Maybe It's Time, a harry potter fanfic

WC: 3528

Warnings: character death, suicidal ideation, grief

o . o . o

Maybe It's Time

But I just wanna see it back on your body
Watch you dance around and tell you I'm sorry
Maybe it's time to put your dress away
Even if I don't want to, babe

Antonin walked through the doorway of his apartment, leaning heavily on his wooden walking stick. Everything looked the same as when he had left, but how could that be possible when so much had changed since then? It felt like an assault on his mind. The only thing that seemed to have changed was the bouquet of red roses sitting in a vase on the countertop. At least, it used to be a bouquet of roses. Now the stalks were dried up husks sitting in murky brown water, and the countertop around the vase was littered with curling petals dried a deep, dark burgundy instead of bright red. The bouquet looked how he felt inside - dead, crumbled.

He moved through the apartment slowly, cataloguing the details, but little else had changed. The bookshelf was still crammed with novels and DVDs and souvenirs from vacations. Mary's favourite blanket was still neatly folded over the back of the sofa. He sat down, pulling it over him and breathing deeply. Curling up on the couch, Antonin balled his hands into fists and pressed the heels of them to his eyes. This was all wrong. It was wrong that everything looked the same, wrong that he was here without her. He couldn't bear it.

Tears began to well in his eyes and Antonin squeezed them shut tightly, pulling the blanket closer around himself as though he could shut out the world. He drifted in and out of sleep, dreaming of Mary and his life before.

o . o . o

"Are you ready?" Antonin called from the kitchen as he fastened his silver watch around his wrist. "We're going to be late, especially if there's traffic."

"Oh yes, all that notorious countryside traffic," Mary teased as she emerged from their bedroom, still trying to fasten one earring.

Antonin had to stop for a moment to collect himself. As always, Mary looked absolutely beautiful, but today she looked especially radiant. Her white sundress seemed to gleam against her pale skin, a stark contrast to the loose waves of chocolate brown hair that hung over one shoulder. She was wearing bright red lipstick - his favourite because it complimented her cerulean eyes so well. She looked like an angel. His angel.

"We still have to get out to the countryside," he pointed out, stepping closer to her so he could wrap his arms around her waist and press a soft kiss to her cheek. "You look beautiful."

She smiled brightly at his whispered words, placing her hand on his crisp white shirt, just over his heart.

"Thank you," she answered, giving him a quick kiss before pulling away. "And I don't think they'll start without us, darling, it is our rehearsal dinner."

"That's true," he admitted, his smile matching hers at the mention of their wedding. "Speaking of… these are for you."

He picked up the wrapped bouquet of roses on the counter and held them out to her. She took them delightedly, immediately bringing them to her nose so she could smell their perfume. Mary moved toward the decorative armoire, opening its glass doors to extract a vase for the flowers. Before she put them in water, Mary carefully pulled a single red rose free.

When Antonin gave her a curious look, she simply replied, "What? They're too beautiful to elave them all behind."

"C'mon then, let's go," he said, chuckling softly at his fiancée.

Mary was right, of course. They had absolutely no difficulty getting out of the city and were soon cruising down narrow country lanes. A bit more relaxed now that the prospect of traffic and tardiness was behind them, Antonin reached out to take Mary's hand, looking over to smile at her. She made him so happy, even in these small, quiet moments. Perhaps most in moments like this, with sunlight streaming through the window and her hand in his. Life felt perfect in moments like this, and Antonin thought he could stay like this forever, never changing.

The car came whizzing around the curve of the road far too fast, leaving no time for Antonin to react. Even if it had, the road was too narrow to swerve out of the way. A heartbeat later, the other car was slamming into theirs.

They flipped sideways, their car crashing into the short boundary wall and careening over it, toppling onto the grass on the other side with a series of sickening crunches and the screech of torn metal. When it came to a stop, Antonin lifted his head with great difficulty. The car was resting at a diagonal, with the top of the passenger door wedged firmly against the ground. Every window was shattered, glass everywhere, scraping across their skin. Pain sparked through his entire body, and he knew that it was only the beginning. Adrenaline would keep the worst of it at bay for now. He blinked his eyes, trying to see more clearly, and struggled to turn his head to the side.

"Mary?" he groaned, trying to reach out for her.

When he finally managed to turn far enough to see Mary, he let out a groan of despair. Red blood bloomed across her white dress and gashes tore across her skin. Her eyes were closed and a deep cut on her forehead slowly dripped blood. This was a trick of his mind, it had to be. How could Mary look so fragile? How could she break so easily? He struggled to reach for her, pain searing through his shoulder at the movement, but he pushed through it.

"Mary, please," he begged as his hand found hers. "Open your eyes, please. You can't… you can't… Mary, I need you, please, open your eyes."

She didn't respond to his appeals, and he couldn't tell if she was even still breathing, though he would allow himself to consider the alternative. She simply had to be. Antonin cried out in frustration as he struggled against the seatbelt that restrained him, but there was no point to it. It was too tight, and even if he could remove it, the steering wheel had him pinned now. He cried out in frustration, pain and fear, slamming his head backward against the seat as if that would somehow help his situation. He could hear sirens some way away, so the other driver must have had the presence of mind to call emergency services. As Antonin looked at his fiancée, he prayed that the ambulance would get here in time.

He was struggling to breathe now, fighting to keep his eyes open and stay conscious. In a way he didn't care - it didn't matter what happened to him, as long as Mary was okay. And if she wasn't… he didn't want to be without her. He couldn't be without her. As his eyelids began to feel too heavy to keep open, Antonin could make out the glow of red and blue lights against the trees. Good. They made it.

o . o . o

Bright lights began to filter through Antonin's eyelids, stinging his mind. He felt like he would go blind if he opened them, so he kept them shut, slowly becoming conscious of the sounds and sensations around him.

He was in a bed now, he was sure of that, the softness of the mattress a very different feel from the crushed car he had been in. He didn't feel any pain anymore either, and for a brief moment, his addled mind wondered if this was some sort of afterlife. But that was silly. There were no beds in the afterlife, were there? It wasn't a physical place, if you believed in it at all, it was spiritual, a place for the soul to reside without the body. So if this wasn't that, it must be a hospital.

As he focused, he could hear the low beep of a heart rate monitor and feel the pressure of the pulse oximeter on his fingertip. The blanket that covered him was heavy and rough beneath his hands, and he could smell the sterile scent of hospitals. Slowly, he became aware of two low voices having a whispered argument somewhere in his vicinity.

"He's out of the woods," the first voice - a male-sounding one - said. "We should tell him. He needs to know."

"He's stable, but he could still take a turn for the worse," a woman replied authoritatively. "News like that can devastate a person, and depression can severely impact recovery."

"He'll notice eventually, and the longer we hold off, the worse it'll be. He'll lose all trust in us," the man argued.

Antonin had no idea what they were talking about, but it didn't sound good. Were they talking about him? Had something gone wrong? Maybe they'd had to cut off his leg or something. Antonin felt too numb to care if they had.

They were quiet for a few minutes, and Antonin felt a twinge of curiosity. He was almost tempted to open his eyes, but it felt like too much effort, and the light still stung.

"They were supposed to be getting married," the woman said at last, more quietly than before. "They were on their way to the rehearsal. The family says he absolutely adored her. He doted on her."

"Putting if off won't make her death hurt any less," the man replied.

As Antonin realized what they were talking about, the news hit him like a train head on. Mary. He felt like his heart was squeezing and he was losing all ability to breathe. This couldn't be possible, it had to be a dream, a nightmare. He could hear the machine beeping faster as his heart pounded and his mind spun out of control.

This was his fault. He did this. He would never be able to forgive himself for this. Antonin felt like his body was sinking deeper into the mattress, and he wished it would swallow him up. He wanted to die. How could life ever go on without her? For the last four years, every vision he'd had of his future had centered around Mary. How could that be ripped away so quickly? Tears began to dampen his cheeks, and he hoped the doctors were gone now. He didn't want them to be there - he wanted privacy and solitude. The only person who could ever make him feel better was dead, what use was anyone else to him?

As his world tore itself apart around him, Antonin prayed that something would go wrong and his life would be allowed to slip away. It wasn't out of hope that he would see his beloved again in the afterlife, because he really wasn't sure he believed in any of that. He just didn't think he could go on without her. Maybe he would go through the motions of living, but he couldn't imagine feeling joy again, or excitement. All that lay ahead of him was despair and devastation.

o . o . o

People filed out of the cemetery slowly, each offering Antonin their condolences as they left, but most of them blurred together. He couldn't tell friend from coworker from second cousin, and he didn't much care to try. Mary's parents and her younger sister stood a short way away, all of them wiping tears from their eyes. He felt like he should go to them, be with them in mourning, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Of course they loved her, she was their family, but it wasn't the same thing. She had been his partner, the love of his life, his entire future.

Eventually, Mrs. Macdonald pulled her husband away from the grave, their remaining daughter following close behind. Mary's mother laid her hand on Antonin's shoulder as they departed, and he briefly placed his hand over hers in acknowledgement. This was not the last time they would see each other. They would have been family, and those ties wouldn't be severed so easily. And they alone had any idea of each other's grief. Like a little club - perhaps the most depressing one in existence.

Antonin stayed behind, leaning on his cane as he stared into the abyss of the hole in front of him. A deep hole in the ground to mirror the gaping hole in his life. He wanted to fall into it. The two weeks since the accident had been torture, and it wasn't getting any easier. He couldn't do this. He was nothing without Mary.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and Antonin turned to look, expecting to see Mary's mother or sister again. But instead he saw Regulus standing behind him, looking somber.

"Thanks for coming," Antonin murmured to his best friend, voice hoarse from grief.

"There's something I have to tell you," Regulus said quietly. "I spoke to my brother the other day, a few of his friends are coppers around here. He said... after they took you to the hospital, they arrested the other driver. Ant, they said he was drunk. Proper wasted."

Antonin nodded, swallowing the news. It ought to make him feel better, ought to lessen his guilt, but it did nothing but add rage and hatred to the emotions roiling within him.

"Thank you," he replied stiffly, turning back to the grave.

Regulus was quiet for a few long moments before he spoke again. "We should go. It isn't good for you to stand here all day and… We should go."

"I don't want to go back to her family's house," Antonin answered, not taking his eyes off the grave.

"That's fine," Regulus agreed without hesitation. "You can stay with me for as long as you want."

"No, I… I want to go home," Antonin asserted.

"Ant, are you sure?" Regulus asked, his expression twisted in concern. "Nobody's been back since… I think Lily and some of the others were planning to go and… and clean a bit."

"No," Antonin insisted. "There's no need for that. It's kind of them, but I'd rather they didn't."

"Fine, but are you sure that you want to go back now?" Regulus insisted. "Or I could stay with you if you really must."

"No, I'll be fine," Antonin lied. "I want to be alone."

They both knew it was untrue - he was the farthest thing from fine, but being around people wouldn't make things any better. TIme, everyone told him, though he had his doubts. But this was his life now and he couldn't hide from it forever.

"Alright," Regulus agreed. "I'll take you home."

o . o . o

Hours later, Antonin awoke, his eyes swollen and his head pounding. He sighed heavily and sat up, stretching a little to loosen his muscles, stiff from being curled up on the small sofa for so long. He got up and walked to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water, and he slowly downed the entire thing. He didn't really feel like doing anything else - eating or drinking or watching tv - so he limped to their bedroom. His bedroom now.

Much like the living area, the bedroom was exactly as it had been when they'd left that day, before the accident. Dirty clothes in the hamper, bed just a little bit mussed where they'd both sat on it while getting dressed. Jewelry and other little trinkets still glinted on top of the dresser.

Antonin turned around, shrugging off his black suit jacket and intending to hang it in the closet, but he stopped short. He felt his heart squeeze painfully. Hanging on the closet door was a long, opaque white garment bag that he knew contained Mary's wedding dress. She must have taken it out before they left so it would be easy to grab before going to the hotel.

He hadn't seen it yet, but suddenly Antonin felt a longing to open up the bag and look inside. He didn't know why, it would likely only break his heart into more pieces, but he couldn't help himself. With a shaking hand, Antonin reached out and unzipped the garment bag. Inside, the dress was a soft ivory color, with overlapping layers of some sheer fabric - tulle or organza, what did he know about these things. He couldn't really tell what it looked like on the hanger. It was pretty, of course, but he couldn't picture it on Mary. He shouldn't have to try to imagine it, he should know what it looks like on her. A stab of grief tore through him again. She should be here, she should be his wife. They should have gotten the wedding they dreamed of, not a funeral. Antonin zipped the bag up once more and turned away from it, his jacket now laying in a heap, forgotten on the floor.

Antonin crawled onto the bed and under the covers, not caring that he was wrinkling his suit. He would never wear it again anyway. He felt so heavy with grief, body and soul, and he wanted to shut himself off from the world. He closed his eyes, but his mind kept spinning, thinking about the wedding they never got to have.

Antonin fumbled around searching for his phone until he found it in his pocket and extracted it. For a moment, he just stared at the photo on the lock screen, a picture of him and Mary shortly after he'd proposed. God, he missed her. Blinking slowly, Antonin gathered himself again, returning to the purpose of his actions. He opened his messages, scrolling through until he found the person he was looking for.

Do you have a picture of her wearing the dress? he texted, knowing that she would know exactly what he meant.

Of course, Lily replied a moment later, attaching three photos to the message.

The first was a photo from behind as Mary looked in the mirror at the dress shop. The second picture was straight on, with Mary beaming happily. Antonin stared at it for several long minutes. He loved that smile, so genuine and pure. After a moment, he swiped to the third photo. Antonin's breath caught in his chest. It was stunning, a photo Lily had taken in her studio at some point. In black and white, Mary stood in her wedding gown, her hair falling over one shoulder. A glittering headband was nestled among her dark hair, and she was smiling as she looked down. She looked sweet, innocent and happy, much as he remembered her. Antonin felt tears slip down his cheeks. She was so beautiful, so perfect. How could she be gone?

There are plenty more photos from that session, let me know if you want to see them, Lily texted again.

Thank you, Antonin answered.

He pulled the black and white photo up again and continued to stare at it. It really felt like her, like he could see her personality shining through it. It was possible that he stared at it for hours, until he dozed off once more. And when he woke up again, he immediately looked at the photo.

Eventually, Antonin sighed and put his phone away, getting out of bed. As he walked to the bathroom, his eyes drifted to the garment bag that held Mary's wedding dress. He opened the bag up again, this time running his fingers over the soft fabric. He ought to put it away, back in the closet, or give it to her family. But he didn't really want to part with it, not yet, maybe not ever. It was a piece of her, and he couldn't bring himself to give away even the smallest part of her. He wanted to hoard every item, every memory of her and guard them jealously. He didn't know how to do anything else.

Antonin's thoughts strayed to the news Regulus had given him yesterday. A drunk driver. He felt a surge of hatred for the other man, a violent urge to hunt the man down and strangle him for what he did. No doubt the man felt remorse and probably spend time in jail, but neither of those felt like enough to Antonin. Countless lives had been ruined by this man's stupid decision. But Antonin couldn't think of any punishment that would be severe enough. Old torturous deaths no longer seemed so insane - drawing and quartering might be fair retribution.

He tried to let go of those thoughts, but it was hard. The anger was much easier to face than the grief and despair that shrouded him when he thought of Mary. He didn't know how long he would be able to bear the weight of the grief, but the anger was a much more manageable load.

So he held onto it, let it grow inside him. He let it harden him and turn him into someone cold and distant, someone he didn't recognize, someone Mary never would have wanted him to become.

Two people died in that accident after all - Mary and the man she loved.