. Dust flew about and covered every surface within the hall.
"C'mon," Oliver said as he picked Katie up by the arms, and they sprinted towards the Great Hall. As they zigzagged through the castle, Voldemort's voice reverberated off the wall.
They were retreating… for now. They were to be spared if they surrendered Harry in an hour; Harry's life for theirs. There was a deafening silence after Voldemort's pronouncement, and they continued their way into the Great Hall.
Once inside, they were both ushered toward Madam Pompfrey. House-elves pushed whatever they could reach of their backs toward the pedestal upon which the madam was healing people.
"No, it'll be alright," Katie told them as she tapped her wand to Oliver's cut and watched as it healed immediately, leaving no scar behind. "I'm a medi-witch. It's fine."
The house-elves looked at her uncertainly before moving on to pushing other people. Katie began to check over Oliver's injuries and probed him at every bit she could with her wand until he grabbed her wrists and said, "It's alright, I'm alright."
She looked up at him with dilated eyes; obviously, the near-death experience for the last hour shook her.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, yes. I'm quite fine, thank you." She stowed her wand away and began to walk around the Great Hall, trying to see if there was anyone else that needed help. Oliver frowned after her; she was inexperienced with these sorts of things. The last time she had had encountered something dark, it had been the opal necklace from an Imperiused Madam Roserta, and that had landed her in St. Mungo's for months. It's no wonder why she was unnerved.
Oliver watched as she healed Ernie McMillian's broken arm. He had been against her coming here in the first place, but Katie, being as stubborn as she was, refused to be anywhere but with him. He watched her as she unnecessarily poked Ernie a few more times before declaring him fine and going off to find another victim to keep her mind busy. Katie, spotting Neville Longbottom, bruised and starting to swell horribly, began to move toward Neville's way. Oliver sighed and went after her.
"The elves will take him to Poppy," Oliver said. He took Katie by the arm and steered her away from another student before she had the chance to protest.
"Let's just sit down, Katie," he said to her as he half-carried her towards where he could see the Weasley's. However, before they even got there, Katie gasped and ran towards group huddled there.
"No!" It was a devastating whisper. He looked up towards the Weasley's and gasped. There laid Fred Weasley, pale as a sheet, a smile still adorned his face, seemingly asleep; and next to him, Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin, laying side-by-side. Oliver stood for a second, dumbfounded and befuddled. Professor Lupin and Tonks…dead? No, it couldn't be… Was this some sort of cruel joke?
Katie launched into action.
"Stand back, everyone!" Her hand shot up her sleeves and pulled out her wand. She waved it in a graceful arch and began to work.
"Ennerverate!" she shouted and a red light came from her wand and into Fred's heart. His body gave a mighty jerk. She leaned down and checked for his breathe, before straightening herself and repeating the spell.
"Katie…" George began.
"No!" She looked at George fiercely, almost fanatically, "I can fix him! I can bring him back! I can!" Nothing stopped her, again and again, she tried; each time yielding the same result. Tears fell off her face, she was not giving up. She couldn't… not on Fred. Again and again, she tried and failed until she raised her wand one last time and said the charm feebly again. Fred's body did not respond.
"Dear," Mrs. Weasley, beside herself with grief, took a hold of Katie's wand hand and put it down, "H-he's been without air for too long." She choked, "F-F-Fred's bl-blue." Mrs. Weasley's eyes filled with tears again as she finally admitted Fred's death.
Katie slumped and her hands covered her face as she cried. If someone was to ask her who she thought would likely to pass in this war, it would have been anyone but Fred. Fred who was intelligent and funny and…and…
Katie reached down and touched his cold hand with hers. She picked it up and placed a kiss on it. Then, she looked at George, who sat with his brother's other cold hand in his. His face was pale, a ghost of a solitary trail of tear on his left cheek. He looked completely lost.
Oliver walked toward them. He looked at each of the Weasley family member present. Mrs. Weasley was now sobbing into Mr. Weasley's shaking shoulders. Ginny sat next to George, and they both stared vacantly at Fred's unknowing face, both unsure of what to do. Percy was shaking violent as he weeped, you could hear him muttering under his breath: "It's entirely my fault…It's my fault…"
He couldn't think of anything to say, he wanted to say that he's sorry. He wanted to be sympathetic. He wanted…he wanted the Weasley's to know that Fred was a great friend, a great person, and that they did right by him. He couldn't. Oliver couldn't speak. The words were there, he knew them, but they were stuck in his throat as if he had a Silencing Curse placed upon him. Before he could help it, he blurted out: "He was a great beater."
George looked at Oliver indignantly, "Fred is … d—" George broke off, he couldn't bear to say the word, the absolute finality of the word was overwhelming, "and all you can think of was whether or not he could whack a Bludger?" George stood up nose-to-nose with Oliver and spat in his face.
"George!" Mrs. Weasley cried, "You apologize right now!"
"But, Mum—"
"Apologize, George. He didn't say anything wrong," Mr. Weasley spoke up and looked at his son sternly, a grieve that cannot be spoken upon his tired face. "Your brother wouldn't appreciate it."
A solemn air resided over the congregation once again as everyone's gaze, once again, traveled to Fred's body, and from his body, to his still-smiling face.
Oliver wiped the spat off his face with a singed sleeve of his shirt. George glanced at him.
"I'm sor—" he began, but Oliver shook his head and waved him off.
"I understand."
"No, I was out of line;" George said remorsefully, "Fred would have taken it as a compliment."
"He was a great guy," said Oliver, not to anyone in particular, and more so to himself. "He was a great guy," Oliver repeated, nodding to himself. He could think of all those times they had spent together, in and out of Quidditch. The parties they threw when they won the Cup. Memories after memories fleeted across his mind, one following the other like a film.
Suddenly, George began to laugh, but he caught himself. He looked at his parents, shamefaced.
Mrs. Weasley smiled and held out her hand to him, "It's alright, George." She wiped her tears with a hankie, "Fred wouldn't want us to cry."
Encouraged by his mother's words, he continued: "Mum," he began, "r-remember when F-Fred and I were about six, when you told Fred that if he kept flinging his beater stick around, you would reduce it to cinder? Remember? Do you remember what he did? He tied the beater stick to his arm for a week!"
Mrs. Weasley smiled and brushed George's fringes out of his eyes, "Yes, I remember, dear."
"But then it turns out that he was allergic to the copper on the stick, and he didn't know, so h-he had thought he had spattergroit and locked himself in the attic with the ghoul for a week until we went up there?"
"Yes," chuckled Mrs. Weasley, "It was such a silly thing, too. Locking himself in and sending us 'mail' with Errol."
"Yeah, but he never let it bother him," George looked back down at Fred, "He just laughed it off. He never lets anything bother him."
Oliver decided to give the Weasley's a moment and took Katie away with him. They walked out of the Great Hall and began to wander the castle. Oliver looked around him; Hogwarts, his home, now rested in shambles.
They walked silently together, gravely, nothing broke the numbing silence. Oliver wished that Katie would say something, anything. He glanced at her from the side of his eye; she was walking a bit drunkenly, swaying a bit here and there before stopping altogether.
"Katie?" Oliver turned around to find her staring at him, straight at his eyes.
"What is going to happen?" There was a pause, and then, "Can things ever be okay again—after all this?"
He sighed and closed his eyes, he didn't have any answers. He hadn't had an answer for a long time now. All he could think about was the lives that had been lost, classmates, friends… his mother and father…families torn apart. Living the last few months had felt like years. Every night, he could still hear the terrified scream of his mother as Death Eaters attacked their home. He could still hear his father:
"Oliver, leave, and take your mother with you! Now!"
But before Oliver could reach either of his parents, there had been two simultaneous flashes of green, and he knew then that he must flee. He hadn't gone back since…he hadn't even gone back to get his parents' bodies when the funeral was held. He had let Hagrid do it, hoping that if he didn't see their bodies, maybe it'd hurt less…it didn't. He loved his parents; how could he pretend to not care for the people who allowed him the life he lead; the people who supported, cared, and loved him as unconditionally as his parents had?
When he opened his eyes, he said in earnest, "I don't know."
She nodded slowly, forlornly. She walked towards him and wrapped her arms around his torso. She buried her head into his shoulder. Little by little, she began to cry; her gentle sobs turning into violent heaves. He felt her tears trail down the nape of his neck. Oliver wrapped his arms around her.
"It'll get better, though," he said softly by her ear. "I promise, it'll get better."
"How would you know? How did you get better?"
He moved back a little and wiped her tears with his thumb, "I don't and I didn't; but it hurts a little less after a while."
Katie looked into his eyes and gave a watery smile, "Yeah…?" Her voice trailed off and she buried her head into his shoulder again. "Yeah…"
Everything will be okay. She had faith in Harry, in Oliver, and in herself, in everyone who was out there fighting with them. Today might be the worst day she's ever experienced in her life, far more worse than getting herself admitted into St. Mungo's, but it'll get better. The healing process would begin eventually, and lives would start to return to a state of normal…or at least as normal it could get when you're a witch.
It'll get better, she knew it.
AN: I originally wrote this right after the publication of Deathly Hallows, but I didn't have the time to go back and edit or anything. So I'm posting it now! :D About a year after it came out!