V I D I
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Within seconds, all hell had broken lose. As Freya blocked yet another spell, she became dreadfully concerned for whatever was occurring inside the walls of the castle. She found herself hoping that everyone was safe. Including the few people that she somewhat despised. Marlene, Mary, Regulus, Severus, Sybill, the girl that had spilled butterbeer on her at Hogsmeade, the fifth year that always cheated off her papers . . . Everyone.
The Death Eaters' vague, drab outfits made them practically invisible in the dark, and Freya could feel the detriment in their midst. If only they all had individual invisibility cloaks.
Out of the corner of her eye, Freya could see Lily slowly and determinedly backing a masked enemy nearer to the Whomping Willow.
"O-okay, okay, we've got this. I'm going over there with Lily, so Peter — watch Freya. Help her and —"
"I don't need protection, James," the blonde witch asserted with an unimpressed raise of the brow, "I'm perfectly able to fend for myself."
"Well, just as a precaution —"
His words were cut off by Freya speaking in a bold, clear voice, "Stupefy!"
The spell shot at the speed of light, a trail noticeably zigzagging on the harsh black background of the sky. Luckily, the magic was not disarmed and the Death Eater that it had hit slung backwards, as if he was connected to an invisible rope in the performance of a Muggle play. Though his rope must have become unattached, because the man fell with a quick plop to the ground. Unconscious.
Cracked lips replenished as James's tongue slid over them twice with concentration, "Actually, I take my last statement back. Freya, watch Peter. Help him."
He ran faster than she had ever seen him run before. The reason behind his sudden agility was obvious as he moved towards the redhead witch whom he loved. She stood a little ways from the Willow, almost in harm's way herself.
Facing the Darks Arts was nothing like what they taught her in class. In reality, she could hardly function under the bone-chilling, goosebump forming danger that surrounded her. Every single time a spell was cast her way, reflexes somehow kicked in. Maybe it was a miracle. Maybe she was just lucky. Maybe she was more talented with magic than she had previously thought. Either way, Freya did not ponder much over it. Doing so would give her the disadvantage of a distracted mind.
A spell shot across the sky once again and as Lily deflected it in the distance, Freya's eyebrows furrowed. The combination of light from the wands created the illusion of a sunset. The way the trails of smoke puffed in the sky, lightening the dark sheet of night. The magic itself was bright enough to be considered part of the sun. As if the moon was not meant to be there, and as if the sun was only just disappearing for the night.
She glanced at Peter, "You know, this reminds me of a dream I've been having."
"A dream?"
"Yeah, about sunsets. Sybill even mentioned it to me in the hallway. Well, it was more like a nightmare —"
Peter had turned to look at her, and his eyes immediately widened, "Freya! Watch out!"
But it was too late. What happened dismayed them all, and Lily and James halted their battle to look upwards. The Death Eaters had begun to retreat back into the castle, and some even farther away, at the sight of what had struck the girl down.
It was no spell, nor was it a curse. It was a werewolf that delivered Freya's fate into her hands.
Claws scraped against her petite body, teeth threatened to clamp down on her, but they were never quite able to reach. She fell to the grass, much like she had in her haunting dream.
"Padfoot, change back! Someone has to bloody stop him!" James called as he watched the roaming werewolf with wide eyes. The creature had lost interest in the girl.
Tears splashed carelessly down the structured cheeks of Sirius Black and he dropped to his knees next to the body of his friend. From the distance, James's body changed into his animagus form in order to stop the werewolf from doing further damage.
As soon as Peter had seen he would be the next to fall after Freya, he had turned into the small rat. Without knowing it, the girl had accidentally shielded him. Though even if the outcome had turned to be a choice of sacrifice or safety, she would have chosen to save Peter either way. On accident or on purpose.
A guilty feeling filled the Black descendant, and he knew that once this scene of his play-like life was over, he would blame no one but himself for letting the curtain fall.
This play couldn't be anything but a tragedy.
"Freya!"
He grasped for her pale hand, her blood covered arm, her weak shoulder — anything he could hold onto. Sirius's calloused palms cupped around her angelic face as she looked above her, pupils boasting an image of the same bright white moon. The damned orb in the night sky.
She was unable to hear anything, nothing at all. Not even the sound of Sirius repeating her name, each time with more panic in his voice, as if it were him on the chilly grass, life fading from his own body.
A tear that she couldn't feel fell from her wide, azure eyes and crawled down her nose. It combined with the blood stains on her cheeks that mixed also with her scattered freckles. She had once despised the birth marks, but it was somewhat amusing that now as she faced the end, no hatred was felt at all.
Throughout her childhood, she'd heard stories of how when you were on the brink of lifelessness, the very edge of death, all you could see was your life flashing before your eyes. She felt a bit idiotic, slow to the brain, for all she could see were scattered images. Scattered memories. Everything out of order. A chaos that she she knew would soon stop suddenly, and never show again.
She didn't blame Remus at all, in fact, the thought of him having anything to do with her fate never once crossed her mind. It was a curse, a werewolf, a monster that did her in. The boy she loved had nothing to do with it.
"S-Sirius," her voice was both extremely thick and hoarse.
"I'm here, Freya," he masked his own tone as to not concern her, "I'm here, you're going to be alright."
"I don't think I'm quite ready to die," she whispered, voice breaking towards the end.
"You won't," Sirius argued, this time not able to hide the emotion in his words, "Freya, damnit, you're going to be alright. Fuck, we'll all be alright!"
But she still couldn't hear. She barely even notice that her red haired friend bent down beside her. The knees of Lily's black jeans were muddied, and her hands were covered in Freya's blood.
"Lily . . . She can't hear you," Sirius's voice cracked as the girl attempted to stop the waterfall of blood that cascaded down from Freya's arm.
The fiery haired witch abruptly attempted to push him away, "Yes she can!"
A shaky breath was inhaled from Freya's lips. The same lips that were frequently seen attached to Remus's. The same lips that muttered hundreds of "I love you's" to her boyfriend. The same lips that were once stained by lipsticks of dark red were now covered as well in droplets of brighter blood. This created an intimidating and unfamiliar effect on her pale face. Crumbled leaves attached to her flaxen hair, dusty dirt with her pallid skin, and mortality with her last breaths.
Freya lifted her arm up, which made her tremble as she did so, and she reached across Sirius's body and towards the atmosphere. She only wanted one last touch of the universe that was captured inside Remus's warm eyes.
Soon enough the extended hand fell from where it had temporarily grasped the night sky. It thudded to the cold ground like a shooting star grazing over the Earth's surface, and Freya moved no more.
mischief managed.
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AUTHORS NOTE:
sorry bout it