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Sep. 12th, 2009 10:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
esmenet
This little ficlet was going to be part of a series of them, but that's gone and mutated into something else and this one is too much fun not to archive somewhere, even if it's not necessarily that good. :D
He can feel the little rasp of his breath against his aching throat. A strange thing to notice, right now, but Harry's mind is mostly on autopilot and the bits that aren't are thinking about how much he'd like a cup of Remus' wonderful tea. Is Remus still alive? He's not sure, it's been a few days since they saw each other and since then things have completely gone to hell in a handbasket.
This is the end, one way or another. So many dead, so many more wounded, all just to get them to this moment. Voldemort's Death Eaters -- those that are left of them -- are gathered behind their master, wands pointed leisurely at Harry. How many are really spies, or under the Imperius curse? Either way, he can see they're waiting until things are decided. (Not that it's much of a decision. Semi-immortal quasi-human Dark Lord versus a worn-out teenager. Can you say forgone conclusion?)
Voldemort starts making some grandiose speech about power and destiny. Harry just wishes he would shut up so they can get to the fighting bit before he keels over. The old bastard does go on and on, doesn't he? Always did, even back when Harry was eleven. Probably tried to talk Harry's parents to death before A.K.-ing them. He'd be trying to turn it to his advantage if he wasn't so damn tired.
He figures he can get off one good Avada before someone catches on and kills him -- or he passes out on his own from lack of energy. God, that would be humiliating. (At least he's conscious enough to think in five-syllable words, if nothing else. Bet you didn't know I could do that, Hermione. Hah!) He surreptitiously points his wand--
--And Voldemort makes a little choking noise before falling over with a knife sticking out of his back.
Harry's first thought is Well, that was anticlimactic.
His second is, well . . . those silver masks make it difficult to tell, but Harry's absolutely sure he can see one of the Death Eaters winking at him.
Huh.
He can feel the little rasp of his breath against his aching throat. A strange thing to notice, right now, but Harry's mind is mostly on autopilot and the bits that aren't are thinking about how much he'd like a cup of Remus' wonderful tea. Is Remus still alive? He's not sure, it's been a few days since they saw each other and since then things have completely gone to hell in a handbasket.
This is the end, one way or another. So many dead, so many more wounded, all just to get them to this moment. Voldemort's Death Eaters -- those that are left of them -- are gathered behind their master, wands pointed leisurely at Harry. How many are really spies, or under the Imperius curse? Either way, he can see they're waiting until things are decided. (Not that it's much of a decision. Semi-immortal quasi-human Dark Lord versus a worn-out teenager. Can you say forgone conclusion?)
Voldemort starts making some grandiose speech about power and destiny. Harry just wishes he would shut up so they can get to the fighting bit before he keels over. The old bastard does go on and on, doesn't he? Always did, even back when Harry was eleven. Probably tried to talk Harry's parents to death before A.K.-ing them. He'd be trying to turn it to his advantage if he wasn't so damn tired.
He figures he can get off one good Avada before someone catches on and kills him -- or he passes out on his own from lack of energy. God, that would be humiliating. (At least he's conscious enough to think in five-syllable words, if nothing else. Bet you didn't know I could do that, Hermione. Hah!) He surreptitiously points his wand--
--And Voldemort makes a little choking noise before falling over with a knife sticking out of his back.
Harry's first thought is Well, that was anticlimactic.
His second is, well . . . those silver masks make it difficult to tell, but Harry's absolutely sure he can see one of the Death Eaters winking at him.
Huh.
