"Remus," she whispered, gazing longingly into the green flames into which her husband had just disappeared. She turned despairingly to her mother, but her mother couldn't do a thing. Her mother could not take away the empty desperation, the utter helplessness that enveloped her daughter as she realised without a shadow of a doubt, that if she didn't follow her husband now, she would never see him again. That if she didn't go to her death tonight, she would not be able to live with herself when her son asked where his daddy was.
She didn't spare a thought to the fact that if Andromeda let her daughter go willingly to a battle that she could not possibly hope to win, she would never be able to live with herself when her grandson asked where his mummy was. But Andromeda had lived through one war, and she would do it again. "Oh, Dora," she sighed sadly. The look on her daughter's face was one of pure anguish and she knew she would not be able to live with herself either way, no matter which way the ever-moving pendulum of life swung. "Goodbye darling."
(then she watched her life go up in emerald flames)
-x-
Far away, alone in a darkened room, sat two women, as different as could be. Words were not needed, but Bellatrix had always felt that they lent a resounding air of finality to the matter, an inescapable concrete certainty to a situation of already incomprehensible horror.
She was not one for sentimentality, but nonetheless, hot tears crept slowly down her cheeks as she contemplated the battle ahead, identical sparkling droplets streaking their way down her sister's beautiful face. Beautiful. They were both beautiful, stunningly, devastatingly so.
"Goodbye Narcissa."
(she stumbled slightly over the cold, unfeeling words of her final goodbye to the sister she had always loved with such a raging, protective passion)
-x-
He shivered slightly in the ominous aftermath of those chilling words. Of course, this day had been inevitable, he known ever since the consequences of the scar on that little boy's forehead had been explained to him, but the enormity, the crushing impact of the hours to come was like being hit with a ton of bricks.
"G'bye, ol' Fangy boy," he said gruffly. "Jus' in case, yeh und'stand," he added, rubbing the top of the dog's head thoughtfully. Just in case what? Just in case he never got another opportunity.
(and actually, a ton of bricks probably wouldn't have much effect on this mountain of a man)
-x-
All she had ever wanted was to get her family safe through the war. She'd done it once, why couldn't she do it again? Maybe, just maybe, if she could pretend nothing was happening, ignore the deathly tension in the air, the storm clouds would pass over their heads; the evil would pass them over… But the angel of death could never be deceived.
As she sat quietly with Arthur, she was probably expecting her children to do the same. And yes, her daughter sat crying for a boy so far, far out of her reach, but the twins were laughing in the face of death, taunting her with their smiles, infuriating her with their happiness and indifference. Because up until this point, war was not real. Maybe they should have said some form of goodbye, given themselves some closure for the unknown tragedy to come.
(but they didn't, and the last goodbye was wasted)
-x-
She left her eldest sister sitting in that dark, dark room, and instead went to her husband. He did not believe in goodbyes, and, in this respect, they were similar; while Narcissa was no obsessive optimist, she liked to play life on the safe side.
Tonight, however, was different; goodbyes were necessary, for last moments are precious, never to be wasted on shallow trivialities. She met him in the kitchen, platinum and champagne shimmering in the moonlight.
"One last time," she whispered, stepping into the eerily silver glow filtering through the steamy windows.
He turned on the spot, slowly twisting round to face her. Tentatively, she stepped forward, shining white hand outstretched, but she stopped short at the familiar sight of the emotionless black mask contrasting violently against his drawn, ivory face. "Why, Lucius?" she murmured, slipping silently out of the kitchen, leaving behind the second deathly pale silhouette that night sadly in her wake.
(the only difference was, Bellatrix had never tried to hide behind a mask)
-x-
"So this it." Lavender's voice was flat, carrying through the hushed silence of the Great Hall. Parvati nodded solemnly. She was not looking for her sister, nor did she wish to. Final moments should be spent with those you love, not those who are sisters by name only. There was no comfort in her friend's cold words, no closure or farewell. Surely they should be hugging; talking or smiling, reminiscing in the anticipation of the imminent wizarding apocalypse, huddling together for warmth in the icy age of death? But it was not to be so.
(and first chances are the only chances you get in war)
Took me ages, but I quite like it... not so keen on the Weasley's one though. W/e... Please review!