Rays of Light
The first indication that something is wrong is the sea of black hats riding over from the distance. It isn't really a sea, but that portent of darkness, stealing the last rays of sunlight as they overcome the clouds, makes it seem so.
She curses as she walks. Things will get worse. She knows, because even from here, she sees the proud shoulders at the front of the column. The eyes, carved of silver and the haughty bearing of the dark head are only memory, but she knows. She knows.
He realizes quickly enough who she is. He isn't oblivious after all. The Aurors roughly match the number of Death Eaters. The fair head rises as the sharp blue eyes find him. She doesn't flinch, and his heart plays a chord. He knows she sees him. He clutches his wand and as he walks ever closer, he waits.
There is a silent standoff. She looks at him as he looks at her. There is no love here. Only duty. The first spell is fired.
She is sure it fell from the sky.
He is sure it flew from the earth.
There is no love.
But there is.
She considers the past. The most unlikely of couples, weren't they? The Gryffindor who loved the Slytherin.
Say you want to spend forever with me.
I want to spend forever with you.
Say it again.
I want to spend forever with you.
Gods, I love you.
She somehow remembers the soft kisses they had shared in lonely halls. She remembers other things she had thought forgotten. She remembers the quiet wedding, and the days of bliss. Until…
She slashes involuntarily, yet, viciously at the man and watches him fall. She feels such sorrow.
She was always too stubborn for her own good. She never listened to him. He had been all right with her friends until the marriage. He had thought that, then at least…but he had been wrong. She had yelled, screamed, at him, he had calmed her and told her it was all right. She had backed down, but he thought he hadn't ever been forgiven. Then, the inevitable. He had followed his brothers; she had turned to his enemies. She had been shocked with the news, still in love, but disbelieving. He had been distressed, knowing the only outcome. Still hoping as she ran…
And that was the end.
Because duty won over love, and no love is as powerful as a human's will.
I will never let you get away from me.
It's not your choice. I'll slip through your fingers like water.
But, I'll catch you again. Because there is nothing more powerful than a man's willpower.
Except a woman's.
She didn't think to meet him, but now he is here…she is flooded with his memories as she crouches next to the wounded man, trying in vain to staunch the blood. Please… say his eyes, please… She knows what he wants to say. Please, please, save me. This was why she hated them, the enemies. Despite the evils his people had chosen, he, her love of once upon a fairy tale, chose them too…she searches for him on the field then turns to the injured man. She is too late. She gives a sharp sigh and shuts his eyes. She says a quick prayer before walking off.
He kicks aside the dead man's body, fool, he thinks. He gives the dark, robed body another glance before he dashes off. The fool. If he hadn't been in his way.
They slowly work their way toward each other. The other fighters make significant ground, but they fight hardest. Because though they cannot say, in their secret most hearts, there is a plea. For one more kiss, one more love. The dream for one more night together in that darkest of places within their selves, illuminated only by the other. And they are eager to see what had changed in all those years apart. And though they hope and dream, the moon is behind a cloud and the stars are cloaked.
I hate you.
I know. Me too.
Kiss me.
I think I will.
She hopes that she gets him. Not out of hate, but because it would be wrong to let anyone else, someone who hasn't seen him smile, another person for whom this man means nothing, to watch the breath leave his body. She wonders if she is, perhaps, too cruel for this job of justice.
He hopes he dies. He knows that he will never be able to kill her if she looks at him. It is too hard to imagine watching her fall. But… he thinks…about duty. He hopes he will not have to kill her, that someone else, inconsequential, unimportant, will say the words to her. So that he can mourn without guilt. He is growing soft, he thinks.
I love you.
So do I.
She wishes it would end now. The field is emptying as more people fall. It is terrible. It grieves her. She cries for the mothers with no children. No. No. Stop. She hates war. She only did it because of…because it was her…
The rewards are petty, and the price looks at her with eyes molded from flame.
I want us to be together for… all eternity.
Don't hope too much; the odds are low.
To hell with the odds.
I was hoping you'd say that.
He wants to looks forever because it has been too long. The few left on that lonely hill, battle fiercely and fall with moans and cries.
She brings down the wand fiercely. Hurts.
He smirks triumphantly. Despairs.
There is a sound behind her and she whirls around. The attacker falls, and the other arm, behind her, too, drops.
Then there is silence, because the world has ended, and they are face to face.
His face is bloody, and there is a gash on his cheek, and leaves tangle in his hair.
He is still breathtaking.
And he still saved her. He is grim, though, smirking, with hate, she is sure.
She looks resigned to whatever fate brings her. Her hair is mussed, robes torn and dirty, her eyes troubled. She is still smiling like she used on dewy nights, though. He knows she does not love him anymore. He wants to die.
I wish I didn't love you so much. You make me feel things I didn't know were allowed.
I can't help it. It's just as hard for me, you know. It's your fault, after all.
"This is the end." His tone is solemn, deep and echoing. He wants her to run, he wants to say it, 'run, run, live, because I love you', but the words die on his lips. She won't let him go. Even now, her gaze holds him silent, frozen in billowing clouds of the past.
"I know." She lifts the wand. She wishes she could make him leave. She sees the determination in his eyes, though. He has fought as hard as she has for this moment. She is sure of her beliefs, he of his own. He will not leave. He will not live.
She is so serene, smiling,
My Aphrodite.
He is so strong, so sure,
What about you, Ares?
His breath shudders, and her hand trembles. They say the words together, one with practiced ease, the other for the first time, still confident.
The grey eyes widen with shock, and the blue blink.
Then the eyes close, the hands fall limp, and the bodies fall. It is only sad chance that they lie side by side. She falls backwards, one hand thrown out. He falls forwards, opposing her even in death, his head to one side and his glassy eyes, leaden and dull, staring her way. Their hands fall atop one another in a mockery of a caress.
The light of the moon finally breaks through the clouds and tauntingly illuminates their unwittingly intertwined fingers. It ricochets off of the matching silver bands adorning the ring finger of their hands, the rays of shining light a beacon for the coming dawn.