Chapter 28
Her eyes opened slowly as her head lulled to the side. A groan escaped her chest as she took a deep breath. Another person lay beside her, but she didn't recognize them, other than that they had been injured terribly, worse than she. She sat up, getting light headed as she did so. As she ran her hand through her hair, she discovered the note in the other. The note was folded neatly, but had scratchy handwriting on it, which said "only read when you're willing." It was signed by Fenrir. Anger and fear flickered within her and she put the note in her pocket, not even tempted to read it.
"How are you feeling, Sira?" someone asked. She looked up at a boy with red hair, green eyes, and freckles, waiting for the lightheadedness to pass.
"Weak," she said softly as the lightness traveled into her limbs.
"I bet so," he stated. "You lost a lot of blood."
"Am I alright though?" He nodded in response, giving her a light smile. "What's your name?" She understood how he knew her's, everyone seemed to know it.
"Ritchie Leonhart."
"It's nice to meet you, Ritchie," she said with a warm smile, "and thank you for taking care of me."
"You're welcome. Do you need anything else?" She looked around the room, seeing all of the people but not seeing the face she was searching for.
"Where- where's Scabior?" she questioned as panic filled her chest.
"He's walking around. He should be back soon." She nodded, getting up onto her feet slowly, trying to avoid any more pain or discomfort than necessary. "He was in bad shape when he was brought here. He had two breaks in his left leg, multiple fractures in his other leg, he broke his right arm and he had a few cracked ribs. Thankfully, it all was easy to fix and he had nothing severely wrong."
"Thank goodness," she whispered as she rubbed her arm, as if she was nursing a wound that wasn't even there. Ritchie studied her for a while as she lost herself in her thoughts.
"You're nothing like everyone said you were." Her eyes flickered to him, dull and confused.
"What?"
"You're kind, not savage." She shook her head, smirking a little.
"I used to be the other way around; sometimes I still believe that I am. That's what you get when you make the choices I did, when you choose the easy way out. Nothing worth your time comes easy, Ritchie. Remember that. Nothing good comes without a bit of effort." Her blue eyes closed as she shook her head. "I wished I could've realized it sooner." He gave her a small nod, not saying a word. "Thank you again, for everything you have done for me, even if I didn't deserve it." She stepped off of the platform and her eyes found the row of dead lying in the middle of the Hall. With a sigh, she walked down the row, looking for anyone she recognized. She didn't know any until she drew closer to the Weasley's, who surrounded Fred's body, mourning him. Next to Fred lay Remus and Tonks, who looked as if they were asleep, still and peaceful.
Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to pour down her face as her guilt ate at her. Maybe if she had fought harder, maybe if she hadn't left the fray to find Scabior, maybe if she had focused more on the others, and not on herself, they might still be alive and she wouldn't be regretting being alive right now to see them dead. And they just had a son, she thought, her tears rolling down her cheeks as she forced her eyes shut. If I had done more, they might still be here.
A hand rested on her should, warm and familiar. She turned and moved into his chest as his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight. "It's alright, beautiful," Scabior said. "There was nothing more you could do." She nodded as she sniffled and wiped her eyes.
For a long while, he just held her, allowing her to calm down, to think things through. Much had happened in a short amount of time. "What's going on?" she asked, still sniffling as Scabior led her away from the bodies.
"There 'as been a break in the battle. The Dark Lord called for an 'our break, which 'e 'as allowed Potter to come to the Forbidden Forest and to give 'imself up. After the 'our passes and Potter does not face 'im, the battle commences again and the Dark Lord with enter the fray 'imself." She swallowed hard, trying to comprehend what had happened.
"How did you get to the castle? How did we get to the castle?" she asked, trying to sort out her thoughts. "With the injuries you sustained, it wouldn't be possible that you could have brought me here."
"Greyback brought both of us 'ere," he stated quietly. "I don't remember much because of the amount of pain I was in, but 'e found you first and started to care for your wound. I've never seen 'im so conflicted, almost panicked. 'e picked you up and carried you away, and a few minutes later, 'e came back and got me. I couldn't take my pain anymore and I think I went unconscious for a bit. Everything was a blur."
She sighed, feeling the note in her pocket. At least now she knew why it had been left in her hand. "How much time do we have until the end of the hour?"
"Not very long, I reckon." With a nod, she dried her tears and regained her focus. If this war was to continue, she'd fight with all of her heart, even if it leads to her death.
"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him," Voldemort's voice echoed through the Great Hall. "We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone.
"The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."
Silence returned to the castle as Sira moved away from Scabior, her body trembling with her sudden rage. No, it would not end like this. A snarl broke out of her chest as she shifted forms. Her hackles rose as her body shook with her snarl, flashing vicious, white teeth. It can't end like this!
Within seconds, she burst out of the castle before anyone else was able to even leave the Great Hall. Her eyes fixed on Voldemort and his Death Eaters, who lined up around the entrance of the school. She slammed to a stop, skidding a bit, and locked eyes with her 'Lord.'
"Ah, Volkov," he said sinisterly, "the first one to give themselves to my cause. What an act of cowardice. You left me for the Order and yet you come crawling back. Maybe you should not have left in the first place."
That's what you think, she growled in her mind as she snapped her jaws at him.
"Greyback, calm your mate," he ordered.
At his words, she lunged for him, her anger compelling her to act instead of being tormented. She wanted him dead, even if she died in the process. She needed to protect what remained of her home.
But she never reached her mark.
With a hand around her muzzle and an arm wrapped around her body, she hit the ground, cushioned by a body. She recognized the scent as her attacker stood, holding her in the air. Fenrir.
"Shift," he whispered into her ear. "I won't let them harm you."
She did as she was told and shifted into her human form. He held her close, moving towards the wall of the castle, away from Voldemort. Soon, everyone in the castle went into the courtyard, just in front of the door. She struggled against Fenrir's grip, her old fear hammering through her heart. He held her tight, not letting her go.
"NO!" McGonagall cried, a horrible sound.
"No!"
"No!
"Harry! HARRY!" The voices came from Hermione, Ron and Ginny as the saw Harry's body in Hagrid's arms. She continued to struggle against Fenrir, wanting blood, wanting revenge.
"Calm down, girly," he whispered. "You're alright."
No. she wasn't alright. She was far from alright. She needed to do something. She needed to act.
"SILENCE!" Voldemort bellowed, followed by a bang and a flash of light, forcing silence onto all of them. Fenrir pulled her away from the crowd as Voldemort commanded Hagrid to lay Harry's body at his feet. There was urgency in his grip, it radiated off of his body along with his intoxicating scent. He pulled around the corner, so they couldn't be seen by the Death Eaters, and gently leaned her up against the wall, which she slid down to sit since her leg started to give her pains. He kneeled in front of her, his yellow eyes soft. A look she had never seen in them before.
There was no savageness in his gaze, or anger, or arrogance. There was only warmth and tenderness, something foreign to her from him.
"Sira, you need to listen to me," his voice was quick and sharp, filled with concern. "You need to leave. The boy is dead and, after he eradicates the rest of the Order of the Phoenix and anyone who opposes him, he's going to come after you. He wants you dead, Sira. He's going to murder you."
"Why should I care?" she asked, perplexed with the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice. "I've known I could die by his hand at any second for the last three years of my life. He even wanted me dead when I joined the Death Eaters. Why is this time any different?"
"He'll actually go through with it."
She narrowed her eyes, studying his face. There was pain written all over it. Why was it there? "When did you start caring about what happens to me?"
"I always have," he stated, his raspy voice smoother than she'd ever heard it before. He was unnerving, frightening, but not. She knew she should be afraid but she wasn't. There was no power or savageness in his eyes; they didn't look at her like she was inferior to him. That ever-present hunger was non-existent.
"Why should I believe you after what you did to me? You forced things onto me that I never wanted to do. You used me. You used me for your own personal gain and do you know what you caused? You hurt me, you impregnated me, and I'm going to have to raise my son, who will only know that his father is the most savage werewolf alive. He'll struggle in his life just because of you and your reputation and you know what? You probably don't even care. All you care about is getting what you want. You don't care about anyone but yourself."
Sorrow, pain, and anguish entered his eyes, causing something within her to regret her words. He was hurt, not anything she had ever seen on his face or in his eyes before. He had carelessly hurt her so many times before, running on his desires and his motives, but she had never hurt him. Until now.
"I do care about someone other than myself," he whispered tenderly, something she didn't believe he knew. "I care about you." He took one of her hands and held it in his while her eyes watched his face carefully, trying to look past the human emotion to find werewolf motives. To either her benefit or her demise, she found nothing. She wasn't talking to Fenrir Greyback, the most sadistic werewolf in existence; she was talking to someone completely different. The miniscule fragment of the poor werewolf that was still human, still compassionate.
How deep had she affected him to awaken this piece of him? For the man who everyone knew, the vicious beast everyone knew, the answer had to be that she affected him to the core of his being, deeper than anyone else had gone.
He was being completely honest with her. He did care about her.
"Fenrir," she managed to say in her state of shock, confusion, and wonder. All negative emotion left her, leaving her with a hollowness, but it wasn't a bad feeling. It was good. It was warm, like having the sun on her face on a calm day where she didn't have to think, she didn't have to feel. But why did she now feel this way? Why did she feel this way about him? Him, of all people. The most vicious werewolf in the world, the one who had been so cruel to her.
His eyes gazed deeply into hers, waiting for her to say something else.
"I care about you too."
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug as she closed her eyes, feeling numb and a bit relieved. There was a soul within this man, a caring, living soul, and she was glad she found it.
"I won't let anything hurt you, Sira," he stated softly into her ear.
"I know." He held her tightly, reinforcing his words, his promise. She didn't know if she should thank him or what since her feeling were still so mixed about him. She at least thought she knew how he felt about her, but she didn't know if she felt the same towards him. The man that he was at that very second, she knew she could fall in love with, given the chance, but the man he usually was frightened her. She might've even hated him. She didn't know how to describe any of this though, to put it simply, she was confused.
Out of nowhere, the sounds of battle filled the air, causing fear to go through both of their hearts. "You need to get out of here," he stressed as he stood, helping her to her feet. "It's already begun and you don't have much time." He started to walk away from her, heading towards the battle.
"It doesn't feel right," she stated, causing him to turn around and look into her eyes. A hint of dread lived within his. "It doesn't feel right to run away from my friends, my family, not when they need me. I owe them so much more than that. I've spent so many years running and fighting to keep myself alive, but I never stopped to think about anyone else. It was always about me and my needs, my desires, and they deserves better than that."
"Sira," he whispered, "the Dark Lord will murder you." She smiled slightly and shook her head, almost in disbelief about what she wanted to say.
"If my life is supposed to end tonight, then so be it. I'll die with the ones who truly believed in me, who cared about what happened to me, who might have even seen me as their friend. I owe them my life, even if it means dying at the hand of Voldemort because they would've gladly done it for me any day." He looked down, sighing with disappointment and concern. "It's nothing against you, Fenrir. I'm not saying that I want to die. I'm saying that if it comes down to it, I'd die for them."
"You possess a heart too pure for a tainted man like me," he mumbled, looking desperately into her eyes.
"My heart is not as pure as you may believe. There are multiple scars that dwell there, old wounds that never fully healed."
"They are only superficial; they have no effect on what lies within."
"That may be true but it affects the purity of it, and look at you, with this sudden change of heart. I don't see you now as I did before. If you were like this all of the time, many more people would change their opinions of you."
"Around you, somehow I'm able to control myself. I'm more human, but around anyone else, lycanthropy reigns supreme."
"Do you enjoy being human?"
She never heard his answer since the battle had reached them and he was gone within moments. By the looks on the faces of the Death Eaters she saw, especially the ones fleeing as she drew her wand, she knew one thing and right now, it meant more to her than anything else.
The war would soon be over.
Harry Potter was alive.
