Death Did Us Part by miss padfoot
Chapter Notes: Thanks to the amazing songbook99 for beta-ing. ♥ Also thanks to KalHoNaaHo for the wonderful banner: http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b336/mspadfoot2390/Story%20banners/DeathUsDidPart.gif and joanna for the surprise banner: http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b336/mspadfoot2390/Story%20banners/deatb_did_us_part-joanna.jpg ♥
She sat by the window, gazing at the lush green lawn outside. It was all over. A podium decorated with garlands of hollies and baubles and mistletoe lay abandoned. The rays of the evening sun cast a reddish tinge onto the scenario and hurt her eyes but she refused to look away. That deserted podium was the only reminder of what had happened a few days ago. She was dressed in a flowing white silk robe that was now matted with dirt; her hair that had been tied up in an elegant French knot was now rumpled. Her head throbbed uncontrollably; her eyes were red from lack of sleep. She wanted it to end and forget it all but she simply couldn’t. His face refused to leave her mind, that once handsome face that was forever grinning. She wanted to cry, to pour it all out, but she just couldn’t.
Apart from agony, the only other thing she felt was guilt. Guilt because she had been unable to save him. Guilt because she had let him die. Guilt because she was still alive when he was dead.
And those dreaded memories she did not want to relive came floating into her mind.
He lay on the bed, his eyes were closed, his flaming red ponytail tucked under his pillow. He was asleep; his breathing shallow and rugged. She sat next to him on an armchair, forcing herself not to look at him. Every time her eyes turned in his direction, tears would escape her blue eyes, giving her eyes the appearance of overflowing deep blue pools or water. She forced herself to look away, but her resolution was tried the very next moment. She gave up, realising her inability to keep her eyes under control and turned to face him.
Tears came more freely now, splashing her milky cheeks like huge waves but they did not trouble her anymore. Just looking at his face eased all her pain. He acted like a stimulant on her, and her worries seemed strangely distant. All that remained now was only those happy times they had spent together at his house.
Their first meeting two years ago itself had seemed magical. It had been love at first sight for her. They had barely known each other, yet she had often caught herself daydreaming of him. She had envisioned a really grand party with garlands of hollies and baubles and mistletoe decorating a huge white podium. Her sister and his sister were to be the bridesmaids dressed in gold robes. They would exchange their rings and be declared man and wife. And the next day was when it really was going to happen. Their wedding.
Then she would have bunches of kids with him, all of them just as handsome as he was. She would even break that record of seven children set by his mother. And then, one day perhaps, she would breathe her last, leaning on his shoulder, in his embrace.
She gazed longingly at him.
She could have been imagining it, but his eyes fluttered open. She almost threw herself on him, but stopped short. He spoke, his voice feeble yet rough. “Now, that isn’t going to hurt me.”
He tried to smile at her, but ended up wincing as his fingers made contact with his face. He raised his hand and beckoned her near. She sat gingerly on the bed near where his hand rested. He raised his wounded hand to her face and ran it across her cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “I mustn’t see this again,” he whispered. She nodded, and kissed his forehead.
At that precise moment, her mother came in, calling her to bed. She did not want to leave him all alone, vulnerable. But she left, smoothing the covers of his pillow. This was the last time she could see him before their marriage. And she felt as though she was going to leave him forever, but she knew she was being stupid. She left the room and Apparated to his house where she and her parents were staying. Extra rooms had been magically added for accommodating the guests. She lay on her bed and dozed off to sleep, with him being the subject of her dreams.
The next day, she got up early. She felt a rush of excitement and butterflies trying to burst out of her stomach. Overnight, a white podium had been erected in the garden outside and hollies and baubles, exactly as she had envisioned, hung from the podium. She could not believe that in a few hours time she would be walking out with her father, who was ready to present her to the groom. It seemed too good to be true.
She had told her parents that she wanted to get dressed by herself, and they had relented, but harder to tackle had been his mother. His mother had been shocked when she had announced this to her parents and his parents. She refused point-blank to allow her to get dressed without fussing over her gown or her make-up, but with a bit of persuasion from her husband, she agreed half-heartedly.
She walked to the wash-basin and splashed water on her face. The water felt cold, wrinkling the skin on her fingers. She reached for a fluffy white towel and dried her face. Replacing the towel, she pulled her wedding gown from its box, tried it on, and surveyed herself in the mirror. The gown fitted her slim figure perfectly and she looked breathtakingly beautiful. He was surely going to be thrown off his feet when he saw her in that gown. She grinned to herself. She then tied up her hair in a stylish French knot and dabbed some rouge onto her milky cheeks. She did not apply any more make-up as she already looked pretty enough to make any man drool over her. She was done, and it was still hours to go to the wedding. She sat on the bed and looked around. She was beginning to feel bored with no one to talk to, and the others were still fast asleep. She knew that she should not be seen by the groom on the wedding day, so visiting him was ruled out. But wait a minute, only the groom was not supposed to see his bride, but who ever said she shouldn’t see him?
A mischievous smile played hide and seek on the corner of her lips and she secretly congratulated herself on her clever scheme. She stood up and, concentrating her mind on his bed at St. Mungo’s, she stepped forward into that feeling of compression. She felt as though she was being sucked through a rubber pipe and, as suddenly as it had begun, the feeling ended. She opened her eyes to see that she had arrived at the door to his ward. She looked around, and her eyes took time to get adjusted to the darkness that enveloped St. Mungo’s. She felt around for the door knob and pushed the door open. It creaked only a little but the sound it created was loud, shattering the eerie silence that prevailed. She tiptoed towards his bed, and his face was visible in the moonlight. He moaned softly and turned on his side, and she stood there, thinking of how lucky she was to get such a loving husband.
His eyes opened, and he gasped. Maybe he sensed her presence, or maybe she had disturbed him, she didn’t know. “You “ you look beautiful,” he stammered.
She grinned. “Merci.”
She inched closer to his bed, and he pulled her towards him. He spoke, and she was shocked that his voice sounded feebler. “I can’t believe we’re getting married.”
She put her long forefinger to his lips and silenced him. He moved her hand and pulled her closer so that their faces were inches apart. She leaned forwards to bridge the gap and their lips met. She did not know what could actually describe that kiss. Passion seemed to flow through his lips and it made her feel so connected to him that it seemed impossible to break it. However, when she did break the kiss, gasping for breath, she wondered if she would ever have a kiss like it again.
“I love you,” he whispered. Tears shone in her eyes. “I told you... I mustn’t see this again.”
She wanted to speak, tell him how much she loved him, but a lump rose in her throat obstructing her voice. She swallowed and nodded. His hand dropped limply to his side, and his slow breathing became ragged and his eyes closed. She thought he had fallen asleep.
How very wrong she was.
By that time, the sun had fully risen and the Healer walked in to check on him, making his usual rounds. She did not know that this moment would change her life. There was something wrong with the look the Healer was giving him. And she did not like it at all. She forgot to breathe as she stared at the Healer. The Healer looked up, confirming her worst fears. “I’m sorry,” was all that he could manage as he hurried from the room. She stood there, staring at the retreating back of the Healer.
It just could not be true. He … dead? No, it just was not true. It could not be true. But a small part of her mind did not agree with her. He was dead. The shocking truth hit her when his mother came running into the ward, screaming her heart out. Her heart ached terribly, like a happy bubble had been pierced. She forced herself away from him. Just looking at him would deepen her sorrow, no doubt. Strangely, when she did turn to look at his pale face, she felt that same elation, like nothing troublesome existed in the world.
His body had been cremated, and she had refused to shed tears, true to his last wish. Other wizards attending the funeral gave her surprised looks due to the lack of tear stains on her face. Some even wondered aloud, right in front of her, if she had been really in love after all. She had to exercise a lot of self control to stop herself from jumping onto them. What did they know? Even his family had not been extremely happy about her save his youngest brother. Did they think she was just another pretty doll with no emotions at all? Perhaps they thought she might take their son away from them? Maybe they thought she would not fit into their family? She would never know.
Anger and hatred surged through her veins. Right now, she hated everything around her: the house, the people in it, the guests, everything. She hurried to her room and banged the door shut. She had not opened the door since.
Just having to relive all those memories made her want to cry or shout. She did not know. She stared around at the room. The walls were adorned with photographs of him right from his childhood. One particular photograph caught her attention. It was him at Hogwarts. He must have been in his sixth or the seventh year, she couldn’t tell. But it was looking at the school that irked her.
That was the place that held both the best and the worst memories for her. It was where she had first caught sight of him and, from that time on, she had developed a fondness for the place. But now, she hated it, everything from that Hall to its grounds. If he had not gone there, he would not have been bitten and he would still be alive, whole. More tears escaped the confinement of her eyes and rolled down onto her cheeks. She determinedly wiped them away. She was not going to cry.
She removed the photographs from the wall, walked towards the cupboard, and placed them inside. She closed the door shut and leaned her back on it. It was warm, making her feel just like snuggling up close to him. Her eyes fell on the bed and her eyelids began to droop. She had not slept for five whole days...
“Don’t worry.” It was his voice. He was speaking to her. “I’m sorry for putting you through what you experienced. It’s been harder for me, and I’ve truly missed you. I know your love is true, and that is good enough for me. Don’t strain yourself. Don’t listen to what they say. They poison your mind. I still love you. Even though death has separated us, we can never be truly separated. Remember that, love. As long as the love you hold for me is true, we can still be together. United.”
And with a start, she awoke. It hadn’t been a dream. It was him speaking to her. He had told her that they were still united. Death was trivial in front of their love. And with that comforting thought, she drifted back to sleep.