Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me but my plot. Oh, I also wanted to mention here that Malachi is pronounced Malak-eye…not Mala-chee…I think most people know that, but I just want to make sure
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Ginny awoke, staring at the walls around her. They were familiar, red with silver accents. She had always been amazed that this room could be so beautiful when it was fixed up.
No. Not again.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to wake up – to escape from what was about to happen.
Too late.
Heat from the flames below warmed the floor as she slipped out of bed. She remembered with pain the terror that had flown unbridled through her veins. Screams were almost drowned out in the crackling of burning wood. Burning wood…and something else. Something that smelled sickly sweet.
No. She didn't want to see it. Not again.
Her door was flung open, and she saw Snape's wild eyes staring at her as he grabbed her arm. She wanted to drive him away, to let her burn away in her dreams. She couldn't face it again. He shoved her down the stairs, and she saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione escaping out the back door. They were safe.
She wanted to turn her head away, to look at the flames dancing on the walls. But she couldn't. She never could. She saw Pansy screaming at her to look forward – to look anywhere but at the place she had to.
They were locked in an embrace, Fleur's pale hair dancing with fire. Bill had his arms around her, and although their stances were panicked they looked at home in each other's arms. Only when the smoke had began to fill their bodies and the flames started licking greedily at their bodies had they given up trying to escape. They had been trapped.
Their wedding bands glittered in the light, and Ginny stared in horror as their skin turned black with death. The sweet smell hit her once more, and she felt bile raise in her throat. Snape was dragging her out the door, shouting something that she couldn't comprehend. All she saw was her brother's face twisted as her parent's had been.
Outside, she stood with the rest as they watched Grimmauld Place decay with fire. Their hope was lost, and Ginny could feel her world tighten around her as she thought of the love lost inside. Fleur and Bill had only just gotten married, the wedding postponed until they couldn't stand it any longer. The one hint of normalcy since the war started had taken place on that day, as every one gathered to watch them saw their vows. And now they were gone.
Finally Ginny could tear her eyes away from the house, and watched again what she couldn't comprehend that day. Pansy was walking away from her group, her shoulders hunched with grief. She hadn't been close to the couple, or the Order's headquarters. Ginny had never found out what caused her so much pain that night.
Everything changed that night. As the scene faded out of her dreams, Ginny heard cruel laughter. There had never been laughter before, not before the dark dreams of Hermione had started. And now it haunted her.
"Ginny!" The voice cut through her dreams like a knife, and Ginny shot up. She had fallen asleep while Harry packed their things, her pregnancy tangibly weighing on her. She sat up, and as the world swam back into focus she pushed her dream to the back of her mind. She could think about them right now, the ones they lost. She only needed to think about getting to safe ground.
"I haven't felt the baby kick in days, Harry…" He looked at her, and she saw the look of hopeless despair before he covered it up with a forcibly warm smile.
"Everything is going to be okay." He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself, and Ginny looked away. She loved him more everyday, but his hero complex was overwhelming at times.
"Harry…if everything isn't okay…it's not going to be your fault. You've done everything you could. More than you should have." He didn't answer her, only set his jaw firmly and continued packing. "Please don't be mad. I just want you to understand that. When this baby comes, it's going to need a father, not a guard. Not the general of our little army. Just a father."
"It's time to go." She knew he was taking in her words, but Harry had never been able to express anything he felt fully. When he had started sobbing because of Hermione, she had been taken aback, but she realized why he had done it. He kept so much emotion bottled up inside that it took her years to learn what he was truly feeling. And now he was feeling pure determination. He had to make sure everyone was safe.
They stepped out of their tent, and Ginny looked ruefully around for a moment. It would be the last time she saw the place she had learned to call home, and as surprised as it made her, she would miss the thin canopy and hard floor. She looked out the door, and felt for Harry's hand before they moved away from it.
Looking around the camp, Ginny smiled. The survivors were ready to leave, their simple belongings in bags over their shoulders. All but one. Ginny looked at the tent next to theirs. One that would be swept away, along with everything in it. They wouldn't be able to take all of Hermione's things, but maybe…
"Hold on one moment." Ginny left Harry's side, ignoring his quiet protests. She went over to the abandoned home, and lifted aside the curtain that acted as a door. She crawled inside on her knees, her belly barely touching the floor. She breathed in, and tears sprung unwillingly to her eyes. Hermione's smell was still here, a sweet scent of mixed flowers that hung on the walls - now dry but still pungent. She looked at the stack of books by the blanket-draped cot, and slowly put them in her sack. If…When Hermione came back, these would be what she wanted. Her stone replica was already stowed in Ginny's bags.
When she rejoined Harry, he wiped away the tears that stained her face without saying a word. Then, he turned to the crowd facing him with anxious expectance. He was their leader, their hero – the one who would rescue them from any situation.
"We will stay together. Nobody strays. When we get to the top, ignore the bodies. They will be everywhere, but try not to look too closely, too personally. We survived. Always remember that, and remember those who died to further our cause as they were, not as they are now. Those bodies are not our friends, our family. They are only the vessels those brave souls used." He took a breath, and Ginny knew he was thinking of Sirius – of the body who had never been found to look at. "We will find a place, hopefully a smaller town, and clear the area of any remnants of the War. We will keep it lit, and until we get there we will never travel by night. I don't know what everybody saw up there before we found this place, but I know I don't want to run into anything that lives in the dark. There will be guards awake at all times, and we will arm them with whatever is available. If you see anybody, raise an alarm. If it is another survivor," Ginny heard the hope in his voice, "then we will take them with us. But if it is not and it is light out, it is most likely one of the Changed. Do not, I repeat, do not, try and approach anybody without being armed and notifying me. I will be in the front of the group, along with those who will be carrying any who are unable to walk, including Ron and Snape."
Harry stopped and looked around at the faces staring back at him. "We are going to be fine. But we have to leave now." The water was around Ginny's ankles, and it was warm with age.
Harry started walking, and Ginny followed next to him. "What if the flooding is worse up there?"
"I don't think it will be…it's soaking through the dirt pretty well and I think it's stopped raining…I just hope that it cleared most of the bodies and wreckage away." Ginny nodded, and as they climbed the stairs to above, and removed the blockades they had set before, she clutched at the wand in her pocket. She remembered all too well what lurked on the land they were stepping out onto, and what they were capable of.
The entire group finally made it onto land, and Harry had been partially correct. The flooding wasn't bad enough to cause much hindrance and the rain had stopped, leaving a pale grey sky and damp ground as its reminder. But there was something else that filled the air. It was the stench of wet rot.
Ginny heard retching behind her, but as she turned around to see who the culprit was, something caught her eye. It was in the shadows of a torn building and was as still as marble. Nobody else saw it, but Ginny drew in her breath. It looked like a man in a black suit, but it was impossible to tell what he actually looked like.
As soon as she saw him, he was gone. She blinked, and then as her eyes focused once more, she noticed a black sheet fluttering in the wind in the exact spot she had thought someone had been.
Only my imagination…
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Hermione felt rather than saw the forest around her. Whispers came from the trees themselves, and spying eyes peered from the shadows around them. The trees were not so dense here, and dying light filtered through them in a desolate attempt to reach the ground. She looked up as she walked, something within her guiding her, keeping her from stumbling.
Night was just now beginning to chase away the sun. She watched as it overtook the blinding star, sending it exploding into a thousand different colors spreading across the sky. Each shade caressed another, and eventually the dark began to dominate those too. The moon emerged from the smothering blanket and the stars followed timidly. Suddenly, a hauntingly beautiful voice began to sing. It was unlike the scream they had heard the night before, but it still froze the very marrow in her bones.
After walking all day without a single spoken word, Hermione could feel the dull ache in her muscles, only dimmed by the numbness that had made its home inside her. But all pain was forgotten at the sound of the voice, and Hermione saw Draco sharply raise his head at the sound, weariness draining from his stormy eyes. Malachi looked to turn away from the sound, but Hermione clutched his arm, stilling him. He ran his eyes over her, and as they met hers she felt all her resistance melt away. Even so, he looked towards the singing, and took a step closer.
Draco pushed aside the braches immediately in their way, and Hermione saw a moonlit clearing only partially hidden in front of them. A woman was standing in it, a black veil still not hiding shining white eyes beneath. They glowed with unnatural light, and Hermione stared with fascinated terror. The wraith was draped in heavy black silk that clung to her body, and she was staring ahead at another woman knelt in front of her – this one dressed in white. Her singing seemed to come from nowhere, as the rest of her face was hidden in the black cloth. Words finally emerged from the clear voice, and Malachi translated quietly, a tender note in his voice.
"Ut is eram in exordium is vadum exsisto, quod ut is ingredior iterum nos
mos reverto ex nostrum sepulchrum quod servo."
"As it was in the beginning it shall be, and when he walks again we will
return from our graves and serve."
"Take suus iam , meus senior
Quod ut orbis terrarum quod divum opportunus in a denique complexo
Permissum suus orior oriri ortus iterum procul vestri pars
Ut per totus vestri liberi."
"Take her now, my lord
And when the earth and sky meet in a final embrace
Let her rise again at your side
As with all your children."
"Vos vadum sceptrum unus
Quod ut atrum of vestri nox noctis complexo nos
Sic complexo suus animus."
"You shall rule alone
And as the dark of your night embraces us
So embrace her soul."
"Cruor addo vos vita iterum."
"Blood to give you life once more."
Horror filled Hermione as the woman with the veil ran her fingernail across the hidden throat of the woman in white. When she raised it again, it was covered in thick, red blood. No sound emerged from the kneeling figure as it dropped forward in a crumpled heap, blood pooling out from underneath it. The glowing eyes flashed even brighter as she raised the blood-covered finger to her mouth, painting it red and letting her tongue explore the taste of it. She looked to be in ecstasy, and Hermione quickly backed up, letting the branches obstruct her view once more. She looked at Malachi, who had an unreadable expression on his face. Draco was next to her, his pale features even more bloodless than usual.
"What was that?" Her words seemed distant, as if somebody else had spoken them. She tried to focus once more, but she seemed almost trapped within herself. Even more, she was content with being held prisoner by this force that had been empowering her for what seemed like so long.
"It was a death ritual." Malachi's voice sang with familiarity, and Hermione saw Draco look at him with hatred.
"Those were your people, weren't they? Worshiping a god who feeds off of human blood, who will resurrect people from the dead…that's what you've been hiding."
Anger flashed on Malachi's face, but he simply turned away. "I am taking you to the only place you will be safe."
"Please tell me you don't believe this, Granger." Draco's voice was a growl, and Hermione edged towards Malachi.
"He said he would make us safe." Even to herself, her voice sounded young and naive, and she struggled to change it. But as soon as her resistance came, it was gone and she was wondering why she had protested to the tone in the first place.
Malachi smiled, and Hermione felt pleasure run through her. He was happy.
"We are almost there. Are you coming, Draco? I'm sure Azreal would love to see you again if you don't." The confidence he felt was obvious, and Hermione saw a snarl curl Draco's lips.
"Fine." The grey eyes then turned on Hermione, and she watched placidly as he tried to read her. Some part of her wanted to call out to him, to tell him that something was wrong. She struggled, but pain seared through her every time she tried to move her lips.
Malachi kept winding his way through the woods, and only stopped when they reached a stone wall, covered in moss and vines, that stretched further than Hermione could see. Draco opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, but stopped when he saw how assuredly Malachi moved towards the wall. They watched as he pressed his forehead against the wall, whispering something Hermione couldn't make out.
With a groan, the wall opened up, painfully reminding Hermione of Diagon…and then the memory was gone, leaving her only to wonder what Diagon could mean. But even in her state of mind, when she saw what was hidden by the wall she wanted to scream, to run and never stop.
A/N: Yes, yes, I know….evil cliffies yet again…oh well! wink
I won at the Dramione Awards for this story, A Conflict of Love, and for Best Author! does happy dance
Oh, and thanks to those who voted/reviewed!
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