"Embrace of Darkness"
Antonia couldn't remember immediately what had happened after the Owl. She was spinning, being consumed by a deafening roar in her ears as she rushed down to meet the cold stone of the bed chamber floor. Her stomach convulsed, empty though it was, for she had emptied it earlier that morning. She sputtered, heaved, gasped for air, feeling violently ill, wishing she could be sick. Some one handed her a glass of something. It was Dumbledore. Water, ice cold, washed out her mouth and shocked her as it hit her stomach.
Why is he here? How did he know?
She faded into unconsciousness, her mind blissfully blank.
~*~*~
Every student and staff member at Hogwarts attended the funeral. So did many Ministry of Magic officials, some Hogwarts alumni that had been taught by Severus, and many, many other people Antonia didn't know. It was a big deal for the wizarding world. Severus had died a martyr, his name was famous, and he was being called a hero. And Antonia hated every moment of it.
She stood by the empty grave in silence. She didn't want any of it. She didn't want a hero, she wanted her husband standing beside her. But instead of him, Albus stood beside her. He had stayed with her through the whole thing, knowing she could fall to bits suddenly. It startled him to see someone so strong appear so broken.
The funeral proceeded, despite the fact that the grave lay empty. There hadn't been a body to bury, it had been lost in the explosion. Antonia thought it was ridiculous, the symbol of the empty coffin. There was nothing left of him but this. And after today, she wouldn't even have that. She brushed the thought aside and concentrated on the peaceful buzzing filling her head. It was loud, but not loud enough, for she could still hear past it.
"Antonia? Dear?" Damn it. Dumbledore was waking her up. What for? She looked up, annoyed, and blinked. People were leaving. Some stopped to hug her, or give some words of comfort, but she hadn't noticed them. They were leaving, she realized, through an odd sort of panic. They can't leave. It isn't over. They were hugging her like it was over.
It can't be over.
"Calm down, Antonia, it's all right." Albus's voice did nothing to soothe her. She turned sharply towards the door and cried out.
"No! Wait! It isn't over. It . . . isn't over. It can't . . . be . . . over . . . ."
Silence. She was dimly aware of the eyes on her, all filled with concern. "I'm sorry," she whispered to Albus. "I can't . . . do this. I can't." She closed her eyes.
"Antonia?"
"She's fainted!"
"Get Madame Pomfrey!"
But she didn't want Madam Pomfrey. She wanted the comfortable buzz that blocked out sound. There it was, but still not loud enough yet. She wanted to block out everything, all of them. If only she could sink a little deeper into the noise and darkness. Just a bit more.
~*~*~
"Amazing."
"Indeed."
Voices. She heard voices. Who was talking? One was Poppy . . . and was that Dumbledore?
"She's been out for almost an hour now, Albus. Let me give her an awakening brew."
"No, Poppy. Her body is just giving her mind a rest from the pain. It was too much. She will wake when she can handle it again."
"I'm amazed, really, that she hasn't had a blackout like this sooner, given her condition."
Then a new voice. "Her condition?" Minerva. Sounding worried. Why?
"She's coming around, Albus," Poppy informed them. Then to Minerva she said, "the condition I'm talking about is her pregnancy."
Zap. Antonia felt jolted inside. Pregnancy? Were the talking about her?
:Oh Lord. Antonia's pregnant? All alone and expecting. Dear God." Minerva sat on Antonia's bed, and Antonia mused that there had been an awful lot of vanities in that single sentence, coming from Minerva, a non-religious woman.
"Antonia, wake up."
Damn it all Minerva. Don't wake me yet. Antonia had bee having a lovely dream. She was pregnant, and she was imagining Severus's face when he found out. Surprised, scared, and overjoyed all at once.
"Antonia, wake up, you hear?" She heard, and began her descent into oblivion again. Ah, sweet dreams. "You are going to have Severus's baby, you will not be wallowing in self pity while my friend's child needs you!"
Antonia was turned towards reality with a sudden bump! What was she hearing? But that was only a dream . . . wasn't it?
"Antonia, you know as well as I do that Severus would expect you to be strong for your child! He'd want you to like and tell them about him one day! He wouldn't let you do this right now!" Minerva was nearing hysterics now. "Dammit, Antonia, wake up!"
Albus rushed to her side. "Minerva, calm down! That's not helping. She's tired, wrung out, and will wake up when she's ready and able to. You know as well as I that she will do what is best for the child. And she probably can't even hear you."
But she had heard, wanted to hear more. She drew herself up and felt inside of herself, wondering if it could be true. And there it was. Warmth, life, something alive and growing there, something made of the purest love. She could feel it. She wanted to touch it, but her foggy mind wasn't giving out commands yet. She struggled to regain consciousness, to regain that pain she was feeling ever so slightly right now. She didn't want to resurface, because to do so would be to realize her pain, her loss. The truth that Severus was gone. It was blinding, that pain. But she reached for it anyway.
And she managed to tear open her eyes.
The room was blurry, and she choked out a harsh, ragged word that even she wasn't aware of what it was supposed to be. The three people in the room tensed, then looked at her. Her eyes met three pairs filled with worry and love.
"Antonia! Glad to see you back with us." Albus was grinning, but Antonia was not. She was feeling it now, the heartbreak and the emptiness. She trembled with anticipation. If what she had thought she heard wasn't so . . . . Oh dear God.
"Is it true? Is it? Please say something."
It was Poppy who answered. "Yes, Antonia, dear, it's true. I took some test when you came in, and you're pregnant."
Antonia stifled more tears. She couldn't fade into the buzzing now, could she? No. It would have been a thousand times easier, but she couldn't do that to her child. Severus's child. "It hurts . . . I want to die so much . . . ."
Albus took her hand in his. "Of course it will hurt. But you have to be strong for your baby, and for Severus. You can make it."
She could. She just didn't know if she would.
What else could hurt this bad and not kill me?
~*~*~
"Between Two Worlds"
Battle was now a second nature to Drake. He had done so much of it, it had to be. The art of fighting against magics more powerful and darker than the night had become a part of him, as much as his appearance or his name. The drive to win for the cause of goodness because stronger, and mortality faded. Emotions vanished, aside from triumph or anger in battle. Physically, he had no sensations. Hunger, thirst, the difference between heat and cold were not there. He ate to keep strong, drank when he was dry. Sexual desire was dormant, as well, because he had no use for such desires. He felt a pain at an enemy's sword, or pleasure at his victory. Besides all these, though, was an endless and inexplicable sorrow which ate at him. It made no sense, and did not aide his cause, so he had no use for it. But as much as he tried, he could not rid himself of it.
He'd obeyed Godric's orders, traveling through time backwards to days long past, or forward, to times he could have never dreamt of. And all the time between. Battles would last hours sometimes, or centuries. But when he returned to Godric, he always found that a very small amount of time had passed.
He never really thought about it, until Godric, who was by now a friend as well as commander and teacher, asked him, "Drake, how long have you been a White Knight?"
He had been thrown. He began adding up the years his battles had taken, until he finally gave up and answered. "I don't know, Godric. Many, many years, I suppose."
Godric looked amused. "Time doesn't pass for you when you're not here, Drake. In reality, time only passes when you are here, resting between your missions."
Drake was startled. "But I'm rarely here!"
"True, but that is because you are the best." Godric looked thrilled.
"Sir?"
"You are the only one to ever defeat Todesengel, the Dark Knight's strongest warrior."
Drake sat down on a tree stump that was in his "mission recovery," the wooded area he had landed in after his little death spiel. When he had asked Godric where it was located exactly, he had gotten the answer, "A time that is not a time in a place that is not a place." Peachy king, he had thought.
But he now thought abut Todesengel, the opponent he had so often fought against.
"Todesengel seems to be present whenever I'm sent to correct a moral wrong or prevent those wrongs from occurring," Drake concluded aloud.
"And you're thinking there's a reason for that, aren't you?" observed Godric.
Drake agreed with a nod of the head. "You've told me that there is a reason for everything, Godric, and I've found that to be close to the truth."
"Close to the truth? What's not true about it?"
Drake paused, then spoke softer. "I've yet to find a point for this painful sorrow in my heart." He closed his eyes. "You say I am your best I rarely lose a battle, my skills are honed to perfection, and still . . . " he stopped.
"And still?"
Drake brought his hands to his chest. "I ache inside."
Godric looked worried. "I'm sorry you feel that. Perhaps you're not ready for this mission after all."
That got Drake's attention. "Not ready?" What could he possibly think is beyond my ability? Drake was hurt that Godric doubted him.
Godric shrugged. "Drake, you see, all these battles you've been sent on in the past are not merely simple missions for our cause. They've been a form of training. I sent you into anytime Todesengel was likely to be."
Drake looked up in disgust. "So you wanted to see who was the better fighter? Well it was pointless, he beat me as much as I him"
Godric nodded. "Too true. But you are the only White Knight to defeat him at all. I thought you would be equal to Todesengel, and you are. And now it is time for you to start the mission you were brought here for, one of incredible importance. Are you ready?"
"I am," replied Drake. He wanted to be busy again, because only when he was occupied could he forget for a moment the nameless ache in his heart. "What time will I be sent to?"
Drake could have sworn that Godric hesitated for a moment. "From the time you were taken, Drake. Or near there, almost eight months afterwards. That's the time you've really been dead."
"Eight months?" So short a time! It boggled the mind.
"You will have no memory of your other life, which is for the best, I think. You must remember you have sworn vows to me, and must return to my service after your mission has been fulfilled. Failure to do so would mean the second death."
Drake bristled. "I have not forgotten my vows, Godric. I don't see any reason why you would think so."
Godric nodded. "Alrighty then! Since you'll be going back to your own time, we need to make a few adjustments to your appearance. A cloak of disguise. No one can recognize you, as they believe you to be dead."
Drake jumped. "Will I be amongst people I knew in that life?"
"Of course not!" exclaimed Godric, perhaps a bit louder than necessary. Then, realizing his sensitivity, he cleared his throat and began anew. "This is just to avoid the slim possibility that someone you knew would see you in passing, that's all."
Drake nodded, seeing the logic in that, but he couldn't help but notice how Godric didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that. But he nonetheless knelt and allowed Godric to work his magic. After a few muttered spells, Drake was instructed to rise. He did, and pulled out his sword, in which he inspected his own face in.
"Godric, I look the same! My hair is just as dark, my eyes just as ebon as before! There is no difference!"
Godric grinned. "The cloak of disguise cannot hide a man from himself, Drake. You know yourself too well to be fooled by a disguise, so when you see your reflection, you see right through the magic."
Drake considered this. "But what if someone I saw in my time knew me just as well?" he wondered aloud.
Godric answered for him, startling him as he didn't realize he had spoken out loud. "A man knows himself better then anyone else, Drake. To my eyes, even, you are different in appearance. You are still tall and muscular, but you have auburn hair and gray eyes. Yours lips are less thin, and your nose is severely straight, almost pixie-like. No, I daresay that even someone who knew you since birth could not tell who it was. Having reassured you in that, it is time for you to go."
"But I have not received my mission yet."
"Ah yes. The mission involves a woman named Antonia and her imminent child." Those words sent a tingling up Drake's body, as though he had goose bumps on his head.
"Are they in danger?" he rightly assumed.
"The child is in great danger. And it is terrible, because this child is of great importance to humanity. It will grow to be one of the most powerful leaders the free world will ever know. It will pave the way to world peace, stomping out ignorance, poverty, bigotry, and war. This child will change the world."
Drake finished his speech for him. "So the Dark forces will try and kill it." Damnable bastards.
"Yes," answered Godric, looking very grim indeed. "You know as well as I that they cannot take a mortal life. If they could, they would simply murder the mother and be done with it. The child is another matter. Once born it is safe. But until it draws its first breath, it is fair game to them. You're this child's only hope. Will you accept this mission?"
Drake's eyes met the old man's, filled with a determination he had never known before. "I will do better than accept. I will succeed."
Antonia couldn't remember immediately what had happened after the Owl. She was spinning, being consumed by a deafening roar in her ears as she rushed down to meet the cold stone of the bed chamber floor. Her stomach convulsed, empty though it was, for she had emptied it earlier that morning. She sputtered, heaved, gasped for air, feeling violently ill, wishing she could be sick. Some one handed her a glass of something. It was Dumbledore. Water, ice cold, washed out her mouth and shocked her as it hit her stomach.
Why is he here? How did he know?
She faded into unconsciousness, her mind blissfully blank.
~*~*~
Every student and staff member at Hogwarts attended the funeral. So did many Ministry of Magic officials, some Hogwarts alumni that had been taught by Severus, and many, many other people Antonia didn't know. It was a big deal for the wizarding world. Severus had died a martyr, his name was famous, and he was being called a hero. And Antonia hated every moment of it.
She stood by the empty grave in silence. She didn't want any of it. She didn't want a hero, she wanted her husband standing beside her. But instead of him, Albus stood beside her. He had stayed with her through the whole thing, knowing she could fall to bits suddenly. It startled him to see someone so strong appear so broken.
The funeral proceeded, despite the fact that the grave lay empty. There hadn't been a body to bury, it had been lost in the explosion. Antonia thought it was ridiculous, the symbol of the empty coffin. There was nothing left of him but this. And after today, she wouldn't even have that. She brushed the thought aside and concentrated on the peaceful buzzing filling her head. It was loud, but not loud enough, for she could still hear past it.
"Antonia? Dear?" Damn it. Dumbledore was waking her up. What for? She looked up, annoyed, and blinked. People were leaving. Some stopped to hug her, or give some words of comfort, but she hadn't noticed them. They were leaving, she realized, through an odd sort of panic. They can't leave. It isn't over. They were hugging her like it was over.
It can't be over.
"Calm down, Antonia, it's all right." Albus's voice did nothing to soothe her. She turned sharply towards the door and cried out.
"No! Wait! It isn't over. It . . . isn't over. It can't . . . be . . . over . . . ."
Silence. She was dimly aware of the eyes on her, all filled with concern. "I'm sorry," she whispered to Albus. "I can't . . . do this. I can't." She closed her eyes.
"Antonia?"
"She's fainted!"
"Get Madame Pomfrey!"
But she didn't want Madam Pomfrey. She wanted the comfortable buzz that blocked out sound. There it was, but still not loud enough yet. She wanted to block out everything, all of them. If only she could sink a little deeper into the noise and darkness. Just a bit more.
~*~*~
"Amazing."
"Indeed."
Voices. She heard voices. Who was talking? One was Poppy . . . and was that Dumbledore?
"She's been out for almost an hour now, Albus. Let me give her an awakening brew."
"No, Poppy. Her body is just giving her mind a rest from the pain. It was too much. She will wake when she can handle it again."
"I'm amazed, really, that she hasn't had a blackout like this sooner, given her condition."
Then a new voice. "Her condition?" Minerva. Sounding worried. Why?
"She's coming around, Albus," Poppy informed them. Then to Minerva she said, "the condition I'm talking about is her pregnancy."
Zap. Antonia felt jolted inside. Pregnancy? Were the talking about her?
:Oh Lord. Antonia's pregnant? All alone and expecting. Dear God." Minerva sat on Antonia's bed, and Antonia mused that there had been an awful lot of vanities in that single sentence, coming from Minerva, a non-religious woman.
"Antonia, wake up."
Damn it all Minerva. Don't wake me yet. Antonia had bee having a lovely dream. She was pregnant, and she was imagining Severus's face when he found out. Surprised, scared, and overjoyed all at once.
"Antonia, wake up, you hear?" She heard, and began her descent into oblivion again. Ah, sweet dreams. "You are going to have Severus's baby, you will not be wallowing in self pity while my friend's child needs you!"
Antonia was turned towards reality with a sudden bump! What was she hearing? But that was only a dream . . . wasn't it?
"Antonia, you know as well as I do that Severus would expect you to be strong for your child! He'd want you to like and tell them about him one day! He wouldn't let you do this right now!" Minerva was nearing hysterics now. "Dammit, Antonia, wake up!"
Albus rushed to her side. "Minerva, calm down! That's not helping. She's tired, wrung out, and will wake up when she's ready and able to. You know as well as I that she will do what is best for the child. And she probably can't even hear you."
But she had heard, wanted to hear more. She drew herself up and felt inside of herself, wondering if it could be true. And there it was. Warmth, life, something alive and growing there, something made of the purest love. She could feel it. She wanted to touch it, but her foggy mind wasn't giving out commands yet. She struggled to regain consciousness, to regain that pain she was feeling ever so slightly right now. She didn't want to resurface, because to do so would be to realize her pain, her loss. The truth that Severus was gone. It was blinding, that pain. But she reached for it anyway.
And she managed to tear open her eyes.
The room was blurry, and she choked out a harsh, ragged word that even she wasn't aware of what it was supposed to be. The three people in the room tensed, then looked at her. Her eyes met three pairs filled with worry and love.
"Antonia! Glad to see you back with us." Albus was grinning, but Antonia was not. She was feeling it now, the heartbreak and the emptiness. She trembled with anticipation. If what she had thought she heard wasn't so . . . . Oh dear God.
"Is it true? Is it? Please say something."
It was Poppy who answered. "Yes, Antonia, dear, it's true. I took some test when you came in, and you're pregnant."
Antonia stifled more tears. She couldn't fade into the buzzing now, could she? No. It would have been a thousand times easier, but she couldn't do that to her child. Severus's child. "It hurts . . . I want to die so much . . . ."
Albus took her hand in his. "Of course it will hurt. But you have to be strong for your baby, and for Severus. You can make it."
She could. She just didn't know if she would.
What else could hurt this bad and not kill me?
~*~*~
"Between Two Worlds"
Battle was now a second nature to Drake. He had done so much of it, it had to be. The art of fighting against magics more powerful and darker than the night had become a part of him, as much as his appearance or his name. The drive to win for the cause of goodness because stronger, and mortality faded. Emotions vanished, aside from triumph or anger in battle. Physically, he had no sensations. Hunger, thirst, the difference between heat and cold were not there. He ate to keep strong, drank when he was dry. Sexual desire was dormant, as well, because he had no use for such desires. He felt a pain at an enemy's sword, or pleasure at his victory. Besides all these, though, was an endless and inexplicable sorrow which ate at him. It made no sense, and did not aide his cause, so he had no use for it. But as much as he tried, he could not rid himself of it.
He'd obeyed Godric's orders, traveling through time backwards to days long past, or forward, to times he could have never dreamt of. And all the time between. Battles would last hours sometimes, or centuries. But when he returned to Godric, he always found that a very small amount of time had passed.
He never really thought about it, until Godric, who was by now a friend as well as commander and teacher, asked him, "Drake, how long have you been a White Knight?"
He had been thrown. He began adding up the years his battles had taken, until he finally gave up and answered. "I don't know, Godric. Many, many years, I suppose."
Godric looked amused. "Time doesn't pass for you when you're not here, Drake. In reality, time only passes when you are here, resting between your missions."
Drake was startled. "But I'm rarely here!"
"True, but that is because you are the best." Godric looked thrilled.
"Sir?"
"You are the only one to ever defeat Todesengel, the Dark Knight's strongest warrior."
Drake sat down on a tree stump that was in his "mission recovery," the wooded area he had landed in after his little death spiel. When he had asked Godric where it was located exactly, he had gotten the answer, "A time that is not a time in a place that is not a place." Peachy king, he had thought.
But he now thought abut Todesengel, the opponent he had so often fought against.
"Todesengel seems to be present whenever I'm sent to correct a moral wrong or prevent those wrongs from occurring," Drake concluded aloud.
"And you're thinking there's a reason for that, aren't you?" observed Godric.
Drake agreed with a nod of the head. "You've told me that there is a reason for everything, Godric, and I've found that to be close to the truth."
"Close to the truth? What's not true about it?"
Drake paused, then spoke softer. "I've yet to find a point for this painful sorrow in my heart." He closed his eyes. "You say I am your best I rarely lose a battle, my skills are honed to perfection, and still . . . " he stopped.
"And still?"
Drake brought his hands to his chest. "I ache inside."
Godric looked worried. "I'm sorry you feel that. Perhaps you're not ready for this mission after all."
That got Drake's attention. "Not ready?" What could he possibly think is beyond my ability? Drake was hurt that Godric doubted him.
Godric shrugged. "Drake, you see, all these battles you've been sent on in the past are not merely simple missions for our cause. They've been a form of training. I sent you into anytime Todesengel was likely to be."
Drake looked up in disgust. "So you wanted to see who was the better fighter? Well it was pointless, he beat me as much as I him"
Godric nodded. "Too true. But you are the only White Knight to defeat him at all. I thought you would be equal to Todesengel, and you are. And now it is time for you to start the mission you were brought here for, one of incredible importance. Are you ready?"
"I am," replied Drake. He wanted to be busy again, because only when he was occupied could he forget for a moment the nameless ache in his heart. "What time will I be sent to?"
Drake could have sworn that Godric hesitated for a moment. "From the time you were taken, Drake. Or near there, almost eight months afterwards. That's the time you've really been dead."
"Eight months?" So short a time! It boggled the mind.
"You will have no memory of your other life, which is for the best, I think. You must remember you have sworn vows to me, and must return to my service after your mission has been fulfilled. Failure to do so would mean the second death."
Drake bristled. "I have not forgotten my vows, Godric. I don't see any reason why you would think so."
Godric nodded. "Alrighty then! Since you'll be going back to your own time, we need to make a few adjustments to your appearance. A cloak of disguise. No one can recognize you, as they believe you to be dead."
Drake jumped. "Will I be amongst people I knew in that life?"
"Of course not!" exclaimed Godric, perhaps a bit louder than necessary. Then, realizing his sensitivity, he cleared his throat and began anew. "This is just to avoid the slim possibility that someone you knew would see you in passing, that's all."
Drake nodded, seeing the logic in that, but he couldn't help but notice how Godric didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that. But he nonetheless knelt and allowed Godric to work his magic. After a few muttered spells, Drake was instructed to rise. He did, and pulled out his sword, in which he inspected his own face in.
"Godric, I look the same! My hair is just as dark, my eyes just as ebon as before! There is no difference!"
Godric grinned. "The cloak of disguise cannot hide a man from himself, Drake. You know yourself too well to be fooled by a disguise, so when you see your reflection, you see right through the magic."
Drake considered this. "But what if someone I saw in my time knew me just as well?" he wondered aloud.
Godric answered for him, startling him as he didn't realize he had spoken out loud. "A man knows himself better then anyone else, Drake. To my eyes, even, you are different in appearance. You are still tall and muscular, but you have auburn hair and gray eyes. Yours lips are less thin, and your nose is severely straight, almost pixie-like. No, I daresay that even someone who knew you since birth could not tell who it was. Having reassured you in that, it is time for you to go."
"But I have not received my mission yet."
"Ah yes. The mission involves a woman named Antonia and her imminent child." Those words sent a tingling up Drake's body, as though he had goose bumps on his head.
"Are they in danger?" he rightly assumed.
"The child is in great danger. And it is terrible, because this child is of great importance to humanity. It will grow to be one of the most powerful leaders the free world will ever know. It will pave the way to world peace, stomping out ignorance, poverty, bigotry, and war. This child will change the world."
Drake finished his speech for him. "So the Dark forces will try and kill it." Damnable bastards.
"Yes," answered Godric, looking very grim indeed. "You know as well as I that they cannot take a mortal life. If they could, they would simply murder the mother and be done with it. The child is another matter. Once born it is safe. But until it draws its first breath, it is fair game to them. You're this child's only hope. Will you accept this mission?"
Drake's eyes met the old man's, filled with a determination he had never known before. "I will do better than accept. I will succeed."