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Language:
English
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Published:
2020-02-29
Words:
365
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
12
Kudos:
181
Bookmarks:
11
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3,054

Crimson

Summary:

The floor was bathed in red, pink in spots where water had diluted the crimson river which bled through the boy curled into a tight ball.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

A flash of blinding white light and shouted words.

 

The Sound of footsteps rapidly receding till they couldn't be heard any longer and then...

 

Crimson.

The floor was bathed in red, pink in spots where water had diluted the crimson river which bled through the boy curled into a tight ball. Even breathing was difficult, his breaths coming in sharp pants and shallow gasps.

He groaned again trying in vain to get up, knowing he couldn't stay there any longer. Just because he ran away, doesn't mean that he won't be back for more .

He grunted and felt a slight silver of something like accomplishment when he was able to hold himself up long enough to sit up against the wall. Putting his weight on his shaky legs, he slowly got up, out of the boy's bathroom and into the hallway. The only sounds that could be heard were of his harsh breathing and the distant dripping of water.

Dragging himself towards the dungeons , he leaned against the entrance to the dorms trying to remember the password, knowing that none of his roommates would open the door even if he spent the night banging on it. The door opened to a green room adorned with silver embellishments, three beds with their curtains charmed shut and an empty one.

Very quietly, he stumbled into the room, making sure that he didn't knock anything off of its place, he made his way to the only empty bed at the end, but seeing as he couldn't even stumble without experiencing bouts of pain, he settled on the floor instead.

Knowing that death was near was suprisingly more peaceful than what he had hoped for. He knew he won't make it out of the war alive, but he never thought that it would end like this, him laying on the mossy green silk carpet which was slowly but surely turning red due to the blood seeping out of his wounds- wounds given to him by The Boy Who Lived.

Times like these were where he liked to thank the fates for the tragedy they had spun for him, for wizards could only die by the hands of their soulmate.

Notes:

This is my first attempt at a fanfic and I would really love some feedback !