Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?
French translations: ((example))
Responses to Reviewers: tkmoore, awesome review as always, my adored review goddess! Cloaked, just got your review, so I reposted to tell you that I worship you! Catalina Royce, thanks, and have fun at the coast! madcow, I'm glad you liked it! thanks! otaku sae, you'll see! it'll be explained later, lol! me, thanks! and comps can be bastards, sometimes, lol. slytheringrl17, thanks! Ludra, that was an awesome review! thanks so much! mosleyn001, I'm really glad that you've enjoyed it so far! thank you! AnitaBlake/BuffyFan, hope this is soon enough, lol! zhizhi192, umm, it's usually every four to five days, sometimes sooner. :) sexyjunkie, thank you, thank you, thank you! harry-fanfic-reader, glad you liked! thanks! Cleopatra213, hope this was quick enough! Sphinxtress, glad you liked the tongue! thanks for reviewing! power of the stars, lol. I take it that was good? bigreader, it's okay. I sound weird sometimes, too, lol. Erin, THANK YOU! Tom4ever, thanks, I will! Psi, thank you! Fallen, continuing! :) quimbytimmons, yes, I am pagan. :) CrackingUp, THANKS! kia, no, it's not metal, lol. short arse, thank you so much, as usual! a:sam, thanks!! glad you liked it, and behold the war! Tytianne, yeah, I like Pansy, too. :) Wicked Not Evil, thank you!! glad you liked that scene! aoi-yuki-yume, I lovelovelove you, too!! Georgentosser, oh sweet review queen, how can I express my thanks? I hope this chapter will suffice! :) el chikita joules, hope you like this one, and thanks! Cougar, thanks you so much! I was blushing like a fool by the end of your review! sillysun, I just adore you. you and your reviews. (kisses!)
Alright, now that that's done, here we go!
…………………………………………………………………………………………………
"En Garde."
That was all the warning Blaise ever gave an opponent, if they were lucky enough to merit one at all, and metal hit metal seconds later. Anton smirked and Blaise returned it, and their fight continued, every movement precise and normally lethal. But this wasn't a normal fight, just practice, and they fought with the flowing ease of those who had dueled each other for years. Both had practically been born with a sword in hand, as had most purebloods that still followed the true path. They had started fencing with rapiers first, and the moves and their names ran through his head still, ingrained for so long that it was completely unconscious.
'Advance. Glise'. Balestra. Spin.'
It had been two months. Sixty-one days since Draco and Blaise had come back and they had taken every Slytherin over sixteen to the Manor that had wished to come, and many of the younger students as well, mostly those whose parents wished them somewhere safe, or that didn't care at all if they weren't their firstborn heirs. The Slytherins' abandoning of the school had caused more than a little turmoil, and not just at Hogwarts. Rumors had been running rampantly throughout the wizarding world, and even more were now considering how many witches and wizards had recently 'been abducted' or had 'disappeared'.
'Attack au Fer. Disengage. Plaque'. Quinte.'
More like been recruited. The grounds of the Manor and Tenebre Stella were now fully functional army camps. The reach of the Malfoy and Zabini bloodlines was huge, spanning the globe, and those that owed their families fealty had been summoned, vast numbers trickling in through unauthorized portkeys and the help of the gods. The latter had scared and awed so many so badly that they hadn't uttered so much as a peep of protest when ordered to take Veritaserum. Those found of being traitors bearing the Dark Mark were publicly tried and executed without question or remorse. This was war, and they were taking no chances.
'Parry. In Quartata. Octave. Retreat.'
Two hundred thousand. Two hundred thousand able-bodied witches and wizards readying themselves for war, half at the Manor, half at Stella. Many were pureblooded, many were not. It was war. The quality of the blood didn't count when so many bodies lay upon the earth that the ground is nothing but a thick red lake for as far as you can see. He had seen the viewing crystals of the old battles; he had seen what to expect in vivid detail. So they had been calling in those in their service, as well as clinging to shadows in dark streets and enlisting people with hushed whispers and promises of protection for them and their families should they win.
'Passe' Avant. Coupe'. Advance. Croise.'
Everyone knew what the alternatives were. It was war. In their world, there were no neutral countries, no indifferent safe-havens. There were only three choices. Fight for Voldemort and become a slave even if you won; fight for the Ministry and take your chances in their practically non-existent forces; or fight for the four Elementals that were their only real chance at any sort of tolerable survival. It was actually surprising how many people had clued into that knowledge so fast, amazing how they understood more than he'd hoped for. The Ministry was useless, they'd been telling everyone that for ages, but only recently had the general populace started to truly realize it.
'Fleche. Passe'. Remise. Retreat.'
They had not been prepared. The Ministry had stayed blind for too long, and their denial had cost them much. The last two months had been littered with battles between the Light armies and Voldemort's own. It had not been pretty for them at all, and few were swearing themselves to their service after seeing how badly they were organized. The dark purebloods, however, had been preparing for war for years, ever since Voldemort's return. Some to support him, others to oppose him. Every one of the latter had rallied under the banners of the Malfoys and Zabinis once word had reached them, and many others had changed their tune and come as well.
'Feint. Double. Finta in tempo. Quarte.'
Many thought it a blessing that Voldemort had offended them badly enough for them to throw their weight into the war. They knew they stood no chance otherwise, especially with their precious Harry Potter having run off a week after the fighting started. No one knew where he had gone, but the Slytherins had a good idea. They knew about the effect cursed scars could have on an untrained mind, and minds didn't come much more untrained than his. So he was one of two places. He was either completely mad, hiding in the woods somewhere, or he'd gone to the Dark Lord. Or, more technically, the Dark Hall.
'Parry. Riposte. Lunge. Flick.'
Because Voldemort had only just been fully healed, as Cocidius had assured His Chosen. Over a month and a half of healing was almost unheard of in their world, because you usually either took to the treatments and got better quickly, or you died. Simple. But Virginia had fucked him up badly, and only Dagda's intervention had saved his life. Her cunning in poisoning him had earned her a great deal of admiration, and Padma had gotten her fair share as well for her rescue of Draco and Blaise. But Dagda had been giving orders through Voldemort's most loyal supporters, so the fighting had begun even though he had been incapacitated.
'Septime. Thrust. Trompement. Corps-a-corps.'
They attacked at dusk the next day. His father had sent the owl informing them of the enemy's plans three days before, and they'd been preparing ever since. Their Death Eater spies would desert Voldemort and his army right before the battle and join them, and they would surround his army from all sides. He was attacking the largest base left to the Light side just as the sun started sinking, and it was the first time that he would have the majority of his forces in one place at one time, which is what they'd been waiting for. They were ready and they were strong. Their numbers would be pretty evenly matched, as would the central powers according to the prophecy that Anton and Pansy had been entrusted to hear.
"Fuck!" He exclaimed as he hit the ground hard, Blaise having taken out his legs. He found himself looking up a long black blade that was at his throat, and he groaned when he saw Blaise's amused expression.
"You were not paying attention." Blaise said mockingly in his musical voice. "In fact, you have barely been paying attention the entire time. What burdens your mind so? Do you not feel the growing battle lust like the others?" He asked, sheathing his blade and holding out his hand. Anton took it and sprung to his feet, his own sword sliding home across his back.
"Just thinking. And yes, I do. We shall have a bloody moon this next night." He said, his eyes lifting to the star-speckled sky briefly before returning to his friend.
"Bloody moon, indeed." Blaise agreed, smiling and flashing sharp fangs. "So you had better go love your lady like never before, hmm?"
"It's like you read my thoughts." Anton teased, shoving his shoulder as he walked past him to the bench at the edge of the clearing that had their shirts and robes draped over it. "It is quite gratifying to see their eyes un-focus as intelligent thought leaves them completely, isn't it?"
"Very much so." Blaise commented, vanishing his sword and joining Anton by the bench. "Almost as much as the pleading moans and decadent screams."
"You know what else is amusing?" A familiar feminine voice questioned from behind them, and both spun around to see their girlfriends, each of which had a pair of black sais in their hands. The long, slender, dagger-like weapons could be used in hand-to-hand combat or thrown with deadly efficiency, and they were both lucky enough to have girlfriends who were quite skilled with them. Fabulous.
"The looks on your faces right now." Pansy finished for Virginia smoothly, her eyes burrowing into him accusingly. Blaise wasn't receiving much better, and Virginia was twirling one sai absently.
"Blaise." He inquired under his breath while the girls were still a good ways off from them. "Do you think you could catch one of those?"
"I know I can."
"Right. But I meant if Virginia throws it."
Silence. Then, "Perhaps."
"Perhaps? What the fuck do you mean 'perhaps'?" Anton hissed, and Blaise blew a stray lock of obsidian hair out of his eyes before answering.
"Well, depending how irked she is, it might be better to just shield rather than take any chances. We taught her to fight with those, and I know for a fact how well she wields them."
"Yes, and you're about to get a nasty reminder, Blaise Zabini." Virginia said, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her pretty face. "Pleading moans, hmm? How nice it is to know what you discuss when we're not with you."
"They probably didn't think we would have the intelligence to understand." Pansy replied before either male could say a word.
They were saved from having to respond at all when a chilling coldness swept into the clearing, followed shortly by one of the Dementors. It came straight to Blaise and bowed before beckoning him closer. Blaise obliged, hopped up on the bench, and leaned in so that the creature wouldn't have to stoop over awkwardly. Putting his face much closer to its own than any sane person would do, there was nothing but silence for several long minutes. No one really knew how Blaise and Draco communicated with the things, but it was obvious that they did somehow. He'd never been curious enough to ask. Who would want to talk to a Dementor anyway if you had to get that close? Not everyone had their control over them.
"I have to go." Blaise said suddenly, and the Dementor glided off a bit, waiting at the path that led back to the Manor. He leapt easily off the bench and onto the snow. "Duty calls. And Lycelle was looking for you, Pansy. She needs your help with spelling some of the arrows."
"Alright." Pansy said, sheathing her sais and sending Anton one last glare to which he blew her a kiss. She rolled her eyes before joining Blaise, who kissed his girlfriend's cheek and avoided her slap nimbly. Then he and Pansy were disappearing into the trees with the Dementor, and Virginia turned to him.
"Males are such bastards." She commented idly, and he smirked. "You want to come with me to go see Draco? That's what we were coming to get you for anyway."
"Sure." He said, throwing his robe on as he started to really feel the chilly air against his bare skin. She took his hand and they started off down a different path, winding their way towards the mountain and the dragon reserve. They went the long way as to avoid all of the witches and wizards scattered all over the place, but they could still hear steel hitting steel and distant shouts.
"You leave for Stella this coming day at noon, don't you?" Virginia asked, and Anton nodded.
"Yes. I'll have everyone ready to leave at sunset." He said, since he was leading the troops at Stella into battle, while Pansy would be heading those from the Manor. Their key fighters would be coming shortly afterwards.
"And do you like your new status as a general?" She teased, knowing full and well his opinions on it.
"Hmm, let's see. Power, strength, respect and fear. Yes, I believe I do."
"Figures." She mumbled, and then paused. "Darkness grows in my mind." She said after a few moments of silence, and he looked over at her, slightly startled. "But I do not know if it is the void's darkness or the tainted dark. I know only that one will defeat the other for good this next night. This will not be a drawn-out war, not this time. I just wish we knew who the other Dark Lords are."
"Well, we'll find out soon enough, won't we?" Anton asked with a roguish grin, trying to lighten her mood. She smiled briefly, but he could still see the worry in her eyes. "Look, Virginia, think of it like this. Even if we lose, we'll all see each other in the afterlife, now won't we?"
"That's just it, Anton." She said, stopping and looking up at him, her charcoal eyes and their recently acquired black rings seeming to suck up the starlight.
She'd gone to see Lucifer and Hades a week after they'd arrived at the Manor, and had come back with darker eyes and fists full of hellfire, a gift from the High Kings. Hellfire could eat through the toughest stone and melt any metal instantly. There was no defense against it, unless you had a silver ring on your finger bearing the runes of all four elements, another gift courtesy of the Morningstar. Only eight of the rings existed, and He'd given them the other four to give to those they trusted most. The twins had each received one, as had Pansy and Anton, and they were irremovable. They were also incredible power boosters.
"What's it?"
"The Dark Royals fear that Dagda may have found a way to kill a god." She whispered, and he felt like he'd been punched in the chest.
"How?" He asked raggedly, the night seeming a lot darker all of a sudden.
"They don't know. They can just…feel that something major has shifted. So they attack at dusk with us. Many of the Light Royals have joined with them. There will be two battles; one on the earth and one in the sky."
"If Cocidius dies…" Anton couldn't even finish the sentence, as just thinking of it brought actual, physical pain.
"Then we die with Him." Virginia finished for him, and he felt resentment and fury settle throughout his body, making everything sparklingly clear. "And if Dagda truly has some weapon that can slay gods, and if Cocidius…" Her voice broke and she sucked in a deep, shaking breath before continuing, "And if He dies, the Dark Royals will want vengeance unlike any ever known before. The world will be destroyed if they unleash all of their power, and if they die, the Underworld dies with them. There will be no afterlife if we fail."
"Then we won't fail." He said after another few minutes of silence, and her eyes turned furious.
"Exactly." She hissed, her hand tightening around his own. "We will fight twice as hard, for we do not just fight for our lives now, but for our very souls. And I will not see everyone I love lost to eternal oblivion."
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
"They're here! Raise the alarm!" Dean Thomas shouted from his lookout, and he heard the scurrying beneath him that signaled that the others had heard him.
Looking out across the endless field before him, he knew that they were all in a lot of trouble when the numbers of the army moving toward them kept growing and growing. They already stretched farther than the eye could see, the setting rays of the sun glinting off of their red armor like the blood that was about to spill. He wondered, as he scrambled down the tower's ladder, how it had come to this. What was left of the Ministry's army was stationed here, and they only numbered ten thousand at max. We're all going to die, he thought morosely. He hit the ground and started running for where everyone was assembling to make a last stand, his heart filled with dread.
Within seven minutes, everyone was in the field, and all looked lost and hopeless as they watched the dark wall moving towards them. There was a brilliant flash of green, and an enormous Dark Mark appeared in the sky, the gaping jaws and slithering serpent casting eerie shadows, a herald of their doom. His heart was pounding madly as he watched their archers ready what was left of their arrows, and they flew through the air seconds later when their commander's arm dropped. Shields deflected the volley before sending them back on the casters, and they threw up their own shields, though more than a few were too slow, too sluggish with fear.
Still the army before them advanced, blocking curses and arrows alike, and the sheer number of them was enough to make his belly fill with ice. It was like something out of a movie, or more realistically, a nightmare. He had not wanted to die like this. There was no honor in being so terrified that you let yourselves be slaughtered. And he might have been raised as a muggle, but the last seven years among wizards had taught him the meaning of honor and pride, and he didn't want to fucking die like this. Everywhere he looked he saw drawn faces and resigned, defeated eyes. Shields were thrown up with half of their usual vigor, and their curses were weak.
It was like most of them already considered themselves done for and were simply waiting for the inevitable. It didn't help that Dumbledore had been called away earlier that day for something urgent, so there was no one they looked up to enough to give them hope. Not that there was any to be seen in the first place. He doubted that even Dumbledore could lighten the hearts of these witches and wizards, or his own, for that matter. When he had pictured war before, it had been nothing like the last two months of one loss right after another. It had not been watching people he knew die one by one; it had not been so tedious and overwhelming and heartbreaking.
The front lines finally met each other, an explosion of sound beginning immediately as blade met blade and curses slammed into armor. Everything became completely hectic in the blink of an eye, and he found himself face to face with a blank white mask. Not thinking, his mind as numb as his heart, the Killing Curse spilled from his lips with long practice. That was another thing that he hadn't expected, but the generals said that it was necessary, and he supposed that it was. It didn't stop every death he caused from weighing on his spirit like a ton of heavy, crushing stones, however. The Death Eater fell and another two replaced it.
For what felt like years, he cursed and punched and kicked every hooded figure in sight, a desperate ache to live filling his limbs and soul unlike any he had ever felt before. One Light mage fell every few seconds, and all he could see were their bodies littering the ground, the foul horde that was attacking them trampling them into the muddy snow. A roar came from his right and he nearly screamed when he saw that Voldemort had brought giants with him, a whole clan from what it looked like. Vicious snarls were also getting closer, and he noticed the werewolves for the first time as well. We're all going to die. It was all he could think.
And then…Then he heard drums, deep and low and striking him to his very core. He thought, at first, that some new horror of Voldemort's was coming, since the enemy army suddenly stopped fighting and turned to the where the noise was coming from as if given a silent command. Despair eating at him cruelly, he closed his eyes for the barest moment. When he opened them again, they were completely surrounded. Banners of black, purple, green and silver flew from the ends of spears and staffs, from horses' saddles and the warriors' hair. Those to the north and west bore the silver swords of the Malfoys, and those to the south and east the black swords of the Zabinis.
Shocked stupid, it took him a long moment to realize that what he was seeing was real. Many had said they were dead, while many others had sworn that they were alive, but no one had known the truth of it. Seeing the thousands of riders and foot soldiers alike with them, Dean suddenly realized where most of the missing people had gone. Their numbers didn't equal the Dark Lord's, but he'd been gathering followers for a lot longer than two months. But there was still one nagging question: Which side were they here to fight for? Or did they fight for themselves, not on the side of good or evil but in some dark area all their own?
Two figures rode out, one from the northwest and one from the southeast, and he recognized the symbols of their Houses next to the others. Parkinson beside Malfoy; McGregor beside Zabini. Both lifted an arm, sword in hand, and the drums beat ever louder, like the pulse of the earth itself. Then those arms came down and both sections surged forward. Everyone around him seemed to snap out of their daze, and the Dark Lord's army ignored the Light witches and wizards, their full attention locked onto the true threat. The figure that he supposed was Anton threw out a hand as the army neared them, and there was a flash of silver on his hand.
A second later, a huge wall of darkfire slammed into the front lines, Death Eaters falling to ash in moments. A second blast came from the one he thought to be Pansy, and then the charging troops met those waiting for them. Their spells were strong, as were their shields, and the first dents appeared in the sea of masked fighters. A curse whizzed past his head and he cursed himself for becoming so distracted. But they had a chance now, even if they were still vastly outnumbered, and he saw the people from his own group beginning to get their will back. Flinging hexes with more accuracy, he nearly got trampled by a rampaging giant.
"Come back and play, you bloody big oaf!" A voice threaded with laughter called, and he turned to see three of his old schoolmates chasing after the giant on horseback, spears and wands in hand and intent smiles on their faces.
Sebastian, Marcello and Melody all sped by him without a glance, and Melody threw her spear seconds later, embedding it in the back of the giant's knee. It bellowed and crashed to the ground, squashing quite a few people in the process, and they were swarming over it moments later, seeming to know exactly where to impale it in order to cause the most damage. Its eyes were the first to go, then three powerful strikes to the back of the neck and a particularly vicious one somewhere along its vertebrae. And before he even knew what he was doing, he was running to help. He'd probably have a better chance of survival sticking with them if they'd let him.
"How can I help?" He called out over the deafening noise all around him, watching with a bit of awe as Melody used a long lock of the thing's hair to swing around and shove her sword into its temple. The giant finally stopped trying to throw them off, but it wasn't fully dead either. Then she jumped off and landed in front of him, and the dark joy in her eyes was slightly scary. She must have seen the thoughts running across his face, for she answered them all as if she was inside his head.
"It's paralyzed. Temple shots do that to them. And I don't particularly care if you follow us around, as long as you don't get in the way, Gryffindor." The word was said in a way that showed exactly how little she trusted him, and somehow also conveyed the fact that she wouldn't think twice about killing him.
Wondering if all Slytherins were so deadly and strange, he was starting to think that maybe the others had had the right idea in staying as far away from them as possible all of these years. Sebastian and Marcello were soon on the ground next to them, and were already anxious to get moving again. They said nothing about him tagging along, but their venomous looks spoke volumes. Death Eaters fell before them, the fighting hard and nasty, and they used curses he'd never even heard of before. He assisted them as much as he could, taking out more than a few himself, when something dawned on him. Looking around, he voiced his question as threw yet another hex.
"Where are Malfoy and Zabini? I see their banners everywhere, but not them."
"It's none of your concern." Sebastian said curtly, spinning and skewering a witch that was sneaking up on him with a long blade in her hand. They broke through another group, Dean leaving his question alone for now, before they found themselves in a bit of a jam. Literally. A whole score of Death Eaters had been blocked in by a large pile of giant flesh, and Marcello's blasting charm to get through had alerted them all to their presence. The Slytherins didn't look too worried, but Dean was. There were too many, they needed to get back out and on more open ground, they needed—
"They come!" Melody's shout broke off his thoughts, and he and the others, even the Death Eaters, turned to where she was pointing, up and to the left.
A thunderous roar broke through the loud crashing of steel and spells just as they raised their heads, and a gigantic black dragon swooped overhead, bearing a rider that had unmistakable mercury hair. At least twenty more appeared over the tops of the trees in the distance, flying fast and hard for the battling armies. Each had a rider upon its back, but none of the beasts were as large as the one that Malfoy was on. The first lava-bright blast of fire streamed from it, lighting up the field and showing the other groups converging on them from every side. Now the numbers were even, and he couldn't help but gawk for a moment.
Zabini was flying, literally flying, at the head of the largest group of Dementors he had ever seen. He hadn't even known there were that many of the creatures. And Zabini had fucking wings, huge, black-feathered wings, and he wondered if shapeshifting could do that, or if it was something more. And from the other side, he could clearly make out Ginny's hair, as well as wings the same color of shocking scarlet to either side of her as she swooped down with a horde of what could only be vampires. To her right, a few hundred yards away, was Padma Patil, wings of her own the color of rosewood fanning the air behind her as she led a group of great cats and Nundu.
"Oh god." He mumbled to no one in particular, more flashes of molten fire blazing all around them as screams rent the air. This had definitely not been in his visions of war; these creatures of terror and old tales. He had seen a lot since finding out that he was a wizard, but this…This was like living a legend, a myth. And maybe he was. This battle would certainly be remembered for ages to come, no matter who won.
"Come on!" He heard Marcello shout, and he turned to see the other Death Eaters that had been around them all dead.
The Slytherins had gotten quite a few, but the giant tigers seemed to have done their fair share as well. Marcello and the other two Slytherins were approaching those tigers, and they would have died had they not held out amulets from underneath their armor. The cats became almost docile at once, and stayed perfectly still while the three Slytherins mounted them. Only then did he notice the harnesses that all of the cats were wearing, each of which wound up and around the Slytherins' bodies until they were securely fastened to the cats' backs, leaving their hands free. Then they were shooting past him, and his world flipped upside down.
The next thing he knew, he was on one of the cats behind Melody, the straps of the leather harness twining around him as well. Everything around them was a blur, and he was pretty sure that he was about to be sick. Great. Then they were slowing, and he felt the cat's powerful muscles bunch underneath them before it sprung, crashing down on two Death Eaters as if they were nothing more than exceptionally large mice. Blood sprayed up in a wide arch, splattering across his face and doing nothing to help his nausea, and the sword in Melody's hand came down quickly, taking off one's head while the cat gutted the other.
"Can you use this?" Melody called over her shoulder, motioning at a long, coiled whip at her waist.
He nodded once, pretty sure that he could do what he knew she wanted him to. He unclasped the whip and the cat started moving again at a gentle command from the blood-soaked girl in front of him, and the next Death Eater he saw found itself being drug behind them as they sped along, darting in and out of the others fighting all around them. Sebastian and Marcello were flanking them, obviously keeping an eye on Melody, and he wondered if the girl knew what they were doing. He decided that she probably did, since even he had seen how protective Slytherin males tended to be, and he almost guaranteed that she was used to it.
Hanging onto the whip's grip as tightly as he could, he could feel it rubbing his hands raw and knew that he would have to let go soon. But almost as if the whip knew what he was thinking, it unwound itself from the Death Eater's legs and he pulled it in. Melody was hacking at anyone that dared to come near them, and the cat itself was incredibly lethal, its teeth and claws ripping right through spelled armor. Reattaching the whip to her waist, he wasted no time in getting out his wand. Briefly wishing that he'd trained with the pureblooded Gryffindors and learned how to use a sword like some of the muggleborns had done, he concentrated and shot the Killing Curse again.
The sky suddenly lit up right in front of them, and Melody reined the cat in sharply as Zabini came into view, twenty feet in the air and encircled in a crackling, flashing ball of lightning. Melody smiled vivaciously and grabbed her amulet, saying something and tapping it with her wand before grabbing his hand. He nearly fell over as power unlike any he'd ever felt swarmed through him like a hive of rapid bees, and he was sure that his skin would split open from the intensity of it. The wind had picked up, whipping past them and howling like a multitude of lost souls, centered around the glowing figure of the dark-winged Slytherin.
"I…" He tried to say that the magic was too much, but he couldn't form the words. She understood, though, and looked at him knowingly.
"It's because you're not pure." She said, and he probably would have taken offence at any other time. "Now hold on and brace yourself."
He barely had time to register the warning and wrap his hands in the straps of the harness before Zabini appeared to explode. But it wasn't really him; it was the electricity racing around him. It blew out from him in all directions, completely obliterating everything in a hundred-yard radius. He only vaguely saw Zabini swooping away, not looking in the least bit exhausted after that burst of energy, and glanced around where they were. The energy had rushed over and around them, and he was guessing it had something to do with the amulet Melody had activated. It had been like being inside of an electrical storm, up close and personal.
The only other people in the immediate vicinity still standing where those who had the same glowing shields around them, and he wondered exactly what kind of monsters they'd been sharing a school with. He had never imagined a show of power like that one, hadn't imagined that such levels of magical energy could even exist. It was not a pleasant way to find out that they could. He didn't even have time to re-gather his sensibility before they were zooming off again, right back into the thick of it. His thoughts still spinning, his curses spilled from him with him barely even thinking about them, and he didn't notice their lessening effect until Melody hit him.
"Get your shit together or get off!" She yelled, and he snapped back to reality, sending her a sheepish look that she ignored after rolling her eyes, the lashes of which were sticky with drying blood.
The 'drying' part was soon remedied as another fell beneath her sword, and he lost track of time completely, the battle raging around him as he tried his damnedest to avoid dying while guarding the girl's back at the same time. He might have discovered a healthy dose of fear for Slytherins recently, but she had still helped him, no matter how rudely she had gone about it. And he couldn't help admiring her grace and efficiency, no matter how brutal. Kicking one grasping Death Eater in the face, he nearly dropped his wand when he saw Pansy Parkinson slice a wizard's head in half with one fell stroke.
He'd thought that Melody was soaked in gore; hell, he'd even thought that he was, but he was proven wrong as he saw her fighting back to back with Anton McGregor, their eyes shining fiercely with a blood lust that he knew nothing of. Both looked as if they'd been skinned, the thick red fluid dripping off of them in streaming rivulets, and their mounts were nowhere to be seen. Sebastian and Marcello were at their sides in seconds, and they traded off wordlessly, as if they were so in tune with one another that they had no need for more than a shared look. Pansy and Anton leapt onto the cats' backs, and took off once they'd cleared a path, leaving complete mayhem in their wake.
Startled at the quick exchange, he nearly missed a werewolf creeping up behind them. The cat didn't miss it though, and it spun in a whirlwind of sharp claws and furious swipes. As it was spinning, a Death Eater grabbed his robes and pulled, slashing out with a blade and cutting through the harness. He fell back hard, barely seeing Melody go down as well, and he was rolling to the side a second before that sword came down where his head had just been. Then a dagger had planted itself it the Death Eater's mask, and it fell backwards almost comically slow. There was no time to thank the girl for shaving his life.
They got separated quickly, the tide of fighting sweeping them back and forth across the field, and there were so many people, so many grappling and struggling and bleeding and dying…He hated war. But he hated the idea of Voldemort ruling much more, and it drove him to continue even though all he wanted to do was lie down and pretend that this mass slaughter wasn't happening. The ground shook behind him and he spun around to see Malfoy leaping off of his dragon, a pair of metallic silver wings carrying him through the air, a blazing sword covered in icy flames in each hand. He picked someone up and deposited them on the dragon's back before landing.
The Death Eaters actually started running, and Malfoy's laughter was like a funeral dirge that egged them on. Holding out one sword, he spun in a circle and Dean hit the ground before the stream of white-blue energy could cut him in half like it was the others. It was as if he held an impossibly bright flashlight, and its beam was like a lightsaber out of Star Wars. And still he laughed, wild and somewhat free, but Dean only looked up when that brilliant radiance died down. He was surprised to see that Malfoy's eyes weren't their usual silver but a vibrant, bloody crimson, and then he was flying back into the fray, gone in a flash as if he'd never been there.
Blackened, hacked-up bodies surrounded him, and he saw that only a handful of others not wearing amulets had survived that swift attack. One was on the ground beside him, and he saw that it was a wounded Death Eater. Raising his wand, something stopped him and he looked harder. Familiar hair was poking out from underneath the hood, and he pushed it back, horror filling every cell as inch after inch of that hair was revealed. Wanting to cry out in denial, he ripped the dirty mask off and met a pair of familiar brown eyes that were glazed over with pain. Feeling as if he'd just been stabbed, he could do nothing for a long while.
"Hermione?" He finally croaked, so many things running through his mind, memories of studying with her and trusting her, of all people, to never betray them.
But here she was in Death Eater robes, and…Oh god. He was going to be ill, seriously, seriously ill. The Dark Mark blazed on her pale skin, black and scabby, spilt through with infected yellow pus. It was too much. Leaning away, he threw up until he couldn't anymore, the bile nowhere near as rancid as the festering wounds in his soul. This was Hermione, Girl Wonder and Miss I-Can-Do-No-Wrong. Hermione, who'd always stuck by Harry and Ron through everything until they'd turned on her. Hermione, who he'd wanted to ask out once they'd graduated, but the war had started and she'd disappeared when so many others had, too…
Except that she hadn't 'disappeared' like most of the others. She had no green or silver ribbons braided into her hair, no purple or black sashes tied anywhere on her person. She had no second lying dead next to her or trying to help her as he'd noticed all of those fighting for Malfoy and Zabini had. All she had was that hideous brand and a gaping hole in her left side. Three simultaneous explosions sounded behind them, people were once more rushing madly by, and he still had no idea how long he'd been kneeling there, his world having crumbled in the span of a single meeting of eyes. And she was looking back at him.
"So sorry." She managed to choke out, and he could feel the tears rising in his throat. "I tr-tried to f-fight it, fight h-him. I did, I sw-swear." Her words cut worse than any sword, and for the first time, he couldn't believe her.
And he didn't know what to do. Another explosion rocked the earth and rent the air, closer that time, and Hermione's eyes squeezed shut as she was jolted around. Some part of him still hated to see her in pain, because even with the Mark on her arm and the mask at her side, she was still Hermione, and damn it all if didn't still love her. That thought finally had tears streaking down his cheeks, and he felt more lost than he ever had in his life. Her hand tried to clasp his and he was helpless to stop it, completely shell-shocked at a time when he couldn't afford it. The fighting was growing thick around them once more, and it was probably a matter of seconds before he was seen.
"Run!" He heard someone shout, and a group of Death Eaters sped right past them, fleeing from something or someone.
He saw who it was moments later, and realized where the explosions must have been coming from. Because Ginny was coated in flames, those scarlet wings beating snow into the air as she hovered above the ground, chasing the Death Eaters as if it were nothing more than a game, flames a darker red than any he'd ever seen flickering in her fists as she threw ball after ball of them easily and precisely. She spotted Dean and grinned, a somehow feline baring of sharp fangs that in no way comforted him. Then she spotted who he was kneeling over, and she came towards them, tweaking every instinct that he had, making him feel like he'd be safer away from her altogether.
"Hermione?" The fiery girl called, and that voice slid over his skin like a velvet caress, dark and smooth and utterly dangerous, and he recoiled from it, feeling like a rabbit lost in a leopard's den.
That feeling wasn't helped when he saw the three gigantic Nundu pacing at her floating heels, each bearing a vampire on its back. And not just any vampires, oh no, not for her guard. Dean had developed quite a fascination with the creatures over the years, and he knew that the tattoos around their eyes and running down the sides of their faces marked them as favorites of the Ancients, the Old Ones' most elite warriors. What vampire had made her and her boyfriends for them to warrant such a high sign of favor? The other vampires he could understand, but these were rumored to never leave their select master's side.
"Is she hurt? What's wrong?" Ginny asked, growing ever closer.
Wondering how much this betrayal would mean to her, he moved out of the way soundlessly, something in his core bidding him to make way for her. That same something made him want to kiss the hems of her bloody robes as she neared him, made him want to clean the gore off of her armor with the utmost care and attention. Startled, he seemed to snap out of whatever haze had fogged his thoughts, though the desires stayed strong within him. He had no idea what was making him act in such a way, but it was disturbing and spooky and…right. Bone-numbingly right in a way that few things had ever been.
She terrified him, but he still wanted nothing more than to serve her as he fell into those charcoal eyes. It had nothing to do with lust or sex, for even thinking of it seemed somehow wrong and made him feel filthy, as if he'd just spit in the face of a god. To touch her with his unworthy hands would be the greatest of treasons, and he would set fire to all the world's temples before that happened. He had no idea what was making all of these things suddenly root themselves inside of him, but they were there and they were strong. He noticed others falling to their knees as she passed, their faces lit with the same confusion and wonder that he himself was feeling.
"Answer her!" One of the vampires snapped, reining the Nundu up right in front of him and splashing him with bloody snow. Meeting the creature's eyes, the complete lack of humanity in them made him feel cold all over again in a way that had nothing to do with the snow. The vampire hissed when he stayed silent, and words were soon spilling from him in a torrent.
"I was fighting with Melody but we got separated after she saved my life, and then Malfoy came out of nowhere on a dragon and got off, killing everyone and laughing, and I got as low as I could and then I looked up and he was heading into the worst part of the fighting, to the east, and his eyes were red, and then I got up and I saw her, and…and…and oh, fuck, I'm going to be sick again." Just thinking of the Dark Mark on Hermione's arm was enough to make him dry heave, and he could feel the disgusted stares of the vampires drilling into him.
"He's gone Godridden. Gods can do that with those of their Chosen that are the same gender as they are." She said absently, and he supposed that she was referring to Draco and his strange eyes. "Now, what else is wrong? Why are you so upset?"
He lifted his eyes to hers and let all of his internal agony fill them, knowing instinctually that she would see and understand. She did, and her darkly ringed eyes went dead and cold in seconds, at odds with the scorching heat rolling off of her. She fell to her knees beside Hermione and he wanted to stop her, to tell her that it was somehow obscene to see her on her knees for any reason, and he'd even reached out to touch her shoulder when he suddenly found a bladed staff at his throat. The female vampire holding it and the Nundu underneath her both flashed fangs at him, and he drew his hand back instantly.
"Please, no." Ginny said, and then she reached out and pushed Hermione's sleeve up, while the brown-haired girl looked at her with horrified, fearful, guilt-filled eyes.
The Dark Mark shone sickly in the open air once more, and the vampires moved forward swiftly to kill her. But Ginny raised a small, delicate, deadly hand and they stopped immediately, although they didn't look too happy about it. It was obvious that they wanted nothing more than to split Hermione open from end to end, and Dean was glad that Ginny had stopped them, because he knew he would never have been able to get over seeing something like that. Hermione and Ginny kept their eyes locked together for a good while before the fire-haired girl pulled away and closed hers mournfully. He could see her conflict, and wondered.
'Will she kill her?'
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....
'Will I kill her?'
Dean would have been distressed to know that Virginia was thinking the same thing that he was. The Dark Mark on Hermione's arm was her death sentence. To see it so clearly on her, to feel it and its foul touch…It was death on sight, an order straight from the mouths of her lovers. And, technically, she and her House still served under them unless they married. She knew that they would usually have played blatant favoritism and made an exception for her, and Draco might still if she could find the right way to press her case. But Blaise would never forgive this, no matter how sweet her words or what pleas fell from her lips.
And truthfully, looking down at a girl who'd been her friend for a very long time, she didn't know if she thought it worth begging for in the first place. That vile skull leered up at her, and it wasn't just her rage that poured through her, but her god's as well. Divine fury was like a drug, and though she and Padma couldn't become Godridden like her boyfriends since they were female, they could still channel their Lord to a certain extent. And even He agreed that the girl should die, and that Blaise would have her heart as soon as he learned of her treachery. Dean was looking at her intently, and she raised her eyes to his and watched him fidget for a moment.
"You love her." It was not a question, and he seemed to know that, so he just nodded. "I'm sorry."
"What? You…You're not going to kill her, are you? Ginny, that's Hermione." He stressed, searching her face. But her features stayed blank and he pulled back, shivering even though her heat had long melted all of the snow around them. Rising to her feet, she made her decision, the only one that she could make. She was bound too tightly by love and respect and devotion to do anything else.
"You'll have a better chance if you leave with her now. It will not be my hand that kills her, but I will not stop Blaise when he comes for her, either. He made her a promise, and he never breaks those."
Then she was gone, shooting back up into the air with wings that were a gift from her Lord and the Morningstar. Pain and rage ate at her, and she wondered how many more people would betray her before she decided to Pass. Knowing the long centuries that spread out before her, she knew that it was inevitable. Sickened at the thought, she let the fury grab her again, and sunk into battle madness. Her vampire guard, supplied by Neithotep, followed her on the ground, and she waited until she was in the center of a large group of fighting before calling her power to her. It beat in time with her heart, pulsing over her skin, and she reveled in it.
Like moths drawn to a flame, her lovers shot up out of the fray and into the night sky. Their Marks tingled, and Padma rose above the rest as well, until they formed a huge diamond. She had planned on blasting a few scores of them on her own, but their Lord was ready to make an appearance, and the Marks guided them almost subconsciously. Glowing like hovering stars, each held out their arms and let the power reach toward the other until a diamond of dark light was visible, stretching from one to the other. Those underneath them wanted to run but found themselves frozen in place. Still the power grew, beginning to leak from the lines to the center.
They rose higher, higher, until she felt the first clouds brushing against her skin, and then a portal opened between them, and Cocidius came out of it in all of his dark, golden glory. Screams split the tense air, and continued as Lucifer came out on His heels, then Hades, Osirus and Afallach, Pluto and Hodur, Isis and Persephone, Macha, Holle and Proserpine. The Dark Royals appeared before humans for the first time in ages, and every one of them dropped their weapons and fell to their knees. Still gods and goddesses poured out of the portal with unmatched grace, Mars and Ares and Thanatos, Anuke and Am-Heh, Loki and Neptune, Skadi and Donn and Taranis.
Still they kept coming, until the sky was full of them, and she recognized many of those from the Light Court. All of the High Queens of Heaven had come, but none of their Kings. The reason for it reached her through her Mark, and her ire burned ever hotter when she heard what Dagda had done to them. Damn the Bane! The High Kings of the Sky Realm were lost to them unless the Bane was destroyed, because Dagda had turned it against them and half of Heaven in one fell swoop. Only the Queens' shielding had saved the others and allowed them to escape. And Dagda was coming; she could feel it through her connection to Cocidius.
The gods formed into ranks in the sky, and she, her lovers and Padma broke formation and went to their head, dropping to their knees before their Lord in midair. He ran a glowing, spectral hand over them lovingly, and they trembled at His nearness. Then the sky on the other side of the field split open, four figures in the air on that side as well, and she knew that she was getting her first glimpse of the Dark Lords that they were meant to fight. The light and clouds around them obscured her vision, but she knew that she would meet them face-to-face soon enough. She ached for it in a way; some part of her wished for nothing more than to kill them all.
She watched as the opposing, tainted gods slid out of the other side, and saw the disgust of the divine beings all around her. With the other gods' appearance, Voldemort's army seemed to get their bearings back, and the fighting started again, though many couldn't help their eyes wandering to the sky filled with legends. Faintly, then growing louder, she could hear those of their forces raising their voices in worship and joy, even as they tried not to die. Knowing that the gods still existed due to one's Chosen walking the earth was one thing, but seeing them spread out above them was something entirely different, especially for the purebloods.
"Go, my Chosen." Cocidius said, a low roll of divinity sliding through them like a caress. "Thy people need thee among them on the earth, as mine need me in the sky. We will see one another again." He said when He felt their reluctance to leave His side. "Now go, and know that fate moves with thee." They nodded once, sent Him their reverence and love, and turned to leave. The last thing they heard as they dove for the ground was Lucifer's sensual, modern drawl.
"As it moves with you, Cocidius? Should you rip the High Crown from Dagda's brow, you will be…"
They heard no more, the ground rushing up to meet them, and wings fanned out to either side, slowing their descent until their feet hit the ground. Two scarlet streaks shot out of the frantic mass of fighting, and both twins were soaked in red, dripping blood, grinning madly with battle lust. Wordlessly, they surrounded Padma and left with her to the right, while Virginia, Draco and Blaise set off to the left. People were looking at them so strangely; they'd been doing it before, but now it was ten times worse. And their warriors were kneeling and abandoning fights all over the place whenever they passed by, as if they simply couldn't help themselves.
Realizing swiftly that them staying on the ground simply wouldn't work, since just the sight of them seemed to be enough to make most lose their heads completely, they took to the air again, swooping in and out of the crazed Dementors that hadn't fed so well since the Grindelwald Wars. Targeting a group of giants that had pulled one of the dragons out of the sky and had it and its rider backed against a pile of their own dead kin, blocking the dragon's flames with huge, rough-looking shields, they converged on them as one, ice, fire and lightning melding together into one cohesive, lethal force. The giants were dead before they even had time to see what hit them.
The rider called a hurried, but genuine, thanks to them before shooting back into the air, and they saw Charlie's familiar hair flash in the light of more dragon fire to the side of them. Banking to the right, they went in a circle and sent their senses out to see where they were most needed. A pack of werewolves was wreaking havoc not too far away, and feral grins spread across their faces. Killing those particular traitors was fun and gave them a deep sense of satisfaction, and Neithotep rose in them when she sensed their prey. They landed lightly, uncaring of their effect on others for the moment as the werewolves noticed them, amber eyes filling with loathing.
"Come on, puppies. Try your luck." Draco taunted, sheathing his swords and moving for them.
The first sprung and found its throat ripped out a second later, Draco's movement nothing more than a blur, even to her eyes. The others attacked at once, and she and Blaise sheathed their blades as well, the opportunity of hand-to-hand combat with the wolves too tempting to pass up. Two came at her from either side, and the first got a boot to the face as she snatched the second up by the back of its neck and shook it, hearing bones crack under her fingers with the vicious movement. The other was on her a second later, and she let it ride her to the ground before leaning up and kissing the side of its dripping muzzle.
It crumbled to ash on top of her, and a third tried to get her while she was down. She moved not a muscle until it was flying at her, then rolled at the last second and let it crash to the ground before leaping on its back. Wrapping a hand in the shaggy fur of its head she yanked it back and bared its throat before sinking fangs into it and holding on tightly as it bucked underneath her. The powerful blood slid through her, tasting of revenge and old debts, and she let the wolf's body slid lifeless back to the ground moments later. Quick feedings always gave her a rush, and she got back to her feet in one liquid, energetic movement.
"There's another over there." She heard Blaise point out, a pile of dead wolves surrounding him as he looked over her shoulder at the stray.
He and Draco moved to her side and she spun to see the one he spoke of. Recognition swirled in some part of her mind and she felt, for a moment, like she shouldn't kill that one, but the instinctual hatred that churned inside of her was too strong. They moved for him at once, and he was too busy fighting to notice. He looked to be fighting against the Death Eaters, but the scent of the wolf was too thick on him for her to follow that thought. Their grins growing wider, they were less than three feet behind him when he killed the one he was fighting and turned to them with honey-colored eyes that enraged them even farther.
"Ginny?" He asked, before his nostrils flared and his eyes locked onto her bared fangs. That primordial fury filled his own eyes, and he lifted a hand to strike her when someone else grabbed it and yanked him backwards. He fell into Sirius, whose eyes were wild with fear, though not for himself. The darker haired man pushed the werewolf back behind him, and Ginny wanted to protest and tell him that the thing couldn't be trusted at his back, but Sirius spoke first.
"Please, don't." He said, meeting each of their eyes in turn. "It's Lupin, it's Moony. He's all I have left. He was here fighting for the Light. Please."
"Sirius…" Blaise started in a low voice, obviously struggling with himself; clawed fingers twitching with the need to cut the werewolf open and watch it bleed.
But there was a blast of dark power behind them, and the werewolf was of no concern when they turned and saw who came toward them. Three figures wreathed in darkfire were headed straight for them, killing everyone in their path, even their own warriors. Voldemort was the one in the middle, that much was obvious. He looked fully healed, expect his blood-red eyes looked as if the irises had been cut into sections, shot through with white, the only sign of the poison's damaging effects. He had a smug grin on his face, and when the Dark Lords to either side of him turned to face them, they saw why. It was impossible, yet true all the same.
Both had wings stretching to either side, but they were not feathered, but made like a bat's, all leathery and thin, nearly see-through. They were the color of rusted blood and had clawed tips that dripped with toxic fluids that ate through the snow at their feet. They were the same height and built identically, completely like the other but for their coloring. The one to the left had hair of spun silver that glinted in the starlight, the other locks of the deepest black that ate it instead. Eyes of mercury and indigo ran over them expectantly, as if judging their worth in the same way that they themselves were being judged.
But it was not all of that that was impossible, nor was their likeness to each other. It was the fact that they were carbon copies of her lovers that sent chills down her spine. Those were Draco's eyes staring at her as if she were nothing but a powerful prize; Blaise's face that gazed at her with nothing but dislike etched across his features. It was unsettling and disturbing, and she took her lovers' hands in hers as if for confirmation that they were next to her and not standing before her, reeking of evil and tainted blood. She could feel her lovers close themselves off behind unbreakable mental walls, and when the two who looked exactly like them stepped forward and spoke in unison, each looking at his counter-part, she felt the world become unsteady underneath her feet.
"Hello, brother."
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
(laughs evilly) You know you love me! Now, please REVIEW!!!!