Dance of Death
Synopsis: It's the final war, and everywhere wizards are pitched against each other, compliantly, or forcefully. Many are succumbed to the Imperio curse, some are blackmailed, and others are threatened, to be expendable pawns of the Dark Lord. And in one battlefield, love chafes the bonds of magic.
A/N: A friend commented that I write too many mushy romance stories. So call me a romantic! Anyway, I mulled over it and this gory beauty came to be.
Disclaimer: Wait, you mean I don't own Harry Potter? When did I sell the rights! What, I never had any! Hey! I'm not on any special medication! What do you mean, 'not yet'?
An eerie shade of grey lies over the expanse of bare land, charred trees, and bodies. Bodies whose faces show contorted expressions of pain, realization, sadness, and hatred. Eyes that stare forevermore at everything, seeing nothing, and mouths parted in an unending scream of pain and despair. Fireworks of enchantments fly by, to be scattered by conjured shields, or to be absorbed in flesh. No one misses here. The battle is wearing down, as the living dwindle to a few on each side. Soon, as the last horrific screams echo off into the vast sky, a haunting mist sets in, sparse enough to see, thick enough to be felt. A breeze tickles the bodies whose hearts still beat.
He stands, gasping, shivering imperceptibly into his cloak. Sweat adorns him like dew, and his eyes spill tears. Swallowing hard, he aims his wand shakily, inhales deeply, and purses his lips as a stream a blue shoots from the tip of the apparatus. It shatters meters away, spraying the vicinity with luminescence, lighting the lumps of bodies and a lone figure behind the invisible wall. She, in turn, hisses an incantation, and a sinister red beam, like a vigilant laser eye, darts out from her wand. He stumbles out of the way, and the spell fades.
"You can't hide from me," she says in an emotionless voice.
"I-I don't whu-want t-to fight you," he replies, holding onto what composure he has.
"Too bad," she sneers, and he barely misses the next beam of red.
"Snap out of it! This isn't you!" He huffs, dodging her barrages of hexes.
She smiles cruelly, the expression awkward on her face. He turns away and runs, away from here, away from everything, trying to escape. Tripping over what he prays to be a root, he lands in the dirt, sprawled facedown. Before he can heave himself up, her voice snakes its way to his ear, and knocks the breath from his lungs and the strength from his limbs, leaving him shivering in the muddy ground.
"I never liked you. I never felt anything for you. It was all an act!" her voice is lightheartedly mocking.
"No, nonononono!" He cries. "You're lying!" Lurching uncertainly to his feet, he takes off again, to be thrown into a fit of dizziness. He leans against a tree.
"Does it look like I'm lying?" She walks into view, and he gasps. Her clock is stained at the hem with a mess of brown muck and drying blood. The dragonhide boots are dulled with the same substance. Her trousers are splattered with fragments of flesh and organic matter. A bloody handprint is stamped on her shirt like a badge. The mass of hair is swept back in a disheveled ponytail. But the eyes! The eyes have lost their sight! Blank and unfocused, it transforms her into a different person. Her gruesome getup shakes him from hysteria, and he finds a strange calm.
"I won't fight you," he declares stubbornly. "I won't hurt you…I can't"
"But I will," she hisses.
He winces slightly at her tone. Flashes of red disperse again and again as they crash upon the spell shield. Each succeeding blast weakening him, but he stands ground. Finally, the shield splinters, sounding like a broken heart. He turns and runs, constantly praying, a mumbled hope under his breath. She follows him, her cloak swirling behind her like a curse. The shadowy couple moves into the peaceful night, coming to an alcove of trees. Here, he stops and turns, and facing his opponent, smiles one last, loving smile. A red flash takes up his vision.
"I love you, Hermione."
A piercing scream splits the air, shaking the forest from its mourning. A lady keens into her palms, tears spilling from her fingers, dripping on her bloody clothes. The cold, limp corpse of a man rests on her lap, his eyes showing tenderness and forgiveness, his mouth parted to let go the words he died with. I love you, Hermione. I love you.
"I'm sorry," she gasps between sobs, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
His eyes tell her he's forgiven her. It's not enough for the stricken woman. Gently, she cradles the body and shifts it towards her. Something falls onto the bed of leaves. Hermione reaches over and opens the velvet box. Something glints in the moonlight. A silver band, of hope, of future, winks at the witch. She breaks into fresh tears, searching his pockets for the other ring. She finds it, and pauses. Bending over, she whispers in his ear, "We come together, at last, to be blessed as one, through thick and thin, pain and sorrow, bound for eternity. We are married at the heart, at the soul. For the future we will look to, holding onto our past. We are one by love." She slips his band on and puts on her own. Placing a soft kiss on his cheek, she lays down beside him.
"I love you."
Once more, red lights up the forest.
A/N: And in the end, it still turns out romantic….humbug. I wasn't going to have the ring and everything. It was supposed to end with him (see, I left it open…'cuz some people thing HG/RW is too bleah) screaming in horror "Hermione NO!" and her still under the Imperio with sightless eyes streaming with tears…But, -pokes mushy romantic side- it didn't happen. If ask for it in the comments, I'll write the original ending and post it somewhere…