Wedding Tears; Funeral Tears
Chapter Five:
“Voldemort,” I addressed, barely conscious of the hot tears still in my eyes. Flanking him were two unmasked Death Eaters, both of whom I recognised on sight. Lucius Malfoy sort of hissed involuntarily and Rodolphus Lestrange seemed to grit his teeth, as if burned by the pronouncing of his Master’s name, and unwilling to show it.
To my great surprise, I was not instantly cursed as punishment. The only thing stopping me from trying to curse Voldemort was the desire to live. No matter what had changed ever since I became a Death Eater, I was still determined to find Fabian.
Determination.
The memory of the hole sprung to mind, and very clearly I felt a pang of hatred for ‘Lord’ Voldemort, which probably should have come sooner.
“I confess myself surprised and impressed,” Voldemort told me.
“Because I’m alive?” I clarified coldly. “You meant to kill me.”
“Of course,” Lord Voldemort agreed. “Judging by your performance, however, the Dark Lord has decided to relent. I will allow you the honour of serving amongst my ranks.”
I refrained from any sarcastic, foolish comment.
“I even have a first task for you, this time with one clear objective.”
“What, another simple, easy and fast mission?” I asked furiously, unable to help myself.
“Crucio.” Apparently, he wasn’t so impressed as to allow me another infraction. Just like the first time, my mind was completely blanked, consumed in the pain of the curse. It ripped at me, without mercy breaking me down again, and this time when I regained the power of thought, I could hear my screams, quite clearly. Echoing.
I didn’t care for Voldemort’s respect anymore. He gave it to no one.
The Death Eaters standing on either side were, apparently, used to such a sight as an innocent person being tortured beyond belief, reduced to a screaming, writhing body on the floor. Malfoy seemed simply unaffected, and when my eyes connected with Lestrange’s, he had the most disturbing, perverse glint in his gaze, which made me want to strike him dead within an instant. My body was filled with tremors; it couldn’t take much more of this. I felt as if one more blow might break it.
“Your imprudence is unsettling,” Voldemort informed me. I wanted to snap back, but I didn’t. “Never the less, the task I have assigned you is a simple one,” he went on, not waiting for me to get to my feet. At the moment, I was still kind of reeling, kneeling on the ground. I didn’t trust my legs to stand. “He is already quite worn down, and I doubt he will expect the killing curse from you.”
“You “ you want me to kill“?” I asked pointlessly. I didn’t need to ask who.
“If you value you life, you will,” Voldemort told me icily. “Do you understand?” I hesitated.
“I do.”
“And what is your response?” he asked. My teeth were chattering, and I could barely comprehend such a suggestion, but still I looked up into Voldemort’s soulless red eyes with some kind of confidence.
“I will,” I told him. “I’ll kill him.”
Voldemort sneered.
“I can only hope your loyalty towards the Dark Lord is stronger than this,” he told me with an air of endless superiority. “Go now.” Voldemort apparated to somewhere else, presumably to await the news of my killing.
Both Rodolphus Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy had their wands pointed at me.
“Get up,” commanded Malfoy. I took a breath, and slowly tried to push myself to my feet, testing the limitations my shaking legs were placing on my ability to move.
“He said, ‘Get up’!” snapped Lestrange impatiently. I felt something hard connect with my back, and was thrown face first onto the wooden floor. My wand went rolling and one of the Death Eaters “ Rodolphus, I thought “ picked it up.
“The Dark Lord will not be pleased if he doesn’t make it downstairs,” Malfoy warned. Lestrange ground his teeth.
I pushed myself back up, and even got to my feet as quickly as I could.
“Why would he want his blood traitor for a servant?” scowled Lestrange, prodding me with his wand to indicate that I should start out of the room.
“I really don’t know,” I responded. “It would seem his first condition for recruiting is ‘must be psychotic’“”
“Vermin,” Rodolphus hissed, and again Malfoy had to stop him from attacking me. We were now in the hall. “Down the stairs.”
“Say, you don’t suppose I could get my wand back?” I inquired, gripping the rail very firmly to stop myself from toppling down the stairs. Lestrange made a noise of contempt, but other than that ignored me. “I mean, I understand that maniacs like yourselves most likely have no problem with killing your brothers with your bare hands, but“”
Thankfully, we were almost at the bottom, because I then found myself hit with the Cruciatus Curse for the second time that day. It was much quicker this time, and only lasted for a moment, but it was just as strong, just as blinding. I didn’t scream this time, but had fallen on my wounded shoulder at the bottom of the stairs, and this time, heard a resounding crack. My wand dropped in front of my face from above.
“Rodolphus!” snapped Malfoy angrily “Have you no will power?” Weakly, I sat up, clutching my shoulder. My breathing came short, from the pain, the shock.
“T-touchy, aren’t you?” I managed to squeeze out. It was rather pathetic, really, sitting in the middle of the floor, insulting a man who would not usually so much as hesitate to kill me.
“Get up!”
The fact that I really had no choice but to obey was even more pathetic. Somehow, I scrambled to my feet, my right arm hanging limply at my side. The cellar of the house was empty “ this was the room I had apparated to before Voldemort had sent me to the banshee. In the plain, cement room, the only exits were the stairs we had just come down, and a small door near the corner, evidently my destination.
“Through there,” Malfoy told me, predictably. I walked towards the door and they made as if to follow me through.
“I’ll go,” I told them firmly, “But I’ll go alone.” There was a moment as the two high ranking Death Eaters considered this. Finally, Malfoy gave a curt nod.
“Try anything funny and the neither of you will ever see the light of day again,” Rodolphus agreed. Despite myself, I rolled my eyes.
“Very dramatic, Lestrange.” Lucius grabbed the wrist in which the wiry looking fellow held his wand, and reluctantly, rippling with frustration, Rodolphus snatched his arm back and forcefully indicated the door.
“Well, hurry up then!” he snapped.
Seeing the logic in this, I wrenched open the door with my left hand, and stumbled in, closing it behind me. The room was shadowy and gloomy, and my eyes needed a moment to adjust to the darkness.
“G-Gideon?” I heard a trembling, though highly familiar voice, ask in disbelief. I turned. Despite the situation, I found comfort in the sight of my little brother. He looked exceedingly pale, his robes were dirty and he seemed oddly thinner than usual, huddled in the corner with his legs almost to his chest. But he was alive, and he was here. After all this time.
“Yeah,” I told him simply, bringing my left hand back up to hold still my broken shoulder. Fabian used the wall to push himself to his feet, and rushed over to me.
“I can’t believe it,” he gushed. “You’re alive. I’m so glad you’re alive. They said you’d be dead. Here, sit down…” Although he seemed significantly weaker than usual himself, Fabian helped me to sit down, back comfortably against the wall. “Are you alright?”
I snorted.
“Are you alright?” I asked back. Fabian looked self-consciously around the blank room.
“I could be worse,” he said, and looked back to me, a little alarmed. “For example, my shoulder could be pointing in the wrong direction.”
“It’s broken,” I told him. “Lestrange “ pushed me down the stairs.” Carefully, Fabian pulled the dirty robe off my otherwise bare shoulder. I clenched my jaw as he pulled my arm out of the sleeve. Then, Fabian paused. That was the arm with the Dark Mark.
For a moment, he looked at me with a hard gaze. I just looked back. I didn’t know what to tell him.
“Hold still…” He gripped the top of my arm firmly, and I grunted as he pushed it back into place, before quickly using a spell to heal the bone. It was far better than the spell I had used before. Now, my arm actually seemed to work.
“I suppose Auror training really can come in handy,” I said pointlessly. “Thanks.” Fabian was sitting on his feet in front of me.
“What happened? Didn’t they send you?” he asked anxiously. “Or did they bring you here first?”
“To where?” I inquired blankly. “The desert?” Fabian stared, his eyes wide and carrying a strangely animalistic quality, like a territorial cat. “Voldemort sent me to this weird desert to get a giant hallucinogenic jug lobster guarded by a banshee, if that’s what you mean.”
“And “ you’re alive?” I rolled my eyes weakly.
“No, I’m a particularly solid ghost.”
“But how?” Fabian ignored my sarcasm. “Voldemort said he wouldn’t tell you, he said it was a suicide mission.”
“It was,” I replied, shrugging though my shoulder still ached dully. “I guess I just got lucky.” I remembered something and asked quickly, “Is Charlie okay?” Fabian frowned.
“Charlie?” I nodded. “I’ve been missing longer than you, but I’m sure they’d have told me if something happened to him,” my brother said, frowning. “What“”
“The hallucinogenic jug lobster,” I told him simply. “For a while it seemed like this place, with Charlie… and Morticia…” Fabian’s eyes seemed over bright. “What?”
“I’m so sorry,” he told me. “I’m sorry, I really “ I didn’t think of the monster. I thought the banshee would…” he trailed off.
“What are you talking about?” I was confused.
“It sort of starts with Dearborn“”
“Is he dead?” I asked worriedly. Fabian interrupted in abruptness.
“He’s a Death Eater. Jam turned up when it was scheduled, and didn’t know anything because he’d just joined, so Voldemort killed him.” He covered his eyes with his hands. So moral, Fabian had always been so moral. Moral to the point of being naïve. “He thought since I was an Auror I’d make a better Death Eater than Jam, and for weeks while I was here, he spent the time trying to get into my mind and find out what could make me turn. Then he told me you’d turned up at a gathering, and I“” He cut off, seeming oddly ashamed. I was just astounded, amazingly proud of my little brother’s prowess as an Occlumens.
“That’s“” He didn’t let me speak.
“I convinced him neither of us knew anything, and Dearborn was wrong, we didn’t know more than him about the Order. He told me he’d kill you, he told me all about the desert, and the banshee, and the Inedia Beast which made people lost in the desert die of thirst, although they thought they were drinking all the water they could get. I told him you were “ you were irrelevant, and didn’t do much or know much or anything like that. That you weren’t worth “ worth keeping alive.”
I stared at him, blankly, not comprehending.
“He was going to go after Molly!” Fabian justified, somewhat hysterical, and with a dry sob. “He was going to go after Molly and Bill and Charlie and Percy and Fred and George, and“” he was almost out of breath, reduced to the tiniest of pleading voices. “And little Ron. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I never thought you’d get back alive…” He looked at me again, and I could see he was crying. I was forcefully reminded of the Fabian I had known as just a child. Over this time, he’d been driven a little mad too.
“Fabian,” I said firmly, “Fabian!” He sat more still, but twitched. “I’m alive,” I told him. “Look at me, see?” I grabbed his hand and pressed it against my chest, to feel the heart beat. “I’m alive. You did the right thing. I “ I don’t think I could have done that.” I laughed at myself. “It’s my own fault I ended up in this mess with Voldemort anyway. I’ve got more to be ashamed of than you. I thought I was going mad. I thought you’d died too.”
“Too?” asked Fabian, looking frankly terrified. “Too? What too? Is Molly“?”
“Molly’s fine,” I interrupted. “They’d have told you if she wasn’t.” I paused. I hadn’t ever told anyone. They’d all found out from her parents, who Smethwyk had also contacted. “It’s Morticia.” My brother’s eyes seemed to widen.
“Is she“”
“She’s dead,” I told him bluntly. “At St. Mungo’s. I got an owl from Hippocrates Smethwyk about a week after you left.” Fabian clamped his hands together, looking shocked. “I was going to wait until you got back.”
“I’m sorry,” Fabian told me, looking young, small, not at all the strong Order member and Auror he had become. “I’m really sorry. I can’t “ I would have come back early, you know. If I wasn’t here. If you’d gotten a chance to tell me.” It didn’t seem to have processed in his mind. “I don’t understand…”
“It was just a random attack at the hospital,” I explained, surprised at how calm I was. Perhaps with Fabian there, I had switched, become the older brother again. “But I’ve been in this room for a long time. Lestrange’s not in a patient mood.”
“Which one?” asked Fabian. He seemed to have shivered at the name.
“Rodolphus, but““ The look in my brother’s eyes was disturbing.
“At least you didn’t get Bellatrix. We wouldn’t still be talking now. Not alone, at least. And not for so long. She“”
“Fabian, what has happened to you here?” I demanded, a protective, angry feeling bubbling in my gut. “What have they done“?” A new thought seemed to have occurred to him though, also, or perhaps he just didn’t want to discuss it.
“What are you doing here? Why did they bring you…?” He trailed off, confused. I sighed heavily.
“Apparently Voldemort decided that my trip to the desert proved my worth or something,” I said. “He wants me as a Death Eater instead of you “ I suppose servants who are rubbish at Occlumency are better anyway. I’m supposed to kill you.”
Fabian was oddly quiet.
“Okay,” he said, after a moment. I frowned.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” repeated Fabian. “Alright. Say goodbye to everyone for me, will you?”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded.
“Well, you’re going to kill me, right?” Fabian inquired quietly. He seemed a little shaky, like he was on the brink of crying again but the tears wouldn’t come.
“No!” I told him, forcefully. “What are you talking about? Of course not.” He looked at me angrily.
“Gideon, be serious! We’re here, and you’re a Death Eater. I die tonight, you last until Voldemort is defeated and Crouch has you killed. We’re not going to survive this war.” It was a realisation, and not good enough.
“We’re not going to survive this day,” I corrected, angrily putting my arm back into the sleeve of my robe. “Because I’m not a Death Eater, Fabian. I don’t “ I don’t have the strength to kill you, even if I thought it was for the best.”
“It is for the best,” he argued. Something inside me hurt, hurt so much that my little brother was sitting in front of me, weak and probably tortured, prepared to convince me to kill him. “You’d be alive“”
“Life as a Death Eater is not life,” I corrected. “Look at them. They’re slaves “ animals.” Fabian looked away.
“If you’re so sure… he knows,” he muttered nonsensically, and paused for a moment before apparently disregarding this thought. “So we’re not going to survive the day?”
“No.” He glanced fearfully at the door.
“What should we do then?”
“I think “ we should write to Molly,” I told him. “She deserves to know.” I paused, then added quietly, sorrowfully and with regret, “It must have been Bill’s birthday last week.”
We didn’t spend much time on the letter, simply because there wasn’t any to spare. When we finished it, Fabian tucked it securely into his robe. No spells for communication outside the room had worked, apparently, when he tried it. We can only hope that, some day, a member of the Order will find our bodies.
Our bodies.
The thought is terrifying, and I can’t let it cloud my judgement or impair my actions because right now I’m standing at the door with Fabian, and we’re preparing to storm out. He seems to know exactly how to go about it, exactly how we should do it. He’s clutching his wand like a life line.
“Gideon?” he says to me.
“Yeah?”
“Are you sure about this?”
“Of course I am.”
“Then…” he pauses. “This is going to sound really stupid.” I’m smiling slightly. I don’t know how “ I’m about to be killed, my little brother’s about to be killed.
“Try me.” I’m not going to cry.
“I’m,” he’s taking a deep breath. He wants to keep his voice steady. I’m not going to cry. “I’m really glad you’re my brother.” I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry. “And I’m proud to die with you.”
I’m crying, silently, but crying all the same.
“And I’m really sorry about Morticia. I wish I could have been there with you.” I touch my forehead against the door. I can’t stop the tears. I don’t want to die.
“Me too,” I’m telling him. My voice is clear and my words make sense, but I don’t know how that can be. My mind is in panic. “About all of it. You’ve always been better than me, and it’s been frustrating as hell, but I’m… yeah, proud. I tried to protect you, but I guess I didn’t manage that, and you really did better anyway, huh? I wish you didn’t have to die like this.”
He can’t really form a smile.
“Thanks.”
Neither of us wants to be the one to say it, to be the first one to propose we run to our deaths.
“Fabian?” I ask. He looks at me. “Why didn’t you ever get serious “ you know, get married?” He looks sadly at the door.
“I figured there’d be time after the war.” His voice is really only a whisper. “When there was peace, and life could keep going, and I could go out and live mine without worrying about Voldemort and evil. You and Morticia were meant for each other, but I didn’t want to fall in love, not knowing whether it was real, or whether it was only happening because we might die.” Now with determination, I stare at the door.
“Well, there’s only Lestrange and Malfoy out there,” I tell him. We’re both weak, and he can barely stand, but I want my little brother to die with hope. Or at least die thinking that I have hope. “Let’s get working on that.” He finally manages a smile.
“Alright.” Resigned to death, I count down with Fabian, and when we reach zero, the pair of us jump out of the room and into the main cellar.
Rodolphus and Malfoy are by the end of the stairs, but as well as them I can see three more Death Eaters. We’re in the middle of a circle of them. Automatically, we meet back to back.
“Run for the stairs if you get the chance,” I tell Fabian. I know he’ll never make it. “And don’t worry about me. I’ve got the Mark; there’s no way I’d survive anyway.”
The three Death Eaters remove their masks “ at least, the two I can see do. Dolohov and Tate, the villains Fabian had been working to take down. His back is touching mine, and I can feel it tense with anger.
“Dearborn,” he hisses.
I don’t know who will start the fight, but it seems likely to be Rodolphus. He still looks impatient, still mad, and Lucius Malfoy is still cold and calculating, like none of this really matters all that much to him.
To my surprise, however, the next thing I hear if Fabian’s voice again.
“Impedimenta!” I can’t help but note, with the same protective feeling as before, that my brother chose to curse Rodolphus Lestrange over Dearborn. The room comes alive.
There’s a stunner from Lucius, which I’ve deflected and returned with a jinx, and both Fabian and I have dodged a shot of blue light from Dolohov. Fabian tries to curse Malfoy with the memory charm, but he manages to regain movement fast enough to block it. It’s all automatic; there’s no time to think. I’ve found myself duelling with Rodolphus and Tate, Fabian’s got Malfoy and Dolohov, and Dearborn could join the fray at any moment. Curses are flying everywhere, bouncing off the walls, and Fabian and I have managed to get back against the wall so as to not get cursed from behind.
When it seems Fabian’s about to get the best of Dolohov, Dearborn finally sends a curse his way. I jump in and deflect, and just as I’m getting back to Tate, who’s on my unprotected side, there’s a flash of green light and the sound of a body falling to the floor. Panicked, I turn towards Fabian, but it’s not him.
He killed Dearborn.
A wave of shock sweeps my conscious mind, but I can’t pause. I can’t do anything, I can’t even think. Rodolphus is breaking away from duelling with me, and I’m panicking. I can’t think of anything, and without a moment’s hesitation, I shoot the same fireball from my wand as I shot at the banshee, hitting him, like her, directly in the throat.
There’s blood everywhere. I hope it’s hurting him. He’ll probably never talk again.
Tate’s lost his wand and I’m sending a stunner at Dolohov, who’s blocked it, but gets hit by a banishing charm from Fabian. Malfoy, he’s been quiet. I go to curse Malfoy, and out of the corner of my eye, just as I’m uttering the words, I notice something coming from Rodolphus. He’s used the window of opportunity to build it up, despite the burnt out hole in his neck which barely allowed him to breathe. It’s bright, almost white, and I can tell it’s a powerful curse. I’m going to die; I know I’m going to die. I’m going to die and then Fabian’s going to die too, left alone.
At the last minute, however, Fabian dives between me and the curse. I can’t stop it. I can’t block it. The white light hits him straight in the heart, and whatever it is, he’s dead before he hits the floor. It takes seconds “ less than a second, but it’s as if I can feel him leaving, I can feel him dieing, and when he his body crashes down onto the cement with a sickening smack, I can feel him gone.
He’s gone.
He’s gone, I can’t save him now.
He took a curse for me.
He’s dead.
There’s a moment of near silence, and a lone stunner bounces off the wall.
Fabian’s dead. His eyes are still open, staring blankly. He doesn’t deserve to die. He didn’t deserve to die. It’s not fair. I can feel my heartbeat pounding.
As I turn, determined to kill Rodolphus Lestrange, I notice movement on the stairs. A wooden leg, and a curse has knocked Lestrange out.
I don’t have time to comprehend that the Order “ or, perhaps, the Ministry “ is here. Dolohov is back up.
I don’t even have time to try and dodge the rush of green light.
Everything had been so bright. I was going to be married, and Morticia was going to make my brothers wear lime green pinstripes and top hats. Bill was going to carry the ring, Molly would be crying her eyes out in the front row, but they would be happy tears.
Not the tears of a funeral.
The tears of a wedding.
The light at the end of the tunnel.
A rushing sound, like I could hear death spiralling towards me.
…………………………………………………………………………………
Dear Molly,
Sorry. We wish we could see you again, but that’s not likely to happen.
Love to you, to Arthur, to all our gorgeous nephews and to Mother, to Morticia’s parents, Norton, Kaila, the Goodnotes and to everyone we don’t have time to mention.
And to all of you: be happy. Go on, do it for us!
Live.
Love,
Gideon and Fabian
The End
Thank you for reading. I'd like to send out a great big box of cyber-chocolates to MithrilQuill and the Gauntlet supervisors, and everyone who made this challenge possible.
This story was just... really magical to write. It made me take these Prewetts, who I love and adore, to a very dark place, and tested my characterisations of them very thoroughly. Now (when they stop being mad at me for killing off their loved ones and themselves), I feel more confident with these guys, and the darker side of writing.
And finally, if you see fit to write a review, it will absolutely make my day. Good luck to everyone who's entered the Gauntlet!
Prewett’d: Wedding Tears, Funeral Tears by Mind_Over_Matter
Chapter Notes:And here we have the rest of my lengthy conclusion. I just want to also say a quick but hearty 'thank you' to Schmergo for your touching reviews.