A/N: I'm baaaaaack! There is angst in this chapter, and character death. Sad, I know, but that's what happens when there is war. And there's a fanservicey D/G scene at the beginning, so it's all good :)
Disclaimer: It'll never change, I'm not that brave, I'll never own the Potterverse... (even if I DO rip off Jack Off Jill lyrics in stupid disclaimers...)
~*~
"You've been very preoccupied lately."
It was in the dead of night, and she was lying next to him. The candle on the bedside table was burning very low, flickering over her concerned face and his sullen one.
"I've a lot on my mind," he replied, more curtly than usual and avoiding her eyes. She was pureblood, that much was true, but...
"And it's nothing to do with the NEWTs," she observed shrewdly, glancing up into his face. "And you haven't told me about it."
"It's..."
"Tell me." Her voice was soft, somewhat calm, but very, very worried. "I love you, you know... you can tell me anything."
"No I can't," he said flatly, "There are some things that it would be dangerous for you to know."
She fell silent and sighed. True, perhaps... but she leaned up and brushed her lips against his jaw. "But... at least give me some reassurance that you're going to be all right," she whispered against his bare skin, gentle fingertips touching the Dark Mark on his arm. "Whatever it is that you're worried about?"
"I... I can't," he declared choppily, even as his arms tightened around her body. He wanted to live... and he wanted to be able to hold her like this, years from now. But...
"Draco," her voice held an audible note of alarm, "Draco... please tell me what's wrong." Burying her face in his neck and clinging to his waist, she steeled herself. "What's the matter?"
Ye Gods... but right now, when he could feel the quiver in her breath against his skin, he really DIDN'T want to tell her that things would be darker soon.
"Please," she whispered beseechingly, great dark eyes looking up and meeting troubled gray ones. He gave a sigh, and suddenly buried his own face in her red hair.
"Things are going to be bad. There will be a battle. Here. Soon. Any time. There... people will suffer and... people might die." He didn't say that HE might die, or that SHE might die. "You..."
She sucked in a sharp breath, feeling as though her insides were slowly filling with ice. A... battle...
It had to come down to this, apparently...
"Draco..." she choked out against his neck, clinging to him and fervently wishing that time could be stopped, the battle indefinitely postponed and the two of them able to stay like this... safe and limbs intertwined and hearts beating together, skin against skin and the comfort of his arms around her waist, of being loved and safe and protected...
He heard a slight sniffle and a shaky breath, as if she was trying hard not to cry, to remain strong for his... THEIR sakes. Forcing a tone much lighter than he felt, he twined a strand of red hair around one finger and remarked, "Weaslette, YOU are supposed to be the brave and exuberant Gryffindor of the two..."
She gave a hollow laugh, burying her face further against his neck, and her breath tickled as she mumbled something about snarky Slytherins making generalizations of the superior house. But her arms were tighter as they clung to him, because of what she now knew, and what she realized it could mean.
He stroked her hair from crown to tips with an uncharacteristic gentleness as he held her close, swallowing his secret worries and fears. He knew the possibility that he wouldn't be able to hold her like this, in the future, due to the myriad things that could go wrong in battle... that always went wrong...
And as she finally fell asleep, her lips still pressed against his skin, he reflected wryly that he'd lost the ability to lie around her somehow, because he WASN'T able to reassure her and tell her that it would all be all right.
~*~
"GIN."
That accusatory bellow came from a scowling redhead as she walked into the Common Room at dawn. She flinched and swore to herself.
Ron stalked over towards her and glared down into her face. "What have you been DOING, sister dearest? Where have you BEEN?!"
"Not your business," she replied wearily, trying to walk past him and move to the dormitories. "I was out."
"THAT much is apparent, you madwoman," he growled, "Out WHERE? And WERE YOU WITH SOMEONE?!"
Nix the dormitories, retreat was called for. Ginny backed away, moving towards the portrait hole once more. Ron followed, advancing on her with a suspicious look in his eyes. "Gin," he snarled, "You're not SUPPOSED to be out all night! What would mum say if she knew?!"
"The same thing she'd say to you if she knew about you, Hermione and certain activities which shall go unnamed in the Restricted section," Gin scrabbled for the feel of wood against her fingers even as she backed away from Ron with a glare on her face.
Ron, to his credit, flushed a shade of magenta. "You... so you WERE shagging someone?!"
"Not. Your. Business." Giving a push to the portrait behind her, she felt it give way, and fled the Common Room, Ron yelling after her.
"YOU AREN'T ALLOWED TO DO THAT!"
Ginny was almost to the Great Hall when she heard what sounded like a rumble followed by a resounding BOOM in the distance. Stopping dead in her tracks, she peered out the window... and her face turned chalk-white.
A mass of black robes and stark-white masks was encroaching in, from the direction of the forbidden forest.
She gave a scream even as a warning siren sounded in the hallway.
~*~
As the screams broke out, the horrid stench of blood filling the air and the cold of fear crept up his spine, Dean Thomas, his dark face grim, pushed through the throng. He was in danger, that he knew. But before fleeing, he had to make sure that...
That certain people were safe. Seamus and Padma and his friends... the tall 7th year boy pounded down the hall, flinching when he heard the screams...
He heard footsteps and cold laughter behind him, but didn't turn around to check who it was. There wasn't time, and all he could do was to perform a smoke charm behind his back. It would buy him a few moments' time...
"Padma... PADMA!!" he called out over the din, as he scanned the nearby cluster of Ravenclaws for a glossy raven head and an olive-skinned, exotically beautiful face. He found it a moment later, and he ran towards the pair of brilliant, velvet-soft dark eyes.
Padma turned sharply when, appearing through a clearing gray mist, came her boyfriend, his eyes filled with love and worry and the promise of protection and peace and a calm from the storm... Gryffindor, bravery... she broke away from her housemates and ran towards him. He was so tall and strong...
And as the smoke dissipated and he reached her, arms enclosing around her slender form, she smiled through her terror and melted into his embrace.
Padma wasn't a tall girl; her head barely came up to his chin and now, with her face buried in his neck, she didn't see it coming.
Darius Avery's voice was low, a menacing hiss as he pronounced the lethal incantation, his wand pointed right at the oblivious back of the boy who'd tried to evade him with that silly little smokescreen.
And Padma, her eyes closed and trying to draw strength and comfort from the quiet, artistic young man whom she'd brought into her heart, merely felt what seemed to be a breeze, a slight rush. His arms remained around her, tight, and it was only gradually that she came to the horrific realization that she was actually holding him UP.
She squirmed and tried to move him. "Dean? DEAN?!"
But his arms were still around her, still warm, and since his face was buried in her satiny hair, she couldn't see that his eyes were unseeing.
Off to the side, even as Avery went off after bigger prey than pathetic Mudblood students, a lone Slytherin watched, his face pale. HE knew what Padma hadn't quite comprehended yet, and Gareth Bole silently drew his wand, his face more solemn than it had ever been since he'd followed the direction that he'd been born to follow. He watched as Padma slowly stiffened, her hands, linked behind her dead boyfriend's back, starting to shake, the dark eyes wide as they finally appeared over his slumped shoulder...
But before any tears could fall from them, the burly Slytherin, with a slight sigh, cast his own spell, quietly, unobserved, torn between principles and feelings and an odd fatalistic mercy.
And it was then that both Padma and Dean fell to the ground, slowly crumpled like exhausted lovers, both unaware of the world around them as it fell into disorder. They were no longer part of the pandemonium...
Just a boy and a girl in love, limbs intertwined and arms around each other. His face was buried in her flowing hair and her head leaned against his shoulder. In almost repose, an enchanted eternal slumber.
Disclaimer: It'll never change, I'm not that brave, I'll never own the Potterverse... (even if I DO rip off Jack Off Jill lyrics in stupid disclaimers...)
~*~
"You've been very preoccupied lately."
It was in the dead of night, and she was lying next to him. The candle on the bedside table was burning very low, flickering over her concerned face and his sullen one.
"I've a lot on my mind," he replied, more curtly than usual and avoiding her eyes. She was pureblood, that much was true, but...
"And it's nothing to do with the NEWTs," she observed shrewdly, glancing up into his face. "And you haven't told me about it."
"It's..."
"Tell me." Her voice was soft, somewhat calm, but very, very worried. "I love you, you know... you can tell me anything."
"No I can't," he said flatly, "There are some things that it would be dangerous for you to know."
She fell silent and sighed. True, perhaps... but she leaned up and brushed her lips against his jaw. "But... at least give me some reassurance that you're going to be all right," she whispered against his bare skin, gentle fingertips touching the Dark Mark on his arm. "Whatever it is that you're worried about?"
"I... I can't," he declared choppily, even as his arms tightened around her body. He wanted to live... and he wanted to be able to hold her like this, years from now. But...
"Draco," her voice held an audible note of alarm, "Draco... please tell me what's wrong." Burying her face in his neck and clinging to his waist, she steeled herself. "What's the matter?"
Ye Gods... but right now, when he could feel the quiver in her breath against his skin, he really DIDN'T want to tell her that things would be darker soon.
"Please," she whispered beseechingly, great dark eyes looking up and meeting troubled gray ones. He gave a sigh, and suddenly buried his own face in her red hair.
"Things are going to be bad. There will be a battle. Here. Soon. Any time. There... people will suffer and... people might die." He didn't say that HE might die, or that SHE might die. "You..."
She sucked in a sharp breath, feeling as though her insides were slowly filling with ice. A... battle...
It had to come down to this, apparently...
"Draco..." she choked out against his neck, clinging to him and fervently wishing that time could be stopped, the battle indefinitely postponed and the two of them able to stay like this... safe and limbs intertwined and hearts beating together, skin against skin and the comfort of his arms around her waist, of being loved and safe and protected...
He heard a slight sniffle and a shaky breath, as if she was trying hard not to cry, to remain strong for his... THEIR sakes. Forcing a tone much lighter than he felt, he twined a strand of red hair around one finger and remarked, "Weaslette, YOU are supposed to be the brave and exuberant Gryffindor of the two..."
She gave a hollow laugh, burying her face further against his neck, and her breath tickled as she mumbled something about snarky Slytherins making generalizations of the superior house. But her arms were tighter as they clung to him, because of what she now knew, and what she realized it could mean.
He stroked her hair from crown to tips with an uncharacteristic gentleness as he held her close, swallowing his secret worries and fears. He knew the possibility that he wouldn't be able to hold her like this, in the future, due to the myriad things that could go wrong in battle... that always went wrong...
And as she finally fell asleep, her lips still pressed against his skin, he reflected wryly that he'd lost the ability to lie around her somehow, because he WASN'T able to reassure her and tell her that it would all be all right.
~*~
"GIN."
That accusatory bellow came from a scowling redhead as she walked into the Common Room at dawn. She flinched and swore to herself.
Ron stalked over towards her and glared down into her face. "What have you been DOING, sister dearest? Where have you BEEN?!"
"Not your business," she replied wearily, trying to walk past him and move to the dormitories. "I was out."
"THAT much is apparent, you madwoman," he growled, "Out WHERE? And WERE YOU WITH SOMEONE?!"
Nix the dormitories, retreat was called for. Ginny backed away, moving towards the portrait hole once more. Ron followed, advancing on her with a suspicious look in his eyes. "Gin," he snarled, "You're not SUPPOSED to be out all night! What would mum say if she knew?!"
"The same thing she'd say to you if she knew about you, Hermione and certain activities which shall go unnamed in the Restricted section," Gin scrabbled for the feel of wood against her fingers even as she backed away from Ron with a glare on her face.
Ron, to his credit, flushed a shade of magenta. "You... so you WERE shagging someone?!"
"Not. Your. Business." Giving a push to the portrait behind her, she felt it give way, and fled the Common Room, Ron yelling after her.
"YOU AREN'T ALLOWED TO DO THAT!"
Ginny was almost to the Great Hall when she heard what sounded like a rumble followed by a resounding BOOM in the distance. Stopping dead in her tracks, she peered out the window... and her face turned chalk-white.
A mass of black robes and stark-white masks was encroaching in, from the direction of the forbidden forest.
She gave a scream even as a warning siren sounded in the hallway.
~*~
As the screams broke out, the horrid stench of blood filling the air and the cold of fear crept up his spine, Dean Thomas, his dark face grim, pushed through the throng. He was in danger, that he knew. But before fleeing, he had to make sure that...
That certain people were safe. Seamus and Padma and his friends... the tall 7th year boy pounded down the hall, flinching when he heard the screams...
He heard footsteps and cold laughter behind him, but didn't turn around to check who it was. There wasn't time, and all he could do was to perform a smoke charm behind his back. It would buy him a few moments' time...
"Padma... PADMA!!" he called out over the din, as he scanned the nearby cluster of Ravenclaws for a glossy raven head and an olive-skinned, exotically beautiful face. He found it a moment later, and he ran towards the pair of brilliant, velvet-soft dark eyes.
Padma turned sharply when, appearing through a clearing gray mist, came her boyfriend, his eyes filled with love and worry and the promise of protection and peace and a calm from the storm... Gryffindor, bravery... she broke away from her housemates and ran towards him. He was so tall and strong...
And as the smoke dissipated and he reached her, arms enclosing around her slender form, she smiled through her terror and melted into his embrace.
Padma wasn't a tall girl; her head barely came up to his chin and now, with her face buried in his neck, she didn't see it coming.
Darius Avery's voice was low, a menacing hiss as he pronounced the lethal incantation, his wand pointed right at the oblivious back of the boy who'd tried to evade him with that silly little smokescreen.
And Padma, her eyes closed and trying to draw strength and comfort from the quiet, artistic young man whom she'd brought into her heart, merely felt what seemed to be a breeze, a slight rush. His arms remained around her, tight, and it was only gradually that she came to the horrific realization that she was actually holding him UP.
She squirmed and tried to move him. "Dean? DEAN?!"
But his arms were still around her, still warm, and since his face was buried in her satiny hair, she couldn't see that his eyes were unseeing.
Off to the side, even as Avery went off after bigger prey than pathetic Mudblood students, a lone Slytherin watched, his face pale. HE knew what Padma hadn't quite comprehended yet, and Gareth Bole silently drew his wand, his face more solemn than it had ever been since he'd followed the direction that he'd been born to follow. He watched as Padma slowly stiffened, her hands, linked behind her dead boyfriend's back, starting to shake, the dark eyes wide as they finally appeared over his slumped shoulder...
But before any tears could fall from them, the burly Slytherin, with a slight sigh, cast his own spell, quietly, unobserved, torn between principles and feelings and an odd fatalistic mercy.
And it was then that both Padma and Dean fell to the ground, slowly crumpled like exhausted lovers, both unaware of the world around them as it fell into disorder. They were no longer part of the pandemonium...
Just a boy and a girl in love, limbs intertwined and arms around each other. His face was buried in her flowing hair and her head leaned against his shoulder. In almost repose, an enchanted eternal slumber.