Stars in the Dark

Disclaimer: I own neither 'Harry Potter' or 'The Walking Dead'. All recognisable characters, content or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter Two: Shoot Out The Lights

We've been watching for a miracle

We're praying for a sign

When the cure is made of poison

Than its hard to rest your eyes

Shoot Out The Lights - Ron Pope

"Why are we still fighting, when we know we're already dead?"

Beth looked up from their small campfire, and Daphne met her gaze through the flames. Tracey turned her head in Theo's lap, her dark eyes indiscernible in the nighttime. The boys were silent, and the six of them were far enough from the other campers to be undisturbed.

In all actuality, they'd been offered to join the others' campfire, but Daphne and Draco were abysmal with new people, and mundane strangers in particular, and the others weren't really interested with subjecting strangers to their friends' special brand of high class awkward. Theo himself was from a family of merchants, Tracey was a social butterfly on the best of days, and Beth and Blaise were - well - them, but they'd each come to terms with the fact that Daphne and Draco were socially lost causes, and generally avoided scenarios in which people had to encounter that discomfort. Therefore, the offer had been graciously denied, and that was that.

Maybe they should have joined the others, because this conversation was not one she was ready for.

Then again, she doubted she ever would be.

Blaise twirled a lock of her hair through his fingers, and Beth leant into his side. He was her pillar in the apocalyptic hell their lives had become, and as Daphne looked at Beth, hopeless, and desolate, and expectant, the sable haired Slytherin thought she'd never needed him more.

"Because hope is not lost, and to fight is all we've got."

Except Beth's hope was waning, and she doubted it would last. They needed a miracle that hadn't come, the end of days was nye, and she wondered if indeed, hope was enough. She wondered if a cure was pending, if there was still a reason to hope for all of their sakes, but mostly for hers.

These days, it didn't seem like it.

"Let's go to bed," Blaise murmured in her ear, and Beth agreed with a nod. The others began to call it as well, so the fire was abandoned but for Theo, who'd volunteered for first watch, the campsite packed up and goodnights spoken.

Inside their tent, Blaise zipped the flap shut, Beth raised a privacy spell and Blaise was suddenly there, his lips ardent against her own. She divested him of his button down shirt, unbuckled his belt and cursed out his button fly, eager and desperate and so very wanting. He was hot and hard against her and she fisted him in a firm, steady grip, as his fingers pinched her through the fabric of her shirt and bra, as his mouth did wondrous things to her neck, his chest heaving, hips rolling, chanting so low it was indiscernible.

"Fuck," he cursed, withdrew his wand from it's holster and cut away her shirt and bra, heedless of where they fell. His hands palmed her breasts, his mouth once more occupied with her own, and Beth tugged off her jeans, hot, and needy, and eager for the release that only Blaise had ever offered her.

"I need you," she chanted, over and over again, as he lavished attention on her breasts and neck and everywhere else he could reach, except the place where she burned for him most. Her chest heaved and she ached, uncomfortably aware of the fact that it had been nearly two weeks since she'd had him last, "Please. Blaise."

With another muttered oath, he lowered them both to one of their sleeping bags, settled his weight on one arm, and used the other to circle her swollen clit with a caramel, callused thumb. She arched into his hand, inhaled sharply and keened against his questing mouth. Her hips thrust into his unyielding fingers and Beth clutched at Blaise's shoulder, climbing, climbing, climbing, and then she was there and falling, falling, falling.

In another moment, Blaise was deep inside her, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear, the Italian almost too fast for her to decipher. They met each other thrust for thrust and Beth was climbing again, her nails clawing at his back, her speech garbled nonsense she couldn't make sense of, and then they peaked together, one eternally blissful moment, where it was he and she and nothing else but an indescribable, glorious oblivion.

Afterwards, they lay together, spent and sated, cleaned by way of a 'scurgify' and content simply to cuddle in the privacy of their tent. Sleep was far away this night, held at bay by dreary thoughts and fading hope.

"Do you think Daphne is right?" Beth queried. "Do you think we should just… end it?"

"I made a promise to you," Blaise answered, "I said peace, and children, and all that we never had. I will see that promise through."

"Is this a world we really want to live in, though? Maybe we should, while we still have the choice…"

Blaise reached over and kissed her, low and tender. "Do not doubt yourself, Elizabeth. We'll get through this, just like everything before it. We'll fight, we'll come out on the other side, and that is it. No more thoughts of… that."

They both thought of Flora and Hestia Carrow, who'd made a pact to quit before they were bound in servitude to Lord Voldemort, as their revolting parents had been.

it had been Daphne to find them, forearms slit wrist to elbow, side by side in a pool of their combined blood, fingers linked together in death as they had always been in life.

They had been a beautiful tragedy.

She had wondered, morbidly, why they'd not used the killing curse and she had wondered, drearily, if she should do the same.

They had been sixteen, Beth had been a year younger, and in the wake of her godfather's demise, Voldemort's public return and the revelation of that godforsaken prophecy, life had never seemed more fragile.

Until now.

"I love you," Blaise murmured tenderly. He carted his fingers through her hair, kissed her crown, and repeated, "I love you. More than anything."

Beth reached up and pressed her lips to his in a not quite kiss, in a touch of lips that lingered, but became nothing else. When she pulled away, she answered, "As I love you. Always."

And in the solitude of their tent, in the quiet of the night, as Blaise drifted to sleep beside her, and Theo guarded their dreams, she wondered to herself if hope, and love, and whispered promises, were enough to get them through this life. She could do nothing else. But then she, too, fell into the realm of dreams and for a time, all was well.

Author's Note: If you're interested in adoption, go nuts. just let me know. Hope you've enjoyed. -t.