Of Death and Fire

dragonfire


CHAPTER 24: Dragonfire
 
The days grew shorter and winter was coming fast. Morgaine spent her days in solitude and her nights in agony. Every night the scar on her neck would burn and she would wake up screaming through visions of death. It was not her own death she feared. Her dreams were dominated by a dark figure of the utmost malice, leading a horde of unspeakable horrors across the earth, walking over rivers of blood and fields of scorched corpses. She would see the creature sitting on a throne of sculls smiling with lustful bliss over the shredded remains of the people she loved: her brother, Albus, Aurion, Severus... And this Angel of Death had her own face.
Then she would jump out of bed in cold sweat, reaching out to grasp Aurion's hand as she had done during her long recovery. But she would remember in despair that she was alone. Even her familiar spirits had abandoned her. The dead would fear her now, for she no longer was one of them. As she had discovered the hard way, there's indeed a fate worse than death. And then she would lie awake until morning, staring at the shadows dancing around her, cursing everything she loved. She cursed Dumbledore for pleading Whitebone to save her. She cursed Aurion for not letting her die - twice. Her brother fot kit killing her in the womb. And most of all, she cursed Snape for loving him; for he had given her a reason to live.
But then the Sun would rise and dispel the binding of the darkness. She would sit beside Hagrid at breakfast and allow herself indulge in the small delights that make life worth living; the aroma of the fresh coffee; the taste of the cream filled muffins that Dobby baked just for her; Rubeus happy, meaningless chattering; Dumbledore's mischievous wink across the table. She would even allow herself to peak through her hair at Snape, letting her eyes travel on his face, needing desperately to reach out and remove the loose hair that fell across his face. And then Moody's enchanted eye would fix on her and she would move her attention elsewhere.
When Harry's name came out of the Goblet, Morgaine was not surprised at all. "Blood of my enemy"... She had been the one to provide Voldemort with the specifics of this ritual. And she would have to work around it, stopping it, if possible. But her greatest opponent was residing inside her own soul.
~*~
Young Potter excelled at his first task; against a dragon, of all things. After the event was over, the dragon keepers had a very hard time confining the beasts. Of all the creatures, the Chinese Firehead had assumed a continuous wailing that upset all the other dragons, including several of the creatures of the forest. Several wizards and witches have been carried to the hospital wing with bad burns and broken bones. Dumbledore asked of all the staff members to assist in any possible way.
Morgaine stood away from the others, feeling pity for those beautiful creatures. Her people and the dragons had formed alliances thousands of years ago but, as their world was fading to the Twilight, the old treaties were forgotten. She stared sadly to the wailing dragon and forced herself to shift her consciousness to her tribal memory, to remember the Dragon tongue. A chill run down her spine as it all came back. The creature was mourning the death of her offspring.
In his attempt to pass the test, Krum had caused unwillingly the destruction of most of her eggs. All she had left was two, and knowing that her breeding season would be in a hundred years, the dragon was stricken with grief. Morgaine felt the same grief run in her veins; grief for things long lost, such as innocence and love. Among the chaos, the screaming and the wailing she walked towards the creature.
Everyone stood still around her, seeing her approach the crazed beast. The Dragon breathed in and spat fire at her. The flames engulfed her but, instead of turning to a burning corpse, she raised her arms and smiled as if she was walking among flowers and not flames. The dragon, surprised as the rest of the spectators, raised her head and looked quizzically at the creature that defied her fire. Then she lowered her head and sniffed Morgaine's hair. Morgaine raise her hand and lightly stroke the dragon's jaw.
The world stood still as the dragon nodded in remembrance, acknowledging Morgaine as an elf, an ally of past lives. She let out a long, sorrowful cry as Morgaine held the great head with both her arms. And she begun singing.
Lavender, mimosa, pennyroyal, thyme,
Make your roots a shield for this love of mine.
May your leaves and petals keep the cold away,
May your fragrant spirit keep all harm at bay.
The words were in a strange language, older than any human tongue, older than common elfish. It was the language of Creation, and everyone could understand the meaning. Not with their ears, not with their minds, but with their hearts. It was a lament, an ancient requiem Morgaine had once heard from her aunt Leonin over her mother's grave.
Lavender and lilies, pennyroyal, thyme,
May the ground be light on this love of mine.
Pretty flower fairies, playful elves and sprites,
Whisper songs and stories in the cold winter nights.
 
As she continued her singing in a soft, melodic voice the dragon relaxed. Morgaine sat down and the creature rested her mighty head on her feet, letting her stroke the scales on her forehead. The chaos around them had been banished. People were limping away from the site; some helping others to the hospital wing while the exhausted dragon keepers were securing the rest three dragons who were calming down in an enchanted slumber. Everyone walked away with a warm feeling inside, seeking comfort inside Hogwarts walls, next to a roaring fire with a cup of hot chocolate, among their friends and lovers. Even Mad Eye Moody walked away looking serene, not finding a nasty comment for Morgaine this time.
As the night covered them, she gently moved her legs from underneath the dragon's head and stood up, letting the blood to return to her limbs. She walked towards the forest, feeling spent inside and seeking the consolation of darkness. And then she knew she was not alone. She saw a dark figure before her, waiting for her among the trees. She moved a little closer, but she already knew who it was. Severus Snape stood before her, a black figure across the darkness of the night. She froze at her spot, not knowing how to react, but then she met his eyes. She saw two black pits of tortured days and sleepless nights, two obsidian mirrors reflecting her own torment.
And then he held out his arms.
It didn't take anything more than this. She fell into his arms, hiding her face on his chest, as if they had never parted.
After the first moments of their desperate embrace, the old sensations came flooding in. They reached for each other's lips, driven by a hunger that had been unfulfilled for much too long. But a noise behind them startled them and they broke off their embrace.
"Inside", she whispered in his ear. "We must talk", she added, her voice and her eyes getting serious. With a soft kiss on his cheek, she vanished in the darkness, soon followed by him.
~*~
In his dark lair, Lord Voldemort was meditating over the meaning of these past events, as his faithful servant had reported them.
"What an extraordinary creature she must be", he thought. "Will she be an adversary or a consort?"
And although he was lusting for the later, he knew he would find pleasure in either case.
 
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Authors notes: The poem is mine. It's titled "Lament" and is also posted at FFnet. Check it out for the complete version.