Post by Black Sakura on Sept 24, 2006 20:12:38 GMT -5
This was my very first Harry Potter Fanfic Ever... Don't kill me.
DISCLAIMER: I am making no money off of this, and this site isn’t either. This is purely fan-fiction written by a weird person who has absolutely nothing better to do than write this stuff. I don’t own Harry Potter, Hogwarts, etc. J.K.R. does. But I do have some of my own original characters in here. Please don’t take these! However, if you do, I can’t see what I can do about it. Just refrain, please?
Their “Last”
The sun beat down on a small pile of boulders in the middle of the African savannah, reflecting its nearly-sunset brightness upon the wilderness. The view was hazy and blurred with the evaporation of the dew and the small amount of water in the ground which had settled there overnight. A lone acacia tree extended its fragile, thorny boughs over dusty patches of hard, cracked earth, and furrowed, clayish soil. The world was flat, or so it seemed to be from the vantage point of someone on the ground. The sky held the blue color of periwinkle and forget-me-not, such rare oddities here. The billowing grass shone a brilliant blonde-gold, dazzling and blinding the observer. Somewhere in the distance two tall giraffes peacefully made their way across the desert on their too-lanky limbs, their long bespotted necks bobbing gracefully as they moseyed along. They appeared content with the world, as did a few Thompson’s gazelles that leaped gracefully hither and thither among the barren landscape. Nothing seemed out of place in this dry yet beautiful scene.
And, suddenly, everything went amiss.
In a startling flash, three human figures appeared on top of the boulders in the center of the scene. One was tall male, with shoulder-length, raven-black dark hair and a giant, hawk-like nose. The second was somewhat shorter than the first two, but with relatively short platinum blonde hair, glistening brighter than the dry grass beneath his feet. The last was a tall woman with shining platinum blonde hair like the boy. All three looked rather unnerved, and the blonde boy, barely seventeen or eighteen, fell to his knees on the packed earth beneath him. The dark-haired one, who seemed a bit older, remained his steadfast composure.
“Oh, Merlin!” the boy exclaimed aloud. “Oh, Merlin!” He hid his face behind his hands; apparently behind them he had burst into unmanly tears.
The older man yanked the boy to his feet. “Draco, don’t be a blasted wimp” he scathingly replied, his tone brisker than usual.
“Let him be, Severus!” declared the woman shakily at his elbow. “It’s not his fault.”
“Not his fault? NOT HIS FAULT?” demanded Severus Snape. “Of course it’s his bloody fault. Who else do I…we…have to blame for…for…” He was at a loss for words, so he gesticulated angrily around them. The savannah stared back, as hot and unreceptive as the speaker.
“Me, I am his mother” answered the woman quietly.
Draco and Narcissa were in hiding; not only from the Ministry of Magic but also from Lord Voldemort. He believed them to be dead. Snape, who was only in hiding from the Ministry was now, currently, one of the Dark Lord’s dearest and most trusted followers. He was responsible for risking his own life to save what remained of the torn-apart Malfoy family. The last three members of it still alive today were Lucius Malfoy, in Azkaban still, and these two. The parents of Lucius, his immediate relatives, all were vanquished in the Dark Lord’s wrath when it was told that Draco himself did not complete the task of killing Albus Dumbledore. Snape received high recognition for doing the fateful deed, and had the Dark Lord ever doubted Snape’s allegiance, he doubted not now. This was, in fact, an advantage to Snape now; he could do his work of protecting and sustaining the Malfoy pair still alive and uncaptured.
Snape knew he didn’t have to take care of both Draco and Narcissa. His life depended on protecting Draco; he had, after all, made the Unbreakable Vow to do so. However, Narcissa was only an optional add-on. Snape knew he protected her because of their history, and because he still loved her, even after all these years. He wondered if she still loved him, but he never gained the courage to ask.
Anyhow, the three of them were here now because Draco had very foolishly and accidentally betrayed Snape. The Dark Lord, obviously, was angry, and was after the three of them. They had disapparated to here, as remote a place as Snape could think of.
Snape shook his head as he replied nastily. “If you so wish to be blamed, Narcissa,” he raved, “Then go ahead, take all the credit. I’m not stopping you.”
Narcissa ignored his comment with as much grace as she could muster, and bent down to embrace her son. She was met with a hard slap on the cheek.
“Off of me, woman!” Draco sobbed, wrenching himself from her grasp and throwing himself, distraught upon the ground.
Narcissa stared at him a moment, then, meekly, turned away from the pale boy to face the extent of the desert. “You don’t need to be so harsh to him, though, Severus,” she half-whispered, obviously very pained.
Snape glared coldly at the other two. “Narcissa,” he said coldly, “If you choose to not admonish your son when he slows us in our flight, pray then, let me do so, or let him be lost to the lions and jackals native to this territory.”
At the mention of these ferocious predators, Narcissa looked at Snape. She was having a hard time of keeping her emotions contained, and of keeping her tears in. It was so stressful being the wife and mother of two Death Eaters, one in jail, the other close to it. She almost succeeded in keeping her tears entirely in check, but her icy blue eyes soon were clouded up, and two pearly drops gracefully glided down her gaunt features. She turned away from Severus Snape hurriedly.
“Merlin, woman!” Snape declared, even more irritated by this. “Hasn’t your work ever taught you to reign in your sentiments?”
At this unfeeling remark, Narcissa sank onto the ground a few paces away from her son and leant against a boulder to express her dismay with the world in general. As more heavy raindrops drenched her cheeks in a heavy downpour, she even disregarded the fact that her shimmering and very expensive silver satin and lace dress was becoming dingy with brown dust.
Snape scowled at both Malfoys. “Idiots,” he muttered under his breath. He sighed. “Complete idiots,” he told himself again unnecessarily as he dove into his pockets, retrieving a large white handkerchief. It looked almost clean, except for the fact that it was rumpled everywhere and severely dog-eared in one corner. This he held before Narcissa, who brusquely snatched it from him. She began to wipe her eyes, smearing her thick coats of mascara and rouge. She was most unsightly to behold when she finally returned the handkerchief to Severus with a flutter of an eyelash for thanks, and even more so was the handkerchief. More out of common courtesy than any other reason, Severus also held out the cloth to Draco. Draco took it, but threw it angrily into the bushes. But Snape didn’t notice. He was watching the plains.
Draco, very unnerved, got out his wand and began to idly prod the pebbles on the ground. He turned them into little frogs, and then practiced killing them with a murmured ‘Avada kedavra.’ He had not yet mastered the art of the unsaid spell.
Suddenly, Snape swooped back over Draco. With a swift movement, he grabbed the wand from Draco’s hand.
“Hey!” exclaimed Draco, pouting.
“This is no time for tomfoolery,” declared Snape, also taking Mrs. Malfoy’s wand from her. She didn’t even protest.
In a momentary lapse of guard, Snape glanced into Narcissa’s eyes. He was startled to find that she was looking at him, too. They met in a sort of connection for a few brief seconds, Narcissa’s eyes flashing a question. Then, with a sigh, Severus looked shamefacedly at the ground.
“Narcissa, no,” he pleaded. “You’re married. Remember…remember what I told you that once?”
Narcissa nodded sadly. “That I was to forget about you and marry Lucius. You said it would be the right thing to do; that we should go along with my parents’ wishes for my marriage and forget each other. So yes, Severus, I know what you told me.” She looked at him again sadly.
Snape closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight of her, the one he had cared for intensely ever since his Hogwarts days. “Narcissa,” he said slowly, “I’m nothing more than a friend of your husband’s and your old classmate. You shouldn’t even be thinking of such things as I know you are.”
Narcissa stood, a bit wobbly on her high heels in the rugged terrain. Suddenly, though, she threw her arms around Snape’s neck and kissed him gently on the lips.
Snape didn’t resist, though he was slightly surprised. “I haven’t been able to forget you,” murmured Narcissa in explanation, not drawing away.
“Neither…neither have I, Narcissa” replied Snape reluctantly but sincerely.
“EW! MUM!” exclaimed Draco, who noticed just then what was going on. Narcissa cast a stony glare at her son.
“Love is not just a thing for teenagers, Draco,” she said oddly, staring off into the distance behind them. She had suddenly had a premonition, a foreboding of death. She knew not where it came from or even what it was, but she just felt that she wasn’t going to live very much longer. Anxiously, she turned her attention back to the man in her arms. “Kiss me, quick, Severus.”
“What?”
“Just do it, fast. It may be the last time we—mhm” She broke off as his cold lips met hers.
“Do you people know how disgusting that is?” accused Draco after a few seconds of watching his mother commit infidelity. Narcissa pulled away from Snape to reply saucily, but, a curt voice arrested them.
“There they are!”
Norman Dobbins, Fred Milkhurst, Angel Watson, and a small group of other Death Eaters apparated from out of nowhere.
“Drop your wands!” Milkhurst cried angrily. Snape, seeing he had no choice with six Death Eaters surrounding them, dropped the wands from his hands. They landed with a rattle on the hard ground.
“Get them!” cried Watson as soon as Snape was disarmed. The Death Eaters, in reply to his command, began to fire hexes and bogeys and unforgivable curses. Snape and Narcissa scrambled behind the boulder they stood next to. Draco was too far from it, though, for it to be of any shelter to him; he soon screamed as someone hit him with an ‘Avada Kedavra.’ He learned too quickly how the frogs he had tortured earlier felt.
“We don’t stand a chance,” murmured Snape to Narcissa as they crouched behind the boulder. Narcissa nodded as she stared, too shocked to be traumatized, at her son lying dead on the ground. Slowly, she turned her head away from the blonde corpse on the ground and faced Severus.
“Let’s make this our last then,” replied Narcissa, tilting her head upwards and extending her arms.
They died in each other’s embrace.
DISCLAIMER: I am making no money off of this, and this site isn’t either. This is purely fan-fiction written by a weird person who has absolutely nothing better to do than write this stuff. I don’t own Harry Potter, Hogwarts, etc. J.K.R. does. But I do have some of my own original characters in here. Please don’t take these! However, if you do, I can’t see what I can do about it. Just refrain, please?
Their “Last”
The sun beat down on a small pile of boulders in the middle of the African savannah, reflecting its nearly-sunset brightness upon the wilderness. The view was hazy and blurred with the evaporation of the dew and the small amount of water in the ground which had settled there overnight. A lone acacia tree extended its fragile, thorny boughs over dusty patches of hard, cracked earth, and furrowed, clayish soil. The world was flat, or so it seemed to be from the vantage point of someone on the ground. The sky held the blue color of periwinkle and forget-me-not, such rare oddities here. The billowing grass shone a brilliant blonde-gold, dazzling and blinding the observer. Somewhere in the distance two tall giraffes peacefully made their way across the desert on their too-lanky limbs, their long bespotted necks bobbing gracefully as they moseyed along. They appeared content with the world, as did a few Thompson’s gazelles that leaped gracefully hither and thither among the barren landscape. Nothing seemed out of place in this dry yet beautiful scene.
And, suddenly, everything went amiss.
In a startling flash, three human figures appeared on top of the boulders in the center of the scene. One was tall male, with shoulder-length, raven-black dark hair and a giant, hawk-like nose. The second was somewhat shorter than the first two, but with relatively short platinum blonde hair, glistening brighter than the dry grass beneath his feet. The last was a tall woman with shining platinum blonde hair like the boy. All three looked rather unnerved, and the blonde boy, barely seventeen or eighteen, fell to his knees on the packed earth beneath him. The dark-haired one, who seemed a bit older, remained his steadfast composure.
“Oh, Merlin!” the boy exclaimed aloud. “Oh, Merlin!” He hid his face behind his hands; apparently behind them he had burst into unmanly tears.
The older man yanked the boy to his feet. “Draco, don’t be a blasted wimp” he scathingly replied, his tone brisker than usual.
“Let him be, Severus!” declared the woman shakily at his elbow. “It’s not his fault.”
“Not his fault? NOT HIS FAULT?” demanded Severus Snape. “Of course it’s his bloody fault. Who else do I…we…have to blame for…for…” He was at a loss for words, so he gesticulated angrily around them. The savannah stared back, as hot and unreceptive as the speaker.
“Me, I am his mother” answered the woman quietly.
Draco and Narcissa were in hiding; not only from the Ministry of Magic but also from Lord Voldemort. He believed them to be dead. Snape, who was only in hiding from the Ministry was now, currently, one of the Dark Lord’s dearest and most trusted followers. He was responsible for risking his own life to save what remained of the torn-apart Malfoy family. The last three members of it still alive today were Lucius Malfoy, in Azkaban still, and these two. The parents of Lucius, his immediate relatives, all were vanquished in the Dark Lord’s wrath when it was told that Draco himself did not complete the task of killing Albus Dumbledore. Snape received high recognition for doing the fateful deed, and had the Dark Lord ever doubted Snape’s allegiance, he doubted not now. This was, in fact, an advantage to Snape now; he could do his work of protecting and sustaining the Malfoy pair still alive and uncaptured.
Snape knew he didn’t have to take care of both Draco and Narcissa. His life depended on protecting Draco; he had, after all, made the Unbreakable Vow to do so. However, Narcissa was only an optional add-on. Snape knew he protected her because of their history, and because he still loved her, even after all these years. He wondered if she still loved him, but he never gained the courage to ask.
Anyhow, the three of them were here now because Draco had very foolishly and accidentally betrayed Snape. The Dark Lord, obviously, was angry, and was after the three of them. They had disapparated to here, as remote a place as Snape could think of.
Snape shook his head as he replied nastily. “If you so wish to be blamed, Narcissa,” he raved, “Then go ahead, take all the credit. I’m not stopping you.”
Narcissa ignored his comment with as much grace as she could muster, and bent down to embrace her son. She was met with a hard slap on the cheek.
“Off of me, woman!” Draco sobbed, wrenching himself from her grasp and throwing himself, distraught upon the ground.
Narcissa stared at him a moment, then, meekly, turned away from the pale boy to face the extent of the desert. “You don’t need to be so harsh to him, though, Severus,” she half-whispered, obviously very pained.
Snape glared coldly at the other two. “Narcissa,” he said coldly, “If you choose to not admonish your son when he slows us in our flight, pray then, let me do so, or let him be lost to the lions and jackals native to this territory.”
At the mention of these ferocious predators, Narcissa looked at Snape. She was having a hard time of keeping her emotions contained, and of keeping her tears in. It was so stressful being the wife and mother of two Death Eaters, one in jail, the other close to it. She almost succeeded in keeping her tears entirely in check, but her icy blue eyes soon were clouded up, and two pearly drops gracefully glided down her gaunt features. She turned away from Severus Snape hurriedly.
“Merlin, woman!” Snape declared, even more irritated by this. “Hasn’t your work ever taught you to reign in your sentiments?”
At this unfeeling remark, Narcissa sank onto the ground a few paces away from her son and leant against a boulder to express her dismay with the world in general. As more heavy raindrops drenched her cheeks in a heavy downpour, she even disregarded the fact that her shimmering and very expensive silver satin and lace dress was becoming dingy with brown dust.
Snape scowled at both Malfoys. “Idiots,” he muttered under his breath. He sighed. “Complete idiots,” he told himself again unnecessarily as he dove into his pockets, retrieving a large white handkerchief. It looked almost clean, except for the fact that it was rumpled everywhere and severely dog-eared in one corner. This he held before Narcissa, who brusquely snatched it from him. She began to wipe her eyes, smearing her thick coats of mascara and rouge. She was most unsightly to behold when she finally returned the handkerchief to Severus with a flutter of an eyelash for thanks, and even more so was the handkerchief. More out of common courtesy than any other reason, Severus also held out the cloth to Draco. Draco took it, but threw it angrily into the bushes. But Snape didn’t notice. He was watching the plains.
Draco, very unnerved, got out his wand and began to idly prod the pebbles on the ground. He turned them into little frogs, and then practiced killing them with a murmured ‘Avada kedavra.’ He had not yet mastered the art of the unsaid spell.
Suddenly, Snape swooped back over Draco. With a swift movement, he grabbed the wand from Draco’s hand.
“Hey!” exclaimed Draco, pouting.
“This is no time for tomfoolery,” declared Snape, also taking Mrs. Malfoy’s wand from her. She didn’t even protest.
In a momentary lapse of guard, Snape glanced into Narcissa’s eyes. He was startled to find that she was looking at him, too. They met in a sort of connection for a few brief seconds, Narcissa’s eyes flashing a question. Then, with a sigh, Severus looked shamefacedly at the ground.
“Narcissa, no,” he pleaded. “You’re married. Remember…remember what I told you that once?”
Narcissa nodded sadly. “That I was to forget about you and marry Lucius. You said it would be the right thing to do; that we should go along with my parents’ wishes for my marriage and forget each other. So yes, Severus, I know what you told me.” She looked at him again sadly.
Snape closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight of her, the one he had cared for intensely ever since his Hogwarts days. “Narcissa,” he said slowly, “I’m nothing more than a friend of your husband’s and your old classmate. You shouldn’t even be thinking of such things as I know you are.”
Narcissa stood, a bit wobbly on her high heels in the rugged terrain. Suddenly, though, she threw her arms around Snape’s neck and kissed him gently on the lips.
Snape didn’t resist, though he was slightly surprised. “I haven’t been able to forget you,” murmured Narcissa in explanation, not drawing away.
“Neither…neither have I, Narcissa” replied Snape reluctantly but sincerely.
“EW! MUM!” exclaimed Draco, who noticed just then what was going on. Narcissa cast a stony glare at her son.
“Love is not just a thing for teenagers, Draco,” she said oddly, staring off into the distance behind them. She had suddenly had a premonition, a foreboding of death. She knew not where it came from or even what it was, but she just felt that she wasn’t going to live very much longer. Anxiously, she turned her attention back to the man in her arms. “Kiss me, quick, Severus.”
“What?”
“Just do it, fast. It may be the last time we—mhm” She broke off as his cold lips met hers.
“Do you people know how disgusting that is?” accused Draco after a few seconds of watching his mother commit infidelity. Narcissa pulled away from Snape to reply saucily, but, a curt voice arrested them.
“There they are!”
Norman Dobbins, Fred Milkhurst, Angel Watson, and a small group of other Death Eaters apparated from out of nowhere.
“Drop your wands!” Milkhurst cried angrily. Snape, seeing he had no choice with six Death Eaters surrounding them, dropped the wands from his hands. They landed with a rattle on the hard ground.
“Get them!” cried Watson as soon as Snape was disarmed. The Death Eaters, in reply to his command, began to fire hexes and bogeys and unforgivable curses. Snape and Narcissa scrambled behind the boulder they stood next to. Draco was too far from it, though, for it to be of any shelter to him; he soon screamed as someone hit him with an ‘Avada Kedavra.’ He learned too quickly how the frogs he had tortured earlier felt.
“We don’t stand a chance,” murmured Snape to Narcissa as they crouched behind the boulder. Narcissa nodded as she stared, too shocked to be traumatized, at her son lying dead on the ground. Slowly, she turned her head away from the blonde corpse on the ground and faced Severus.
“Let’s make this our last then,” replied Narcissa, tilting her head upwards and extending her arms.
They died in each other’s embrace.
