(A/N) As promised, here is the next chapter. I'm nearing the end of my story…however, I'm unsure of whether to make it a happy ending, a sad ending, or a mixture of both? Please review and tell me what you think; any suggestions are welcome.
Thankyou for R&R! Please enjoy!
This chapter is dedicated to Melanie, Smutten and Merri (Yes Merri the lyrics are for you because HIM is your band, not mine!)
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Until we are sure we're suffering for love
In the dungeon of our dreams we're so weak
The promise made to be broken still haunts our sleep
We won't open our eyes afraid we would die for love again
--
The heart of darkness is hope of finding you there
And that hope will be our love's requiem
The salvation we seek will be waiting us there
In the heart of darkness lonely and scared
With a promise of death for our love
--
The heart of darkness is hope of finding you there
And that hope will be our love's requiem
Take me into your arms and sing me your beautiful song
Hold me until we're one and sing me you're beautiful song
-
Love's Requiem
-HIM 2005-
Chapter 24: Sitting, Waiting, Wishing…
White. Just plain white was all his eyes could see. Where was he? In heaven? Had he died after all his turmoil and grief…died and gone to join Sirius and Cedric? Finally free from the attention and expectations?
He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out…his throat was dry and sore. He moved his head slightly to see where he was but pain shot through his body; his brain felt on fire. What on earth was going on! With a last attempt to cry out for help, Harry felt weak and slipped back into unconsciousness, letting the darkness take him…
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The white hand twitched upon the dank, dusty ground. It moved. Shaking violently the hand rose into the air and flew beside the body that lay slumped against the wall…among the Death Eaters. Each Death Eater was tied tightly to each other, bound by heavy chains. Dementors were stationed at each doorway, awaiting their chance to perform their deadly Kiss. They were under the orders of Albus Dumbledore, being promised that they would feed on human souls once the prisoners were awake.
The body, cloaked heavily in black gave a shudder. Something black, almost gas like streamed from the dead figure. It was a soul…a dark evil soul; the soul of the most dreadful wizard who ever walked the earth. Lord Voldemort's soul. The Dementors definitely moved. Moaning slightly, they made towards the floating cloud of gas, intending to suck the life out of the soul; but the cloud moved swiftly and out of their reach. Swishing, the black mass flew from the lair…out into the night air…towards the castle.
"Do you think they'll be alright?"
"I don't know…"
"What happened to…the others?"
"I'm not really sure, I think a ceremony will be held soon," Mrs. Weasley spoke to her daughter in a hushed tone. There was silence inside the hospital wing. A clock chimed somewhere deep within the castle…midnight…and almost two days since Voldemort's attack.
The door of the Hospital Wing opened and the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore stepped into the room. His usual sparkling blue eyes behind his spectacles were now dull and blank. However he remained as cheerful as could be.
"Good evening Mrs. Weasley, Ginvera," Professor Dumbledore nodded in the direction of the two female Weasley's and made his way over. The matron could be heard bustling around in the back rooms, preparing tea.
"Ah, any change in their condition?" Dumbledore's eyes flickered towards the three beds, which were occupied by three people.
"Not yet, but we're still praying." Mrs. Weasley wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. Ginny reached out and touched Harry Potter's hand, stroking it lightly. She bent her head slowly and kissed the back of his hand. She prayed silently that he would be alright, that he could wake up and recover…so that they could raise their baby together, as a family. She closed her eyes as hot tears threatened, as she thought of the fact that he may never wake up.
It had been a very lucky escape from Voldemort's lair on that fatal night…
After Harry had cried the most fatal Unforgivable Curse, Avada Kedavra, the killing curse; he had obviously not registered (or perhaps he had) that the Curse would also affect him too. It was true that Voldemort had taken the full bore of the curse…but it had also rebounded and seeped into his own body.
Hermione's left arm had been badly broken in two places and she sported a nasty cut from the middle of her forehead across to the top of her right eyebrow. Her neck and right arm were covered in bruises. She lay in the far left bed, nearest to the window.
In the middle bed was Peter Pettigrew. The mousey young man had always been a servant of Voldemort's and was most hated by Harry, Ron and Hermione. At least that was true until that night. Wormtail had done the most unthinkable; he had redeemed himself and paid back Harry's debt by standing up to his powerful Master and helping Harry to defeat the Dark Lord.
Wormtail had shivered violently after they exited the lair, led by Dumbledore and McGonagall. He had become so cold…as though a blizzard was constantly blowing upon him. Unable to contain the way his body reacted, he had fainted, out cold and had only woken up once since the event.
In the right hand bed, lay the pale, unmoving form of Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter. He, by far, had taken the most damage. A large purple bruise had formed upon his cheek where he had been struck, his right arm was held tightly in a sling, around his head was a clean white bandage…to help subdue the bleeding from the cut upon the top of his head. His nose looked a little crooked and indeed it should, for as he fell after he had struck Voldemort down, he had crashed face first into the stone, breaking his nose in the process. A few fingers on his left hand were broken, his index, middle and pinkie were strapped together with medical tape. His body had been covered in bruises as Dumbledore and McGonagall had checked him for injuries after he had been carried from the dark chamber.
Dumbledore sighed half-heartedly and shook his head, averting his gaze.
"Such a sad misfortune to have struck us…our very own Harry Potter." The wise headmaster's eyes watered, but he blinked the tears away. "How is Ronald?"
"He's healing, getting a lot better. He just had to rest because of the damage done to his stomach." Mrs. Weasley explained, blowing some hair from her eyes.
Ginny was now standing beside Hermione's bed, brushing some hair from the older girl's eyes. Ginny couldn't loose Harry and Hermione…Hermione had always been like a sister to her.
"It's not fair!" Ginny burst out angrily, "All this pain and suffering! Why does it happen to us! Why must Harry always be the one to take the pain?"
"The world plays cruel tricks Miss Weasley, it never really makes sense. Harry is a Hero…you and I know that and soon the whole wizarding world will have heard of the great deeds he did to save his friends and school." Dumbledore placed his hand on Ginny's shoulder.
"I just wish he'd wake up." She muttered, shaking her head, "I wish they'd all wake up. They're too important."
"You should get some rest Miss Weasley. Go and rest for tonight. You can visit them first in the morning. And I assure you that they will be here in the morning," Dumbledore said kindly. Ginny was too tired to argue. She nodded and stood, heading for the door.
"G'night," she mumbled, shutting the door behind her.
The corridor was silent and dark, with only small slivers of light illuminating the passageway before her. Her feet made no noise as she walked swiftly down the stone floor. She stopped at the foot of the stairs, but then found herself climbing to the seventh floor. On the landing, she turned left, instead of right and hurried towards the Head's common room. She needed to sleep…but she didn't wish to suffer alone…
Draco Malfoy, Head Boy in his year sat upon the polished oak windowsill staring into the night. The breeze was cool on his face, mingling with the tears that fell from his eyes. He did not want to cry, nor did he really understand why he was crying. A few nights ago he had fought in a battle against the very person his father wished to be his master. He had joined Harry Potter, Gryffindor Hero and Golden Boy in defeating the darkest sorcerer in the world. He felt good, like he'd at last achieved something to make up for his horrible past behaviour. He himself, like Peter Pettigrew had redeemed himself…all for the love of Hermione.
His heart stung as he thought of the smart brunette, lying in the Hospital Wing, sleeping so peacefully. Yet he wanted nothing more than to speak with her again, to hold her and to apologize, for every mean thing he'd ever said to her. He wanted to hug her and tell her that everything was going to be alright, declare his love for her and promise never to leave her ever again.
Being with Hermione was the best thing that Draco had ever done in his life…but where was she now? Unconscious in the Hospital Wing! He didn't even know if she'd ever wake up again! He should've realized the Evil months ago, the evil that had possessed his heart for a short time…
Yet among all his pain, he felt relieved and triumphant. His scumbag, low-life father had been sent to Azkaban, along with Blaise Zambini and the other remaining Death Eaters. He couldn't give a stuff if his father was dead or alive…a life time in Azkaban was no more than he deserved, for killing all those innocent people.
He sat for a while longer, running his fingers through his hair and brooding…he had to focus on the future…a positive future for himself and Hermione, when she awoke and recovered…
He heard footsteps behind him, but didn't even bother to turn around.
"Draco?" came the timid voice. Draco grunted and wiped the tears from his eyes. He noticed the voice of Ginny Weasley…he didn't want her to see him crying. He turned to face her and smiled weakly. He no longer thought of her as an enemy, rather…an acquaintance.
"Are you ok?" she asked, twiddling her thumbs. She looked so innocent, standing in the shadows with her hands behind her back; that Draco unexpectedly held out his arms and beckoned for Ginny to come to him.
Ginny's lip quivered as she ran into Malfoy's arms, sobbing loudly. Draco patted her back lightly.
"I'm so afraid," she whispered, leaning into his chest.
"I know…" he replied in a friendly way, "So am I,"
Draco gave Ginny one last small squeeze before the small girl sat up, on the windowsill next to him. Draco put his arm around Ginny's shoulder and tried to reassure her as much as he could reassure himself about Harry and Hermione's recovery. They had no feelings for each other, for their hearts were both set on the unconscious people lying under the crisp sheets of the Hospital Wing beds…but sometimes it was just nice to have a friend…someone to talk to.
Neither of them noticed the black cloud that swished and twisted away into the night, heading for the moon. Voldemort's soul was searching…searching for something to cling to…to regain life. Sure, Voldemort himself was dead…but unless Harry Potter was dead, the soul of Voldemort remained…