Requiem for a Sinner

Chapter 6:Wedded bliss

His heart was pounding so loudly that he could feel a migraine coming on. Perhaps it would be all right to stop running now. He laughed at the absurdity of the thought almost as soon as it had formed in his mind. His laugh sounded very hollow. The snow at his feet was freezing; he looked down and saw that his feet had turned blue. Shit. How could he keep running if his feet were about to fall off? He willed himself to slow down, but to no avail. His legs kept pumping, his lungs screamed for air and his heart kept on pounding.

Faster and faster through the snow, through passages of hedges so high he could never hope to see over them. First left then right, then he turned right again, weaving a nonsensical patter through the maze of shrubbery. For a terrifying moment he thought he might be lost, then he remembered where he was going, although he could not have said it out loud. Faster and faster.

Voices just ahead beckoned him onward, around one last bend in the hedges and he was there. A vast garden stretched out in front of him. It lay in a state of perfection, wild and unkempt. Every color and fragrance in the world was there, however it wasn't over powering. Every thing grew so that the smells and colors complimented each other.

He uttered a short prayer before entering; this was a holy place. Silently he traveled passed through a gigantic flowerbed, then wove through a grove of trees. He walked quickly through the garden until he came to a small amphitheater. She was there.

She stood tied to a stake in the middle of the stage. She looked down to him, the sorrow on her face broke his heart, no more than that, and it shattered his universe. He ran to her but gruff hands held him back. They spoke a word he had never heard before, they said she was Evil. He looked questioningly into a stranger's face, the man who held him just stared at him blankly.

What was that smell? Smoke. Someone had a torch. All of a sudden he realized the amphitheater was filled with people, strangers. He saw instantly what they meant to do. As a young boy carried the torch toward the stake, he struggled to break free of his captor.

Something hard hit his head. He felt the sickening crack and watched in terror as is vision began to fade, first to red then to black. His last sight before the darkness consumed him was of flames, dancing high, reaching toward the clear blue heavens. He struggled for one last glimpse of her, but he couldn't fight the darkness, just as she was helpless to fight the flames.

Freds eyes opened wide and he sat straight up in bed. The pounding in his chest made him believe he might still be dreaming. But slowly, as his breathing returned to normal, his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Just the hotel room, not some strange garden.

He was warm, quitely he slipped out of bed and crossed the room and flicked on the bathroom light. While Fred splashed cold water on his face he caught a glimpse of himself of himself in the mirror. He looked so old now; perhaps it was only his face, there were lines etched deep into his skin that weren't there when he had graduated from Hogwarts last summer. He wondered absently how the wedding pictures would look. He grimaced at his own reflection and flipped off the light.

Angelina lay sleeping peacefully in the bed. He hair fanned out on the pillows, skin shimmering in the soft moonlight. Seeing his new bride like this made Fred smile, it was one of the precious few things that did anymore.

He thought about how she had looked that afternoon in her white gown. The ballroom of the old estate littered with pink flowers. He remembered the look in her eyes as she walked to meet him in front of the congregation. Her eyes were so full of joy, so full of life, and he couldn't help but think it was strange that he wasn't feeling anything but an odd sense of foreboding.

Fred had nearly been late for the ceremony; he had been out in the garden waiting for her. He had been waiting for months, and somehow he couldn't shake the feeling that he should still be waiting, that he should never have married Angelina. He had waited and waited, but she never came. Why didn't she come? Even as he entered the ballroom he scanned the crowed desperately, she had to be there, she had to be. But she hadn't come. He had married Angelina and now it was too late to change things.

Fred sighed deeply in the silent room and took a seat on the windowsill, below him lay Paris in all her glory. Even here, even now he could see her face, his fingers remembered how her hair felt intertwined in them, he could smell her, the scent of some secret jungle that had always been on her skin. Her voice echoed so clearly in his ears.

"Miserere Mei" Fred felt his heart sink, "Grant me thy mercy." That's what she had said. His mind struggled to understand what had happened to her.................

"She is evil" The voice from his dream sent shivers up his spine. His entire screamed out that the voice as right. For months he had been fooling himself into believing that stranger. But deep down........Deep down Fred had no idea what was right; he only knew what he felt.

A light touch on his shoulder brought Fred back from his reverie. He turned to see his Angelina, his wife, standing behind him. "What's the matter Fred?"

"Nothing." He rose and kissed her softly on the mouth. He pulled back and grinned "I had a bad dream."

Angelina pressed her mouth to his while he wrapped her in his arms. " Let's see if I can't take care of that for you." She whispered.

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The sun was bright in the morning. Angelina lay in her husband's arms basking in its warmth. Absently she rubbed Fred's stomach, and kissed his cheek. He didn't wake up. Fred Weasley was dead to the world before noon on Saturday.

The rays of the sun caught the diamond on her finer. True it was small, but Fred had promised her a bigger one when He and His brother had finished paying off all the loans they had taken out to open Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Angelina didn't care about the ring; she had never felt so content in her life. Everything was perfect for the first time in a very long while.

There was a soft cooing at the window, Angelina's heart sunk. The dove was back. As silently as she could she slipped out of bed and crossed over to the window. The beautiful little bird flew and landed on her fore arm, cooing. Angelina took the letter the bird carried in its beak and opened it. She frowned deeply. Charlotte, the only person who could ruin this for her, why couldn't she just disappear? Why didn't she stop writing to Fred?

She had only read the first line when there was a knock at the door. Hastily and more gruffly than she had intended Angelina grabbed the dove and practically threw it out the window. She shoved the letter in the pocket of her robe and went to answer the door.

George was standing out in the hall, he looked as if he hadn't slept in a week, his hair was ragged and there were huge bags under his eyes. He looked straight at Angelina; there was a seriousness about him that made her shiver.

"It's Snape."