Faith .|. H. J. POTTER ✔

Chapter one-hundred-fifty-four

"And Faith? Will she return? Is she dead?"

"There is a chance she might be, Harry, I cannot tell you,"

"But the Curse, it was supposed to end with death. Doesn't that mean it's over now?"

"The Horcrux in you is destroyed, it did not hide in her, no matter if she was connected to you. There is a possibility she lives but I don't want you to put all your hope in it, Harry. You might be greatly discouraged,"

The place where the Killing Curse had hit Harry ached and as all his senses slowly came back to him, he realised he could feel a bruise form. A small twig poked in his cheek as he laid on the cold forest floor. His glasses almost fell off his nose, his wand poked against his ribs and the cushioning of his Invisibility Cloak under his jacket caused his arm to lay in a rather uncomfortable position. But Harry didn't dare to move it.

A faint touch at his fingertips startled him. It had been there before but he just now felt it. It was a warm touch, very unlike how everything else on the forest floor felt, but also very unlike how the body of his Faith would feel like.

Where was she? Did she live? Did the Curse stick with them long enough to bring her back too?

Harry did not listen to the words of Dumbledore. Of course, he put all his hope in her life. How could he not? Harry was unable to live without her, to fully appreciate every bit of his beating heart and moving body that gave him opportunities to live a life. None of that mattered if Faith wasn't there.

Harry dared the open his eyes, just barely, just enough to see what was touching his hand. He ignored the thought of the odd silence around them, how there were no cheers of victory and triumph. Harry opted for a single glance at his outstretched hand when he eyes through his eyelashes but when he saw it was indeed Faith, he couldn't close his eyes again.

The light of the fire danced on her pale skin like a sunset, her eyelids were slightly trembling, as if she was pretending to sleep, and that was when Harry decided that she couldn't be dead. She looked far too ethereal, maybe a little washed out and tired, but far too beautiful.

She wasn't dead. She had to be alive.

She was laying in a mirrored position of his own, her arm under her cheek, outstretched towards Harry's hand and just curled up under his. Harry only then realised that their knees were touching and that her other hand was just inches away from touching his stomach.

"My Lord ... my Lord ..." 

The voice of Bellatrix Lestrange was quivering as she called for Voldemort like a lover full of admiration and worry. Harry quickly closed his eyes again but slightly moved his hand to conceal Faith's, to touch her. 

"My Lord ..." Bellatrix said again.

"That will do," Voldemort said.

Footsteps sounded, they were backing away from where Voldemort stood. Harry opened his eyes again, just a millimetre and looked over the curve of Faith's middle. He saw Voldemort getting to his feet, Bellatrix on her knees beside him. Harry quickly shut his eyes again.

It seemed as if Voldemort had fallen down too. Had he passed out like Harry had? Did Faith pass out? Did she see Dumbledore too? Did she choose to come back, or did she not have the choice? Harry doubted his earlier conclusions and looked under his eyelashes again at Faith's face.

She did look paler than usual, her eyelids weren't quivering anymore and her lips looked oddly purple. Panic flared up in Harry's chest at his sudden founding and he wanted nothing more than to get up and hold Faith, check her pulse, touch her face, all so he could be sure she was alive.