Demise

A warm hand covered hers, enveloping her in its warmth. The hand was large and soft. She thought immediately of her grandfather. She opened her heavy eyes. The room was bright, and the light trickling in through the window temporarily blinded her, but she could tell she was in her own bed. She blinked several times until her eyes adjusted to the light. The figure beside her stirred, squeezing her hand.

"Attica?" the voice sounded concerned, and very familiar. Her weary blue eyes met a pair of alert chocolate ones.

"Neville?" she responded hoarsely. In a moment of confusion, she wondered if Neville had died too and that her parents must be close by. Then comprehension dawned, for even in her confused state, she knew that everything felt too real, too corporeal for her to be anywhere other than her childhood home.

But Neville was there, smiling at her, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes telling her that the smile was genuine. Several emotions flowed through her at once. She was almost disappointed that she had lived when she had been so prepared to die. She believed this disappointment was mostly bred from the fact that she would not be reunited with her family as she had anticipated rather than a longing for death itself. And along with the relief of simply being alive, she felt a relief and an elation that Neville was here, sitting directly in front of her. She did not know what would happen next, but she knew that, no matter what danger befell her, she would not feel fear as long as he was here beside her. He had come to her when she needed him most. He still cared for her, despite the fact that all she deserved from him was total apathy.

If she had had any doubts about her bodily state, she knew without a doubt that she was alive when the ache began to seep into her bones. She ached all over, and the ache was not entirely unpleasant because it meant that it was real, that she was real, that she was alive.

"I'm here, Attica. I'm here. You need to sleep."

But she did not want to sleep. She had so many things to tell him. She needed to tell him everything so that he would no longer harbor any delusions about her. She was tainted and he needed to know that. As happy as she was that he had come to her, she knew that he deserved someone with a heart that matched his, a heart that was pure and kind. Even if the disclosure of her sins meant that he would remove his hand from hers and walk out of her life forever, he had the right to know. She was so tired, she could feel the pillows and the warm blankets calling to her, beckoning her back into sleep, but he had to know. It was not fair of her to keep him here at her bedside when he should have been running from the house, putting as much distance between them as possible.

"Shhh, Attica," he whispered into her ear as he leaned down to brush a soft kiss across her forehead. "I know." He did not let go of her hand.

The next time she awoke, it was with a start. Neville was still sitting beside her, asleep in the small floral armchair. He looked almost comical, his long limbs slouched haphazardly over the sides of the uncomfortable chair. Even in his awkward position, his hand was placed protectively over hers.

"Neville?"

He stirred immediately, grasping her hand in both of his. The relief in his eyes when he smiled at her filled her with pure, unblemished joy. "Attica! How are you feeling?"

She was surprised to announce to him that she was feeling very much like normal. She was still very tired, but it wasn't the unpleasant sort of exhaustion that had plagued her when she wore the emerald. She stretched her arms and legs, which had become very stiff. The next order of business was to inquire after Snape.

"In the laboratory. He has been brewing nonstop down there." Neville stood, stretching his arms over his head. He smiled at her again before adding, "Or at least that's what Moby told me. I'm not about to go down there myself. He's been very irritable as of late. Or at least, more so than usual," he added with a wink that sent a blush creeping up Attica's neck.

"Of course not," she replied with a smirk, remembering Snape's obvious dislike of Neville. Some things never change, she thought. Attica experienced a moment of elation when she thought of the ongoing struggle between the two. Neville was still wary of the professor, and the professor still did not care much for Neville. It was all so blessedly ordinary. "What is he brewing? Is he...?" Was he well? She did not know what had happened when the emerald was destroyed. In those moments, she had known only herself and her own pain. She had not been cognizant of anything going on around her, and she had not seen the man since she had awakened. She had no need to voice any concern about the gem's destruction because she had felt neither this freedom, nor this lightness, in so long. The emerald, the Horcrux, had been undoubtedly destroyed. She could feel it deep within herself.

"He has been brewing healing potions." Neville noted the alarm in her eyes and quickly elaborated. "For you."

She hadn't needed to ask. Neville knew her well enough to answer queries she had not verbalized. But this meant that Snape was well. She released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"You collapsed when the Horcrux was struck," he explained. He sat down at the foot of her bed, his eyes never leaving her face. "We didn't know what was wrong. I've never seen Snape so upset. I was so worried." Neville swallowed thickly. "Snape sent for me as soon as they had stabilized you. I was as shocked as you are." Here, he drew his lips into a thin line. "He had to try several potions until one finally worked. He told me about the emerald." This was followed by a pregnant pause. "He told me about everything." Suddenly, the polished oak floorboards were quite interesting, and he studied those instead of meeting Attica's eyes.

But she didn't have to see his eyes to know that he was upset. "Neville, I never meant to abandon you like that. I know that I hurt you, I know my letter hurt you, but I had to protect you. And..."

"I know. Snape told me about the Legilimency. I know why you did it, why you left."

"I know you can't forgive me right now, but I want to make it up to you, Neville. I will do whatever it takes."

"You thought you were protecting me, Attica." He looked at her now, and despite what she knew he meant to be a carefree tone, it was obvious that he was still hurt. "I know that now. I didn't understand before, and that's what made it so hard for me. The Horcrux was manipulating you, and it made you want to be with Voldemort, but there was still a part of you that cared enough for me to try to spare me from the pain you were experiencing. I'm surprised you managed a goodbye at all with that weight on your shoulders."

He uttered Voldemort's name with not so much as a stutter or hesitation. That in itself told her how much the boy she loved had grown. He wasn't a boy anymore, she realized. With a twinge of guilt, she understood how much time she had wasted with the Horcrux and how much she had missed. She regretted not being there for the boy who she had known, but she swore that she would do whatever she could for the man before her. She would be anything he needed her to be, if he would have her. He was brave and good, and she wasn't sure if she could ever truly deserve him, but she had to try.

Closing the distance between them, he gathered her into his arms. "Oh, Neville," she choked. As he rubbed soothing circles on her back, she buried her face into his neck, breathing in the earthy scent of him. Attica tried to ignore the voice in the back of her mind, a voice that was now wholly her own, that was reminding her that he still did not know the entire story and neither did Snape. But as badly as she wanted to, she could not bring herself to say anything in that moment because, as much as she wanted him to know the truth, her desperation to keep him with her was just as strong.

~~~

She watched in silence as the professor moved from cauldron to cauldron, filling flasks with the healing potions he had just finished brewing and sending them to their proper places on the shelves with a flick of his wand. His frame was haggard, and although she only got a brief glimpse of his profile when he had turned to reach for more flasks, she had seen the dark circles under his eyes. It appeared as if he had had little rest recently.

She stood there watching him without saying a word. She knew that he had been aware of her entrance into the lab. The last flask had reached its destination before he looked up at her. "The house-elf told me you were awake."

She smiled at the mention of Moby. "I just wanted to thank you, professor."

He nodded once. "The potions were nothing. Third years could have successfully brewed them for you. I was simply here at the right time. Longbottom would have ransacked St. Mungo's had I not been here." She could have sworn a smile was tugging at his lips.

"That's not what I meant, Professor. You discovered what was happening to me. I can't bear to think about what I might have done if you hadn't put the pieces together. Without your intervention, I could have created the Stone and I would have kill..." She caught herself before she confessed the entirety of her faithlessness and watched with cold fear as the hint of a smile shifted into a deep scowl.

"You wanted the Stone to strengthen yourself." It wasn't a question, and there was absolutely no hint of uncertainty in his voice. How long had he known?

She nodded slowly.

He let out a deep, apprehensive sigh. "You aimed to kill someone but lacked the strength to do it."

She wanted to deny it, to give him contrived stories and excuses that explained the desperation in her efforts to recreate the Stone. But all she could do was offer another nod.

"Who?" It was only one word, but it still made regret curl red and hot inside her chest.

"Don't make me say it."

"Who?" he insisted, more forcefully this time. The word sounded like a growl and his black eyes flashed. He knew exactly whom she had wanted to kill. Somehow, he had figured it out, and she wanted to Avada herself for giving too much away.

Under his hot gaze, her words came out in a rush as she tried to explain. "I don't know how or when it happened, but some of Voldemort's hatred transferred to me. I wanted what he wanted. And I justified this hatred to myself because, without his heroics, the original Stone would never have needed to be destroyed and my grandparents would still be alive. The bloodlust, Professor, I...I couldn't stop myself, no matter how badly I tried to push the feelings away. It was the one thing Voldemort wanted to most, so it became the thing that I needed the most. It was the only chance for me to avenge everything I have lost and all the pain I've ever felt."

His lip curled. "You wanted to kill Harry Potter and you used me to do it," he snarled.

She stepped toward him, wanting to reach for him as she offered two words as the only explanation she had, "The Horcrux."

He stepped back from her, and his withering glare told her that he found her completely deplorable in that moment. "No. You!" he hissed. "As if planning to murder someone in cold blood wasn't enough, you exploited the trust I placed in you to commit the evil act! You selfish, selfish girl."

"I know, and I would do anything to take it back, but that's not who I am..."

"Enough! There is no excuse for this, you foolish child." These words made her flinch because she had always counted on her intelligence to get her through every situation she faced. But he was absolutely right. She had been a fool, and she had almost brought him down with her. She should have been smart enough to realize that the darkness she was feeling was not hers. It was totally unfamiliar, and she should have recognized that it was wrong. She dropped her hands to her sides, and he dropped his voice. "You knew about her. You knew about Lily. You knew whom my loyalties belonged to and what side I was truly fighting for. You knew I was risking everything to protect Potter and had been doing so for years. I risked much for you, as well, and this is the way you repay me. We worked together. I... I told you things. I confided in you. And all the while you were plotting and deceiving and doing everything in your power to reverse each small victory I had gained in keeping him alive. You deceived me into helping you destroy the very thing I have vowed to protect with my life." An injured expression washed over his already harsh features, and he closed his eyes. That expression hurt Attica as much as if he had stabbed her through the heart with the most ragged dagger he could find. She would have done anything in that moment to relieve the pain she had caused. When he spoke again, his voice was icy. "I may have to recant what I said earlier. I'm not so sure that you are the fool here. I very well may be a fool for trusting you."

Her stomach churned, and she felt as if she were going to be sick. Everything was going completely wrong. Deep inside herself, she had harbored the apparently delusional hope that when she explained everything to him he would be able to look past his own pain at her betrayal and that he would be as understanding and forgiving as he had been before when the secret of the Horcrux had been discovered. She had thought that, from there, maybe her life could finally return to some semblance of normalcy and that maybe for once she could put the past behind her and be truly and unadulteratedly happy.

He opened his eyes and looked at her for a long moment, disgust written all over his face and cold fury in his eyes. She desperately wanted him to yell at her, to scream, to punish her with his caustic invectives. She wanted him to hit her. She couldn't bear to have him look at her like that. His silence was more abrasive than a slap across the face would have been. He had been her savior, her teacher, and he had miraculously brought Neville back to her when she thought he would never return because of the pain she had inflicted upon him as well. He had healed her, and now he was looking at her with a hatred so cold that it made her body numb.

He spoke again, his voice low and dangerous. "This is betrayal, Attica Flamel." He Apparated in a billow of black robes, and the words hung in the air long after he had disappeared.

This is betrayal, Attica Flamel.

Betrayal.