CHAPTER NINTEEN

LAST DAYS

The full moon.

"Sean, we have to go." Remus shook the boy, who responded by curling up on the floor where he lay, groaning, and pulling the covers over his head.

Remus sighed. His eyes wandered to Bill and for a moment his heart stopped. He studied the man's wasted chest and could not see it move. He heard Charlie's voice in his head: Voldemort is a filthy fucking liar. He's going to be long dead before Friday, isn't he?

With a trembling hand he touched Bill's neck. It was warm, but no pulse. Remus shook him, harder than necessary.

Bill's eyes fluttered open with some effort. They were rolled in his head and took a moment to focus on Remus' face.

"Mm?"

"Nothing," said Remus, sitting back on his haunches. "Nothing. I'm sorry, go back to sleep."

"Time to go?"

"Not yet. Tomorrow. Sleep, Bill."

But instead he looked blearily around. "I'm thirsty."

"I'll get you some water," Remus stood, and as he walked passed the lump that was the boy, was inexplicably irritated. "Sean, get up now."

Sean rolled over and stretched, yawning loudly. "What bloody time is it?"

"It's time to get up."

"It's still morning, isn't it?"

Remus was sanitizing a cup. "Yes."

"Why so early?"

"We've things to do."

"Like what?"

"We'll need supplies."

"Like what? Wolfsbane?"

Remus came back to the sofa. He knelt and was lifting Bill's head-

"I can sit up."

"It's terribly early, Bill. You've only been asleep-"

Bill sat, his face set and determined against the pain, and drank.

"Remus-" Sean began.

"It's too late for Wolfsbane, Sean."

"Well it wasn't too late a week ago, was it?" It was Sean's normal taunt, but this time his voice was full of fear. Tears were close. He looked very small and pathetic, with his bruised face, wrapped in a huge quilt. "Why didn't we get any?"

"We couldn't afford it."

Sean looked confused.

"Wolfsbane is very expensive, Sean."

"It is?"

"Yes."

"I've got loads of it frozen at home…"

"It's too late for that now," Remus repeated quietly, regretfully.

Sean swallowed. He pulled the blankets tighter around himself. "Remus?"

"Yes."

"We're cured. We- I'm not- not anymore- He said we were- we laughed at the moon, remember? We laughed at it."

Never in his life had Remus felt as he did at that moment; not when he was bitten, not when James and Lilly were killed, not when Ministry officials had stormed his house and dragged him away with his wrists chained to his ankles like he was an unruly hog… never… but now he could feel it, so close that it was frightening, so close he could almost see and touch it.

His breaking point.

It was so near it was inside him, burning in his stomach and pounding in his heart.

But why now? Why now after everything did he feel so dangerously close to losing control?

A shudder passed over him, and the sensation was subdued.

For the moment.

"Remus?" Sean said again, timidly.

"I've told you what I think about the cure, child," Remus said quietly, massaging his temples. "Is it bad?"

"Is what bad?"

"Transforming without the Wolfsbane?"

"It's… you'll be fine."

His head ached.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Bill was left alone and lay staring at the ceiling. His vision, and that meant everything that he could see before him, was tunneling now, going gray around the edges.

"Ah, look at this." said the voice of Voldemort. Bill was not surprised. He'd had this déjà vu-like feeling… he'd been expecting a visit.

"I have until tomorrow." Bill reminded him calmly.

"I know, I know. But I come to check on you." Voldemort clucked. "Poor child. Skin so gray. Let me wipe the sweat from your brow."

"Don't you touch me."

"Don't excite yourself, Bill." Voldemort chuckled nastily. "Oh Bill, so ill, are you ready to spill?" He lifted the billows of his robes and broke into a grotesque tap dance. "Oh Bill, so ill, are you ready to spill? Oh Billy, so illy, are you ready to spilly? Ha, ha!"

"I've one more day."

"But why, oh my, you're ready to die!"

"Stop it."

"And if you die your ma will cry and your pa will sigh and they will ask 'oh why oh why" and under a dragon your brother will fry!"

"Get out."

"Alright, alright, enough fun. Only try to make light. This is just as frustrating for me as it is for you, believe me. What I want to know is so simple. Where are the remaining Weasleys? Where is Harry? Perhaps I just wish to say hello to them, Billy. How do you know? Who are you to say that I only want to kill them? Maybe I've bought Harry a Fondue pot. Maybe I want your sister's hand in marriage. Oh Billy, tell me, do you think your father would consent?"

Bill avoided looking at the retched man and struggled to sit up. The pain was sharp. The tunnel spun and whirled. He heaved, the world darkened - he blacked out and came back so fast that he still knew what happening. In his lap was thick, warm, stinking blood.

Oh, the smell.

Why was the fluid of life be so distasteful to the nose?

"Ick," said Voldemort, crinkling the nose of the man who's body he'd stolen. "You'd made a mess. Let me clean it up, Bill."

"How can you… be so sure… that I know anything?" Bill said, falling back, breathing hard.

Voldemort smiled crookedly. "Ah, my child. I am a man of my word. Disgusting and evil, so they say, but I keep my promises- well, this time I'll keep my promise. I told you you would die, and you will."

"That's… no incentive to tell you anything-"

"I don't need you to tell me anything!" Voldemort snapped suddenly.

Bill was relieved instead of frightened, for he could see that Voldemort was struggling for control.

When Voldemort spoke again he was very calm. "Why do I care where that retched Potter is? Let him hide forever. It is obvious he is frightened of me- frightened enough to hide for seven years. "

Bill shut his eyes. He was so tired. He didn't know if he had it in him to scream. He pressed his lips together, gathered his breath, but all that came out was a hoarse cry: "Charlie. Help."

"Charlie can't hear you," Voldemort laughed, "You know that."

"Why are you still here? Let me alone to die."

There was a long, terrible silence.

"Tell me who the fucking Secret Keeper is."

It was Bill's turn to laugh. It hurt, and the blood in his lap was growing sticky. "It scares you that you don't know where he is, doesn't it? It frightens you that not everyone is a yellow bastard like your followers, doesn't it? Like you. You've got it all turned around. It's you that is frightened of him."

Voldemort's eyes burned with fury. He clenched his thin red fists together, in and out, in and out. "You are a stupid man."

"Even if I did know something, I sure as hell wouldn't tell you," he replied with a smirk.

"How would your mother feel?" said Voldemort. "After I kill you I'll be forced to move on to Charlie, and if he won't tell me, I'm sure your brother Fred grows tired of his ignorant, half-retarded twin-"

"She would rather us all dead than in league with the likes of you."

"Ha ha!" roared Voldemort, "Someone should have told that to your brother Percy!"

Voices rung out from down the hall, accompanied by thunderous footsteps.

With a pop! he knew Voldemort was gone.

"Oh god, Bill," he heard Charlie say, "I told you not to drink that shit. I told you-"

"Shut…up…it only… wore off." Bill could not longer see anything clearly in front of him. It seemed he could not gather enough air to speak.

Was this it? Was this what the last moments felt like?

That bastard, Bill thought, He said I had one more day. That lying bastard...

"BILL!"

The sound came from so far away… he heard his brother screaming more words, but it seemed like only one, jumbled together like the slur of an excited drunk, and everything was so black… were his eyes even open? Was he trying to open them? His body was spinning… so this is what last moments were like. It wasn't as scary as he'd thought it would be… but he did wish he'd gotten to say goodbye to Charlie and everyone else…

Goodbye…

"Here he comes. Darling, get out of my way-"

"-I'm only trying-"

"-Move back now."

"You really should leave the healing up to me, Sweet-"

"-Michael Fitzgerald, how many times have I patched you up over the last three years? Now move back. All of you, just move away from the sofa."

A woman's voice.

An angel?

"Open your eyes, sweetie," said the woman's voice again.

Small hands on the back of his head. He knew his meant he was to drink something… he was choking on something sweet tasting…

"There you go, darling. Slow sips. There you go."

Bill opened his eyes to see the round face of a woman.

"Mum?" he asked.

He was startled laughter around him.

"I should hope not," said the woman indignantly. "Little sister, perhaps."

Bill felt like he was swimming, just breaking the surface of conscious waters. He willed his eyes to focus on her again… it couldn't be… "Ginny?"

There was more laughter, so loud he cringed because it stung his ears.

"Alright Darla, you've got him awake, let me have a look," said the impatient voice of Fitzie.

"Giving him more of that bloody slop won't make any difference," said the bitter voice of Ian.

Bill heard fighting for a bit, and heard the woman ushering the fighters into the hallway. He felt Charlie's hand on his forehead and knew that it was okay to drift to sleep; that Charlie would never let him die.