for justprompts Fallen
"Where is the place that the good souls go, where they take away, Take away the pain that they know?"
"I can not tell you, my little darling. All my faith has fallen, fallen, fallen."
After the battle they all returned to Hogwarts, grasping onto the portkeys Dumbledore had made, helping the wounded to hold on as well. Madame Pomfrey could be trusted completely, they knew; the same might not be true of those at St Mungos. She was waiting for them, almost as if she had expected something, and wasted no time in getting the most seriously wounded to beds, setting to fixing them with Molly Weasley as an assistant. Why Molly was there he didn't know and didn't question.
Remus stood in the corner and watched the competent healer move from bed too bed, never staying still for long. It reminded him of a time in his fourth year when a prank had backfired and all four of the Marauders had found themselves in the hospital wing, being scolded and comforted by Poppy Pomfrey. Three days they'd been stuck there, leaving their beds every time Poppy's back was turned, coming up with an even better prank to try when they were released. They'd been threatened with potions and full body binding curses to keep them still, but nothing kept the Marauders down for long.
Hermione was so still, lying on the bed she'd been carried to, Ron and Harry at her side. Moody was in another bed, tossing restlessly, and Ginny was in a third, her foot elevated. Tonks had refused to lay down once she awoke, and was sitting on the end of her bed, legs curled to her chest and arms wrapped around herself. He should go to her, touch her, hold her, offer some words of comfort, promise that they would make it through this. He did nothing. His arms still felt full from the boy who had fought to go through the veil, not understanding where it led. The only words he was capable of forming were 'He's dead.' He couldn't offer her anything because he was empty, used up, without hope. Broken.
When the promised half hour ended and Dumbledore returned from the Ministry Remus slipped out the door, his sentry duties ended. They were all in better hands now. He walked down the stairs and out the front door. Just past the entrance gate he could have apparated; the others would be meeting at headquarters soon to figure out what had happened, what it meant, what they would need to do. They would meet without him. He walked to the Whomping Willow and didn't bother with the knob to still its movements, not caring that the whipcord movement of one branch sliced open his cheek and made it bleed. The tunnel was dark but he stumbled through it without light. Once inside the house that was the closest thing he claimed to a home his knees buckled and he fell to the floor, letting out a howl that came from deep within both man and beast.
"I can not tell you, my little darling. All my faith has fallen, fallen, fallen."
After the battle they all returned to Hogwarts, grasping onto the portkeys Dumbledore had made, helping the wounded to hold on as well. Madame Pomfrey could be trusted completely, they knew; the same might not be true of those at St Mungos. She was waiting for them, almost as if she had expected something, and wasted no time in getting the most seriously wounded to beds, setting to fixing them with Molly Weasley as an assistant. Why Molly was there he didn't know and didn't question.
Remus stood in the corner and watched the competent healer move from bed too bed, never staying still for long. It reminded him of a time in his fourth year when a prank had backfired and all four of the Marauders had found themselves in the hospital wing, being scolded and comforted by Poppy Pomfrey. Three days they'd been stuck there, leaving their beds every time Poppy's back was turned, coming up with an even better prank to try when they were released. They'd been threatened with potions and full body binding curses to keep them still, but nothing kept the Marauders down for long.
Hermione was so still, lying on the bed she'd been carried to, Ron and Harry at her side. Moody was in another bed, tossing restlessly, and Ginny was in a third, her foot elevated. Tonks had refused to lay down once she awoke, and was sitting on the end of her bed, legs curled to her chest and arms wrapped around herself. He should go to her, touch her, hold her, offer some words of comfort, promise that they would make it through this. He did nothing. His arms still felt full from the boy who had fought to go through the veil, not understanding where it led. The only words he was capable of forming were 'He's dead.' He couldn't offer her anything because he was empty, used up, without hope. Broken.
When the promised half hour ended and Dumbledore returned from the Ministry Remus slipped out the door, his sentry duties ended. They were all in better hands now. He walked down the stairs and out the front door. Just past the entrance gate he could have apparated; the others would be meeting at headquarters soon to figure out what had happened, what it meant, what they would need to do. They would meet without him. He walked to the Whomping Willow and didn't bother with the knob to still its movements, not caring that the whipcord movement of one branch sliced open his cheek and made it bleed. The tunnel was dark but he stumbled through it without light. Once inside the house that was the closest thing he claimed to a home his knees buckled and he fell to the floor, letting out a howl that came from deep within both man and beast.