Title: When the Melody of Hope Died Out
Author: FragrantPowders
Beta: Emma/monifieth, remaining mistakes are my own.
Pairing: Pansy/Luna
Rating: K-/PG
Warnings: Character Death
Disclaimer: I own none of the Harry Potter characters (unfortunately), JK Rowling does. Go bugger her and tell her I make no profit of this, therefore, don't sue. Please.
Author's Notes: Read and review, please. This is a quick thing I wrote one day I got home from school. It's sad and angsty, but quite lovely in my own opinion.
When the Melody of Hope Died Out
She must have dozed off.
Pansy blinks a couple of times, the golden sunlight from the setting sun making a deformed monster of her shadow on the slimy stone wall as she slowly gets to her knees, trying to shake the drowsiness off her. She is not supposed to be asleep (she is supposed to be guarding the fake Horcrux and alert the Order in case the Death Eaters come for it) and as she makes sure the cave is empty for anyone but her and Luna (who is also asleep; Pansy should be angry with her for not waking her up, but she looks like an innocent angel, lying with her face hidden in the crook of her arm) and she wonders idly why she does not remember being tired.
"Lovegood," she finally says, shaking herself out of it after too many minutes watching the other girl's still body (Luna looks good in Slytherin-green; Pansy's spare cloak pulled loosely up to her chin). "Wakey, wakey – we're on a mission, remember?"
Luna does not react (she does not even stir) and Pansy frowns at this. At first she had been angry with Potter for pairing her up with Lovegood of all people, but after two weeks of forced cooperation Pansy has to admit that the girl is a brilliant team-mate and fighter (and a light sleeper too; wakes up if an owl hoots too loudly). Suddenly feeling dread pool in the pit of her stomach she walks up to the motionless girl, gripping the hem of the dark green cloak between two fingers, pulling it aside (she should not be noticing how Luna's hair is pushed aside, baring the pale column of her neck). Luna still does not respond.
"Lovegood," she says, panic making her finish the familiar word in a shrill tone (almost a question, almost), as she falls to her knees beside what cannot be Luna's corpse (she isn't dead, just sleeping). "Wake up, Lovegood – we are supposed to be look-outs," Pansy tentatively grips Luna's shoulder with a shaking hand (the skin is cool – chilly – under the material of her blouse), "We've slept enough now, Lovegood. Wake up!"
Luna does not wake up. She does not move; her chest seemingly having been frozen in an eternal inhale (as if Luna decided to hold her breath forever). Pansy stumbles a couple of steps backwards, the shimmering green material of her best cloak falling to the cave floor in a heap. For a long time she just stares at the body, her breathing speeding up and becoming erratic (how did it happen; who has been here?); then she screams.
She screams until her voice breaks and turns mute; till her throat is too dry to produce any sound at all. She screams until her legs shake too much to hold her up and she crumples to the ground, burying her face in her hands, pulling angrily at her hair. (Luna told her last night that she was beautiful; it was strange and a bit awkward, but it was real – and Pansy had never felt that way about anyone before; not even Draco). She screams until the sun has disappeared under the horizon and the cave is a world of shadows and dark nightmares. (When Luna had taken her second shift last night Pansy had watched her; her body nothing but a black contour against the startling orange of the fire. Luna had begun to sing a song about a warrior on his post – and to the uneven melody of hope Pansy had fallen asleep). She screams until her dry mourning turns into a flood and tears make their way down her cheeks. Pansy screams 'til she is empty; a torn and broken shell of what she was mere hours ago.
"A good job you did on that one," a cool voice sounds from somewhere behind her. Pansy reaches for her wand (her reflexes have survived what her heart didn't) but finds her pocket empty. A laughter echoes throughout the cave, and the voice is clearly finding the whole situation very funny as she slowly turns around to face her destiny.
"You dropped it over by the body," Rodolphus Lestrange states as if he was talking about the weather. Pansy does not understand; how can he possibly know where her wand is when she herself does not (a nasty thought blooms in her hazy brain; images that seem like scenarios from a dream). She stares at him; takes in the well-known black cloak and the white mask dangling from his left hand. He smirks and raises a mocking eye brow at her, patting his breast pocket. "You see, I came to retrieve this little thing of my Masters and she wasn't willing to let me through."
Pansy's eyes narrow to slits and she feels a rage start running through her body like no rage she has ever felt before (it hurts when she curls her hands into fists; her palms becoming wet with blood as her nails dig into her palms, breaking the skin – red; blood red; red like rage).
"You murdered her," she hisses (her throat almost fighting the sentence), stepping forward, not caring one inch that she is defenceless without her wand and that he is the enemy who would probably kill her just for the sport of it (like he did to Luna).
Her defences go up instantly as he smiles cruelly, holding up a hand, summoning her wand wordlessly. "No, darling – I didn't," he says softly, cocking his head, whispering two words that she distantly recognises as "Prior Incantato". The darkness in the cave is momentarily chased away by a appallingly green flash of light that blinds Pansy and makes her head spin (and suddenly something clicks into place in her head; something awful – something unforgivable).
"You did," Lestrange continues with a wicked grin, dropping her wand to the ground, soundlessly forming one single word that she knows better than anything because she saw Draco practice it on those mice when she walked in on him in the deserted common room in Sixth Year (because she saw her mother use it on her Squib baby sister; making the child run head first into the wall in the basement under Parkinson Mansion) and because she used it on Blaise when she stumbled across him on the battlefield two months after Draco had dragged her off to the safety of the Order.
Imperio.
Pansy looks over her shoulder at the dead body that was once a very much alive Luna Lovegood (whom Pansy thinks she could have learned to love, had she been given the time) and a terrible, terrible memory surges to the forefront of her mind. It is blurred and confused (as if she had been in some kind of daze), but Luna's eyes are clear in the fogginess of it all; wide and afraid without the reflection of a phoenix rising or the tale of innocent air-turtles that had been killed only for the sake of their precious sapphire shells.
When she (feeling empty and bleak) returns her attention to Rodolphus he has raised his wand and she knows what will come next (it always ends like this, with Slytherin green and a frozen moment; a frozen body).
"You must have dozed off," he says with an amused edge to the words, repeating what she suddenly remembers having thought herself when she woke up. "A pity I have to kill you, you were easy to work with, Parkinson; I can understand why the loon wouldn't want to fight you."
Pansy looks to the side, catching a glimpse of hair the same colour as moonlight as an inescapable curse whistles through the air. The last thought running through her head is that Luna did not even try to stop her.
(She must have dozed off…)