Disclaimer: Except for the OCs, I do not own any rights to the characters, places, spells, etc. created by that wonderful author, J.K. Rowling.
He hoped it was the graveyard that the note had spoken about; however, with the dense fog, rainy drizzle and lack of light, he could not be sure. It could be any graveyard actually, since he had only a vague idea of the location of the graveyard he needed. Come to think of it, he thought, for all intents and purposes, I might just be walking into a meadow. Swallowing his doubts, he continued to proceed forward carefully making his way toward what he thought was the graveyard. All he knew was that he headed toward an area that wasn’t surrounded with as many trees hoping that there, he could gauge his whereabouts.
His billowing black cape swept across the dewy grass, soaking up the water. His shoes had long ago become damp and slightly uncomfortable. His slightly wet hair was starting to become plastered onto his forehead and neck. He could not see more than a few feet in front of him, making him extremely nervous. Taking his wand out of his pocket, he defensively held it in front of himself. Not knowing what to expect up ahead, he slowed his already slow walk to a crawl and attempted to walk more quietly.
He felt relieved upon seeing his first headstone; but now walking became more treacherous and he caught himself on several such tributes to the dead. Yet he continued forward, with a growing sense of anxiety. Why, he asked himself, why did she have to go and do this?! The woman, the one woman he loved, had decided to take it upon herself to fight the one man whom most wizards feared—Voldemort. Although, he mused to himself, with that temper of hers, she could give him a scare. The thought brought a quick, small smile to his face.
Upon nearing the middle of the graveyard, he heard voices ahead of him. Moving as close as he dared, he hid himself behind a large gravestone and situated himself so that he could peek around it without being seen. The fog had thinned somewhat so that the characters looked like mute-gray apparitions in a shadowy, white world.
There were six figures, four of which he recognized. Rudolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange stood on the outskirts, looking as though they were sentries watching for any possible interruptions. There was an older, unknown woman sitting in a midnight black dress with her white hair pulled back into a bun sitting against another gravestone. Long, white fingers drummed against the stone and her colourless lips held an evil smirk. Her ocean-blue eyes were focused on the struggle of two people to her right.
The two struggling wizards were in the middle of a duel. One had his back to his hiding place, blocking the view of the other fighter. Suddenly, the fighter was thrown backward and he caught his breath. There she was, his fiancée, dark ocean-blue eyes blazing with fury, her wand pointed toward the fallen fighter. Subconsciously, she tossed a stray midnight-black curl behind her ear.
“Is that all, Jason?” her melodious voice reached his ear but it was cold and menacing, nothing like her normal bubbly-self.
The man on the ground spat at her. “No, I’m not through Lydia. It was an unfair fight!”
“Oh, just because you didn’t have your precious little friends helping you, it’s unfair.” She stepped closer. “Next time invite them!” she shouted.
The man on the ground, Jason he surmised, winced. As Lydia lifted her wand and pivoted forward, the older woman began to laugh and clap her hands. “Wonderful, wonderful,” she said, in a deep, but rich, feminine voice. “That was the best entertainment I’ve seen in a long while.”
Still laughing, she approached Lydia and placed her hands on the younger woman’s face. “My dear, you should have been at your father’s right side.”
At this statement, Rudolphus whipped around with a look of pure hatred on his face. At the same time, Lydia took the woman’s hands and ripped them off her face. “Get away from me,” she growled. The woman laughed again and proceeded to help Jason up from the ground.
Bellatrix let out an insane laugh and turned to face the rest of the group. “Oh, Aunt Euphesine, she'll never consent to that.” Moving away from her position, Bellatrix came to stand in front of Lydia, placing her hands on her hips. “My cousin will never give up her loyalty to that old piss-ant,” she pushed her hand into Lydia’s face. Lydia stood her ground, hatred filling her eyes, hands balling into fists.
The older woman, Euphesine, turned and looked at Bellatrix exasperatedly. “Oh, just get out of here before he comes. He probably doesn’t even want to see you.”
In his hiding spot, he watched as Bellatrix began to pout. Rudolphus came over and roughly grabbed her arm. “Let’s go. If he doesn’t wish to see us now, only waiting here will cause him to get angry and I, at least, do not want to be punished if he does so.” The two sent hate-filled looks back at the three remaining persons before Disapparating.
Euphesine sighed before turning to Lydia. “Wait here while I escort Jason home. I’ll be back shortly.” Slinging her arm around Jason’s shoulders, she moved away from Lydia and his hiding spot.
As soon as the other two had left, he waited as Lydia settled herself onto a gravestone, all the while playing with her wand. Eventually, he silently stepped out from behind his hiding spot and let his anger seep into his body and voice, “If I had known you were that close with that group, I never would have come.”
Lydia’s head turned to acknowledge the cold, hard-edged voice to her right. There stood her future husband: black, lanky, grease-like, hair plastered to his head, dark eyes staring hard; his pale, white hands clenched around his wand, which was pointed right at her.
She sighed and her shoulders sagged, “Severus, let me explain…”
Severus Snape, the Potions professor at Hogwarts, lost his temper and flew at his fiancée in a rage-filled whirlwind. Catching her around the throat, he slammed her back into the gravestone and brought his wand up to her face. The only problem with his tactic was that Lydia had prepared herself and had brought her wand up to meet his.
“I could kill you,” he growled at her.
“Mutual benefit, dear. I can do the same to you,” she snarled back. The two sat in strained silence, each holding their wands at each other. Lydia relented first; raising her eyebrows, she attempted to look down at her fiancé’s hand around her neck. “While I appreciate you keeping me in one place, a human being needs to breathe every once in a while, you know.”
Snape reluctantly released his hand from Lydia’s throat. Immediately her wand free hand went to her throat and began to massage the flesh. He turned his back to her and said in a cold, cruel voice, “I never…”
She interrupted him, “No! Like hell you never knew! You knew; a long time ago or don’t you remember?” she yelled.
He hunched his shoulders and turned to her, eyes blazing. “I guess I should have made myself clearer! I knew!” he screamed. He straightened and pulled his mouth into a sneer, “But I didn’t know that some little bitch has decided to switch sides!” The hurt he felt made him want to hurt her worse; and to think that he thought she had been trying to save a child. Instead, she had betrayed him by returning to her family.
The two stood glaring at each other with hate and rage filled eyes. “Fine,” Lydia consented, “if you want to be that way, here.” She pulled at the ring finger of her left hand. The object finally came off and she hurled it at Snape hitting him right in the face. “You never listened to reason anyway!” she screamed. Reaching up to grab it before it fell to the ground, he opened his hand to see her engagement ring shining up at him.
Steeling his face not to show how crushed he was, he glanced back up at Lydia. “When you finally grow up, owl me; until then I don’t want to speak to you or see you,” she angrily spit out. “Now you should go before my father gets here. I don’t think he’ll appreciate seeing you.”
Without another word to her, he stalked off, intent on returning to Hogwarts and locking himself away.