Disclaimer: The rights to the Harry Potter series go to J.K. Rowling. All original ideas present in this belong to me.
Chapter Forty-One | Seven Little Problems
"Cedric, are you alright?"
He turns towards me, a tired look on his face. "I'm… to be quite honest, I don't really know."
I frown. "What's going on?"
Throwing his hands up, he gestures towards the maze. "All this, this goddamn tournament and everything in it. I just… how the hell am I supposed to survive this? After Viktor… well, let's say I'm not too confident anymore." He looks back at me. "I forgot to mention it, but thanks for stunning me at the start of the second task. I… I probably wouldn't have made it if you hadn't."
I walk forward, placing my hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to do this." I leave unsaid the fact that he won't do this. I'm going to be stunning him again if he decides to go into the maze.
Cedric looks towards the stands, his face pinched. "My dad would never let me live it down."
I follow his gaze, recognizing the familiar sight of Amos. "Would you rather your dad be disappointed in you, or would you rather risk your life?"
He curses loudly. "I don't know!"
"Cedric, look. Cedric. Look at me." I grab his other shoulder, shaking him. "This isn't a difficult decision. Do you want to risk life and limb for a measly thousand galleons, or do you want to risk your dad being disappointed in you for a few months?"
He stares at me, and even in the dim light I can see how tired he is. The bags under his eyes are deep, cheeks sallow and mouth drawn tight.
"I forfeit," he whispers, before removing my hands from him. He looks up towards the stands and shouts, "I forfeit! I forfeit the task!"
A clamour runs through the crowd, and Dumbledore rises from his seat, quickly striding towards us.
"Are you sure about that Mister Diggory?" he asks, glancing towards me briefly.
He nods resolutely. "Yes, yes I'm sure." Clenching his fist, he continues. "I can't… I can't win against Helene or Fleur, I know that for a fact, and I don't want to risk dying just to come in third place."
Dumbledore stares at him for a few seconds, before inclining his head. Quickly turning back towards the crowd, he makes his announcement. "Cedric Diggory has decided to forfeit the third task, and as a result it will be between our two, final competitors. Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons Academy, and Helene Potter of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
As the crowd moans and grumbles, I pat Cedric on the back. "You made the right decision."
He grunts out a muted 'thank you,' shrugging me off as he wanders over to his confused father.
"So, that makes things a bit easier, doesn't it?"
"Oui, it does," Fleur replies, placing her hand on the small of my back. "Wait for me?"
I smile at her. "Always."
A loud clap emanates behind us. "My apologies for the delay," Dumbledore booms, his voice amplified. "We are now about to undertake the third, and final task of the Triwizard tournament, please give a round of applause for our competitors!"
He pauses, allowing the audience a brief moment to cheer, the clapping and shouting slightly discordant due to the sudden removal of Cedric.
"Our two remaining champions will be required to fight their way through an ever-shifting maze, the Triwizard cup hidden deep within! The first to find and claim the prize will attain glory for themselves and their school! And now, without further ado, would Helene Potter please take her mark!"
Wand held high in the air, Dumbledore gestures for me to move to the starting line, a divot marked into the grass to denote the beginning of the 'race.'
He lets off a massive bang from the tip of his wand, and I rocket off the ground and into the maze, halting as the bushes behind me knit together with a thin, seedy crackle.
Casting a tempus, I check and see how much time I have until Fleur enters the maze.
About thirty seconds, give or take.
I jump in place, stretching out my legs and arms and preparing for the ordeal to come.
After a short wait, the bushes behind me reopen, Fleur dashing over to my side. "Hello, hello my dear," she effuses, grinning. "Let's do this."
"Agreed."
We start off at a light jog, slowing down around each corner, easily able to avoid the few traps we meet within the first couple of minutes.
Being able to see magic, no matter how little, is a godsend when it comes to stuff like that.
"Wait a second, hold up," I whisper, putting my hand up. "Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Fleur asks, straining her ears. "I don't have super senses like you do Helene, describe it for me."
"It sounds like… like fire and bone."
Fleur frowns. "Fire and bone?"
Just as she says that, I shout, pulling her down and underneath the burning red flare of a Blast-Ended Skrewt as it launches itself towards us.
It snaps its unseen mandibles together in frustration, another gout of fire erupting from its rear end.
"God damnit I forgot about those."
"What the hell is it?" Fleur shouts.
"What? You didn't run into one of these last time?"
She shakes her head, staring at the abomination with no small amount of horror.
I draw my hand up, piercing the creature from underneath with an earthen spike, a thick, luminous orange ichor leaking out of its broken carapace. The ground bursts to flames, hissing and sputtering as the glowing bodily fluids drip upon it.
The Skrewt shrieks horribly, a thin grating wail that seems to run right through me.
"Euch," I mutter, grimacing slightly. "At least it wasn't another Chimera."
"Or a Manticore," Fleur adds, lip curled in disgust. "Come on, let's get out of here."
"Right behind you."
We carry on, more on edge than before.
The maze, I have to admit, is both an incredible work of art and at the same time, one of the creepiest things I've ever seen.
And I've seen Azkaban in all its glory.
I think it has something to do with the moving walls, the way they're always just shifting, swaying in some invisible wind. Or how they suddenly jump, twisting together like some sort of…
"Fleur."
"Yes?"
"Can you use your druid voodoo on these bushes?" I ask, pointing towards them.
She slaps herself on the head. "Merde, I'm an idiot."
"Don't worry, we both are."
She snorts, putting her hands out and pulling them apart, like she's prying open a door.
A hole slowly opens before us, thick, woven branches lacing backwards like fleeing snakes, revealing a passage.
"You go first, I have to keep focusing to keep it open," Fleur states.
I nod, jumping through the hole and checking to my left and right, waving her through once I confirm that there's nothing waiting to eat, dismember, or melt us behind the walls.
Fleur follows behind me, clapping her hands together once she's through and allowing the branches to collapse back together. She lets out a loud breath, shaking her head. "Let's try to do that as little as possible, yes? It's very different when the plant has a mind of its own."
"Worst-case scenario then… you alright?"
She nods, catching her break. "I'm fine, it didn't take much out of me, just caught me off guard."
"Good… which way should we go?"
Fleur casts a point-me charm, her wand spinning aimlessly on her palm. "Er- whichever direction we'd like to go."
"Damnit," I curse.
Looking up at the sky, I check the position of the moon. I never thought I'd say this, but thank god for astronomy classes.
"We came into the maze from the north end of the pitch, right?"
"Yes, we did."
"Alright, so… that means that the cup should be that way." I point to my left.
Jogging once more, we head down the path, slowly pushing our way further and further into the maze, the leaves overhead whistling quietly, just barely heard over the constant groaning of wood.
Fleur gasps suddenly, holding her hand to her chest. "Do you feel that? It's so cold all of a sudden."
"Dementor probably. Not a big deal for either of us."
She nods. "True, it's just very uncomfortable."
I put a hand on her, letting some of my magic suffuse her body. She sighs as it passes through her, shivering. "Feels better already."
"The benefits of having me here, huh?"
She pouts at me. "Don't get so full of yourself."
"Full of myself? Me?" I roll my eyes. "Impossible."
"Damnit Helene, we have a tournament to win," she chides, her voice playful.
I put my hands up in surrender, "Alright, alright." Looking off in the distance, I shout. "Hey! You! Get out here, wherever you are!"
The night suddenly seems much darker, a swirl of tattered cloaks and wispy smoke floating towards us. The cluster of Dementors bows before me, their hoods sagging.
"Greetings, Child. What do you wish of us?"
I tap my chin, glancing at Fleur, who's staring at the bowing monsters with shock.
Even if I told her about my little talent, it's still something to see.
"The man with the fake eye, have you seen him?"
The Dementor at the head of the troop inclines its head deeply. "Yes, we have seen him."
"Good, good. How swiftly can all of you move?"
It pauses for a moment, mulling over the question. "Where would you need us to be?"
"I would need all of you to attempt to devour his soul once we've taken the portkey in the centre of the maze," I instruct, gesturing towards myself and Fleur.
"We will begin preparations," it states.
"Excellent. Do that now," I command, waving them off.
In a flourish, they split up, diving up and over the top of the maze, all prepared to take Crouch Jr. out of the picture.
Makes me feel a little nostalgic.
Speaking of nostalgia, I wonder if I'll run into that Sphinx again. See what happens if I just blast through her riddle with no regard.
At least, if she uses the same riddle as before.
"This isn't as dangerous as I thought it would be," I comment. "Considering the shitshow that were the first and second tasks, this is a walk in the park in comparison."
"Helene, please don't challenge fate."
I spit on the ground. "Fuck Fate, she's the one that got me into this mess in the first place."
"Fate exists? As in the God Fate?"
I nod. "Yep, Death says she's a bit of a bitch."
Fleur groans loudly. "You didn't just challenge fate, you challenged Fate. Helene, please."
"Alright, alright! Sorry, I've got a bit of a problem with gallows humour."
"Just don't piss off any Gods, alright? We've got enough to deal with on our plate."
"I'll do my best," I concede, smiling at her. "No guarant-
A loud roar interrupts me, a furry blob covered in way too many limbs beginning to charge us.
"Quintaped!" Fleur shouts, rolling to the side just as the creature attempts to bowl her over, teeth gnashing.
With a flourish, she shoots a jet of flame out of her palm, the sickly-sweet smell of burning hair and flesh pouring off the now screeching Quintaped, it's many limbs flailing as it attempts to put itself out.
I slice downwards with my hand, bisecting the creature with a razor-sharp blade of air, two sides toppling over, organs spilling out of its body and into a bloody heap, glistening in the moonlight.
"Fuck that stinks."
I send a gust of air forward to push away the putrid scent of the roasted Quintaped, accompanying it with a freshening charm.
"What did I tell you earlier?" Fleur asks, walking towards me with a dangerous light in her eyes.
"Don't challenge Fate, very much received," I say, putting my hands up placatingly. "Won't happen again, I promise."
She nods. "Good, because if you do it again, you can deal with whatever comes next all on your own."
Our venture into the maze continues much in the same vein, us dispatching (relatively) harmless monsters and traps as we slowly push our way towards the cup.
It worries me that the monsters are so simple – at least, for us they are. I doubt many other witches or wizards could deal with the near constant barrage of class three and four magical creatures coming our way.
The cleverest trap we've come across so far was a magical pitfall of sorts, complete with fake grass, all leading down to a very much lethal hole in the ground filled with what looked to be an enchanted solvent, judging from how much it bubbled and hissed.
I can't wait to put down Fudge for this idiocy. If Cedric had stayed in this round and somehow slipped past me, he'd most likely be dead by now. The creatures and magic involved in this task isn't on the same level of danger as the first and second, but this one involves a steady stream of encounters that would leave Cedric exhausted within a quarter of an hour.
I'm getting really fuckin' tired of seeing Blast-Ended Skrewts though.
"How many more of these are there going to be?" I shout, impaling the umpteenth chitinous nightmare monster, already accustomed to their manner of attack. Namely, launching themselves in our general direction and attempting to douse us in magical napalm.
"I don't know, but I hate them even more than when we began," Fleur replies, looking up at the sky. "J'en ai ral le cul! This is infuriating!"
I almost shriek in happiness as we turn the corner, noticing a silver metallic shine atop a stone platform at the end of the path.
"Fleur! Look!" I point excitedly, her eyes widening in recognition.
She throws her hands up in celebration. "Finally!"
Just at that moment, a low, rumbling growl catches our attention, and I notice a purple haze settle over the ground near the cup.
"You see that?"
Fleur nods. "Yes, but I have no idea what it is."
The growl turns into a roar as what looks to be a lion pounces towards us, the animal having hidden in the shadows.
"Get back! Nundu!" I scream, a wall of earth bursting out of the ground and catching the feline in the midriff, knocking the wind out of it and sending it spilling across the ground. "It's just a kitten, hit it with the strongest thing you've got!"
Fleur jabs her wand forward, a ribbon of green light lancing out of the tip and striking the Nundu in the flank, the light wrapping around the creature before tightening, eliciting an unearthly howl out of the feline.
"That was the strongest thing you've got?" I ask, panicking.
"Just about," she says shakily, staring at the beast in horror. "Keep it down! It's getting back up!"
I curse loudly, wand whipping through the air as I send a salvo of multicoloured spells towards the stumbling Nundu, each and every one striking it cleanly, bursting and shattering against its magic resistant hide.
"Fuck! Nothing is working!"
Pushing my palm forward, I twist, tens of invisible wind formed daggers lancing out. I grin when I see slices appear in the beasts hide, its neck puffing out in anger, thick barbs jutting out of the bulbous skin like the spines on a pufferfish, glinting dangerously in the moonlight.
"Physical attacks work!"
Fleur doesn't miss a beat, conjuring a large amount of water and sending it rushing forward, the liquid enveloping the immature Nundu and lifting it into the air.
The creature thrashes and roars, the bubbles emanating from its fanged mouth filled with acrid purple vapour, tainting the water in its path.
I look on in fear as Fleur begins to sweat, hands trembling as she pushes every ounce of magic she has into crushing the beast. I rush over, placing my hands on her shoulders and flooding her with my own magic, hopefully giving her enough power to end the Nundu's life, or at the least, knock it out.
"Come on, you can do this," I whisper, glancing up at the floating orb not fifteen feet away from us, the Nundu's thrashing becoming more and more laborious. "Just a few more seconds and you've got him."
She nods tiredly, gritting her teeth and letting out an earthshaking roar as she clenches her hands into fists, the Nundu's limbs bending and collapsing against its body as they break. The monster screeches in pain before its neck twists impossibly, a thin stream of ochre blood leaking out from between its lips, eyes vacant and unfocused.
Panting, I reach over to help Fleur up, arm on her back as I support her, letting her lean on me to catch her breath.
"You good?" I ask, looking at her with both worry and admiration.
Her jaw hangs loose, chest heaving as she drinks in the air. She nods, eyes closing for a moment. "I'll be fine."
I hold her tighter. "Are you sure? You look exhausted."
Reaching into the pocket of my basilisk skin jacket, I pull out a small flask. Handing it to her, I say, "Drink this, it's Pepper-Up."
Fleur smiles thankfully, tilting her head back and quaffing the potion, grimacing as smoke bursts from her ears and her face flushes. "I'm fine, let's finish this."
"Just wait a moment." I pull Death's cloak out of my pocket, throwing it over her shoulders. "You need to stay hidden after we take the portkey, and only start fighting when I do, alright? We only have one chance at this."
She runs her fingers over the Unhallowed fabric, shivering slightly. "Don't get hurt, please."
Her voice holds a tone that I've never heard from Fleur before, an almost begging whine tinging her words. It makes me pause, searching her eyes for a hint of whatever she's feeling.
Fear.
She blinks, thick eyelashes fluttering from the unconscious movement, and I can't help but think that I've never once realized how terribly beautiful her eyes are. A crystal-clear turquoise in a sea of white, so full of love and worry that I fear my heart may burst.
"I promise." I kiss her, pouring every bit of myself into the action. Every ounce of care, every drop of adoration, I push through my lips and onto her own.
Pulling back, I tuck away an errant lock of her hair, tidily placing it behind her ear. "I love you."
She grins, those amazing eyes of hers crinkling with joy, teeth shining, her face pulled into an expression of absolute elation. She stares at me, unable to wipe the smile from her face, the corners of her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"I love you too," she whispers, kissing me hard, forcing us together. "Sans toi, je ne suis rien."
As she lets up her fevered assault, I blink the daze away as best I can, mind foggy. "What… what does that mean?"
Fleur kisses down my jaw and neck, a gasp snaking its way out of my mouth as she nibbles at my earlobe, her breath so deliciously hot against my skin. "Without you… I am nothing," she answers, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end and a cold shock racing down my spine.
I press my head against the crook of her neck, drinking in her scent. "Ditto."
She laughs like a ringing bell, her voice carrying out across the maze. "You have a way with words, don't you?"
I groan, shaking my head like a petulant child begging to sleep in. "Hard to think when you're kissing me like that."
"Like this?" she asks, sucking at the skin beneath my jaw.
Moaning, I pull my hand up to the back of her head and hold her there, fingers tangled in her hair. "Fleur…"
"What is it my love?"
"We kinda' have to kill Voldemort still."
She grumbles in complaint, slowly detaching from me. "You make a fair point."
"Much to my disappointment, I do." I kiss her on the cheek, squeezing her arm. "You ready?"
She smiles brightly. "Always."
Lacing my arm through hers, we walk past the deceased Nundu, scattering the remaining dregs of its toxic breath with a gust of wind.
With trepidation, we stand before the cup. "No turning back from this," I whisper, hand outstretched.
Fleur places her hand over mine, pulling the cloak over herself completely, disappearing from sight. "No turning back." And with that, she presses forward and takes hold of the cup, my hand locked beneath.
A pull at my navel, and we're spinning through space and time, a dizzying blur of places I've never been and never will be passing by my eyes at the speed of light.
Just as suddenly as it activated, we're tossed to the ground by the portkey, landing on wet grass with a dull thud.
I take my old wand out, Holly and Phoenix Feather held out in front of me. "Hide," I whisper, the quiet scuffle of Fleur's shoes against the sodden ground the only sign I have that she's gotten to safety.
Well, here we are.
Slowly treading forward, I take in the familiar and very much unappealing sight of the graveyard.
It's scary how long this image has haunted me. How long it's flitted through my mind, how I felt true terror the last time I was here.
Tall, crooked headstones, all weathered with age. Thick moss lays in deep cracks, the graves near to crumbling from age, left to rot like those buried beneath.
I continue to creep forward, watching and waiting for the tell-tale flash of red of the stunning charm. Waiting for the moment I've been practicing for the last few months, honing my control of magic to perfection.
My ears perk up as I hear a quiet, nearly imperceptible footstep from ahead.
The rat is right on time.
"Stupefy!"
I push my senses outwards, catching hold of the spell and splitting it.
This is something that I considered doing when I first realized that I could see magic, and while it only works on simple spells like this, it still works.
The crackling red ball of energy dissipates over my chest, and I fall backwards, feigning being knocked out.
This way, I won't be in a daze from being brought to. Let's hope he doesn't check me over.
I hear the quiet snuffling of a man more rat than human as he scampers forward, poking and prodding at me with his wand.
"Stupid girl," he chitters, groaning as he leans forward and picks me up, along with my fallen wand.
Doing my best to hold back an involuntary shudder, I allow him to carry me across the graveyard, stifling a pained groan as he wrenches my arms backwards and ties them behind the headstone of Voldemort's father.
I hang there, head slumped, waiting through the initiation of the ritual. The telltale crackling of a fire being lit, the maddened hissing of Wormtail as he shuffles about, preparing everything.
A few minutes go by before I feel magic wash over me, presumably an ennervate.
Groaning quietly, I shake my head dazedly, slowly peeling my eyes open and looking about in faux confusion.
Meanwhile, I'm grinning on the inside, summoning up a piece of stone and letting it cut away at the ropes that bind me.
"Where the hell am I?" I croak, straining my voice.
"Quiet," Pettigrew stammers, his voice nervous and cracked.
A sibilant voice rises up from within his robes. "Wormtail, begin the ritual."
He nods obligingly, dropping a bundle of cloth into the cauldron with a heavy splash, a glimpse of pale, cracked skin seen from within.
Wormtail flicks his wrist, murmuring quietly as he gouges a hole in the earth and pulls a bone from it. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son," he intones, slowly levitating the ulna up and over the cauldron, dropping it into the potion within.
He holds his arm out, hand trembling dangerously. "F- flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master." With a sickening cry, he slices his hand from his wrist, the severed appendage joining the mixture below.
Shaking, he stumbles forward, face pale and drawn. His eyes flit about nervously, the bags that frame them sickly. He holds out the same knife he used to sever his hand, pressing it up against my arm and slicing deeply.
Frowning, he jabs at the wound, causing me to cry out in pain. Muttering to himself, he continues to poke and prod at the open flesh, finally nodding once he's garnered enough blood to coat the tip of the knife.
"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe."
I smile dangerously at those words as I pump magic into my wound, knowing full well that the blood is far from forcibly taken.
Enjoy it while it lasts, Voldemort.
He flicks the knife at the cauldron, jumping away from it is as it begins to froth, a thick steam emitting from it and wafting over the graveyard.
The steam begins to clear, and a naked, horrendously disfigured silhouette stands out against the gloom.
Spine bent and twisted, vertebrae jutting out of cracked, leathery skin. Its limbs are much too long, too thin, fingers like bone wrapped in vellum flexing, testing their new form.
The creature that is Voldemort stands tall, back hunched and head misshapen, his protuberant brow furrowing in confusion as he draws his hands up and runs them over his face, a terrible growl emitting from him, the sound low in his throat as his fingers pass over crooked fangs that peek out from between a nearly lipless mouth.
Good god, that changed the ritual even more than I thought it would.
"Wormtail!" he cries, his voice dual toned and thick with malice. "What have you done?"
Simpering, Pettigrew, shambles forward, his head bowed low. "Master… I- I don't understand!"
"You insipid fool! You've scarred me, your Lord." He strides up to Wormtail, pinching his jaw between two terribly long fingers and forcing him to look up and into the face of a monster. "My robes and my wand, Wormtail."
Shivering, he begins to dress Voldemort, thin conjured robes of a sheer black nearly floating over him, yew shining out from between spiderlike fingers.
"Your arm… Wormtail."
As the terrified man sticks his left arm forward, I finish cutting my bonds, grabbing the ropes before they can fall and instead letting them silently drift onto the ground riding upon a cushion of air.
A series of loud, staccato pops signals the arrival of the inner circle, masked and hooded figures dressed in robes black as night appearing out of thin air, spreading out into a half moon around their master.
With a sneer on his face, sharp teeth glinting, Voldemort shoots a dark yellow ray from his wand, piercing Wormtail through the chest.
A burst of red splatters over the gravestone behind him, and Wormtail collapses to the ground choking on his own blood, wet coughs wracking his body.
The graveyard is silent as he slowly dies, red bubbles collecting at the corner of his mouth as he begs for mercy, begs not to die through the blood spilling across his jaw. His voice rattles in his throat, a wet gurgle escaping him as his eyes go dim, finally let free of his torture.
"My friends," Voldemort intones, turning to the gathering with his arms spread wide in welcome. "My deepest apologies for the mess, it seems that one of our old comrades was a touch too simple to rejoin our ranks once more."
Throwing his head back, he sighs loudly. "Thirteen years… thirteen years, and you answer my call like it was just the other day." Protuberant lips pursed, he looks them over. "I find myself… disappointed."
"My lord!" one of the men cries. "We didn't know!"
Voldemort jabs his wand forward, the mans spine bending dangerously as he's thrown to his knees, crying out in pain. "Did I not profess myself immortal? Did my loyal compatriots not believe me?"
Sneering, he lets go, allowing the man to pull himself back up on shaking legs. "Did you not fight beside me? I didn't take you for a blind man, Macnair, unable to see the raw power I wield."
"No, my lord!" the man whimpers. "You are great! Far greater than I!"
Voldemort pauses to look over him, head tilted curiously. "You are naught but an executioner, Macnair. Do try to not be so foolish in the future."
He walks away from Macnair, ignoring the man's quiet pleas for mercy. Voldemort stands in front of one of the taller figures, looking down on him. "My friend… Lucius. You did not search for me. Why?"
"My lord, if I had heard even a whisper, I would have done everything in my power to bring you back," he grovels, and even through his mask I can tell he's locked eyes with the ground.
"A whisper, Lucius? There were much more than whispers my old friend, there were screams."
"I… my lord- "
"Enough!" he roars, the tip of his wand crackling angrily, sharp gray sparks spitting out across the wet grass. "Enough begging and pleading, enough of your excuses." Taking a deep breath, he passes his hand over his face. "We are not gathered here to fight amongst each other, but to take witness to my revival." Jabbing his finger in my direction, he grins dangerously. "And… to take witness to the end of the Girl Who Lived… the Boy Who Lived, whatever title you wish to go by these days, my dear. Unless… you'd like to join me, that is. I'm sure I could find a place for you in my ranks."
"Fuck off." I spit on the ground. "You look like a goddamn troll."
Face twisted in fury, Voldemort strikes me with the cruciatus curse.
I scream, collapsing to the ground as my nerves set alight, a thousand daggers driven into my skin, a million brands pressed to my muscles and searing the pain through to my very core.
He holds me under the curse for what feels like years, and when I come to, I find it hard to reconcile the too real sensation of being flayed alive with seeing my skin still sitting in its rightful place.
Looking at the frayed rope lying behind the gravestone, he states, "You escaped your bonds… it seems that Wormtail was even more incompetent than I believed him to be. It must have been those odd wandless powers of yours he'd told me of…" He shakes his head lazily, returning his attention to me. "What was that you said, my dear? Please, you'll have to repeat yourself, I'm afraid I wasn't listening."
I glare up at him, slowly pulling myself to my feet. "I said, go fuck yourself."
Voldemort smiles oddly at me, his eyes alight with interest. "Manners, child! Show some decorum! Did your parents raise you in a barn?" He leans forward, brow raised. "Forgive me, I'd almost forgotten. They're dead, aren't they?"
I laugh in his face. "You can do better than that! Come on, tell me something I haven't heard before. Show a little originality, Tom."
His face contorts in fury, a forked tongue flicking out his mouth as he hisses at me reflexively. With a lazy flick of the wrist, he hits me with the cruciatus once more. "Give the girl her wand!"
The pain is there and over in a flash, but it's still nearly debilitating. It takes everything in me not to fall to the ground, but I keep standing, defiant.
One of the Death Eaters walks over to Wormtail's rapidly cooling corpse, fishing through his robes before tossing me my wand with disdain, letting it fall short.
Lazily, I levitate it into my open hand. "Thanks."
The Death Eater grunts, and as he turns away, I'm sorely tempted to strike his head from his shoulders.
Voldemort turns back to me. "Have you dueled before, Potter? First, we bow," he drawls, bending forward and sweeping his arm over the grass. "Yes?"
As he's doing that, I'm funneling my magic into the graves around me, pulling and twisting at the threads that separate our world from the next, forcing a modicum of consciousness into the bones that rest six feet below us.
"Bow? I'm afraid I don't bow to monsters." I scratch my ear lazily, hand still shaking somewhat. "Can we just get this over with?"
He cackles loudly, his wrist twisting in a tight circle as the air shimmers.
I feel the familiar sensation of the imperius as it washes over me, but I ignore it quite readily. "I'm waiting."
Looking at me with a small amount of astonishment, he smiles crookedly. "My oh my, you're even more interesting than I thought you would be Miss Potter. Why, it feels like only yesterday that you tore me from that defence professor of yours without so much as a 'how do you do.'" He steeples his hands in front of him. "If you would be so kind as to explain that peculiar elemental ability you have before I kill you, I would be delighted."
"You mean this?" I ask, pointing at Macnair, a bullet of air sent rocketing his way. I watch with glee as blood bursts from the back of his hood, the man toppling over like a rag doll as his compatriots' step back, wands pointed towards me. "I'm afraid that it can't be taught."
Voldemort studies me, a look of unabashed curiosity on his face. "Interesting." He puts one hand up, looking over the Death Eaters. "I will fight her alone, understood?"
The Death Eaters mutter their affirmations, stepping further away so as to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.
"Ready when you are," I state, sweeping my hand forward and inviting him to begin.
"My dear, you have no idea what you're in for, do you?"
I tilt my head. "Actually, I understand better than most."
With that, I let the black tendrils of necromantic power I've been holding inside me lash out of my body, tearing through the ground and rushing out across the graveyard.
Voldemort throws up a shield reflexively, pausing when nothing happens. "Was that supposed to do something, or was it simply a show of force?"
I grin widely. "Oh, just give it a second."
Stepping aside, I allow the skeleton of Voldemort's father to burst from its grave, hands clawing at the ground and tearing deep furrows in it, pulling up grass and dirt in their wake that cling to the appendages like glue.
His eyes widen, this time in shock. "Necromancy?" Spells burst out of his wand, and I roll out of the way, returning fire with a slew of necromantic curses and blood turning hexes, an array of pastel lights careening towards him.
Almost lazily, Voldemort throws up a shield, the immaterial cover holding for just a moment before it shatters, having absorbed all my spells.
One of the Death Eaters screams as his leg is torn off by a rotten hand, blood gushing from the ragged stump as he falls to the ground, scrambling to get away from the animated corpse attempting to disembowel him.
He doesn't get far, the semi-decomposed body ripping into his own with a keening growl, pulling his intestines out with clawed fingers and tearing his belly to ribbons.
My eyes smart as a gout of flame incinerates the two corpses, Lucius standing over the flaming detritus with a horrified look in his eyes.
I throw up a wall between Voldemort and I, reinforcing it as I make eye contact with Malfoy Sr., making sure I've gotten his attention before drawing a finger across my throat and mouthing 'you're next.'
He pales, turning away as he begins to chain spells together, choosing to focus his attention on destroying the oncoming undead army.
"Potter!"
The wall explodes, and I send a powerful gust of air outwards, scattering the rubble. Voldemort strides through the dust and debris, wand raised. "You will not leave here alive."
A spear of light rockets out across the graveyard and just barely misses him, Fleur tearing the cloak off and tucking it away. "You won't leave here alive, vous fils de pute."
"Hello dear."
She smiles at me. "Bon soir."
He frowns at the sudden arrival of Fleur, cocking one crooked eyebrow. "Temper, temper." His eyes flick towards me. "Is this your Veela bitch, Potter? To taint yourself with another woman, a creature no less. How… disappointing."
"No more a bitch than your mother, Tom," I return, jabbing my wand at the ground beneath him, rotted arms bursting from the earth that just narrowly miss him as he leaps overtop, flying unaided.
Drifting towards the ground, he lets loose with a flurry of spells, an uncountable number of crackling balls of magic whizzing towards us.
We dodge, Fleur to the left and I to the right, a fist of earth erupting near where Voldemort is about to fall and grabbing at him.
I hiss in pain as I stand back up, fingers ghosting over a large gouge in my midriff. As I pour magic into the wound, regenerating it, Voldemort lazily dismantles my attack. The hand explodes as an orange light strikes it, the overpowered confringo easily tearing it apart.
A wave of fire rushes towards him, burning white hot, the grass in its path turned to ash as it tears across the graveyard.
The bright, silver light of an aegis fortis forms around Voldemort, the flames washing over it, a Death Eater behind him screaming in pain as they're incinerated in an instant.
The crackling of fire meets my ears as the shield goes down, the ground blistered, and in some places glassy, thin flames dancing sparsely over the wastes that Fleur has created.
"Impressive," he concedes, a bright white light flashing from the tip of his wand and a nest of snakes spraying out across the charred dirt. :Kill them:
:Kill each other: I hiss back, Voldemort flinching at my use of parseltongue, ignoring the snakes as they turn on one another, spitting and biting.
:You speak it?:
I grin at him. :Is that a surprise?:
:No more than your Necromancy: he replies, pointing his wand up and to the sky.
The sky flashes and I dodge, a bolt of enchanted lightning striking the ground were I once stood.
Fleur screams somewhere to my left, and rolling, I summon whatever corpses are left in the graveyard, sending them shambling on broken feet after Voldemort.
I look over to her, Fleur's left arm hanging loose as she fires a barrage of spells towards Voldemort, the man dodging away from her assault, as well as the half a dozen decayed soldiers that grasp at his robes, striking them down with precision.
One of Fleur's spells hits, his robes bursting into flame.
Voldemort howls in pain and anger, dousing the offending substance with water before transfiguring the rubble nearby into a cluster of spears, sending them Fleur's way.
She pulls the water that Voldemort created and uses it to bat the spears away, the liquid forming around her hand like a sword, shimmering and shifting as it wraps around her arm. Lunging, she scatters the water, a thousand miniature projectiles rocketing towards him.
As he moves to shield himself, I return a barrage of spears his way, fashioned of air, twisting them so that they curve around his shield.
The water scatters across the ethereal barrier, but the spears get through.
Voldemort's eyes widen as he recognizes the attack, twisting backwards and dodging most of the immaterial weapons, but one clips his leg, tearing through it and scattering his blood across the ground.
"I grow tired of this!" he bellows, jabbing his wand into his wound and knitting it shut, glaring at us with unadulterated hate. "I did not waste thirteen years of my conquest as a shade to be attacked by schoolchildren." Punctuating his words with spellfire, he marches forward. "This battle is no longer amusing."
I pale as he begins to throw volley after volley of killing curses our way.
Reflexively, I construct innumerable layers of earthen shields, the barriers shattering under the onslaught of acrid green.
"I have a plan!" Fleur shouts, looking towards me briefly.
"Do you have time to explain?"
She shakes her head. "Follow my lead."
I nod, watching as she throws her hands forward, teeth gritted as she forces her left arm up, the limb scarred from the lightning strike. The ground churns as the desiccated roots of the flora within the graveyard begin to tear through it. Countless organic tendrils rip out of the ground as the earthen walls fall, Voldemort twisting around the daggered limbs with a grace I'd not thought possible in the man. The attacks he can't dodge, he parries via explosive curses, the roots splintering into countless shards as he decimates Fleur's attack.
Following her assault, I throw countless curses his way, accompanying them with a barrage of earthen spikes and blades of air, attempting to overwhelm Voldemort with sheer destruction.
Face contorted in anger, he whips his wand around his head, raw magical force exploding off of him and destroying the attacks, cratering the ground beneath his feet.
"Enough!"
The night lights up green as he goes on the offensive yet again, killing curses laced together with spells that I've never before seen in my life, Voldemort's mouth twisting rapidly as he barks out a stream of some unknown language.
I shout as the spells begin to curl together, an unpredictable whirl of a thousand colours crackling with the veritable fury of a sun. Time slows down for me as Fleur scrambles to get away, and before I can even think, I've tossed myself in front of the attack, wand pointed out in defiance and a spell on my lips.
My magic collides with the magical cannon blast, the spells crashing against each other with a horrible, wrenching crash, the force of it reverberating through my bones, my teeth tingling from the aftershock.
Arm horribly burnt from the magical backlash, I hold steady, not even allowing my magic to seep into the wounds as I focus on the thin, golden stream that pours out of my wand. The light of Voldemort's attack dissipates to reveal his incredulous face, staring down at the beam that connects his wand to my own.
I grin. "Gotcha'."
Forcing every ounce of my magic into the connection, I push, the terribly bright ball of effervescent light pushing away from my wand and towards his own, the priori incantatem beginning its full effect. The beam crackles, sparks of gold shooting off it and forming a cage, pulling us into the air.
I look down at the Death Eaters from above, the havoc that we've caused. Four of them lay dead, the remaining ten staring up at the light show before them, firing spells ineffectually against the barrier of raw magic.
With a flick of my off hand, I pull my Blackthorn and Yew wand from its holster, pointing it at Voldemort.
His mouth opens in a noiseless shout, wrenching his wand away from the connection as he attempts to return fire.
Blood pools at the end of my wand, crystallizing, before firing across the distance and piercing his heart in the blink of an eye.
Voldemort's eyes widen in shock as we both fall to the ground, the two of us colliding with the earth with a boneless thud.
"Holy shit, we did it," I croak, staring disbelievingly at the still form of Voldemort.
Fleur rushes over, kissing me on the top of the head as she helps me to my feet. I groan in pain, looking down at my very much broken leg. With a shout, I regenerate it, hissing out as the bone snaps back together with a crack. "We still have the remaining Death Eaters to deal with," Fleur states, keeping her eye on the gathering of hooded figures.
"Lay down your wands, and we'll make your last moments painless," I shout, brandishing my wand dangerously.
I see Lucius stand out amongst the crowd, chin held high. "Damn you, Potter!"
He begins a spell chain, curse, hex, curse, hex, all flying in our direction. Ducking, I pull underneath the bombardment, flicking my wand and tearing through his robes. Lucius cries out, pulling his hand up to his arm. He slowly removes it, arm shaking, grimacing at the sight of blood.
"I'll have you put down for this," he growls, holding his wand out in front of him defensively. "The Ministry will know what you are, what you both are."
"That is if you somehow escape here alive."
His brow furrows, and he glances down towards Voldemort. Suddenly, he smiles, teeth bared manically. "Oh, I do believe I'll be fine."
I follow his gaze, mouth opening in silent horror as Voldemort pulls himself to his feet, wiping the blood from his chest. "You missed, Potter."
Panicking, I pull my wand up, my other hand following the motion.
A cutting curse strikes me in the face, blinding me in one eye as I stumble backwards, replying with my own shower of spellfire.
Fleur shouts, bodily pushing me out of the way as she lashes out against Voldemort, my eyes stinging at the flashing lights and constant barrage of explosions.
I swear loudly as I attempt to funnel magic to my wounded eye, the damage repairing much more slowly than it should.
The wound must be cursed.
Resolute, I press forward, spell after spell erupting from the end of my wand, Voldemort just barely managing to defend himself from our combined attack via a combination of dodging and perfectly timed shields.
Wicked green felfyre explodes forward, washing over where Voldemort once stood as he leaps out of the way, a wordless snarl emitting from his lips.
I follow him, the spinning curtain of Unhallowed flames chasing after the man at a frightful speed.
"Just die already!" I shout, whole body strained as every ounce of my power is poured into sustaining the jade inferno. "Fleur!"
I hear her grunt loudly in affirmation, summoning her own unique flames, a pure white of such brilliance I fear I may go blind bursting forth and combining with my own.
The blaze grows, flames moulding together as if they were always meant to be that way, a vibrant blue much the same as Fleur's eyes screaming headlong towards Voldemort.
He disappears into the inferno, the ground exploding as the roaring inferno strikes it, rubble scattering across the graveyard.
Panting, I let my arm fall, cutting off the stream of magic and nearly falling over. A loud scraping noise catches my attention, and I look over at the charred waste left over from our attack with a growing sense of dismay.
One sickly, scabbed hand bursts from the ground, fingers scrabbling for purchase. Before we can react, Voldemort wrenches himself out of the earth, naked and scarred. Terrible burns run over his face, the flesh melted and knitted back together like an abstract art piece. A blackened stump hangs where his left arm once did, sores upon the skin bubbling, leaking a thin, yellow pus.
I attempt to move, to get myself away from whatever attack is about to be thrown my way, but I stumble, foot catching on a chunk of stone. Pitching forward, my knees burn as they scrape across the ground.
Desperate, I attempt to pull myself to my feet.
Too slow, too late.
The emerald light fills my vision, and all I can hear as my life leaves me is Fleur screaming.
-::-
I collapse to my knees.
The white, foggy nothingness is achingly familiar, a pure smoke that seems to go on forever in every direction, the only recognizable structure being the façade of Kings Cross Station.
Tears sting my eyes as I realize that the last four years weren't enough.
"Can't die," I mutter, staring at my hands. "Can't die, my arse."
Fuck, even if I've got to do all this over again, it won't be the same.
"Fleur."
What's going to happen to her?
Will I see her in a moment? Will she go on without me, somehow wresting victory from Voldemort's grasp? Or will she end up dead in another few years, off to continue the cycle?
Will there even be a cycle?
"Would you quit your moping already? This isn't what you think it is."
I look up at Death, frowning. "What the fuck else could it possibly be?"
He puts his hands up, rolling his eyes. "Well, you're not dead, for one."
Getting to my feet, I walk towards him, jabbing him in the chest. "Explain."
Death snaps his fingers, offering me the same seat he once gave me so many years ago. "Sit."
And I do.
"This is going to take a bit of explaining, and you're probably going to be quite infuriated, but all the same, I knew this was going to happen."
I lean forward, clasping my hands in front of me. "Explain."
"Sheesh," he jibes, running his hand over his hair. "Tough crowd."
I continue to stare at him, and he lets up. "Alright, alright. You, Miss Potter, had a little piece of Voldemort's soul right here," he explains, poking me in the forehead, right on top of my scar.
"A piece of his soul!?" I shout, aghast. "I have a piece of his soul in my head?"
He nods lazily. "Had," he drawls, drawing a circle with his finger. "Had being the operative word in this equation. Yes, Helene, you once played host to a sliver of Tom Riddle's twisted and broken soul, and the only way to get rid of it was to visit me once more." He jabs his thumb behind him, and I look past to see what looks to be a creature from a Hieronymus Bosch painting.
"That's the piece of his soul?" I bang the table with my fist. "And you couldn't have taken care of this when I was first here? Or do you just enjoy watching me suffer?"
Death glowers, a threatening aura rolling off him in waves. "Do not take me for a trickster, Potter. To even compare me to deities long dead is an offense I do not take lightly."
Taking a deep breath, I calm myself. "I'm- I'm sorry, this is all just…" I snort. "This is all a lot to take in."
"Understandable," he agrees, nodding succinctly. "Just do not treat me like some sort of paltry god. As long as life exists in any universe or world, so do I, and so does my wife. We were, We are, and We will be. We are an absolute."
I blink, attempting to take that in. "You're infinite."
"In all definitions of the word, yes, We are." He steeples his fingers, resting his chin atop them. "Before I send you back, Miss Potter, would you like to meet with anyone?"
"What?"
"I said," he provokes, drawing out the word. "Would you like to meet with anyone?"
"I…"
Freezing up, I realize what he's asking.
"My… my parents?"
"How terribly cliché."
I purse my lips, teeth gritted. "May. I. Speak. With. My. Parents?"
He raises his hand flamboyantly, waving it about. "Of course, of course. Just don't take too long, I do have a job to get back to."
As he walks away, I find myself muttering under my breath, "What an insufferable prick."
"Helene?"
"Fuck off Death, please, just give me a moment, alright?"
"Helene!"
I let out a shocked gasp as I'm hugged from behind, a blanket of red blocking my view. "Mum?"
"My God, it's really her! James! James, get over here!" the voice behind me cries, and I turn to see a sight I never thought possible.
My mum and dad. My dead mum and dad, standing behind me.
I fall out of my chair.
"Holy shit."
Dad laughs, laughs like he's never laughed before, as if the concept was just introduced to him and he find it to be the most incredible thing in the world.
I begin to cry.
"Hush dear, it's okay, it's okay," my mum coos, cradling my head against hers and hugging me tight, whispering in my ear. "Everything is alright."
I cough, tears pouring down my face. "Is it… is it really you?"
My dad kneels down in front of me, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Hey there, love."
"Oh my god," I choke, covering my mouth with one hand. "It's really, really you. I- I have so much to say! I have so much to ask you!"
"So do we," he replies, cupping my face with his hand. "Are you alright? You've been through a lot in the last few hours, not to mention your entire life."
"I… I'm alright, I think." I wipe my eyes clean. "How… how've you two been?"
Mum giggles, helping me to my feet. "We've been fine as well. Not much that can go wrong in the afterlife, and your… friend, Death, occasionally drops by to check in with us."
"Death? Checks in with you?"
She nods. "That he does. Odd fellow, but he's not that bad once you get to know him."
I snort. "That's one way of putting it."
"Dear," my Dad begins, an odd look on his face. "Tell me about this Fleur girl."
"Fleur? My girlfriend?"
"Do you have any other Veela girlfriends that I'm unaware of?" he asks playfully.
"Shut up," I jibe, laughing slightly. "What do you want to know?"
He crosses his arms. "Does she make you happy?"
"Of course she does! She makes me happier than anyone I've ever met before," I shout, incredulous. "She's just… there's something incredible about her, I can't explain it."
"Sounds like someone I know," he adds, glancing towards my Mum.
"Quiet, James," she shoots back, smiling lovingly at him. "What your father was asking, was are you happy?"
Resolute, I answer. "With her? Yes, I am."
"And that's all we need to hear," she smiles, running her fingers through my hair.
I pause. "How on earth did you and dad end up together." I point towards him. "No offense, but I've seen what you were like at Hogwarts, and I was not at all proud to find out you behaved that way."
He rubs the back of his head nervously, shoulders raised. "I was a prick, I'll admit that." He glances back towards mum. "I guess I grew out of it."
"You did more than grow out of it, you became a completely different person," my mum explains. "James used to be… well, awful would be a good way to put it."
"Hey!"
"You just admitted it dear, you can't deny it now," she chides. "After your grandparents passed, James changed. It was like everything bad in him disappeared and all the good came to the forefront. Brashness turned to confidence, and arrogance to humility."
"Makes sense," I say. The death of a loved one, especially your parents… that can really change a person. I know that better than most, considering the conversation I'm having right at this very moment.
Dad checks his wrist, a watch clasped to it. "Lily, we don't have much longer."
Frowning, she looks at his timepiece. "So we don't."
"What do you mean?"
"We… this is temporary dear," Mum states, looking at me seriously. "We're currently in a crossroads of sorts, something that could be a likened to purgatory. Both the dead and the living cannot stay here for long, lest they pass over to the other side. You need to be getting back."
"But… what about us? Doesn't time not matter here?"
She places her hand on my shoulder. "Time matters everywhere, it's the substance that the universe is built upon. Just look at yourself for example. You died and returned, twisting time into something new and never before seen. Death explained it to us after he'd had you sent back… what he did changed the fabric of reality."
"Why me?" I plead.
"I don't know, and I don't think he would explain," Dad laments. "I… we love you, more than you could ever imagine. You make us so proud, Helene."
Crying once more, I hug him tight, afraid to let go. "I love you too. I miss you both, so, so much."
"You can come and visit us in a hundred years, does that sound alright to you?"
I nod, a wet laugh escaping me. "Sounds good to me."
He kisses me on the top of the head. "We love you. Go out there and end that miserable bastards' existence once and for all."
"I'll try my best," I promise, letting go of my dad. "Goodbye for now, I guess."
My mum kisses my cheek. "Say hello to Fleur for me, alright?"
Snorting, I nod. "Can do."
"Alright! Time's up everyone, it's time to get this show on the road," Death calls out, striding back into view. He looks over at me, his black eyes shining. "By the way."
"What?"
"You've got five more of those little bits of Voldemort to deal with before he can die."
I let out a shocked choke. "What? Can you tell me where they are? What they are?"
Death crosses his arms, looking affronted. "And where's the fun in that?" He raises one hand, fingers poised. "Do take care of yourself Helene, I'll be sure to keep in touch."
And with a snap, I'm gone.
-::-
Gummy eyed and delirious, I blink, a haze of silver and porcelain blocking out my vision.
I groan, wiping the muck from my eyes as I attempt to sit up, unable to rise due to the weight pressing against my chest, the sound of quiet sobbing reaching my ears.
Suddenly, the crying pauses. "H- Helene?" I hear, the voice thin and tired, exhausted.
"Fleur? Is that you?" I croak, still blinking heavily.
She starts babbling in French, kissing me from head to toe, hands running over my body as if she can't believe I'm really there.
"Hey, hey," I whisper, lacing my fingers through her hair. "I'm here, I'm not going anywhere."
Sobbing once more, she lifts me up to a sitting position, cradling me against her as she rocks back and forth. "You died… you died," she weeps, her words thick with confusion and sorrow.
"Apparently that was supposed to happen," I grumble, kissing her on the neck before pulling back, holding her face with one hand and stroking her cheek with my thumb. "But I'm back, I'm here."
Tears spilling from her eyes, she kisses me, mashing her lips against mine.
The movement is greedy, hungry, desperate. So full of love and fear that I find myself lost. "How… where did they go?"
She chuckles drily against my lips. "They fled after you were struck down. Voldemort was heavily injured, so were the rest of the Death Eaters, they must have decided to cut their losses and escape."
I snort. "Cut their losses, more like they ran after they thought they'd won." Looking her over, I check for injuries. "Did you fix yourself up?"
She nods, kissing me one more, she holds me tight. "Helene… I love you, I love you so much that I can't put voice to my feelings. You… without you, I am nothing."
I kiss her back, fingers tangled in her hair. "I love you too."
Moaning, she pulls me against her, fingers running over my back as if she can't hold enough of me. She bites, sucking on my bottom lip, tongue running over it before prodding through and into my mouth.
I gasp, briefly shocked before I comply, sucking on her tongue and threading it with my own, nibbling on her upper lip.
Fleur tugs on my hair, pulling my neck back as she attacks it, sucking and biting at the skin below my jaw, tongue ghosting over my ear lobe before tracing over my cheek and back to my mouth. "I need you," she murmurs thickly, her voice dry. "I need you."
I take a hold of her, wrapping my magic around us and sending the two of us towards the first place that comes to mind, Slytherin's private room in the Chamber of Secrets.
Collapsing back onto the bed, I pull her on top of me, lunging up towards her mouth and wrapping my arms around her back, my legs around her waist.
Holding her against me, I attack her throat, biting and suckling at her collarbone, my tongue leaving a trail across her throat. "Then take me."
Fuck Lockhart and what he did to me, tonight, I win.
She tears at my jacket, hands shaking as she pulls it off me, my arms stretched into the air as the garment is removed from my body. Her hands run over my undershirt, an athletic camisole stretched tight over my body. Fingers trace over my belly, up across my ribs, before halting.
"Helene?"
I look up to see her worried face, features pinched with anxiety. I take her hand, pressing it against my breast, smiling at her. "Take me."
She moans, kneading the soft flesh gently, her mouth pressed against my neck.
Sensation floods through my body, sharp sparks of electricity lancing through my chest and down my spine, legs folding tightly over her waist.
Desperate, I pull at her own clothes, tearing the muddied jersey from her body and staring in awe at the pale skin that looks back at me, crimson lace cradling her breasts.
"You're incredible," I whisper, pushing myself up and biting at the top of her chest, unable to get enough of her, unable to taste enough of her skin.
She pants heavily, reaching back and unclipping her bra, the fabric falling between us silently. Without missing a beat, I move down, taking a nipple in my mouth and flicking it with my tongue, pinching it between my lips.
Gasping, Fleur laces her fingers through my hair, tugging and pulling at it. I moan into her, reaching up and taking her other breast with my hand and squeezing.
Cursing in French, she pulls at my top, clipping my nose with it as she tears it off of me. "Oh no!" she gasps, holding my face and looking at me with horror. "Are you hurt? Are you okay?"
I laugh, kissing her on the cheek. "I'm fine, I'm fine. I just fought Voldemort, I don't think a flick on the nose is going to take me down."
She nods awkwardly. "I just… I'm so nervous."
Taking her hands in my own, I give them a squeeze. "Me too. This is… terrifying, if I'm being quite honest, but… I love you. I want you. I need you."
Hands trembling, she lets go of me, standing up and climbing off the bed. She pauses to survey the room. "Where are we?"
"Chamber of Secrets, Salazar Slytherin's old private quarters."
She turns back to me, eyes wide. "We're about to… in Slytherin's quarters?"
I chuckle loudly. "Seems like we are." Leaning back on my elbows, I raise my eyebrows. "It makes it a bit difficult if you're off the bed. I don't think that stone looks too comfortable."
Blushing, Fleur turns away from me, fingers tracing along her hips as she catches the fabric of her trousers, slowly pulling them down.
I gasp as she removes them, her rear practically wrapped in a matching red thong, the thin string of fabric disappearing between creamy skin. A squeak jumps out of my throat as she turns back to me, the fabric translucent, a tuft of curly, silver hair visible through the garment.
"Your turn."
Reaching arm over arm, I pull the sports bra I'm wearing up and over my head, hissing at the wash of cold over my breasts, feeling as my nipples stand out in sharp relief. Tentatively, I let my hands trail further and further, thumbs tucking into my trousers, one hand shaking as it unbuttons them. With a long, slow breath, I pull them off, the fabric catching on my heel.
Swearing, I tug them off, staring at my foot with disdain, as if the offending limb is solely responsible for turning a smooth gesture into something clumsy.
Fleur giggles, crawling back onto the bed and holding herself up, looking over me. Her eyes chase over my body, drinking in every curve, every bit of skin and bone that makes me, me. I feel even more naked before her eyes – those amazing, incredible eyes, as they bore through me.
Her pupils dilate, thinning out into slivers as she lunges, taking my breast in her mouth and biting down. I gasp, pushing down the sudden bout of fear and focusing on the here and now.
Fleur and I, in bed, doing this.
It's enough to make a girl shiver.
She kisses a trail down my belly, breath hitching as her teeth run over the hem of my panties. "You're so beautiful," she murmurs, kissing my core.
My hips shoot up, a slow drawn out gasp escaping me as my fingernails dig into the bed below. "Oh my god," I mutter, eyes shut tight as she nibbles on my thighs, hot breath washing over me. "Oh my god."
I feel as she tugs away my last bit of clothing, her body pressing over top of my own and lips pressing to mine. She kisses me strongly, tongue flicking across my teeth as she inhales sharply. I open my eyes to see her staring into my own, searching.
"I love you," I murmur, kissing her softly. "I trust you."
She nods, pulling away and back down my body. My breath hitches as I feel a pressure, her lips pressed against somewhere lips have never been pressed. My eyes shut tight as she searches my body, tongue flicking over that tiny, secret place, nestled between the petals of a flower. It's tentative, curious and unpracticed, but it's her.
I can't help but moan, squirming as she kisses and sucks, licking up and down, sharp bursts of sensation screaming out and through my body. My body quivers as I run my fingers over my chest, grabbing at the small peaks that rest upon my chest and twisting, amplifying the shocks of pleasure that course through me.
An unearthly gasp escapes my throat as I feel a finger enter me, pushing just up and back, a second accompanying it a moment later. My eyes roll as I buck against her hand, feeling as she presses into my core, into my very being.
Panting, I grind against her, fingers tangled up in her hair as I beg for more, beg for her to be faster, harder, to tear me apart.
She complies.
She sucks, hard, fingers pounding into me as I squirm, thighs clasped around her head.
"Oh my god."
My mind explodes, body bursting with innumerable sparks that course up and through my chest, resonating in my core. Legs shaking, I collapse to the bed, hair splayed out behind me. My hips buck as she slows down, licking and kissing as her fingers slowly pull out of me, the delicious sensation of being filled leaving with a slight gasp.
I reach down, grabbing onto her and pulling her towards my face. Lips mash hungrily together, a bittersweet tang meeting my tongue as it lashes with her own, something that I realize to be me. Fleur whines into the kiss, wet fingers wrapping around the back of my neck as we force ourselves together, hungry.
I detach, kissing a trail down her neck, across her breasts, and down her belly until I'm face to face with something that has haunted my dreams and fantasies for much too long.
Desperate, I rip the pants off her, fabric tearing as it's tossed aside unceremoniously. Entranced, I pounce.
My lips meet her flesh, soft and so very, very warm. Like a furnace. I kiss, licking up and around her, teasing and tasting the nectar that coats the flower before me.
I place my mouth over her mound, sucking at the bead that's nestled within, tongue flicking over it slowly, a test. A test to see what makers her tick. Is she the same as I? Hard and strong, almost furious in its intensity? Or does she like it soft and slow, an almost imperceptible flutter that sends her begging?
She squirms beneath me, my hands clasped around her thighs, kneading the skin, a burning sensation deep within me to feel all of her. To know her inside and out.
I reach down, tongue stretching up and in.
Fleur cries out as the taste of her washes over me, so sweet my eyes sting. Like I've been starved, I devour her, hungrily suckling and biting at her body, mouth wrapped around her core like it's the only thing keeping me alive.
I pull my hand up, pressing it over the little bump of flesh that peeks out from between sodden lips, rubbing small circles. Fleur gasps loudly, crying out in French as I begin to bring her to release, her legs wrapping around my neck and pulling me close, fingers pulling desperately at my hair.
Complying, I continue with my assault, letting the sensations of her love wash over me as she squirms against my touch, a soundless gasp emitting from her as I look up and over the valley of her breasts. Fleur's eyes shut tight, chest heaving as she pulls me closer.
"Please," she begs, fingers scratching over my back.
I suck, licking at raw nerves as my fingers plunge inside her, driving in and out with animalistic fervor.
She grinds against my mouth, screaming my name as her legs quiver and shake, collapsing like dead weight against my back.
I massage her, a soft, tender kiss accompanied by slow and gentle caresses, slowly drawing my fingers out of her.
On all fours, I pull myself up, crawling over the goddess beneath me and laying beside her. Curious, I stick my fingers in my mouth, sucking the juices from them like a wanderer in an oasis.
Strong, sharp, sweet, the flavours dance across my tongue like fire, my mind alight with sparks.
Fleur grabs me, pulling me close and pressing her tongue to my lips. I open my mouth as she invades it, Fleur desperately conveying her emotions, everything she's feeling. Something raw, something so unbearably intense that it brings tears to my eyes.
"I love you," she whispers, forehead pressed against my own. "I love you so much."
"I love you… I can't put into words how much I love you," I reply, my voice heady, exhilarated. "I never want this feeling to end."
She kisses me softly, pouring every ounce of her love into the meeting of our lips. I wrap my arms around her neck, eyes shut tight, a few tears leaking from them as I kiss her back.
I've never felt so whole.
I hate cliffhangers, so you guys only had three days to stew and wonder what was going to happen. Merry Christmas, or whichever Holiday you celebrate everyone! Party hard for me!
feauxen: Anger, mostly. That'll be covered more in the next chapter.
KinkyJAC: Bloody enough?
driftchrist: Shit. I stopped taking the mandatory French classes as soon as I had the option, so my knowledge of the language is limited to, "Je ma'ppelle," and "Comment t'appelle tu." Google translate is a bastard of the highest order.
FanonOverCanon: The poor guy has had it rough, but hey! At least he's not dead!
DschingisKhan: Yeah, those first dozen or so chapters are a doozy in poor storytelling, plot execution and rampant misuse of cliché and other disappointing worldbuilding.