FIC: "Fallen Bodies" for mondayagain
Title: Fallen Bodies
Author/Artist: ???
Recipient's name: mondayagain
Characters/Pairings: Ginny/Pansy, Ginny/Luna,
Rating: R
Summary: Maybe this is war.
Warnings: Mild necrophilia and voyeurism.
Notes: Thanks to q for the beta.
There isn't any time for being squeamish any longer, Luna thinks. By now, everybody has to do everything they can (and they all fall apart anyway). Maybe this is war.
Ginny has taken it upon herself to search the fallen bodies for magical supplies and she takes their wands away whenever she can. Luna tries not to think about the times when they already know the body (and what it carries) but still can't reach it.
Today, in the commotion Ginny runs across the field when the cries fade. The pop-pop-pop of apparation is still ringing in the air. She sinks to her knees next to a small crumpled form, and her pale hands grip the edges of a white mask in the mess of black hair.
From far away it might look like a routine identification, verifying another name to add to the ever-so-slowly growing list. But Luna sees how Ginny bites her lip hard when the mask comes away between her fingers and Pansy Parkinson's face lies open to the world. Her head sinks towards that still, white face, red frozen mouth, and Luna sees cheek-to-cheek, mouth-on-mouth. Ginny trembles as her hands grip and crush and explore desperately.
There is still chaos of a kind, but the air around them is stiller or maybe just filled with another kind of frenzy and Luna watches and watches.
Luna sees Susan Bones approaching out of the corner of her eye, and steps close enough to reach out to the two of them. "Ginny," she says, and puts her hand on Ginny's shoulder. She feels the sharpness of her collarbone through the threadbare robe. Ginny looks up, eyes bleak but chin set and determined, and Luna side-along apparates her back to the camp.
The days stretch slowly into never-ending reddish-grey autumn dusk, and restlessness grows in the air as fear gnaws deeply into their bones; there is no news. The faces around the fire search and search for someone to tell them what to do. Ginny's hair is dirt-streaked and Luna writes names in the dust until Susan screams at her.
In late October, when the branches on the trees are bare and the nights are getting colder, something happens again. Luna's finger is tracing N-E-V-I-L-L-E in the still-warm ashes next to a dead fire when she hears shouting from the edge of the forest. She wipes away the letters tenderly, and leaves for the commotion.
Susan and Dean are supporting an ashen-faced figure, and Ginny is asking and asking and asking questions but not getting any answers. When Luna comes closer she sees that underneath the dirt and greyish skin there is still Hermione Granger. Luna takes Ginny's hand and says; "Wait. She can't talk to you yet.".
Ginny falls quiet and they bring Hermione to the tent that Luna shares with Susan and wrap her in the last blankets.
Over the coming days, Luna takes to sitting next to Hermione. She brings her food, what there is of it, and sings to her. It's mostly bits and pieces, childhood nursery rhymes and other things her mother used to sing. When she cannot remember the words, she tries new ones. Slowly, slowly, Hermione's eyes start to focus on Luna's face. When the first frost turns the world silver, she speaks.
"We…" she says, "we had found…"
"Yes?" says Luna, and waits for the story.
"I thought they were there," Hermione continues and her voice breaks.
During the night, as she keeps her fingers warm against her stomach and listens to the wind in the trees, Luna can hear Hermione mumbling in her sleep. Sometimes she says Ron, sometimes it's a litany of nononononooo, once she screams and one time Luna thinks she hears her own name falling from Hermione's lips in the first stirrings of morning.
Chaos hits them with the unpredictability of summer storms, an irregular pendulum swinging back and forth in fate's strange clockwork. Fred Weasley Apparates into the camp one morning, unsteady on his feet and with blood smeared over one cheek.
"St Barnaby's church," he says, "there's twenty of them." He disappears with another pop and they all follow.
A glint of fire returns to Hermione's eyes and Ginny's spells turn more and more ruthless. In the aftermath, Luna writes endless lists of names in the cooling ashes of burnt out fires. When she traces B-O-N-E-S for the second time her fingers tremble and small drops of water smudge the letters out. Luna writes Bonesbonesbones over and over and nobody screams that she cannot stand to see those names any longer, it hurts, it fucking hurts, stop it!
Nobody screams.
The night is too cold and quiet, so Luna hums to herself to drown the missing sound of drawn-out sleepy breaths. Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-ra-lie…
Hermione gets up from her rickety transfigured beg and crawls down with Luna. She puts her head on Luna's chest and warms her toes on Luna's ankles. Luna hums slower and quieter, her eyes slide shut and with Hermione's body heat tangled with her own she sleeps through the darkest hours of the night.
She wakes with the chill of morning to find the tent empty. On Hermione's empty bed lies a scrap of parchment. It says; I've remembered the exact location. Please tell Ginny I won't be back alone. H in what looks like the neat script that used to be Hermione's, but hurried and frayed at the edges. The letter turns to ashes in her hands when she's finished reading and she goes to find Ginny.
"Ginny," Luna says, "I just found out that Hermione has left to…"
She doesn't get any further before Ginny grabs her and kisses her. It is like she's eating the words directly from Luna's tongue, she's swallowing them whole and maybe that is because she doesn't want to think about them. She presses and bites and her grip on Luna's arms will leave finger shaped bruises. Luna supposes that this is what having your soul sucked out must feel like - but without this thrill deep down in her stomach.
Luna's hands finds the small of Ginny's back and pulls her closer and grinds their hips together, because it burns, oh it burns. Ginny's kissing Luna's neck now and her hands have gone exploring feverishly.
Luna takes Ginny's head in her hands and whispers into her hair. "We are alive. You're still here, Ginny" and Ginny seems to shrink into herself and fall deeper into Luna's arms.
Hermione keeps her word. The world turns and changes, and in the end, there is no end.
Author/Artist: ???
Recipient's name: mondayagain
Characters/Pairings: Ginny/Pansy, Ginny/Luna,
Rating: R
Summary: Maybe this is war.
Warnings: Mild necrophilia and voyeurism.
Notes: Thanks to q for the beta.
There isn't any time for being squeamish any longer, Luna thinks. By now, everybody has to do everything they can (and they all fall apart anyway). Maybe this is war.
Ginny has taken it upon herself to search the fallen bodies for magical supplies and she takes their wands away whenever she can. Luna tries not to think about the times when they already know the body (and what it carries) but still can't reach it.
Today, in the commotion Ginny runs across the field when the cries fade. The pop-pop-pop of apparation is still ringing in the air. She sinks to her knees next to a small crumpled form, and her pale hands grip the edges of a white mask in the mess of black hair.
From far away it might look like a routine identification, verifying another name to add to the ever-so-slowly growing list. But Luna sees how Ginny bites her lip hard when the mask comes away between her fingers and Pansy Parkinson's face lies open to the world. Her head sinks towards that still, white face, red frozen mouth, and Luna sees cheek-to-cheek, mouth-on-mouth. Ginny trembles as her hands grip and crush and explore desperately.
There is still chaos of a kind, but the air around them is stiller or maybe just filled with another kind of frenzy and Luna watches and watches.
Luna sees Susan Bones approaching out of the corner of her eye, and steps close enough to reach out to the two of them. "Ginny," she says, and puts her hand on Ginny's shoulder. She feels the sharpness of her collarbone through the threadbare robe. Ginny looks up, eyes bleak but chin set and determined, and Luna side-along apparates her back to the camp.
The days stretch slowly into never-ending reddish-grey autumn dusk, and restlessness grows in the air as fear gnaws deeply into their bones; there is no news. The faces around the fire search and search for someone to tell them what to do. Ginny's hair is dirt-streaked and Luna writes names in the dust until Susan screams at her.
In late October, when the branches on the trees are bare and the nights are getting colder, something happens again. Luna's finger is tracing N-E-V-I-L-L-E in the still-warm ashes next to a dead fire when she hears shouting from the edge of the forest. She wipes away the letters tenderly, and leaves for the commotion.
Susan and Dean are supporting an ashen-faced figure, and Ginny is asking and asking and asking questions but not getting any answers. When Luna comes closer she sees that underneath the dirt and greyish skin there is still Hermione Granger. Luna takes Ginny's hand and says; "Wait. She can't talk to you yet.".
Ginny falls quiet and they bring Hermione to the tent that Luna shares with Susan and wrap her in the last blankets.
Over the coming days, Luna takes to sitting next to Hermione. She brings her food, what there is of it, and sings to her. It's mostly bits and pieces, childhood nursery rhymes and other things her mother used to sing. When she cannot remember the words, she tries new ones. Slowly, slowly, Hermione's eyes start to focus on Luna's face. When the first frost turns the world silver, she speaks.
"We…" she says, "we had found…"
"Yes?" says Luna, and waits for the story.
"I thought they were there," Hermione continues and her voice breaks.
During the night, as she keeps her fingers warm against her stomach and listens to the wind in the trees, Luna can hear Hermione mumbling in her sleep. Sometimes she says Ron, sometimes it's a litany of nononononooo, once she screams and one time Luna thinks she hears her own name falling from Hermione's lips in the first stirrings of morning.
Chaos hits them with the unpredictability of summer storms, an irregular pendulum swinging back and forth in fate's strange clockwork. Fred Weasley Apparates into the camp one morning, unsteady on his feet and with blood smeared over one cheek.
"St Barnaby's church," he says, "there's twenty of them." He disappears with another pop and they all follow.
A glint of fire returns to Hermione's eyes and Ginny's spells turn more and more ruthless. In the aftermath, Luna writes endless lists of names in the cooling ashes of burnt out fires. When she traces B-O-N-E-S for the second time her fingers tremble and small drops of water smudge the letters out. Luna writes Bonesbonesbones over and over and nobody screams that she cannot stand to see those names any longer, it hurts, it fucking hurts, stop it!
Nobody screams.
The night is too cold and quiet, so Luna hums to herself to drown the missing sound of drawn-out sleepy breaths. Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-ra-lie…
Hermione gets up from her rickety transfigured beg and crawls down with Luna. She puts her head on Luna's chest and warms her toes on Luna's ankles. Luna hums slower and quieter, her eyes slide shut and with Hermione's body heat tangled with her own she sleeps through the darkest hours of the night.
She wakes with the chill of morning to find the tent empty. On Hermione's empty bed lies a scrap of parchment. It says; I've remembered the exact location. Please tell Ginny I won't be back alone. H in what looks like the neat script that used to be Hermione's, but hurried and frayed at the edges. The letter turns to ashes in her hands when she's finished reading and she goes to find Ginny.
"Ginny," Luna says, "I just found out that Hermione has left to…"
She doesn't get any further before Ginny grabs her and kisses her. It is like she's eating the words directly from Luna's tongue, she's swallowing them whole and maybe that is because she doesn't want to think about them. She presses and bites and her grip on Luna's arms will leave finger shaped bruises. Luna supposes that this is what having your soul sucked out must feel like - but without this thrill deep down in her stomach.
Luna's hands finds the small of Ginny's back and pulls her closer and grinds their hips together, because it burns, oh it burns. Ginny's kissing Luna's neck now and her hands have gone exploring feverishly.
Luna takes Ginny's head in her hands and whispers into her hair. "We are alive. You're still here, Ginny" and Ginny seems to shrink into herself and fall deeper into Luna's arms.
Hermione keeps her word. The world turns and changes, and in the end, there is no end.