Wishes

By: Airelle Vilka

A/N:  Yes.  This is short.  Deal with it. :)

Chapter 31 ~ Lazarus

            So this is what death feels like.  Very cold… but--- but---

            I had no idea dying would be so…

            So…

            Painful?

            She was lying crumpled on her left side, her head pushing against something hard, like a brick wall.  Her ankle, and her arm… hurt tremendously.  She felt liquid on her face.  Slowly, she opened her mouth and tasted copper.  Blood.

            Her blood.

            It hurt to breathe… but she did anyway.  Her right eye fluttered open—the other, for some reason, would not--- and she saw grass swaying in a light breeze.  Green grass, green like something else she had a hard time remembering…

            The Elysian Fields?  Or hell?  Heaven?  Purgatory?  What?

            The grass was beautiful, though—all sunlit and whispering…

            Looking down, Airelle noticed the reason why her left arm hurt so much—it was bent under her side at a highly unnatural angle.  Her vision went up quickly again, to---

            Voices.  There were voices some distance away from her feet… a man was whispering softly, but she couldn't see who…

            "Ohh…" She rolled her head sideways, feeling every muscle scream in objection, and faced the bright blue sky.  Then, she uttered the first name that came into her mind.

            "Severus…"

            There was a pause, even in the wind, it seemed.

            "Severus?" she asked, more impatiently.  Even at this state, her mind knew there was something wrong.  She wasn't supposed to have lived through this.  Was she?

            "Airelle?"  There was a crash; someone had dropped something.  The quick patter of feet, and a heap of tattered black robes landed next to her.

            "Headmaster!" yelled Snape's voice, and freezing hands touched her shoulders.  Airelle opened one eye enough to gaze into her best friend's pasty-white face.

            "Airelle--- can you hear me?" he said, raising his voice almost to an atrociously squeaky pitch.  Or perhaps her ears were hurting too much to hear any voice normally.

            "Uh-huh."  She tried to roll over on her back, and succeeded with a great deal of pain and moaning.

            "Don't move," Snape ordered (a bit too late) as another person kneeled at Airelle's side--- and she recognized Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts.  His beard tickled her chin, and he moved it over his shoulder.  His face was as pale as Snape's, but his eyes were twinkling.

            "By Merlin's wand," said another voice, and Airelle glanced off to the side, past Dumbledore.  Sirius Black was standing there, nursing a bruised arm and staring at her incredulously.  "I should tell—"

            "Stay, Sirius," said Dumbledore, raising a hand.  "The others do not need to see this just yet."

            "But Headmaster--- she needs medicine—" Black began, but a look from the elder wizard stopped him entirely.  Airelle didn't quite understand what was happening, and buried her eyes in Dumbledore's.  Snape, apparently, was using the last of his iron will to hold himself in check and not speak until the other had finished.

            "We thought you were dead, Airelle," said Dumbledore as she blinked at him more rapidly, regaining the feeling of her limbs.  "And as well you should have been.  Lord Voldemort struck you with the Killing Curse before I could get to you."

            Airelle stopped blinking.  The green light—

            "Yes," said Dumbledore, placing a hand on her right palm, which seemed unhurt.  "Voldemort and his horde have escaped—at least some of them.  Omar Fauks and his closest Auror companions have the others.  They were the ones who came with me here—the ones who attended the meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.  Sirius interrupted us--- we had had no idea you would go to Voldemort on your own… but when I learned that students had been captured as well---"

            Airelle's good eye widened considerably, and Dumbledore's look insinuated that he'd read her thoughts.

            "The children are safe.  Miss Patts and Mr. Longbottom are on their way to St. Mungo's, where they are expected to recuperate fully from their wounds.  Sirius told me about your return to help them.  I reckon it will earn you an Order of Merlin, First Class--- many a brave wizard would not dare to face a demon on his own.  Not to mention Severus here tells me that you saved his life… and stalled Voldemort… and challenged him to a duel, subjecting yourself to the Cruciatus Curse."

            Airelle paid no attention to his words of praise.  Her only thought was centered on Voldemort, and the red eyes of fury he had cast on her.

            "Miss Tylon and Mr. Weasley will return to Hogwarts.  Severus," ---here, much like Voldemort's, Dumbledore's gaze did not leave Airelle's, though he was addressing someone else--- "you will return there shortly as well, to keep up appearances.  Sirius, you will stay with me… we have some things to discuss."

            Airelle began to blink again.  Both Snape and Black looked pensive.

            "Things that involve all of you.  But we shall not speak of that now…" Dumbledore paused, and his eyes twinkled again.  "When Airelle recovers, we will have more time.  Lord Voldemort believes that you are dead, and that is crucial."

            Her lips formed the word, "How---"

            "A stroke of pure luck," said Dumbledore, smiling.  "May I?"

            She stared at him quizzically.  Incidentally, so did Snape.

            "Headmaster?" he asked as Airelle finally nodded.  "How did she survive an Avada Kedavra?  Surely—"

            "No, Severus," laughed Dumbledore softly, "I am afraid Airelle is no Harry Potter.  However…"

            Airelle watched as the wizard's hand reached into the left breast pocket of her robes, and pulled out tiny, glowing pieces of… paper?

            Snape's eyes widened, and Dumbledore smiled as the paper crumbled to ash in his palms and evaporated.  And then, Airelle understood.

            The Mortis Potion.  She had put the paper into her robes before she'd left for the forest and the museum.  And it could only be destroyed by the person it was meant for.  Voldemort was the heir of the recipe— and he had fired the curse straight into it.

            Dumbledore's blue eyes crinkled, and his mouth curved into the warmest smile she had ever seen.  "A very fortunate young lady you are indeed, Miss Vilka.  I hoped things would turn out this way."

            "I—"

            "Later, my dear, later… Forgive me for being so abrupt, but I shall go now… there are many things to do, and they must be done quickly… Severus, please tend to her…"

            She stared at him as he rose and walked away, leaving Severus Snape alone with her.  Sirius Black had disappeared somewhere by this time.  Airelle didn't really care where he'd gone; they were safe, and that was all she needed to know.  Like Dumbledore had said--- the discussions would come later.

            She smiled up at Snape as he looked down at her from his knees.  His black eyes still burned in a face as white as a linen sheet.

            "You're bleeding," she said, reaching up with her right arm to brush his hair out of his face; the black roots were caked in drying blood.

            He carefully laid her arm back down.  "Nothing life-threatening, compared to you."

            She winced; her throat was horribly dry.  "I take it… I shouldn't look in a mirror, lest it cracks?"

            "You have bruises from where you hit the wall--- all down your left side," he said flatly, as if that would explain everything.

            "I know… and my arm is broken… my left eye is swollen, not to mention all the cuts I received in that tangle with the Empusa."  Her lips stretched into a tiny smile again.  "I bet I'm a worthy candidate for Mangled Mess Queen."

            Snape just looked down at her, his eyes scrutinizing hers.   It was a long time before he spoke.

            "You risked your life for me… for us."

            She nodded.  "I know."

            "Airelle?"

            "Hmm?"

            "I don't renounce what I said before," he continued, though his eyes betrayed a smile.  "You are still the biggest idiot I have ever laid eyes on."

            A shrug was out of the question, no matter how much she wished for it.  "I know."

            Snape closed his eyes; she didn't quite know why.  When he opened them again, they glittered.  His hand patted her good arm absently, and his lips were parted, as if he was going to say something, to spill words he would later regret.  And his eyes resembled jewels in snow, brilliant and so difficult to comprehend.

            Then, as suddenly as it had come, the look disappeared, and he quickly rose from his place, stretching his legs and wincing slightly.

            "We must conjure a stretcher for you," he said, walking away a few steps and turning back to look at her.  "I shall ask the Headmaster about where to take you after this, then…"  Not finishing his sentence, he swept off in a rather rude manner, leaving Airelle on the grass --- bruised, bloody, and smiling.

            "You're welcome," she said.

~*FINIS*~

Stay tuned for the very important Epilogue--- I'm not finished yet!