Authors notes: yes, two updates in one day… spectacular of me I know… I simply ditched my chemistry class work, and took out my writing journal, and typed this instead. Simple solution really ;) Tehe to ashleyconnor… yah, well before today's updates it had been FAR too long since I updated. Tehe… good times… ok, angst galore… :-(
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The whole Weasley family was assembled inside the circular office once again. Along with the entourage of redheads sat a raven-haired man, a hook-nosed man, and a weary old werewolf. Some strange presence of malcontent told those in the room that the meeting was not one of good news. The look on the hook-nosed man also told them this was not a meeting of good cheer. When Dumbledore finally sat down with a weary sigh, those who had been letting their minds wander stood on the very edge of their seats – hoping against hope that their suspicions had been… wrong. The old man cleared his throat.
"I suppose you all know the reason for which we've gathered." He paused and looked around the circle. Each person gave a vague nod – signaling that they knew about Hermione's capture.
"I'm afraid that there are no pleasantries associated with this impromptu gathering. As my colleague and friend has just informed me, a sudden turn of events has happened - one which I am very concerned about," sighing wearily and sitting up straight in his chair, Dumbledore continued.
"It seems that Ms. Granger has passed on, or rather, been
murdered." A collective gasp sounded in the room and a sob could be heard in
Ron's general direction.
"I'll kill the bastard," Ron muttered miserably.
"I'm afraid, Mr. Weasley, that that is not your duty. I do, however, offer my
condolences and say that Ms. Granger will, indeed, be sorely missed." Harry let
out a soft growl like noise at Dumbledore's speech. While the Weasley's sat
comforting each other – though mostly comforting Ron – Harry sat contemplating
the situation. He was appalled as to how Dumbledore could appear to show sorry
yet look so restrained.
"Who?" Harry ventured. Mrs. Weasley looked up in apparent shock. The look on her face said, "What do you mean 'who?'?" The headmaster set his face into his hands and gave an audible sigh. It was Severus, however, who spoke up.
"Ms. Weasley."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's been a month since that damned night. I can't fucking believe myself, but in a way I think it was meant to be. It made me discover things, things too late, but still… I need to get out of this life. Sure I can never go back to normal life, but Tom… Tom is dying. Well, not really… I mean, his power is, and along with his power down he goes… So call me a coward, I won't deny it. I am sick of these power trips, these, corporation games. Life, to me, has become one big power struggle. Everyone wants control. Everyone wants to play with the big boys. Not me, not anymore. I'm sick of it. When I wanted to be different, I wanted to be a nonconformist. Now look at me! I am just as bad, if not worse, as those groveling pigs who kiss Tom's filthy robe. I think, I think I need to write a letter. I can't be the one to end this whole fucked up mess entirely, but I can be the beginning of the end…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Albus Dumbledore sat in his study as a wearied old man. The days since Voldemort had regained power had been like lifetimes to him. It seemed that with each passing day, week, month, or year, the terror got worse, the burdens got heavier, and the pain of his loved ones grew unbearable. Sitting in a slumped position, the old man thought over the past months events. Ms. Granger had gone missing. Severus reported that she was in Voldemort's lair. Then, then, she was dead, and at the hands of the youngest Weasley. A sigh escaped his weathered lungs at the thought of how wrong his predictions had been. At least they had the information as to where Voldemort was hiding out. Now all the order needed to do was formulate an attack. At the moment, however, the plans would have to wait, for a tawny owl sat rapping at Dumbledore's window. Getting up, Dumbledore let the owl in. The owl, however, merely dropped a letter very unceremoniously on his desk and then promptly left out the same window. The handwriting on the envelope was familiar, very familiar.
"Dear Headmaster,
I took the liberty of opening this letter. It is from the Weasley girl. Don't ask how, but somehow I managed to smuggle it to the nearest post. Read immediately, then burn, upon instructions from Ms. Weasley. I apologise for reading it, but I had to check for hexes and such.
Regards,
S. Snape"
Blinking, almost in disbelief, Dumbledore scanned the note once more and then tore up the envelope with much haste.
"Professor…"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I don't fucking know how I got that letter out, untouched, but it happened. I still go to sleep every night with the fear of not waking up. I mean, he could slit my throat at any time and have a valid reason. I betrayed him. God–fucking–damn it doesn't matter any more. I don't have a side, I don't belong to anyone. He can't know this though. He can't even get wind of it. He can't get suspicious of me. That would ruin everything completely. Oh gods, now I know why you've fated some things to happen. But still, why did I have to kill her?! Fucking why?! God, I never thought I'd feel remorse for being the way I am… but then again, it's not every day you kill your once best friend. Anyway…
Severus snuck the letter out for me. I can see the blatant distaste on his face when he looks at me. I think he was fonder of Hermione then he let on… But he promised to deliver it anyway, I hope he proves true… I think that once it begins I'll be going… I wonder if there is a hell? I wonder if there is an afterlife… I guess if there is I'll be going to the more unpleasant of the two. Damn, now I sound all morose and depressed. Good thing Tom hasn't noticed yet. No, Occulumency definetly is useful… The daft bugger, he's so caught up in preparation for whatever the fuck he's planning that he wouldn't notice betrayal unless it smacked him right into his fucking ugly face.
Oh, have I not tell you? Yah, ever since my little "I don't love you Tom" escapade, I have started to see him for what he is. A monster. Yah, day by day, little by little, the fucking antichrist has started to look more and more like the descriptions I always hear. Red eyes, skeletal body, clammy skin, veins showing. He's a real picture, that one. A real picture of SHIT! Yah, no more handsome Tom to fuck my brains out every goddamn night. No, instead I get Lord Voldie himself. Goddamn, I've become such a bitter person… oh well… I deserve it. I deserve so much shit it's not even funny… But anyway… yah, so I've got the dark lord of the century coming to my room every night, but I have to put up with it. No suspicion, right? Right… it's all for the "good" cause… ha… this world? Good? That's the biggest load of shit I've ever heard… there's nothing even remotely good left in this world.
Well, perhaps that's a lie… There's my family… and Harry. But they wouldn't have me anymore. I don't blame them one bit though. I'm a fucking asshole. A… whore. That's all I've ever been to Tom. I see it now. Just a whore, a piece of ass, a quick lay, someone to bump uglies with. Yah… Hermione was right. She was so fucking right that I wish I could turn back time. If I had to, I'd go in her place. Yah, but wishes don't do anything except waste time. See how cynical I am? Ha, ha… let's all have a good laugh at fucking Lord Voldemort's little bitch… Well, there's still the letter… there's still the letter… just keep saying it… yah… hope… what a concept.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Professor –
You're probably wondering what exactly is this letter doing in your hands. I'll answer you that question – I'm trying to help. I know I can never redeem myself for the muck up I've made of everything – I know I can never hope to even gain your trust again, but I'm asking you to trust me on this.
First off, to confirm the rumours… Yes I do have the dark mark, yes for awhile I loved what I was doing, yes I killed H- countless mudbloods and muggles alike, yes I did most of this of my own free will. There, you have it, a confession. Now if you and Wonder Boy ever do catch up with me you have plenty of information to send me to Azkaban for life. See how bitter I've become? It's sort of ironic that I should be the traitor of the group. I mean, me, a Weasley, Wonder Boy's one time biggest follower… It's kind of funny, in a sadistic sort of way of course…
Anyway, I'm not going to waste anymore of your time then necessary. The Dark Lord is planning an attack for the fourth of December. That is in about three weeks. He will be most vulnerable a night or two before. He'll be too busy holding council's to pay much matter to security. Not one of his better moves, but then again, he's not very smart. I mean, he trusts me after all… You have to understand this, however. He knows. He knows his power is dying, and he embraces it. He wants to go out with a bang, he wants to be remembered. I think he's more human then most give him credit for. I will do what I can to ensure no suspicion leaks out, but the rest is up to you.
I want you to know this: I may have made some wrong choices, I may have gone with my current desires, I may have not thought out what I was doing, but I am sorry. Fickle apologies don't mean much at this point in time, but I really am sorry. I hope that someone will be happy at the end of all this. I know it won't be me, which is why I am going to choose my own time to go… Tell them goodbye. Tell them I'm sorry. Tell them that, even though they hate me, and that they don't believe one word of my letter, that it's true and that if I could do it over, it wouldn't have to end like this. I am so fucking sorry that it hurts. I thought I had forgotten how to feel, but I was wrong. Something someone said to me made me remember. It's too late for anything now, but I'm sorry.
Do I regret all of my decisions? No. Do I regret hurting those I once loved? Yes. Tell them for me. Good-by professor.
~V.A. Weasley
PS: Tell Severus thank you also"
Albus set down the letter in a confused daze. Rubbing his temples furiously, he reviewed the contents of his letter. If what she said was true (he'd double check with Severus later,) then something had to be done soon. Getting up and heading to his hearth, Dumbledore pulled out a handful of floo powder. "Harry Potter," he shouted into the flames…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Ms. Weasley," it was Snape's voice. Damn, what does he want now! True, ever since the letter he has been politer, but still… I'm in no mood. It's December 3rd and it's a beautiful night. I wonder if they'll listen to my advice and go through with an attack. I hope so… but then again, hope is fucking useless…
"What is it now Severus?" sure I sound bitter, sure I sound desperate, but wouldn't you also? I mean, if you were going to die tonite wouldn't you at least feel a little bit anxious.
"I came to tell you that they're coming tonite. You can run if you like… or you can stay. The headmaster says he will vouch for you and try and get you a trial –" I cut his insistent rambling off.
"Don't kid yourself Sev, old Crouch would never let me off. Besides, I deserve to die, and I intend on doing exactly that," he seems a bit phased by my speech. Obviously he doesn't know what to make of my casual talk of death. Oh well.
"Ms. Weasley, I am sorry it had to end like this for you. You were always a good student, even if I seemed a bit prejudiced at times." Hah, compliments. How quaint… I wish it didn't have to end this way either, but it does. Funny, a few years ago if you had asked me where I would like to be, I never would have said dead. No, I would have probably said something like: "In Harry Potters bed asleep, as his wife, that was currently pregnant with their first child." How fucking funny is that? Oh how our desires change over the years.
"Thank you," somehow, no matter how bitter I felt, I couldn't bring myself to retort harshly. Was I afraid to die? Not so much anymore… was I afraid to think about how my life could have been? Incredibly. That's how life, hehe, death, goes though…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Harry, you have to be the one to kill him. You remember the prophecy?" Remus Lupin stood anxiously next to Harry, prepping him and making sure he remembered. A curt nod was the only answer Remus needed.
"You can't save her," a sharp glare got shot Remus' way.
"Harry, you have to do this, you can't think about her right now. She's too far gone, there's no hope left… Even if Dumbledore did get her a trial, she'd lose. And if by some fated chance she won, she'd be as cold as ice, and – "
"Shut up," Remus complied. Harry knew what he had to do, and he wouldn't fail he was almost sure. It just, pained him to see such beauty have to die like this. Perhaps it was love, but probably more like wanting the unobtainable. How ironic.
"I know what I have to do, but I can still hope," with a shake of his head, Remus didn't reply to Harry's last comment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I can hear it - the sounds of the battle. It's eerily comforting. The voices of angry men and women are shouting in alarm, crumbles and crashes, and cries of pain. I look out into the moonlight, the beams making temporary patterns on the snow. It's beautiful out, like ice, like my soul. No, it's not a golden beauty or a happy one even, but it's comforting. I think I picked the perfect night to die. I'm cold though, so cold, and not just in my heart. I should have put something warmer on, but it matters not… My body will be too cold to feel in the time to come, so it doesn't matter. At least I'll die breathing… So morbid, so foreboding… so true…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So Potter, you've found me, eh? Let me guess, my little whore was the one to help you out? How gallant of her…" Tom could see Harry's jaw clench and unclench as he said this. Letting out a bark of laughter, he didn't move from the chair he was sitting in.
"Come now, Harry, no witty retort? My, my, I expected less of you. Well, right, let's get down to business shall we," silence, "alright then. I suppose you're not interested in any propositions, so we'll get straight to the killing part then, shall we?" Harry's brow furrowed further.
"How can you be like – like this!?" Tom smirked slightly as Harry gestured frantically.
"Whatever the fates allow…" Harry shook his head furiously, which only made Tom smirk wider.
"No Voldemort, that's where you're wrong. You could have been good, great even, but you fucked it up for yourself… Damn waste of a brilliant mind." This little speech sparked something in Tom. His face quickly burned in anger.
"You little twit, think you know everything. You know nothing but happiness. Well I will give you a taste of pain – crucio!" Harry's form twisted in pain as the curse hit him full on. It was only a matter of seconds before he was crying out in agony, yet Tom continued to torture him.
"There, did you like that Potty boy?" Tom said maliciously. The panting form of Harry Potter lay crumpled on the floor. Weakly, almost, Harry stood back up and turned to face Tom.
"Is that the best you've got?" He said between inconvenient gasps. Laughter and then,
"Oh, so my little experiment didn't work as well as I thought it would. Fine, we'll go a little deeper then, shall we?" a glare from Harry was all it took until Tom started speaking again.
"Do you know how many times I pounded her? Yes, every night almost. Guess who's name she called out? Not yours wonder boy. Mine. That's right, 'Oh Tom, oh Tom, yeessss Tom, oh god.' No Potter, you were too busy 'saving the day' to notice what a treasure she had become. But it's too late Potter. She's almost dead now, her life is draining from her as we speak. Oh yes, I see it now, so much blood, so little time."
"YOU BASTARD! CRUCIO!" this time it was Voldemort who twisted in pain. Harry's anger had fueled an effective curse. Through narrowed emerald orbs he watched the monster writhe in pain before him. Yet, the villains words had cut him deep. He almost despised Riddle for having so much access to Ginny. Then he thought, 'Ginny' he almost gasped. She was dying… he had to hurry.
"You've had it coming for a long time Scum! First my parents, then – then Sirius, and Ginny and… Hermione. You're going to pay, you're going to die! You're going to die at my feet like a whore, like a dirty fucking bitch!" If anyone who had known Harry over the years had witnessed the scene, they would have been appalled. Never had his anger been so much, never had his violence fueled to such heights. Wands were forgotten, and before the night was over, a once feared man's blood stained Harry Potters hands.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"It is finished…" came the sound of an old mans voice. A shudder crept through the castle, and the few people assembled in that particular location bowed their heads solemnly.
"We need to find Harry before he sees…" the werewolf's voice faded off as he gestured to the pale figure before him. The old man nodded his head glumly and then turned to exit. Those in the room followed also.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Unfortunately in Harry's case, they didn't find him before… well…
Harry entered a moonlit room. The air was eerily still, yet it was filled with some inexplicable sadness. The window was open, letting a slight breeze play with the heavy drapes. A solitary beam of moonlight hit the bed where a lone figure lay. She seemed almost as if in an enchanted sleep. Harry dared to hope.
"Ginny…" no response. Cautiously, he crept towards the high poster bed. Shaking his head he moved closer. He could touch the white duvet now, but he dared not.
"Ginny," a little louder, but still no response. Tempting himself further, he reached out to touch her limp arm. His fingers met something warm and sticky. Blood.
"God, no, no Ginny, wake up!" he began to shake her frantically, but it was to no avail. There she lay, like a queen of ice. Her skin was like snow, and just as cold, her dress a gauzy white, and her hair… her hair matched the red that flowed around her body. Laying limply on the duvet was one arm, scarred, torn, and bloody. The other was clutched to her chest in a look of desperation. It too was torn and mangled.
He was shaking, and he couldn't stop. She was dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. The word kept circling in his head, like a bad dream, only worse. Dead. He wanted to make the screaming in his head stop, but he couldn't. He couldn't think, he couldn't stop, and he just lay there. He lay there next to her, and took her worn and cold body in his arms. Furiously, frantically he began to rub her arms. They needed warmth, they needed life, and then it would be ok. He just lay there in puddles of her blood, and held her, and kissed her and refused to believe she was dead. If she had been alive then she would have been thinking, "God, this is so fucked up… Haha, my life is so fucking messed up! Haha, Harry Potter is kissing me… haha fucked up… fucked…" But she wasn't alive. No, no, her blood covered her like some second skin, and he lay in it also, refusing to notice it's sticky warmth. Dead. Cold and dead. Gone. So fucked up… so damn fucked up…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
ok duckies… an epilogue to come… for now, this is all… I'll try and update soon, but no promises.