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Thanks for all of your reviews. they mean so much. :sniffle:
A.N. i am so sorry for the length of time it has taken me to update. but my mum has banned me from going on for the past six weeks because i have had exams, and i have had to revise. So my mum didn't want me to be distracted by my story. However, the exams have finished this week and now i am preparing for my second year of A levels so there will be little homework so i can focus on the story more. Although I have only seen star wars twice so i have to see it at least another two times. OMG its brilliant. i love hayden's portrayal on Anakin in this one. And squee there is rumours that Lucas has plans for a seventh. Yayness. Any way here is th chapter. Enjoy.
Pained whimpers and agonised moans sounded from the boy as he thrashed in his sleep. By the side, a red haired figure in maroon pyjamas looked on helpless as his friend squirmed on his bed as he struggled against his nightmares. Emerald flashed through dark lashes as his eyes fluttered in the midst of his dream, while a sweaty hand occasionally brushed against his flushed face roughly in a futile attempt to ward of the visions that were plaguing him. The crimson flush that suffused his cheeks from the heat generated by his wounded tossing and turning blended well with the drops of liquid rubies that seeped from the lightening bolt scar that stood out on his forehead. He groaned as once more the scar seared his head, filled with a burning agony linked to the mixed ecstasy and rage that his enemy was feeling. His old, long healed wound blazed with a heat that equalled to that emitted from the smouldering houses of sleepy Rowena Close.
Adrenaline coursed through him, as his heart pounded in rhythm to the running feet of fleeing witches and wizards before him. Through the thick smoke that poured from the fires on two of the houses, he could see figures in cloaked black, and others in striped flannel, shimmering silk and patterned cotton. Screams rent the air, pleasured shrieks and howls of laughter from the Death Eaters as they cursed their running victims and terrified wails from those who scurried for shelter and safety. Amongst it all was the ever present cackle of Voldemort, the Lord he was serving. Their mission was simple. Wreak havoc and kill as many as they could along the way. An ominous crackling sounded above him, and he dodged out of the way as a clump of burning thatch fell to the ground, unable to find the support needed to keep them elevated in the ruined roof. The fire swelled to an unbearable roar as it came into contact with more oxygen, its life raging on unabated as it moved to consume another house. From the light of the flames that licked at the dark sky, he could see a shrieking woman being borne to the ground before being covered by a broad, cloaked and masked figure. Children yowled in fear as they were chased. Movement from the nearby doorway distracted him, and seeing his target, the boy rose from his hiding place and, dodging a ray of sickly green that rushed past before impacting with a snarling man as he shielded his family, followed his objective to the interior of a newly burnt house, its resident flames having long since moved onto more nourishing food.
The stairs crumbled as he ran up them, the burnt wood settled to the floor with an ashy whisper as he passed. The sight of the hem of a dressing gown disappearing round the singed carcass of a doorway led him to where his targets were hiding. Flames from other houses illuminated his mask, yet the scream of the cornered couple blended with those resounding from the street below. Raising his wand, he quelled his nervousness and stuttered over the curse that would rid the pair before him of their lives. All of his teachings failed him as his nerve disappeared on the smoke saturated wind that swept through the close. Again and again his tremulous voice stumbled and stuttered over the words, never quite forming them perfectly. The woman's tearstained face turned towards him, as her husband, in joyous relief, mocked his inability to perform the spell. The derisive laughter and scornful words rang around his head, a cacophony of raucous bells that he just could not ignore. Light from various spells and the fire lit up his face, while rage surged through him. He fed off the fear that now showed on the man's face as he realised too late his mistake. His laughter was replaced by desperate pleads, before a nauseating green light ripped through him, tearing his life from his body as it passed. The woman by his side had just enough time to open her thinly lipped mouth to scream before death claimed her too.
Exhilaration filled him, even as a numb sense of fear licked at the edge of his consciousness. For those few seconds, he had held lives in his hands. It had taken two words to snuff those lives out. He could control anyone he wanted. The fear and desperation in the man's brown eyes as He turned over his fate in his hands was delicious. A sense of power pulsed along his body, pouring straight from his heart, surging through his arteries with his every pulse to seep from the capillaries into his every cell. A whimper drew his attention, before a singed and broken spar shattered his head. Blood oozed from a cut on his temple, where the mask had cracked and a splinter had penetrated his skin. He had barely enough time to dodge as the spar was swung back around again. A disarming charm sent the remnants of a rafter flying from the girl's hands before he thrust out a hand and seized her throat. She cried out in pain, as he squeezed contemptuously, the sense of power flooding through him once more. A lit spar fell into the room from the adjacent house, illuminating the darkened space to its occupants, the flames glinting off honey hair as a slow tear dripped down her child-like face. Golden hair tinged with an auburn red glowing in the firelight, a kiss that tasted of salty tears and ripe cherries. Blue eyes that sparkled and danced with her life and fire. Pushing the girl away as if she carried some contagious disease, the boy felt bile rise in his throat. The acrid taste of self-disgust and loathing choked him. Why, why, why in Merlin's name did I have to like her? Why didn't she come to the Dinner? Then Father could have disapproved and I would have a reason to leave her? Revulsion filled him, and turning on his heel, he fled. Fled from the carnage, from the dead and the dying. Fled from the girl who looked too much like Amaya. Fled from the corpses that because of him would never see the beauty of a sunrise again. Fled from the nauseating stench of Death and Burning and Blood.
Slumping on a dewy, green hill, he tore off the mask and vomited. Bitter stomach acid that burned his mouth and tore at his throat before it spilled like blood from an open wound onto the grass. Resting his head on the wet ground, he breathed in the scent of growing and life, away from the bloodshed and the slaughter. Seeing a small spring, he dragged himself over. The cold water sluiced away the blood from his wound and rinsed his throat. As a red tinted dawn rose, he washed his tiredface before looking back into the water and seeing his ice grey eyes reflected back at him.
Hundreds of miles away, the emerald eyed boy wrenched his conscious away from the horrific world of his dreams and woke with a cry.
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