[Fic] Nothing Like the Sun (1/12)
Dec. 13th, 2006 10:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeTitle: The Lazarus Heart
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Blaise/Ginny, Pansy
Word Count: 929
Rating: PG
Summary: Blaise and Ginny had a very strange relationship. Album!fic to the Sting's Nothing Like The Sun
A/N: Yeah, there really is no excuse for this. I was groping for inspiration and it presented itself for the taking. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nopejr
She had stabbed him through the heart and left him bleeding to death on the floor. He could feel the spreading liquid underneath him, soaking through his robes and making a sticky pool on his back. He wondered why she hadn't killed him outright, why it was taking so long.
It wasn't much more than he had expected. For all that had passed between them over the course of the last seven years, one year's clandestine reconciliation and romance wasn't going to substantially change anything. When it came down to it she had her allegiances and he had his consequences, and they were placed opposite each other. She had fallen in and out of love with their stupid, glitter-blind hero quicker than he thought was possible and have that love still be real, but what they had they could have held in their hands. Not that that made any difference.
His fingers curled against the cold tile floor and uncurled again. He thought he could feel the blood sliding through his veins and clotting where his muscles bunched and flexed again. Maybe not.
"I'm sorry."
Oh. There she was, she hadn't left after all. She was kneeling down next to him and laying her hand on his cheek, but he didn't feel it. Like a dream, there was a barrier between his senses and reality. It made sense in a weird sort of not-making-sense way.
"You stabbed me." He would have said you killed me but he wasn't dead yet, so it couldn't be true.
"I know. I had to."
He meant to nod, but he didn't understand why. "Why?"
"It'll make you better."
That made even less sense.
"You were walking down the empty road. There wasn't anything there for you. This way, you'll get better."
He opened his lips to tell her she was talking rubbish and sounding like that idiot of a Divination teacher, either of them, the woman or the non-human. She put the knife in his hand, still sticky with his blood, and curled his fingers around it to keep it closed. Then she patted his hand.
"You keep that. You'll need it in the future."
"I don't have a future. You stabbed me."
"And right she was."
He wanted to turn his head but couldn't. Maybe his neck was broken, too? He could have broken it as he fell, he reasoned, even if reason had nothing to do with it. He thought he heard the ravens calling over by Hagrid's hut. Where had he fallen, again? The battle had long since faded into the distance, and it had been louder than the last one that had taken place at Hogwarts. Or maybe that was part of the dying.
"Don't you go away, now. Look at me."
He recognized that voice. He did. Pansy Parkinson, but she was supposed to be dead, Draco of all people had killed her, although he hadn't meant to. Silly bugger had never been very good at Herbology to begin with.
"Pansy?"
"There you go. Honestly, Blaise, you can be so thick sometimes."
"Thanks a lot."
She looked down at something, the same something that Ginny had folded into his weakened hand. "Good. You'll need that, later on."
"There is no later on." Although he was absurdly pleased that Ginny was dead, too. Somehow he had gotten it into his mind that they would all meet together just outside the front gate, and leave Hogwarts together.
Pansy gave him another one of her looks. "Of course there is. You're just stuck, is all. You need a little push." Which she looked as though she would be happy to give at the point of her boot, but she didn't.
"What are you talking about?"
She sighed. "Here. Drink this, it'll make you feel better. Then you can come back and join us."
He started to say something but then the cup was at his lips, cool surface and something that tasted metallic before the liquid started pouring over his mouth. It was swallow or drown. He swallowed.
"That's just going to leak out the hole," he pointed out.
"No, it won't."
His mother was standing next to him, cool and aloof as always. She only warmed up to the brief men in her life, and by the time Blaise had grown up he was pretty sure that was an act. Like Lucius's love for his son, but Draco hadn't listened and now he was dead because of it. Or because he'd tried to defend his home with the Devil's Snare, and that was never a good idea. Even he knew that.
He watched her put her hands over the wound, cupped, as though his blood would spill out of it if she pressed as hard as she was, oh god. That hurt. As though his chest was being crushed. And something was coming up out of the wound, something sharp and prickly and it was bursting through his chest and his brain and Blaise screamed.
The hands were gone. The pressure was gone. Ginny was gone, the thing she had curled into his hands disappeared with everything else. He was lying on his back on the cold tile floor and staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't tell if he was still bleeding from a sucking chest wound, and didn't want to find out.
He was surrounded by flowers. Roses. Violets. Jasmine.
Blaise closed his eyes. The scent of the flowers was curling all around him, and the calling of ravens still in the distance. It sounded like her, laughing.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Blaise/Ginny, Pansy
Word Count: 929
Rating: PG
Summary: Blaise and Ginny had a very strange relationship. Album!fic to the Sting's Nothing Like The Sun
A/N: Yeah, there really is no excuse for this. I was groping for inspiration and it presented itself for the taking. Written for
nopejrShe had stabbed him through the heart and left him bleeding to death on the floor. He could feel the spreading liquid underneath him, soaking through his robes and making a sticky pool on his back. He wondered why she hadn't killed him outright, why it was taking so long.
It wasn't much more than he had expected. For all that had passed between them over the course of the last seven years, one year's clandestine reconciliation and romance wasn't going to substantially change anything. When it came down to it she had her allegiances and he had his consequences, and they were placed opposite each other. She had fallen in and out of love with their stupid, glitter-blind hero quicker than he thought was possible and have that love still be real, but what they had they could have held in their hands. Not that that made any difference.
His fingers curled against the cold tile floor and uncurled again. He thought he could feel the blood sliding through his veins and clotting where his muscles bunched and flexed again. Maybe not.
"I'm sorry."
Oh. There she was, she hadn't left after all. She was kneeling down next to him and laying her hand on his cheek, but he didn't feel it. Like a dream, there was a barrier between his senses and reality. It made sense in a weird sort of not-making-sense way.
"You stabbed me." He would have said you killed me but he wasn't dead yet, so it couldn't be true.
"I know. I had to."
He meant to nod, but he didn't understand why. "Why?"
"It'll make you better."
That made even less sense.
"You were walking down the empty road. There wasn't anything there for you. This way, you'll get better."
He opened his lips to tell her she was talking rubbish and sounding like that idiot of a Divination teacher, either of them, the woman or the non-human. She put the knife in his hand, still sticky with his blood, and curled his fingers around it to keep it closed. Then she patted his hand.
"You keep that. You'll need it in the future."
"I don't have a future. You stabbed me."
"And right she was."
He wanted to turn his head but couldn't. Maybe his neck was broken, too? He could have broken it as he fell, he reasoned, even if reason had nothing to do with it. He thought he heard the ravens calling over by Hagrid's hut. Where had he fallen, again? The battle had long since faded into the distance, and it had been louder than the last one that had taken place at Hogwarts. Or maybe that was part of the dying.
"Don't you go away, now. Look at me."
He recognized that voice. He did. Pansy Parkinson, but she was supposed to be dead, Draco of all people had killed her, although he hadn't meant to. Silly bugger had never been very good at Herbology to begin with.
"Pansy?"
"There you go. Honestly, Blaise, you can be so thick sometimes."
"Thanks a lot."
She looked down at something, the same something that Ginny had folded into his weakened hand. "Good. You'll need that, later on."
"There is no later on." Although he was absurdly pleased that Ginny was dead, too. Somehow he had gotten it into his mind that they would all meet together just outside the front gate, and leave Hogwarts together.
Pansy gave him another one of her looks. "Of course there is. You're just stuck, is all. You need a little push." Which she looked as though she would be happy to give at the point of her boot, but she didn't.
"What are you talking about?"
She sighed. "Here. Drink this, it'll make you feel better. Then you can come back and join us."
He started to say something but then the cup was at his lips, cool surface and something that tasted metallic before the liquid started pouring over his mouth. It was swallow or drown. He swallowed.
"That's just going to leak out the hole," he pointed out.
"No, it won't."
His mother was standing next to him, cool and aloof as always. She only warmed up to the brief men in her life, and by the time Blaise had grown up he was pretty sure that was an act. Like Lucius's love for his son, but Draco hadn't listened and now he was dead because of it. Or because he'd tried to defend his home with the Devil's Snare, and that was never a good idea. Even he knew that.
He watched her put her hands over the wound, cupped, as though his blood would spill out of it if she pressed as hard as she was, oh god. That hurt. As though his chest was being crushed. And something was coming up out of the wound, something sharp and prickly and it was bursting through his chest and his brain and Blaise screamed.
The hands were gone. The pressure was gone. Ginny was gone, the thing she had curled into his hands disappeared with everything else. He was lying on his back on the cold tile floor and staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't tell if he was still bleeding from a sucking chest wound, and didn't want to find out.
He was surrounded by flowers. Roses. Violets. Jasmine.
Blaise closed his eyes. The scent of the flowers was curling all around him, and the calling of ravens still in the distance. It sounded like her, laughing.