Dark Pasts { A Harry Potter Story }

Chapter 102 - The Silver Knife

The hard ground against my back and wet sand twisting itself in my hand and hair. Then a soft, cool breeze against my skin, bringing a salty taste to my lips. I opened my eyes and it was dark but for a few stars in the sky which illuminated what seemed to be a cottage on a small hill. We were at Bill and Fleur's home.

"Elizabeth," Harry said in a trembling but reassuring voice. "Elizabeth, it's alright, we're safe."

I propped myself up on my elbows, wincing as I felt my muscles ache. Then I felt Harry's soft lips against my forehead.

"Harry Potter," Dobby said in a soft voice.

I turned toward him, my eyes widening in horror as I saw Bellatrix's knife protruding from his chest.

"DOBBY!" Harry cried and lept toward him. "Dobby — no — HELP!"

A dark patch of blood was spreading across Dobby's front as he looked at Harry pleadingly and stretched out his arms. Harry caught him and laid him on his knees.

"Dobby, no, don't die, don't die —" Harry's voice broke, making my heart tighten in my chest.

"Harry . . . Potter . . ."

Then Dobby became still, and I knew. I shut my eyes tightly, but still, the tears rolled down my cheeks.

"Dobby . . . Dobby . . ." Harry whispered as he wept.

I gathered my remaining strength and made my way toward him. Immediately he rested his head against my chest and I felt him trembling as I kissed the top of his head.

"I want to bury him," he said in a low voice. "Properly . . . without magic . . ."

I nodded slowly, though he was not looking at me.

After a minute or so Bill, Fleur, Dean and Luna gathered around us. They talked for a moment, but I did not listen, simply holding on to Harry, weeping and trembling in my arms. Then Bill offered me his hand and I reluctantly took it. I turned around to see Harry enveloping Dobby in his jacket before Bill helped me inside the cottage. Fleur brought into the same bedroom I had stayed in a few months earlier. Hermione was lying, unconscious, on one of the beds. My heart tightened in my chest once more.

"Are you hurt?" Fleur asked softly as she handed me clean clothes. I had not the strength to tell her I had plenty of dry clothes in my bag.

"Just a little bruised, I think," I said as she stared at me nervously.

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror and winced, a dark bruise covered the left side of my face. I washed and changed into clean clothes. As Fleur proceeded to mend the various cuts on my arms I watched Harry from the small circular window. He was alone as he dug the grave, and I could tell by the way his shoulders quaked that he was crying.

When Fleur finally finished, I walked back down the stairs and out of the cottage to where Harry, still covered in dirt and blood, had buried Dobby. He was kneeling in front of a stone. Once I was close enough, I saw that it read:

HERE LIES DOBBY, A FREE ELF

I smiled slightly to myself as I felt tears spring from my eyes. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When I opened them again, Harry was looking at me, his cheeks red and puffy.  I gave him a small smile and offered him my hand, which he took. Slowly he stood up, using me to stabilize himself, and we walked back to the cottage. He did not look back.

Everyone was sitting in the living room when we entered. A fire was burning low in the fireplace as they all listened as Bill talked.

". . . lucky that Ginny's on holiday. If she'd been at Hogwarts, they could have taken her before we reached her. Now we know she's safe too."

He looked around and saw us standing in the door frame.

"I've been getting them all out of the Burrow," he explained."Moved them to Muriel's. The Death Eaters know Ron's with you now, they're bound to target the family — don't apologize," he added at the sight of Harry's expression. "It was always a matter of time, Dad's been saying so for months. We're the biggest blood-traitor family there is."

"How are they protected?" Harry asked.

"Fidelius Charm. Dad's Secret-Keeper. And we've done it on this cottage too; I'm Secret-Keeper here," he said. "Once Ollivander and Griphook are well enough, we'll move them to Muriel's too. We could probably move them in an hour or —"

"No," Harry said. "I need both of them here. I need to talk to them. It's important."

The assurance and authority in his voice startled me. The others were also looking at him, puzzled.

"I'm going to wash. Then I'll need to see them, straight away," he said before disappearing up the stairs.

I looked around at the others, who were all sitting in silence, before following him up. I found him washing his face in the basin in the bathroom. His eyes caught mine in the mirror, but he said nothing. I walked into the bedroom where my things had been placed and sat on the bed. He sat down beside me a few moments later.

"How — how are you?" he asked in a strained voice.

I shrugged. "You?"

He shrugged as he wiped his tears. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently.

"What did she do to you?" he asked in a trembling voice.

"Harry — "

"I need to know, Elizabeth," he said.

I sighed. "She — she tortured me . . . the Cruciatis Curse . . ."

Harry made a disgusted noise and buried his head in his hands.

"I'll kill her," he said angrily.

"Harry — don't —" I shook my head. "Don't talk like that, please."

"This is why I wanted to leave you behind," he said.

"Oh, don't start — "

"Elizabeth, I'm serious!" he said. "She tortured you because of me . . . how do you think that makes me feel?"

"She tortured me because she thought we went into her vault," I corrected him. "And in any case, I'd do it all over again if it meant you could walk out of there alive."

He looked up to me and I met his gaze defiantly, though I felt my lips quiver slightly. He gulped and placed his hands on either side of my face, gazing intently into my eyes.

"I — " he took a deep breath. "I love you . . . so much."

I gave him a weak smile as I leaned into his hand. "I love you too, scarhead."

He chuckled and smiled weakly as he leaned his forehead against mine. Then, ever so slowly, his lips moved to find mine. Soft, gentle, and warm, easing the pain of my aching muscles, somehow. Then, faintly wet, for I let a tear roll down my cheek. He pulled away after a moment, and I saw his own eyes filled with tears.

I slowly raised my hand and wiped his cheek, causing him to lean into my touch.

He cleared his throat. "Let's go talk to Griphook."