A flash of green light whirred just over her and someone fell to the ground, inevitably dead. Retaliating yellow and red shocked people in the front line of battle, although it seemed that no one was injured. She couldn't tell -- blood was pounding in her ears, loud enough to deafen her for the rest of her life. The hooded, masked man behind her was still chasing.
Part of her wondered why he didn't just Apparate in front of her and finish the job quickly, but the other part was grateful he was giving her a chance to escape. It wasn't a very big chance, but at least she had one.
An explosion knocked at least sixty of their warriors backwards.
Blood and death surrounded her, and her hope for escape was beginning to dwindle amidst the horrors of the final battle. So many of their men and women were dying or dead, so many were sprawled on the ground in mangled torture as Death Eaters laughed into the night.
The man behind her was catching up. She could tell, because she could suddenly hear his labored breathing over her own.
Her lungs were shriveled and ready to curl up forever, but she kept running. Circles, figure eights, anything to push him into the throes of the Killing Curse but it wasn't working. There was no one paying little enough attention to see her, there was no one to notice that things were not going well for the youngest Weasley child.
She prayed silently, grasping onto every bit of faith and desperation she had and willed herself to find a way to get out of the situation she was trapped in. Please, she thought, ignoring the uneven pounding in her chest. Please, let me find a way out...
The edge of the Forbidden Forest suddenly loomed over her, and she jumped several corpses under the full moon just to make sure that she got there. She could lose him in the trees. she decided. She could lose him in the trees and sit down and cry for eternity.
She slowed, gradually, as she came closer and closer to the outskirts of the forest and leapt a few more bodies with glassy eyes and blood leaking from their mouths. She focused on the ground, on the obstacles that could keep her from the destination that could save her life. The first tree, she found, was in her reach and she allowed herself to stretch an arm towards it, relief floating through her head.
And then, much to her horror, something growled.
The Death Eater was not as far behind as she had assumed him, and he knocked her to the ground before she could see whatever lurked in the shadows. She fell with very little grace, screaming every obscenity her brothers had ever taught her, throwing punches at him as quickly as she could.
It was not quick enough. A pale, sleek hand raised a wand and muttered an incantation -- her arms were pinned to her sides, legs locked together. Lucius Malfoy lifted the white mask from his face and smiled.
"Now, Miss Weasley," he said in a sickeningly friendly tone. "I must admit I've always thought of you as such a sweet girl, and it pains me to have to do this to you,"
She tried to hit him, to bite him, but she was both bound and too far away to sink her teeth into that stupid hand of his. He continued to smile arrogantly, leaning back against the first tree within the limits of the Forbidden Forest of Hogwarts.
"Oh, Ginevra," he sighed. "You supremely stupid girl."
Something growled again, and in an instant an indistinguishable mass of brown fur walked onto the battlefield.
She closed her eyes and there was a very long instance of extreme pain. Scream, she thought to herself and she tried, but there was no sound. Just pain and, afterwards, blackness.
Nothing.
It was morning, and the rain had started by the time Remus Lupin opened his eyes. His hair was stuck to his face, and he tried to wipe it away but the humidity and the wetness made his attempts futile. He muttered to himself about hating the rain and sat up. Stretched. Yawned. Everything methodical, everything devoid of spontaniety.
Ten seconds to decide whether or not he wanted a bit more rest. He always mananged by five, however, and the remainder of the time was used to make sure he knew what he wanted. He wanted to be awake, he decided. He doubted whether or not he would ever be able to drop back into dreamland with water falling from the sky.
He stood up. Stretched. Yawned again. Headed towards the large, hollow oak tree that housed his robes. He alternated between the Shrieking Shack and this interesting little grove when he was at Hogwarts. This month was the grove because of the war.
Once he was fully clothed, he walked towards his makeshift bed and sat down, checking his fingernails for blood. Left hand, safe. Right hand... He squinted, looked closer.
Not safe.
The nails on his right hand were tinted a reddish-brown, skin splotched with identical patches and flakes of the same dark substance. Blood. What had he killed? Good Lord, what had he killed?
He rolled up his sleeve, checking the rest of his arm for telltale maroon. Found it. Unbuttoned his shirt, rebuttoned his shirt and nearly cried.
He swiped at his mouth with the clean hand, frantically searching the area for anything that might tell him. His hands felt through the soggy leaves and twigs and grass, groping for something possibly incriminating.
Found it.
In his bed, partly covered by dirt and things like that. Ginny Weasley. Bleeding, but not much. Just a scratch on her cheek. He let out a breath, carefully checked for signs of more vicious wounds and almost laughed when he realized that she was fine. Still breathing, tired-looking, but fine.
He stared at her, unsure of what to do. Wake her up? Let her know she wasn't dead? Apologize? His head swam when he thought of all the conclusions she could jump to, and he fell back into the leaves with terror. He wasn't safe. She would think he wasn't safe, and they were such friends. Molly and Arthur would kill him first and think of asking questions later.
He didn't do anything.
Fingers flew to his temples, massaging as he tried to remember what happened. How she had found her way into his area, what she was doing. Nothing. Not even a scrap of black sky to notify him that it was night when he saw her.
He sighed. Folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes against the rain as he faced the murky morning above him.
Muscles ached. Head hurt. Spun. He fell asleep again, right next to her, wondering what people would think if (yawn) they saw this.
...Probably nothing good.
The next time he opened his eyes, she was standing and crying. Shoulders pressed against the trunk of a tree, gazing out towards the Hogwarts grounds. Red hair plastered to her head and down her back, black Muggle t-shirt and ripped jeans turned even darker by the rain.
He sat up and walked towards her, not sure what to do but certain that he had to do something. He didn't know why she was crying. Him? Did she wake up and see him and think... No. No, he realized as he approached her that she was looking at the battlefield. Staring out, wide brown eyes welling with tears and rain.
He placed a hand on her shoulder, hardly prepared for anything that was about to happen. She continued with her sobs, lips quivering, but she also grabbed his hand and pulled him a few steps closer to the dreadful scene. He followed without a single complaint.
She brought him to the center of it all, staring around at the motionless morning. They were the only two creatures moving. She turned to face him, wet eyes examining his face. He didn't dare move, speak, breathe. People under emotional strain can be rash.
She didn't attack him.
He stared into her eyes, and they begged for him to take her in his arms. He did. Held her as close as physically possible and let her cry into his chest. She did, for what seemed like hours but then she looked up. Swollen nose, red cheeks.
Kissed him, which he thought was strange considering the situation. Didn't care, though. She didn't care. He didn't care. They hit the ground between two lifeless bodies, still kissing. Pain. Anger. Terror. He felt everything she was sending him with opalescent tears and sharp kisses.
Ran out of breath, so she stopped and hung to him for dear life. He held her still, not sure why but sure he'd never be forgiven if he let her go.
"You saved my life," she whispered, eyes fluttering.