28.Happy Halloween
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She was running down a dark hallway. It twisted and turned, sometimes straight into walls, sometimes flipping upside down like a roller coaster. Objects flew past her, brushing by her hair as they whizzed by: pumpkins, Bludgers, goblets full of boiling green froth, once even a human-like creature with beautiful wings which could have been Llian only the wings weren't a deep teal but a soft white. Finally she emerged in a huge cavern where skeletons and ghosts were whirling around in a frenzy to nonexistent music. The only sounds were the clinking of chains and rustling of skirts, which did little to credit the hysterical movements of the inhabitants who twirled around endlessly. Suddenly they all stopped and turned slowly towards the door where she was standing. They were staring at her: the dark gaps in the skulls where their eyes should be bore into her like daggers. Their mouths opened in silent agonized screams. She tried to turn and flee, only to find a stone wall where the entrance should be. They lunged at her as one.
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Eliza woke up in the middle of the darkened library. She could see from the moonlight streaming in the windows that it was quite late in the evening. The Halloween dance! She peeled off the pages sticking to her forehead from the book she had been using as a pillow and whispered "Lumos!" Pattie was lying in her lap, purring while simultaneously trying to reduce the knees of Eliza's robes into shreds. The cat was no doubt daydreaming that she was tearing some godforsaken jungle beast into pieces for merely stepping where it wasn't allowed. She flipped the book over to look at the front. She must have fallen asleep reading "The Prophecies of the Children of the Stars" again. It was a great book, and she was almost finished - she only had half the book left. It usually only took her a few days to finish a book, but this one was special. She did want to hurry and finish it, though, as it's possession was illegal.
She jumped up, brushing Pattie onto the ground. The cat, although landing gently on her feet, yowled in contempt and stalked away through the chair legs. Eliza ran into the hallway, hiding the book at the very bottom of her book bag. She had very likely missed the entire dance as it was already past eleven. She had been hoping to work up enough courage to ask Llian to dance with her - as friends, of course, unless he rathered. . . Just great! It was probably too late to ask him now. And what was all this stuff on her robes? She saw green out the corner of her eye and glanced down to find bright green splotches on her black robe. She hoped she hadn't been walking around all day with stained robes. She ran back to her common room before a teacher found her and deducted points from her house. A lot of students called her a teachers pet, but only because she couldn't stand letting points be taken from her house, especially by her. You'd think people would be grateful instead of calling me names behind my back, she thought. Besides, she couldn't help it if she was smarter than them in class.
She walked into the Hufflepuff common room and froze: it was completely empty. The dance must still be going. She ran up the stairs and quickly changed. She almost left her stained school robes lying in the middle of the floor but on second thought threw them in the fire and incinerated them. The robe disturbed her: how did it become like that? It frustrated her not knowing how things happened, like those bruises she had found on her arm last week. . . The robe was stained beyond saving anyway, and somehow felt unclean to her. She quickly fixed her hair and put on just a touch of lipstick. Maybe she would still have time to dance with Llian after all. She raced down to the Great Hall and waited outside, bubbling with anticipation, while she put her ear to the door. It seemed completely silent inside, which made her shudder, remembering her insane dream. Must be soundproof, she mused, trying to shake the uneasy feeling that the ringing silence brought to her. She slipped in through the heavy doors and gasped.
All of the students and teachers were sprawled on the floor or over tables and chairs. Nobody moved. Eliza stifled a scream and ran over to the nearest person, who was one of the several who appeared to have collapsed while trying to crawl towards the door. She recognized him as one of the Weasley twins, but couldn't tell which. His lungs and heart were both functioning, but extremely slowly, and seemed on the verge of stopping all together. The front of his robes was stained with bright green splotches, as were those of others around the hall, she saw. She looked up to the teacher's table. Dumbledore's cheek was resting in a plate of pumpkin pie. Madame Pomfrey was likewise unconscious in her chair. Her heart constricted when she spotted her Aunt Minerva, who had fallen underneath the table. If this was what Eliza thought it was, the school didn't have much time left. She remembered a book of potions she had read one summer while extremely bored, filled with dangerous and illegal potions. Her mother had been so furious with her for reading it that she had taken Eliza's wand away for an entire month. Eliza often got into trouble because of her insatiable curiosity. But, like a cat, she liked to think she had nine lives. Vague recollects of a particularly nasty poison, almost completely undetectable except for it's sole identifying mark of turning cloth bright green, filtered through her brain. There was little chance of having enough time to save everybody; even if she started right away she had to find the antidote and gather the ingredients and brew the potions and find out what the correct dosage was - and calling in the Ministry would take too long, the Apparation bounds being all the way around the Forbidden Forest, which surrounded Hogwarts. Who could help? Her eyes racked the tables, chairs, and small dance floor, trying to find who was missing that could help her. Surely the entire school couldn't have been here.
Snape! Of course, he wasn't here - he and Neville would be with June. She began to throw several items of food onto fellow Hufflepuff Ernie's robe. When she poured pumpkin juice, the cloth turned bright green under the liquid. Bingo! She grabbed a goblet which hadn't been overturned and raced towards the dungeons. How in the world could they produce enough antidote for the whole school? They had half an hour left at the very least. She wasn't going to see everybody die around her again - she wouldn't! This time everybody would survive with her.
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Neville had awoke next to June after a particularly nasty nightmare. In it, he had gone to the Halloween dance without June only to have Llian run in and announce that she had died. Neville had begged to see her one last time, but Llian said that only those with black hair would be admitted to the funeral. Professor Snape had suddenly appeared, storming in and flaunting his terrifying presence, wearing huge black shoes which in real life would have looked ridiculous but in his dream were massively terrifying. Snape had started to stomp across Neville while Dumbledore looked on, pronouncing it as just punishment for killing June. Snape was suffocating him.
He had curled up on the bed next to June and ended up burying his head in her pillow. She looked like a small doll lying there, waiting for someone to pick her up and bring her to life. Leaning over to gaze at her life-less face, he brushed her forehead with several quick kisses. He heard a sound by the doorway and turned to find Professor Snape standing there observing him.
"How long have you been standing there?" he asked, groggily wiping his eyes.
"For half an hour. Should I start by asking what the hell you think you're doing sleeping on the same bed as my daughter or why you feel it necessary to assault her in her sleep?" His eyes were hollow and empty. His words were as cruel as ever, but he lacked the massive force that usually lay behind them. Even flat, his words managed to stir hatred in Neville's marrow.
"You're so conceited! Do you think you're the only person June-"
"Ten points off Gryffindor for talking back to a teacher; ten more for not answering the question."
"Leave my house out of this!"
"June does not like to be touched - I don't see what gives you the right-"
"Shut up!" Neville screamed, his fists in tight balls, his face becoming purple. "Just shut up! I sick of your patronizing bullshit! Do you think you're Merlin? Do you have any idea how many potions I've messed up because you made me so nervous while you were breathing down my neck?"
"If you cannot make a potion while a Professor is watching you Neville, I hardly see how you'll be able to make one in an emergency when the need and pressure is greater."
Neville paused. "I never thought about it that way. But it doesn't make any excuse for discouraging me at every turn.. All you do is make fun of my potions."
Snape drew himself up even taller than before, if that was possible. "I was trying to inspire you to work harder next time and to actually watch which and how much of each ingredients you are putting into your cauldron. You constantly hide behind your lack of natural ability in the subject by not even trying! No student will ever pass my class without being fully competent in Potions!"
"You don't have to bite off my head in the process."
"This is ridiculous! I can't believe I'm defending my teaching habits to a fifteen year old student! Fifty points off Gryffindor! The only reason I am not going to see you expelled for your lack of respect is June's silly fondness for you." He made a face, as if his daughter's reaction was unbearable.
"How can I respect you when you don't respect me? You don't control your daughter and you bloody well don't control me! How am I supposed to believe in myself when my teacher doesn't even believe I can in me?"
Snape turned in the doorway where he was exiting to say, "You're the only one who doesn't believe in yourself," he said quietly. He left Neville alone without another word. What was Snape trying to say? Of course the greasy git would blame Neville's behavior on anyone than a teacher, namely himself. Stupid bastard! Neville curled back up next to June and put his arms around her waist. She was so small next to him. Anyone would be small next to you, he told himself darkly. Stupid fat slob. Before he knew it, his eyes were blurring and he was falling back asleep, the anger evaporating off him like mist.
His sleep was disturbed by loud frantic voices. One of them sounded like Snape, the others unidentifiable. He was woken up by hands shaking him roughly. "Get up Neville!" It was Snape, who immediately started dragging him out of the door. "Whu, whu - what's going on?" Neville asked, his vision not yet focused. He stumbled into Snape accidentally, causing the man to hiss at him.
"The entire school has been poisoned by a potion that slowly causes the drinkers to loose consciousness, so that by the time anything is wrong with them they are too drained to run for help or to even brew the antidote. It is tasteless and smell-less, identifiable only by it's tendency to stain cloth bright green. It is called Raazala - its brewing and its antidote are incredibly complex." He hissed this quickly in Neville's ear as he dragged him along the corridor to his private storage. Eliza and two house elf were already there, gathering ingredients and cauldrons. "We have to move quickly," Snape addressed the entire room. Both Snape and the two house elves frantically gathered ingredients as he talked. Eliza looked pale, but otherwise seemed stable.
Neville interrupted, "Sir, what do you mean the entire school? Surely-"
"Yes, the entire school Neville. The pumpkin juice was poisoned, and everyone at the feast is now under the potion's spell. Eliza was not there because she fell asleep in the library, and Dobby here was nursing Winky back to health from her hangov- er, illness. The other house elves likewise are poisoned." They were done gathering ingredients. Snape and the elves magically transported the large quantities of ingredients, Neville had no idea where they had come from, and they went quickly to the Great Hall, Snape in the lead and explaining the procedure. "Each of us will get a table (Dobby Ravenclaw, Neville Gryffindor, Bilkes Hufflepuff, Winky Slytherin, and myself the faculty, dance floor, and all the students I can manage to reach in time). I will magically write the ingredients and directions in the air in case you dunderheads forget, and-"
"What, me brew a potion? An antidote at that?" Neville was flabbergasted. "I'll end up killing my entire table for sure! Why can't we just called the Ministry?"
"Dobby has already dispatched a note to the Ministry and to the Apocrathry in Hogsmeade, but they may not reach us in time. We must administer the antidote as soon as possible. You will make the potion and you will make it correctly!" Snape's voice was threatening and commanding as always, but Neville detected a hint of desperation to his words. Neville was going to kill his own classmates! He, who had never boiled a correct potion in his entire life. Snape glanced into the bathrooms besides the Great Hall for any students. There were only two in the girl's bathroom, who had thankfully only been fixing each other's hair when the potion overtook them. Snape magicked a stretcher and brought them with him. What a horrible way that would be to go, Neville thought. On the loo! Snape continued, "Leave anyone with nonhuman blood until last, as the potion's effect will not be as deadly." They entered the Great Hall, and Snape started setting up the equipment and magicked the instructions for the potion's brewing on the ceiling. "Nonhuman meaning all the house elves, Llian," (Eliza paled at being forced to pass by Llian) "Hagrid, Draco," He listed the names of all the students and faculty who had nonhuman blood in them. "So that we don't risk an overdose, magically mark each person you administer the dose to with a bright red dot on their forehead. Now go each of you - time is of the most importance!" He was positively spitting with his last words, "We will not loose a single person - do you understand me?" They all nodded, flinching from his raised voice and accusing, pointing finger.
Neville tried to grab his robe as he swept past towards the front of the room. "Professor! I can't do this." Snape turned on him, his fangs bared, eyes starting to glint red. His calm words belied his deranged features. "You can and will do this Neville. You must; we have no other choice." And then Neville was on his own, vast amounts of ingredients heaped on the table in front of him, his classmates lives balanced precariously in his very incapable hands. Even Eliza had it easier - Snape had given her the small quantity of antidote in the school's storage, as she was only a fourth year and hadn't finished with the poisons unit yet.
But there was no time to think: Neville started measuring ingredients as specified above. "Two lacewings, crushed to a powder; ten dragon scales, stirred in Bubulous tree sap; one dried newt. . ." Neville set up a row of ten pots and went down the row for each ingredient. He prayed that he didn't accidentally skip one. Just the slightest variation would ruin the whole potful, but it was the quickest (and under the circumstances only) way to work. He finished all ten pots in the amount of time it would have taken him to set up the ingredients for a potion in class. Must be the overwhelming freedom of not having that slimy git breathing down your neck, he told himself. He administered the potion as directed, one quarter a gavein full (the magical system of measurement), adding or subtracting a bit depending on the person's weight and how much it appeared they had drunken. Neville's head was in a whirl at the amount of information he was required to process at each person, but surprisingly it didn't seem to take very long.
Suddenly, on his eighth potful, he turned to administer the next dose to find that he had reached the end of the table. He looked down at his watch and found that it had been almost twenty minutes since they had left the dungeons. He had not only brewing ten potfuls of a complex potion, but also administered it to an entire table full of students in less than twenty minutes! He almost shouted for joy at his remarkable feat, but then he noticed how his comrades were doing and the full horror of the situation struck him. Winky was only halfway down her table; she looked extremely weak in the first place, and her movements were jerky and befuddled, as if she had just woken up. Her potion looked flawless, the exact right color and texture, but she was going too slowly. Dobby and Eliza were still finishing up their tables, and Snape had the entire dance floor to contend with. It had already been almost twenty minutes! The only reason the entire hall wasn't dead was because it was an extremely slow acting poison.
Without thinking, Neville grabbed his two remaining pots and started his way down towards Winky's table, stopping to help each person on the edge of the dance floor he passed. It wasn't until he was a quarter of the way down Winky's table when he was suddenly confronted with Draco and realized which table he was helping. Slytherin! He couldn't believe it! He didn't doubt for a minute that were his and his patient's roles reversed, they wouldn't even lift a finger to help him, or any Gryffindor for that matter. Well I'm not them, he thought angrily, skipping by Draco as Snape had instructed. If he hadn't been so pressed for time he might have stopped to muse why Draco had nonhuman blood. Wasn't his entire family over-obsessed with the whole Pureblood nonsense? Neville was completely Pureblood himself, but he didn't think for a moment that it made him any better than Dean, or especially Hermione. He continued until he was almost to Winky, and then spent the rest of his remaining pot on students in the dance floor. Someone bumped into his side right after he had administered the last dosage in his cauldron. It was Professor Snape. He was furious. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? Who the fuck do you think is going to help your classmates if you're over here screwing around on the dance floor."
A calm had enveloped Neville as soon as he had started brewing. It made him take in the situation objectively, with relatively little emotion to the horror around him. Thus he managed to not rise to Snape's venomous bait, as he had on so many previous occasions. "I already finished with my table, sir. I went to help Winky with her table and then went across the dance floor at the edge by the tables in rows so that I didn't miss anybody."
Snape ignored Neville and continued to sweep the dance floor in lightening fast movements. Finally he surveyed the room and shouted, "Everyone finished?" Eliza had two more people, which she finished quickly, and the rest were merely checking to make sure they hadn't missed anyone. "Good, now go back to your respective areas and the administer the same dosage to the rest, those with nonhuman blood. If you're unsure of how much to give them, err on the side of too little, the opposite of what I asked of you with those completely human. It was stupid of our poisoner to pick a potion that is human specific. If you want to poison a roomful of people there are a wide variety that are just as effective with any species." They all brewed several more cauldrons with their already used ones and finished up in the Great Hall. There was no doubt in Neville's mind that had Snape wanted to poison the entire school with the intent to kill, there would not be a soul alive in Hogwarts.
Once they were all done, rather than relaxing the atmosphere only became more terrifying. Now they had administered the antidote and done all they could, now they had to begin the horrible process of waiting, a task Neville found he was not fond of. Snape waved his wand and all the food and plates disappeared, except for a great quantity of the pumpkin juice, which he had set aside by the door for evidence. "Neville and Winky, gather your cauldrons and come with me. Eliza and Dobby, watch over the sick and make them as comfortable as possible. Please explain to the Ministry what has happened when they arrive, which should be any minute now." With those words, he swept out of the room, Neville and Winky in tow. Neville had no illusions that Snape had picked him out of confidence - rather, he had brought with him the two he most wanted to keep an eye on: Neville, the blundering idiot, and Winky, who was still rather red-eyed and continued to look confused. "The dosage is different and far less serious for the house elves, but if they are not given the antidote within twenty-four hours it could prove fatal. We will start in the kitchen and then scourge the school to make sure that none have drunken the juice and left to finish a task in another part of the castle."
Neville was suddenly struck with horror. "Sir, what if a student left the hall for their rooms? They'll die!"
"Noble sentiments, Mr. Longbottom, but I did not sense any warm-blooded creatures aside from animals in the house common rooms. I smelt no human blood there." So now it was back to Longbottom. When Snape had been frantic earlier when the situation was a full-blown crisis Snape had automatically addressed him as Neville. He was on first name basis with no students, except for his own children.
Neville breathed a sigh of relief. "So they're all okay," he rambled, half to himself, half to the corridor they were walking down. "Trevor, and Crookshanks, and Snuffles, and-"
"Snuffles!" Snape suddenly turned ghost white. "He's here again?"
Neville hadn't even known Snuffles had gone. "Yes. . .he's here. If it was possible, I'd even say that he seemed excited about going to the feast tonight, but I didn't see him-"
Snape suddenly grabbed Neville's collar, almost causing the cauldrons he had piled one on top of another to fall to the ground. He took the cauldrons out of Neville's hand, filled one cup with the antidote, and gave them to Winky. "Go on down to the kitchens," he commanded. "We have business elsewhere." Winky stood there a second, unsure. "GO!" he screamed in her face, causing her to jump and scurry away obediantly.
Snape ran all the way to the Gryffindor common room, dragging Neville with him. Two months ago I'd be out of breath, Neville thought, pleased with himself. Had Snape gone totally mental? "Password?" the man snapped.
"Overlook," Neville barked out in a voice to match - at least in volume. "I thought you said that it only affected humans? Does it affect dogs, too?"
"Only particular dogs."
"How'd you know to find him here?"
"I sensed him in his vicinity. Now shut up and help me find him. Where would he be?"
"Probably in our rooms," Neville suggested. He didn't even need Snape's death-glance to immediately start sprinting up the stairs, showing Snape the way. He flung open the door and leapt towards Harry's bed, where Snuffles usually lay. The dog was there all right, curled up in a ball and apparently in a deep sleep, but instead of giving it the antidote Snape turned to Neville. "I need your wand; this incantation requires two people," Snape ordered.
"Why?" Neville demanded, suddenly suspicious. "What are you going to do to Harry's dog?"
"Do you want to save him or not? Repeat after me," Snape commanded. Neville sighed and repeated word for word the incantation that Snape recited. He managed to save an entire hall full of people from what had seemed like sure death - surely he would do so again now. Snape touched the end of his wand to Neville's and a bright light flew from their wands and surrounded Snuffles. Neville shielded his eyes from the light, and when he looked again instead of a black dog there, a man was curled up at the foot of the bed, his black hair strewn across his pale, thin face. Snape immediately pushed him over onto his back and poured the antidote down his throat. Neville gasped in shock - it was a face he had seen through out the newspapers, a face that every single relative he'd ever had had warned him to stay away from, and now Snape was saving him: Sirius Black!
Snape quickly fed Black the potion, and ordered Neville to retrieve a glass of water. When Neville had sprinted back from the bathroom, he found that Black seemed to have taken a turn for the worst. "Damn, damn, damn, damn," Snape hissed.
Neville became increasingly nervous. After several minutes he grabbed Snape's robe. "Sir. . .I. . . think he's dying. He's not breathing."
Snape looked up at Neville, his eyes murderously dark. "No one," he whispered. "Not a single person is going to die of poison while I am Potions Master at this school. NO ONE!" he bellowed, making Neville jump and trip over a jacket someone had left lying in the middle of the floor.
Snape starting giving Black mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. "Professor. . ." Neville was at a loss for what to do. Why should he want to rescue Black? Wasn't this the same man that had tried to kill Harry? "Maybe he's better off dead - he's a serial killer. He tried to kill Harry." Maybe that was it - Snape had freed Black and hired him to kill Harry! But that couldn't be right either - there had been bounteous amounts of opportunities for Black to kill Harry all year. That he had taken the poison himself was proof that he hadn't made it. Unless he was suicidal, Neville quickly amended.
Snape grimaced as he answered, "Black never tried to kill Potter." As much as Snape was trying to exude calmness, Neville could see that his desperation had reached a new pitch. He suddenly started chuckling softly as he looked down at the still man before him. Neville was struck with how many similarities they shared: their long dark hair, their long narrow noses, their gaunt cheekbones, their highly arched eyebrows. Could they be related? Is that was this man was causing Professor Snape so much pain? "Are you giving up then?" Snape addressed the body. "Is this it? After everything that's happened, all the countless times we tried to kill each other?" He chuckled softly. Definitely, definitely mental. "You let someone else get the better of you before I had the joy of killing you myself?"
Snape stared at the antidote in his hand as if it were a cursed object. Neville noticed that Black's chest was moving slightly. "Profes--" he started to say, but Snape waved him away and continued to rant.
"Why? You fucking prick? You think you're so great? You think you've outsmarted me? Why the hell are you doing this? I hate you! You mother-fucking asshole! Damn you! DAMN YOU!"
Now Neville was completely confused. It was apparent from the loathing in Snape's voice that he hated Black - and yet Snape had turned away and couldn't even look at him.
"Um, sir? He's breathing."
Snape started, but then began to cast diagnostic charms as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Neville let out an entire lungful of air. He hadn't even realized that he'd been holding it in. He wondered how Harry would have taken it - he seemed overwhelmingly fond of his dog. Thinking back, Neville realized that you simply couldn't ask for a better dog than Snuffles. When Neville had thought him no more than a dog he had been touched at Snuffles' single-minded devotion to Harry. Was simply an act? Or had they found something between them, some spark of love, a serial-killer who was on the run and the Boy Who Lived?
Neville's thoughts were interrupted when Black made a coughing noise. "You bastard!" Snape whispered. "Where's Harry's trunk?" he asked Neville.
"His. . .his trunk? Uh, it's that one." Snape went over and after some digging pulled out a cloak made of a material that looked like it was liquid. "Is that an invisibility cloak?" Snape nodded and covered Black with the cloak.
"You don't talk to a soul about Black, do you understand?" Snape demanded.
"You're asking me to ignore the presence of an escaped convict because a teacher asked me? A teacher I dislike at that?"
"Dislike?" Snape sneered. "Have my lost my place on your list of the hated then? I don't have time to explain grown-up situations to little boys like yourself Longbottom. I can assure you that I keep my mouth closed only under Dumbledore's strict orders. Had the choice been mine, two years ago Black would have found himself. . . .Never mind. Keep close to me: we're bringing him down to my personal chambers. He can use the study that I made into a bedroom for you. No one will look there." They took a back way down the dungeons, one that Neville knew he should never try himself, lest he find himself on the other side of the lake.
When they passed June's room on the way to Snape's study the enormity of what had happened overcame Neville. He ran to the bathroom and puked like he'd never puked before. He felt like his entire digestive system was forcing it's way up the length of his body and out his mouth. His stomach and throat burned with acid. The toilet seat felt cool against his cheek. He felt someone put a damp cloth on the back of his neck. Hands held his head up (his neck had mysteriously turned to rubber) and forced some liquid down his throat, murmuring that it was an anti-nausea potion. Finally, his vision sharpened enough that he could see several feet around him, although the haze lingered and threatened to enclose him at any second. He flushed the toilet, disgusted with himself, and staggered to the counter. Here Harry and he had had their last discussion before the Halloween feast. It could have been their last ever, he mused. The mirror greeted him with the sight of a haggard, sickly looking reflection. After splashing cold water on his face and rinsing out his mouth he could recognize it as his own. But there was now another face behind his.
June stood behind him. He continued to look into the mirror. Now he was hallucinating. If he looked back she'd be gone. He remembered reading a story where the main character had seen people in their mirrors, people that weren't there. Dead people. "Are you a ghost?" he whispered in disbelief. It couldn't be true. After everything that had happened, all the effort and heartache to save the entire school while the person he loved more than anything else in the entire world had died alone. Oh, the cruel irony! Neville didn't know if he even had any tears left to cry. Why had he deluded himself into thinking that he'd ever be happy in life? How could this happen to June? First the Death Eater's attack, then the burden of the wand, and the Demeator's attack, and the burden of the Haran, and. . .the list went on and on. Why couldn't June just be left alone? Why would anyone want this, this deliberate chaos and wreakage? Perhaps in her death she could find the peace that she never had in life. He didn't know if he could resign himself to a life without her - perhaps he'd kill himself first.
She smiled sadly. "I think you should lie down if you're seeing things, Neville."
He turned to face her. She was still there. "Are you real?" In answer she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. She made a face when she pulled away. "Yuck," she exclaimed. "Your breath stinks. Are you sick? That was you who I heard throwing up before, wasn't it?" He nodded. "So what's happened while I was asleep?"
He hugged her fiercely, burying his face in her beautiful hair, and began to sob.
