ֺ
╔═══*.·:·. ✧ ✦ ✧ .·:·.*═══╗
Chapter 45
Together
╚═══*.·:·. ✧ ✦ ✧ .·:·.*═══╝
.•° ✿ °•.
Content warning: blood, discussion/depiction of death.
°•. ✿ .•°
THERE WAS SOMETHING damp all over her, the warm, thick, sticky feeling of blood bubbling numbly from her stomach and plastering her shirt to her skin. The taste of it saturated her mouth, her fingers were cold, and she couldn't feel her feet. Distantly she knew that was bad but she was too tired to panic.
The cold was familiar. She'd felt it before, that same deep heaviness creeping in from her limbs and erasing a bit more of her as it inched inwards to her heart. She could almost remember it, the glimmer of a memory of waking up in a strange room feeling like this… and Dumbledore… she could have sworn that Dumbledore was there –
Marina's thoughts snagged. She could hear something, a voice from somewhere far, far above her, muted and dun like she was deep underwater and they were at the surface, someplace warm and clear and unreachable.
She knew that voice.
But over the muted trill of magic and the flashes of red light bleeding through her closed eyelids, something else very strange was happening. A wobbly, dizzy feeling was taking over her like her body had become the heatwaves rising from sweltering tarmac, the noise around her fading out all at once and the world going utterly silent.
" – her awake!" another voice said suddenly, so loud and so close that it frightened her. "Make sure she doesn't slip away again!"
Marina felt hands against her face and with insurmountable effort she compelled her eyes to open. It was him. He was here. God he really was beautiful, even looking like that, all tense and afraid with his eyes wide and his lips tight, red all over his hands and down his neck.
"Tom," she said numbly, battling against her heavy eyes drifting shut.
"Stay awake," Tom commanded firmly, pushing her blood-stuck hair off her face. "Do you understand? Stay awake for me."
Marina nodded, too tired to speak, when pain suddenly erupted across her body and she moaned in agony, blind under its crescendo.
"What did you do?" she could hear Tom demanding. "What's happening?"
"The bite is not responding as it should," the other person muttered. "This may take some time."
"She doesn't have time!"
The pain faded just enough for her to crack her eyes open and he was the first thing she saw. The only thing she saw. "Tom," she whispered again, the tears on her face feeling boiling hot and deadened numbness still reaching in from her extremities, getting closer and closer…
"Marina," came Tom's voice, loud and urgent, shaking her. "Marina! Stay awake!"
But she was so tired and he was drifting away, fading out as she sank into that mute cold, calm and quiet, still and heavy. By the time she realised that she couldn't hear Tom's voice anymore, couldn't feel his hand against her cheek anymore, it was too late.
ֺ
ֺ
ֺ
ֺ
ֺ
ֺ
ֺ
ֺ
ֺ
ֺ
The world returned in a sudden roar and Marina gasped hard, immediately descending into ragged coughs as the world spun and the pain crashed back through her. Through the madness someone was pulling her up against them, their arms around her tight and firm, and even though the world was a blur of pain and light and sound, she knew that it was him. She could feel his chest moving with heavy breaths, his hands shaking where they held her to him, and the vibrations of his voice despite the numb deafness thrumming in her ears.
Marina reached up her leaden arms and let them fall limply around his shoulders, pressing her face against his neck, breathing him in, holding onto him like she was holding onto life.
It took a few moments before she could make out what he was saying.
"You died," he was whispering into her hair, over and over, his voice hollow and panicked, his arms tightening around her. "You died… you… you died…"
"I'm fine," Marina murmured tiredly against his skin, trying to wave her hand dismissively – though she wasn't entirely sure it moved at all.
Tom pulled back and stared at her, his restless fingers moving to her cheek and his eyes wide as he scanned her face. Marina frowned. He looked very scared. "Are you okay?" she asked, squinting as she tried to dispel the blurriness from her vision.
Tom gave a single incredulous, mirthless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Am I okay?" he repeated. "Marina, do you know where you are?"
"Hogwarts," she said dumbly, trying to look around. "Did – what happened? Where's –"
"Stop moving," came a sharp voice from her other side. A very stern looking woman was leaning over her, greying hair falling from what had once been immaculate rolls and her wand moving at lightning speed. "You've lost a lot of blood and if you move around too much there is a very good chance you will pass out, do you understand?"
Marina blinked at her. "Madam Pomfrey?"
Madam Pomfrey gave her a tight-lipped nod. "Yes, I remember you, too," she said quietly, brow furrowed in concentration as she focused on something on Marina's stomach. "Worst case of time sickness I'd ever seen."
"I managed to top that, actually," Marina muttered, tiredly letting her head fall against Tom's chest and closing her eyes. "Should have seen me last September."
"This is hardly the time to be procacious, Marina," Tom said disparagingly.
It took an insurmountable effort but Marina lifted her head to meet his gaze. "Procacious, huh?" she echoed with a very feeble half-grin.
Tom let out a very long breath as he looked down at her, visibly deadlocked between berating her further and relief that she was even capable of inappropriately timed jokes at all.
"Drink this," Pomfrey interrupted, tipping a small phial of dark purple liquid into Marina's mouth that she half-choked down. "Blood-replenishing potion."
The second the phial was empty Pomfrey stood and left without another word, and Marina watched as she crouched over a nearby student with blood streaming from a cut on his temple. The sounds of people sobbing in the hushed dull that hung over the Hall were suddenly unignorable.
"This is the hour he gives, isn't it," she said, staring at the wincing boy as Pomfrey slowly charmed his skin to stitch together. "To take care of the injured."
"Yes," Tom said tightly, "Marina, why are you here?"
"I couldn't just let it happen," she said defensively, "I thought I could help."
"Help," Tom echoed flatly through gritted teeth. "You were mauled by an Acromantula."
Marina's stomach twisted and suddenly she was remembering the explosion that had torn the world into deafening thunder and crashing rock, the air thick and grey with dust in its aftermath and the sound of eight huge legs scuttling towards her, teeth seizing her and a searing, burning pain.
"You were the one person who knew what was going to happen here today," Tom was saying angrily, "the only one who should have know better than to come here –"
But she wasn't paying attention to him. Another memory had crested. The moments before the explosion, seeing the twins with Percy and Charlie duelling in the corridor, hearing the shouts and knowing, knowing what was coming next.
" – told you to stop being so impetuous and yet you insist on being chronically recalcitrant –"
"Where are the Weasleys?" Marina interrupted numbly, her tone so dead that Tom immediately stopped talking, his brow furrowing as he assessed her.
"I'm not sure," he said slowly. "Arthur should be here. Why?"
Marina seized at him and tried to pull herself up in a scramble, but Tom relentlessly guided her back down. "Marina, stop, Pomfrey said –"
"Tom," she said, her frantic gaze settling on him. "Help me find them."
Tom hesitated, his frown deepening as he stared back at her – but he gave a small, curt nod and slowly helped her to her feet.
It didn't take long. They were huddled around a body in the middle of the Hall and Marina's skin felt aflame as her blood turned to ice at the sight. Even from a distance she could see Mrs Weasley sobbing as she lay across the body, Mr Weasley kneeling beside her, Ginny standing in tears with Fred and George on either side, their arms around her shoulders and their faces blank and broken –
Marina faltered, drawing her and Tom to a halt. "That's…" she whispered hollowly, staring at the twins. "That's not…"
Her heart lurched so hard that her vision swam and her eyes dropped to the body beneath Mrs Weasley's prostrate form, his skin too pallid beneath his freckles, his closed eyes too still on his lifeless face.
"No," she murmured, "no, no, no –"
She didn't feel the stone beneath her knees as she fell beside him, couldn't hear Mrs Weasley's sobs anymore, could not see for the tears blinding her, and for a moment it was as if Charlie had taken her with him into death and the world wouldn't touch either of them ever again.
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Time ceased to pass, the steady succession of seconds dissolving into a single endless moment that swallowed everything. Charlie's unnatural stillness yawned before her and she stared at the smattering of scars on his limp arm lying at his side. Tears ached in her eyes at the sight of them, moments of his vivacity and adventures etched as white footprints on his tanned skin. What a path he'd been walking, full of brightness and vitality. How senseless that he would never take another step.
There was no knowing how long she stayed there but when she could think about anything other than the body before her, she realised that Tom was beside her with a hand on her waist. "Where's the cup?" Marina asked blankly.
"I don't know," he said quietly.
"We need to find it," she said, forcing herself to stand on unfeeling legs. "Now."
"The cup?" someone whispered suddenly.
Marina turned to see a stranger standing with Ginny whom she recognised instantly. She had a mass of twisting, frizzy brown hair, warm brown skin, and dark, intelligent eyes.
"Hufflepuff's cup," said Marina, too numb to even feel excited.
"How do you know about that?" Hermione asked slowly.
Marina shared a glance with Tom. "Wait here," she muttered to him before turning and motioning Hermione away from the Weasleys.
Hermione followed, casting Tom a curious look over her shoulder.
"We know about the Horcruxes," Marina said flatly, rounding on her when they reached a quiet corner of the Hall.
"How?" Hermione asked at once, eyes sharpening.
Marina nodded over at Tom. "That's Tom Riddle."
Hermione's eyes went wide and her head whipped around to look at him. "That's young V-Voldemort?" she whispered, aghast.
Marina grit her teeth. "No," she said curtly, "but I understand the confusion. The point is that he can destroy the Horcrux. Or more accurately I suppose… he can fix it."
"How?" Hermione said again, still staring at Tom who was talking to Bill in low, grave tones that didn't travel.
"Long story," muttered Marina, "but he can."
Hermione turned back at Marina. "How does he even exist?" she asked, still looking horrified. "Did Voldemort make him?"
Anger flared alongside the impossible mess of emotions in Marina's chest. "No," she said brutally.
Hermione visibly bristled. "You're very defensive of him," she said accusingly.
"Do you want us to get rid of the cup or not?" Marina snapped.
Hermione crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "Who exactly are you?"
"Nobody," Marina said impatiently, waving a hand, "not the point, now are you going to –"
"You want me to hand over part of Voldemort's soul so that you can give it to his younger self and you won't even explain who you are?" Hermione interrupted, eyes narrowing.
"I already said he's not young Voldemort!" Marina said angrily.
"Then what is he?"
"Dumbledore seriously didn't tell you anything?" said Marina with equal parts exasperation and ire.
Hermione's brows shot up. "You knew Dumbledore?" she asked in an entirely different tone.
"'Course I did," grumbled Marina, crossing her arms too.
Hermione assessed her for a moment. "Why should I trust you?" she asked suspiciously.
"Why should you trust me?" Marina repeated coolly. "Well, let's see, I almost died just now fighting in this bloody war, I was very nearly murdered by Voldemort himself a while back, I've faced up against dementors, Horcruxes, basilisks, and bloody Death Eaters even though I'm a goddamn Muggle who can't do much more than chat shit and throw punches, I've been tortured, starved, thrown through time way too many fucking times, my best friend is dead on the ground over there and I've been trying to solve these fucking Horcruxes since 1991. Do you need more reasons?"
Hermione stared at her.
"Oh Dumbledore once said he had 'every faith in me'," Marina added with bitter sarcasm. "I suppose that trumps everything else, right?"
Hermione took a long, strained breath, chewing at her bottom lip with visible indecision – just like Marina did when she was stressed. At the sight of the familiar mannerism mirrored back at her, Marina's frustration was snuffed out so quickly that she felt cold. She dragged her hands down her face, trying not to cry when the image of Charlie's pale, dead face immediately filled the blackness behind her closed eyes.
"Look," she muttered, ignoring the way her voice trembled, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't yell at you… I'm sorry." She lowered her hands curtly and met Hermione's gaze. "I know you don't know me, and you have every reason to be suspicious, but you've got to trust that we can do this. That he can do this." Marina looked over at Tom again and found his dark eyes on her, watching their conversation from across the Hall with an impenetrable expression. "It'll work if he touches it," she said quietly.
"What'll work?" Hermione pressed carefully.
"Remorse is the only thing that can heal a Horcrux," said Marina said, wrenching her eyes away from Tom, "but he needs to touch it."
Hermione arched a brow and glanced at Tom herself. "He regrets the things he's done?" she asked coolly.
"Technically he didn't do them," Marina said, rubbing her eye with the heel of her palm. "You could say that he regrets the things that Voldemort has done."
"So he's never killed anyone?" Hermione said at once.
Marina's stomach dropped, but there was no use lying. "He was responsible for Myrtle's death," she said dully, "he opened the Chamber of Secrets in 1943."
Hermione huffed a cynical laugh and levelled her with a glacial look. "And you want me to trust him?"
"Dumbledore did," Marina said stiffly.
"Dumbledore wasn't always right about everything."
Marina looked at her in surprise. "Finally something we can agree on," she said slowly.
Hermione seemed to reassess her. "What's your name?" she asked carefully.
"Marina."
She held out her hand. "Hermione."
Marina shook it, giving her a brief smile. "Yeah, I know."
Hermione gave her a curious look but didn't push it. They both re-crossed their arms at the exact same time. "Dumbledore told Harry that the other Horcruxes had been destroyed," Hermione said suspiciously.
"I'm sure he did," said Marina very flatly, "I suppose it's not technically untrue, in a sense of the word."
"But you're saying that he healed them," Hermione said with a pointed nod in Tom's direction.
"Yeah."
"Why should I believe you?"
"If you go get the cup, I can show you."
Hermione peered at her. "Why do you think I don't have it?"
"If you did then Tom would have collapsed when you were over there," Marina jerked her head behind them. "He can't get close to them without it pretty severely messing him up."
Hermione was biting her lip again, and Marina held her breath, waiting.
"Fine," said Hermione curtly, drawing her wand.
Marina nodded and caught Tom's eye again – it wasn't hard, he still hadn't looked away from her. She waved him over and he immediately approached them.
"So you're Tom Riddle," Hermione said in a sharp voice the second he came to a halt beside Marina.
"I am," he replied smoothly.
"Voldemort's heir."
Marina shot her a look and she sighed reluctantly. "Not his heir, then. His… antecedent."
"I used to be," said Tom softly.
Hermione was watching him like a hawk. "If I give you Hufflepuff's cup, you can fix it? Destroy the Horcrux?"
Tom nodded.
Very slowly and with no shortage of apprehension, Hermione took hold of the small, beaded bag slung over her shoulder and reached inside. "I did have it," she said quietly to Marina, "but the charm on this means that it's really quite far away…"
After a long moment of rummaging around that was entirely disproportionate to the size of the little bag, Hermione drew from its depths a small, simple golden chalice with a badger embossed into its side, a single black onyx eye glittering up at them.
Tom immediately collapsed.
Marina only just managed to get her arm around him before he hit the floor, his head rolling forward as his face crumpled in pain and his breath came out choked and stilted. Marina staggered under his sudden weight and slowly lowered him to his knees, glancing up at Hermione. "If you're going to do this, do it fast," she said grimly, "this isn't exactly a pleasant experience."
Hermione – looking very alarmed at Tom's reaction – thrust the cup out towards her.
Marina blinked and took it. "Thanks," she said frankly, before looking to Tom. "I've got it – are you ready for this?"
Tom choked out a laugh and looked up at her. "Is that – one of your jokes?" he managed to get out.
"No," Marina said with a fragile flicker of smile, "You know me, Tom, I'd never make a joke at such a serious moment."
He gave her as dry a look as he seemed able to muster through the waves of pain, and then squinted up at Hermione. "How are you – with healing magic?" he said through laboured breaths.
"Adept," she said at once.
"Try to – wake me up – quickly."
"What about Pomfrey?" Hermione said hastily, looking around for the matron.
Tom shook his head wordlessly as his eyes shut tightly and his head dropped again.
Marina sighed tensely through her nose. "Pomfrey's got enough on her plate," she muttered. "He won't want to pull her away from them." She nodded at the platform where Pomfrey was removing a splintered piece of wood the length of a chair leg from a student's thigh.
Hermione's gaze lingering appraisingly on Tom's pained face. "I'll do what I can," she said slowly.
An unhealthy sweat had appeared on Tom's skin and he looked like he was on the brink of either passing out or vomiting as he stared down at the little golden cup in Marina's hand.
"Tom," Marina murmured.
His eyes flashed from the cup to her face and Marina recognised the fear she'd seen there a million years ago when he'd been about to reach for the diadem in Albania, a million years ago when he'd just been a kid, when she'd still believed that she could stop the war, before all the death and the pain, before she'd lost everything but him.
"You can do this," she said calmly, and in that moment she knew that it was true. She couldn't bear for it to be anything else.
He nodded slowly, not looking away. "Okay," he said quietly.
Marina lifted the cup but still he didn't look away, his eyes fixed on hers as he reached out and brushed his fingers against the cup's golden surface.
Tom pitched forward with a choking breath as blood erupted from his lips, splattering over the stone floor and up Marina's jeans. The cup clanged loudly to the floor as she dropped it to catch him but unexpectantly he managed to stay kneeling before her; he was grasping at her blindly, drawing ragged breaths and pale as a sheet – but he was conscious.
"Hey," Marina said loudly as blood started to stream in a thick line from his nose, "hey it's okay, I'm right here." She looked up at Hermione who was wide-eyed and ashen. "That healing magic would be real good about now!"
"Right," Hermione gasped, pointing her wand at Tom's face. "Vilumea!"
It didn't seem to have an effect. "Got anything else?" Marina said through gritted teeth, watching as Tom heaved and more blood spilled over his lips and down onto Hufflepuff's cup on the ground between them.
Hermione crouched beside them and started muttering charms in a ceaseless stream, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Tom," said Marina, lifting his face with one hand. "Can you hear me?"
Tom's hands balled into fists of her jumper where he was gripping her shoulders, his jaw tight and his eyes firmly shut. Blood was still pouring from his nose and she could see it coming from his ears too. He looked in agony, and Hermione's muttered spells grew even more hurried.
"You're gonna be okay," Marina said, trying to sound confident in the face of her trembling resolve. "Please, Tom." Her voice broke. "Please be okay."
Hermione cast a spell that glowed with a strange grey light and then sat back, watching for Tom's reaction. Marina's heart pounded loud and panicked in the sudden silence, holding her breath and not daring to even blink – and then Tom slowly opened his eyes. Marina gave a strangled laugh of relief as she leaned closer, not even slightly caring about the blood on his face as she pressed their foreheads together. "Oh my god, Tom, oh my god that was – holy shit…"
She couldn't stop touching him, his cheeks, his jaw, his shoulders, and slowly he managed to calm his breathing and meet her gaze. There was a beat of silence.
"Hello," Tom murmured tiredly.
"Hi," Marina said automatically, staring at him wide-eyed.
"That… wasn't so bad," he said, wincing slightly. "Certainly easier than the others."
"That wasn't bad?" Hermione said in disbelief beside them.
"The first time he had a seizure and his heart stopped," Marina said grimly.
Hermione looked at Tom aghast but he wasn't paying attention, already pulling his wand from his pocket and wearily charming away some of the blood coating his hands and face. When he was done his hand dropped in exhaustion and he leaned forward with a fatigued exhale, his forehead falling against Marina's shoulder.
"You okay?" she said quietly against his hair.
He nodded without a word, turning his face into her neck as his arms slowly laced around her waist.
"Hermione?"
Marina glanced up to see a very tall, very lanky teenage boy with flaming red Weasley hair and dark shadows under his red, swollen eyes. He was giving her and Tom a very bemused look and turned to Hermione questioningly.
"I better go explain," Hermione muttered as she stood, taking Ron by the arm and leading him away quickly.
Marina watched them go for a moment, captivated by the impossibility of who she was looking at before her attention was pulled back by Tom's voice.
"I thought you were dead," he murmured into her shoulder.
She froze.
"When I saw you lying there, I thought you were dead," he continued, sounding exhausted. "You weren't moving and there was blood everywhere, and you were so pale, and when I touched you your skin was cold, and…"
Tom trailed off, and after a moment he slowly lifted his head. Under the weight of his gaze, Marina suddenly felt like she might cry again.
"Marina," he said softly. "I –"
"Harry Potter is dead," Voldemort said, his voice deafening and inescapable. There were screams across the Hall and heads jolted up, looking around in fear. "He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone."
Marina's skin felt electrified. She had lost track of time, not been paying attention to what was going on around her, not realised that in the time she'd been unconscious, or at Charlie's side, or with Tom and the cup that Harry had most likely slipped up to Dumbledore's office and watched Snape's memories, stolen from the school and into the forest.
She looked at Tom, still pale, blood drying at his nose, his hair half-plastered to his forehead and his eyes wide as he stared back at her.
"The battle is won," said Voldemort, "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."
The Hall erupted into chaos, cries and shouts, frantic movement as people stumbled for the door, unwilling and unable to believe what they had been told.
"He did it," Marina said numbly. "He… he really did it."
Tom's jaw went tight and his head fell, staring hard at the golden cup on the floor between them, still spattered with his blood. Harry would be alive, Marina knew that much – but Tom's soul would never be complete. Even if they somehow figured out a way to rob Voldemort of his fraction, Tom would be forever trapped in Limbo upon his death.
"We should go too," said Tom quietly.
"Tom…"
"Let's go," he interrupted sharply, forcing himself to his feet and stumbling a bit.
"Tom – wait –"
But he seized her hand and led her with the crowd streaming out onto the steps of the school. Marina glowered at the back of his head and twisted her forearm hard, breaking his hold before they even left the Hall. He rounded on her at once. "What?" he demanded coldly.
Marina gestured in exasperation. "What's the plan? What are we doing?"
"There is no plan," Tom hissed, stepping forward. "Part of my soul is destroyed, Marina, there is nothing left for us to do. We're done."
"No," she whispered.
"No?" he repeated, eyes narrowing.
"We've got to do something."
"Kill the snake," Tom said harshly, "and then kill me."
"That's not going to happen!"
"Marina, it's over."
"It's not!"
"Marina."
"NO!"
The scream hadn't come from her, but it might has well have. McGonagall's anguish was drowned out by others shouting too, by Bellatrix's terribly familiar laugh, Voldemort's scream for silence, and a hollow, resounding bang that echoed over the mountains like a gunshot.
"We need to go," Tom said quietly.
Marina felt her chin trembling and pursed her lips hard to stop it, her eyes sliding past Tom as she turned and looked back at the quiet Hall behind them. The ceiling above showed the black night sky, the dusted stars jarringly beautiful and fringed with billowing grey clouds far above a hundred flickering candles, their little tear-drop flames casting a warm glow Marina couldn't feel. She stared at the line of bodies, seeing Charlie, seeing – her chest clenched and crumpled – Remus and Tonks.
She'd wanted to stand in this Hall since she was five years old but in that moment she felt nothing but the strangest sense of betrayal. Hogwarts had been a promise that there was something more waiting, some distant place to be swept away to where things were mysterious and magical and alive, where impossible things were common place, where she could be safe and happy and home. As she looked upon the dead, the dust and the rubble, Marina felt the realisation slide into place. Magic or not, Hogwarts was just another place. Voldemort had broken its walls, brought death into its sanctuary, blind to the depths of the pain he'd born.
She turned back to Tom. Tom who was still there waiting for her, Tom who had been through it all with her, standing there together in the only place Tom had ever called home and where Marina had once kept her hope. Voldemort had consumed them both, stolen Marina's life, destroyed Tom's soul, torn apart home and hope alike.
And yet, through it all, there they stood together.
"He can't have you," Marina whispered. "He doesn't get to take you, too."
The smallest frown appeared on his face and he stepped closer, pulling from his pocket a thin golden chain from which hung the gleaming Wardore that Moody had given her a million, million years ago. She stared at it as Tom gently placed it around her neck and took her face in his hands.
"He can't have you either," he said quietly.
Marina nodded, unable to speak. Tom lowered a hand and she took it, warmth spreading across her skin as they laced their fingers together like he himself was a phoenix flint, and together they turned towards the roaring crowd and Voldemort beyond.
.•° ✿ °•.
A/N: I started writing this the second I posted the last chap and have deadass been working on it every day since. Was a toughie for sure, but these last few might take a bit of extra time since I've been building certain things up for ages and really want to get everything right!
We are (I think) 2 to 3 chapters from the end...
°•. ✿ .•°
