𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 | g. w

63. through the fog

(bare in mind the continuous shift in pov)

I wake up to a ringing in my ear, the sound piercing through the darkness that surrounds me. It takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust and focus on whatever's going on around me. My head is spinning and feels heavy, and although there is a pounding like a drum against my skull, creating the worst migraine I've ever had, it's unexpectedly manageable.

"Rune," a voice whispers, distant yet urgent, as if calling to me from the depths of my own mind. At first, I believe I've imagined it, conjured up in the dire situation of my abduction, but then the reality hits me like a physical blow. I was abducted. And Dorian... Dorian was there.

Panic threatens to overwhelm me as the memories flood back – the fear, the pain, the realization that someone I once trusted could betray me in such a horrifying manner. Oh my god. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks, stealing the air from my lungs.

"Oh my god," I gasp, the words barely audible in the darkness. My body goes cold, and I'm almost certain I'm on the brink of a panic attack. It's not an odd reaction, considering all that I've just been through.

As I struggle to make sense of my surroundings, a blurry figure comes into view, slowly sharpening into focus. I can't make out their features, but the sound of their voice is strangely comforting. They're speaking to me, trying to reassure me, and although I can't quite grasp the words, I know I'm in safe hands.

"Rune, you're okay," the voice says, its tone gentle yet firm. "He's gone, he won't ever hurt you again."

I find myself starting to relax, the tension in my body gradually easing. Whoever this person is, they're here to help me, to keep me safe. And in that moment, as the darkness threatens to pull me under once more, I cling to the hope that maybe, just maybe, I'll make it out of this nightmare alive.

(...)

"Fred, help me carry her. I can't do it on my own, or I'll risk splinching her."

"The arm... her arm..."

"I know, alright?! Just help me get her back to the flat."

...

"Why is she not waking up?" George's voice breaks through the haze, laced with worry and frustration.

"It's only been a few days," Fred replies, his tone heavy with exhaustion. "She was abducted, tortured and Godric knows what else. We can't expect her to be up and about this early. She needs time, her body needs to rest."

"A week, Fred. It's almost been a week!" George corrects, the weight of the passing days evident in his voice.

The sense of urgency grows as they realize that her condition hasn't improved. Their voices become more strained, their concern palpable with each passing moment.

"Rune? Can you hear me?" George's voice is gentle yet desperate, as if willing her to wake up with the sheer force of his words.

"You need to wake up, okay?" His tone is pleading now, a note of desperation creeping in.

"Do it for me, okay? Because I don't know what I'd do without you... And with everything that's happened, I just don't think I can go on living if you left."

His words hang in the air, heavy with emotion.

She can feel their presence, hovering at the edge of her consciousness, willing her to return to them. But try as she might, she remains trapped in the void between wakefulness and oblivion.

...

As the days drag on, their conversations become more subdued, their voices tinged with a sense of defeat.

"Fuck, George, she's not getting any better," Fred's frustration is evident, his tone tinged with helplessness.

"I know she's not getting any better," George replies, his voice strained with emotion. "Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I'm tearing myself apart at the thought of her leaving us? Leaving me? I might have one ear less than you, but that doesn't make me blind too. I know she's not getting any better and I feel fucking powerless because I can't do anything to fix it. She's the only one who can.  So I'll wait. I'll wait by her goddamn bedside til I'm grey and old and on death's doorstep myself if that's how long it will take. But I refuse to give up on her. I just can't give up..."

Fred smiles sadly. "We won't."

And so they wait, their vigil by Mia Rune's bedside stretching into days and nights, a silent testament to their unwavering love and devotion.

...

"Rune, just remember I love you. If nothing else, then hold on to that, because it is the only thing I'm certain of. I love you so much. Please..."

...

"Rune, love. Can you open those beautiful eyes for me? Please, love. I'd give anything, I'd gladly serve my own heart and soul to the devil on a silver platter if it meant that you would open your eyes and come back to me. So please, I'm begging you. Just give it one more go. Just try one more time."

...

The room feels heavy with their shared anguish, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on them like a suffocating blanket. Time seems to stretch on endlessly, each passing moment filled with a sense of helplessness and desperation.

As the days turn into weeks, the atmosphere in the room grows increasingly somber. The once bustling energy of the Weasley twins' flat is replaced by a hushed stillness, broken only by the steady rhythm of the spell monitoring Mia's heart beside her bed.

"We can't keep going on like this, George," Fred's voice breaks the silence, his tone weary but determined.

George's shoulders slump, his exhaustion evident as he runs a hand through his orange hair. "I know, Fred. But what else can we do? We can't just give up on her."

Fred's gaze softens, filled with a mixture of sympathy and resignation. "I'm not saying we should give up, mate. But we need to face the reality of the situation. She's been like this for weeks, and...and we don't even know if she'll ever wake up."

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken fear and uncertainty. George's jaw tightens, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggles to hold back his emotions. "I can't lose her, Fred," he whispers, his voice barely audible above the hum of the numerous spells monitoring her progress.

Fred's expression softens, his own grief mirrored in his eyes as he reaches out to clasp George's shoulder. "I know, George. None of us can. But we have to be realistic. We can't keep holding on to false hope forever."

Despite the weight of Fred's words, a glimmer of hope remains in George's eyes. It's a small spark, barely visible amidst the darkness that surrounds us, but it's there nonetheless. For as long as there is breath in their bodies, they will never give up on her.

And then, just as the silence threatens to consume them whole, a small miracle unfolds before their eyes. With a faint flutter of lashes, the girl who has been lost in unconsciousness for the last couple of days, stir from my slumber, the darkness parting to reveal the faintest hint of light. And as she slowly opens her eyes, the world around her comes into focus once more, bathed in the soft glow of dawn.

"Mia? Love? Can you hear me?"