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Chapter 14 – Beyond a Beating Heart

Each creature holds an insular point in space;

Yet what man stirs a finger, breathes a sound,

But all the multitudinous beings round

In all the countless worlds with time and place

For their conditions, down to the central base,

Thrill, haply, in vibration and rebound,

Life answering life across the vast profound,

In full antiphony, by a common grace?

I think this sudden joyance, which illumes

A child's mouth sleeping unaware may run

From some soul newly loosened from earth's tombs,

I think this passionate sigh, which half-begun

I stifle back, may reach and stir the plumes

Of God's calm angel standing in the sun.

Life

By Elizabeth Barrett Browning

She was gone. And there was no way she'd ever forgive him now. He'd never forgive himself, either. He did nothing to stop them from taking her. He marched right up to Malfoy Manor, walked inside the Dark Lord's fortress, gave her and the boys over to the three Malfoys and that crazy bint, Lestrange, and before he could formulate a plan to help her escape, the crazy witch went berserk on them. Bellatrix started to shout that someone had been in her vault and she took a sword from one of his fellow snatchers. Then before Scabior could do a damn thing, she had him and Greyback constrained and taken outside.

She killed two of his men in the process.

While two Death Eaters were escorting him to the grand foyer outside the main hall, he heard the crazy bitch say that she was going to 'play' with the Mudblood. She was going to make her confess. The Death Eaters told Scabior and the others to wait until the Dark Lord appeared. Even from their place in the foyer they could hear his girl screaming.

She screamed and screamed and screamed.

What was the hag doing to her?

Each scream was like a stab wound, which directly pierced his heart. It was all too familiar. It reminded him of how his little sister Ellie probably cried and cried for help when she was little and their mother's boyfriend raped and killed her, yet he was powerless to stop it. Now his lovely girl cried for help, and he was powerless to stop it. He tried. He climbed back up the stones steps leading to the main hall, stepped over the dead body of his fellow snatcher and banged on the door, demanding to be let in, but no one heard him.

His magic was useless in this house of hell. He tried to draw upon the bond that was between them, but as he often suspected, the bond was a product of her extreme magical gift, not his. Because of the torture, their bond was broken. Soon, the sounds of her screams faded.

Greyback snarled, said something crass along the lines of, "There won't be anything left of the Mudblood for me when Bella's done with her," and he left. Scabior thought the werewolf left before the Dark Lord appeared more out of fear than anything else. The other bloke left, too, leaving Scabior by himself.

He knew if he walked outside these doors he would never get back inside, yet he didn't want to wait inside for the Dark Lord to come either. Scabior's heart felt heavy. Closing his eyes, he wondered if she was dead. Would he feel it if she died? Walking back and forth in the entry hall, he contemplated every thought that popped into his head, but acted on none.

In the end, he decided there was nothing he could do. He couldn't get back inside the heavily guarded mansion, even though he tried very hard. She wasn't dead, because he refused to think of that as a possibility. He would die if she died. He knew that he would know deep in his heart if she were dead. Seeing no other option, he left.

He went back to the forest. Then he started to run. There was no reason to run, but still he ran. He ran and ran and ran. He ran until his lungs hurt. He ran until he thought he would stop breathing. He ran until night fell. He ran until his boots were so worn that they practically slipped off his feet. Finally, when he stopped, he discovered that his face was wet.

Was he crying? Over a bloody Mudblood? Was he truly crying for the first time in his life over a fucking girl who he should have taken into custody a long time ago? He didn't cry when he was a young boy and his sister died! He didn't cry when they placed him in an orphanage! He didn't cry when dark and sinister things were done to him in that orphan! He didn't cry during his short stay in Azkaban!

Why was he crying now?

The Dark Lord would probably praise him for being the one to bring them to him. The Ministry would give him a bloody award and a bonus. He would be a hero.

He dropped to the ground and cried some more.

He was a worthless human being. He always knew it. He always felt it to be true. The only person who ever made him feel as if he had any significance and who ever made him feel as if he was worthy of loving was his beautiful girl.

Where was she right now? He reached up for the scarf still tied around his neck. Usually, it tethered him to her, but for the first time ever it felt as if the line between them had been detached. He took it off his neck, folded it, and tucked it inside his waistcoat. Leaning against a tree, he closed his eyes and tried to think of her. He would probably never see her again, and that was how it should be. That was right. Loving her, being with her, thinking he had a future with her, and right to have a life with her, a right to love her…that was all wrong.

He slumped over and closed his eyes and wept some more, then fell asleep in the woods.

Weeks later –

The rays of sunlight, new in the morning sky, flashed across the meadow of high grass where she sat. To the right of her was their temporary haven, Shell Cottage. In front of her, below a cliff, sat the sea, and to the left was the unknown. Turning her head to the left she wondered if that was where HE was. Was he lurking somewhere out there in the unknown?

She never felt him anymore. They had been at Shell Cottage for weeks now and everyday she got stronger, recovering from the torture by Bellatrix. And everyday she would climb this grassy knoll, seeking solitude from her friends, seeking comfort from him, but he never came.

Perhaps he never really cared. Perhaps it was all really a game to him. A game of 'catch and release'. A game of 'cat and mouse'. It hurt terribly to think that she had been wrong about him. That she had been so foolish, but it must be true, because he promised that he would come whenever she thought of him and needed him, yet he hadn't come once since their escape from the Manor. Not once.

Her longing for him was so strong it was in her blood. It mingled with her breath, and it floated around her in the air, strong, pungent, and overpowering. She welcomed the night. She could dream of him. She didn't want to forget his face or his feel. Even if what they had wasn't real to him, it was to her. He couldn't take that away from her. No one could.

In a few days they were going to Gringotts to break in to Bellatrix' vault. While Harry and Ron were at the house with Griphook, making plans, she knew she'd have time to seek him out one last time. Leaving the tall, grassy hillside, and going beyond Bill Weasley's wards down the ragged, rocky, cliff side to the sea, she'd give him one last chance to come to her. If he didn't come this time, she would say 'good riddance' to him forever.

Taking off her shoes and socks, rolling up her jeans, she slipped her feet in the cold sea. The foam of the waves crashed around her. The sound here was loud, but it was comforting. Leaving shoes and socks behind, she skipped over rocks, through the sand, and continued walking east, farther away from the hill where the cottage sat.

A longing for him suddenly stabbed her in the heart so sharply that she was overwhelmed with want, grief, and every emotion in between. She sat down on a large boulder, one where the sea could only splash around her, bowed her head, and closed her eyes.

She felt the loss of the sun's warmth on her back before she felt him. Opening her eyes before lifting her head, she saw his shadow as if fell across the rock face. Jerking her head upward, with a heavy thumping in her chest, she tried to concentrate on the loud rippling of the water and not on the voice behind her, though she couldn't really ignore him as he said, "Hello, beautiful..."

*Sorry this is so late. I've been working so many days in a row, and really long hours. The next chapter is done, but not back from the beta, so I don't know if it will be posted Sunday or not. This story will only be 16 chapters. I definitely will gloss over the whole 'battle scene' that is DH2.

Thanks.

And to anyone reading 'The List' - Chapter 10 of that is with the beta now. Thank you!