Eternal Dream
Disclaimer: All materials belong to J.K. Rowling
Sequel to Illusions of Love because people asked for it.
The room, so white it blinded him, so quiet his mind created sounds to fill the void. He sat there, lost. He was torn away from his Virginia, but he still saw her; she flashed before his eyes. They would be reunited.
His dreams took him away, cradled him in its peaceful, shadowy embrace, to her. A different place, a different time, a different him, but the same her. Her hair, her eyes, her skin, the lips, the places he had only dreamed of stood before him; she was his, two different people; Tom was Tom and Virginia was Virginia.
The ballroom. They danced the night away. She was dressed in red, blood red. The feel of silk, the scent of her, the sound of her voice better when real, but, he asked himself, was it real? The bells in the churches rang, midnight. Hand in hand, they walked out of the ballroom.
They stopped at a building, brick discolored with age and soot from the chimneys and coal burnings that kept the city alive. London, the city of love and smoke; hazy, intoxicating, and dangerous. Through the heavy door, up the narrow staircase, and through another door. Inside was a flat, furnished with red furniture, she seemed to have a love obsession with crimson, pouring from around her like blood. Passed the couches, the tables, and books, the kitchen and through another door: The bedroom door.
His jacket, her dress, his pants, her corset, his shirt, her hosiery thrown across the room, covering the wooden floor. Her skin was warm, it was like fire on his lips, it burned him but he screamed out for more. The indulgence, the pleasure (or was it pain?), the love; hazy, intoxicating, and dangerous, but unlike the smoke, it was sweet.
"I love you, Virginia." He echoed the words from the day in front of the painting.
A pierce, softening in her alluring brown eyes, like chocolate, and then a smile from the soft, pink lips, "I love you, too." The happiness was warm like her skin; it spread from his heart to the rest of his body.
His eyes opened, expecting the blinding white and the deafening silence. But instead he felt the softness of her skin, the slow of her breathing, and the intoxicating lavender smell rising from her. A smile, it was real.
The hospital staff found his body cold, but a smile lingered on his face. Cause of death: natural causes; he hadn't suffocated, been murdered, or harmed, he just died. It was real, life after death. But when his heart stopped on earth, it beat next to hers. It was eternal bliss, without the illusion and the pain, but with the pleasure.
The End
A/N: Something I wrote because people wanted to know what happened to the couple that never seems to have a happy ending. I don't now if it's better or worse than Illusion, but whatever. Not sure what the title has to with anything, but it sounds cool