Yep, new WIP. This time I will actually try to keep up and not turn it into some horribly bad fic. I dunno. It might be already, but that's okay because I've had this idea for ages. This is pretty much a complete re-write of "To Walk in Sunlight or Shadows" because let's face it, that was shocking. Anyways, enjoy, let me know what you think!
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The corridor in front of him is dark, the moonlight streaming through the far wind making pale shadows on the floor. There is something sinister in the air tonight. Maybe it's the fact that the portraits are empty, none of the ghosts are out, the castle is cold and quiet. It is the opposite of what it was like this time last year, when everyone was happy to be out at night, sneaking out to meet a boyfriend or girlfriend.
Now, the castle is empty after dark. Now, no one is safe.
So he runs. Runs from the two Death Eaters chasing him through the corridors, runs from the fear and anticipation of death which is stagnant in the air, runs to live.
He can hear the beating of his heart, pounding through his skull until his feet match the frantic rhythm of his heart beat. His breathing is ragged, and he knows that he cannot, will not, stop or it is all over. Everything they have been working for, everything they have sacrificed will be worth nothing. So he runs.
The young man is nearly at his destination when he becomes aware that he is no longer alone.
He runs down the far corridor, skidding to a halt in front of the blank, expansive wall and begins pacing, praying that whoever has caught up is an ally and not an enemy.
"Going somewhere?" A smooth, disdainful voice asks from the shadows.
Neville knows this voice well. It has been a source of torture and fear for him over his years at Hogwarts, and it is the last voice he wants to hear on this night.
He turns slowly, to face the man coming out from the alcove, stepping into the moonlight so Neville can see his hooked nose and sallow face.
"Snape." He nods.
Snape arches an eyebrow.
Further down the corridor, Neville can hear the clattering of feet on the stone, the angry yells of the Carrow siblings as they come closer and closer to their target. It seems as if he can hear their robs swishing as they run, they are that close, or so he thinks.
So Neville closes his eyes, gulps and inhales a big breath. He imagines the sunset from down by the lake, laughing with his friends at breakfast time, getting top scores in Herbology, the brush of blonde hair on pale skin and pink lips quirking into a smile.
He is ready and he will fight.
Neville opens his eyes and pulls out his wand and smiles.