InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Final Battle ❯ The Final Battle ( Chapter 22 )

DISCLAIMER: Nein mein!

 

RECAP: Fenrir's eyes widened, meeting Inu-Yasha's gleeful ones. Crimson. They had changed. His eyes were now the exact same hue as that which now merrily coated his sharpened fingers, punctuated with pupils like the end of all the oceans. His fangs had considerably lengthened, revealed as he peeled back his lips in a snarling smile. Stripes similar to those his brother wore shaped his cheekbones, and were repeated on his forearm.

 

The werewolf's bite had changed him, alright. It had drawn out the youkai in Inu-Yasha.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 22

 

 

 

 

Fenrir stumbled back, staring dumbly at the gaping hole in his chest. “My heart…” He stared at the threatening creature who now clutched the said organ in his clenched hand, its contents still twitching as it spurted sporadic bursts of scarlet. Fenrir's eyes rolled back in his head, and he dropped to his knees, dead.

 

Harry nearly dropped his wand as Hermione gasped. Distantly, he could hear the sounds of Ron and a few onlookers retching. It was only after Inu-Yasha had single-handedly decapitated five Death-Eaters with the blood garnered from the werewolf's stilled heart did he realize the gravity of the situation.

 

“Harry! He's out of control! What do we do?!” Ron said frantically, wiping the vomit from his chin. Harry looked at the mindless killer before him, a shadow of the personality with whom he was familiar.

 

Inu-Yasha was on a rampage. He was attacking anything before him—on the bright side, this considerably lowered the number of Death-Eaters to defeat, but the Harry knew it was just a matter of time before he began to attack others. He was no longer killing to get to Kagome…he was killing for fun.

 

It was then that Dumbledore finally spoke to Harry.

 

“You need to control your friend. Is there any charm or rosary Kagome used to calm the beast inside of him?” He grunted, incapacitation an imperiused goblin.

 

Harry thought for a moment, as Inu-Yasha took out more of the opposition. Time was running out—there was only a handful left. He wondered whether or not the human side of Inu-Yasha would prevent him from slaughtering the innocent. Kagome had told him his sword was made so that it could not physically cut human flesh—

 

“That's it!” Harry said. He saw Inu-Yasha's fallen sword was lying feet from Hermione. “It's the sword!”

 

But something disturbed Harry that should not have normally disturbed him. He was no longer being attacked…in fact, every Death Eater and controlled being had either been incapacitated or killed—violently. And they weren't the only ones.

 

Members of the Order of the Phoenix had taken to shielding themselves with crude force fields, spells learned early in their schooling that could easily be broken with a counter-curse. Fortunately for the majority of them, Inu-Yasha did not understand such incantations; unfortunately for them, such spells are dependent on one's strength—and all had been drastically weakened, many suffering wounds from Inu-Yasha's reckless attacking.

 

Harry turned his gaze to Inu-Yasha, but could not find him. “Hermione! Quickly—get Inu-Yasha's sword!” Hermione did so, but set upon him a look of utmost fear.

 

Rather, set behind him a look of utmost fear.

 

“If you think to maim me with my own sword, you've got another thing coming, human.” Inu-Yasha swung at him from the back, taking off a tuft of hair on the top of his head as Harry ducked. Quickly, he rolled away.

 

Inu-Yasha was before him in a flash, pulling his arm back to deliver a devastating blow—but to blank space.

 

“Where the hell did he go—?!” Inu-Yasha glared, confused.

 

“Accio Harry Potter!” A crinkly voice commanded. A very shrunken Harry zipped past Inu-Yasha, directly into the open palm of Albus Dumbledore. “Miss Granger! The sword!”

 

Inu-Yasha quickly turned his gaze upon the young witch, who held the rusty sword by the tip of the covered blade. As Inu-Yasha advanced, Ron quickly grabbed the blade from her, shoving her aside to face the blood-lusting demon in her place. Inu-Yasha's claws saw red as they tore through Ron's upper arm, leaving deep, weeping gashes along his bicep.

 

Hermione cried out as the wounded redhead yelped, gripping the sword ever harder. Inu-Yasha returned, raising his hand for another swipe, when with all his might, Ron thrust the hilt of the sword in the path of Inu-Yasha's deadly appendage.

 

His plan worked, for instead of his fibula, Inu-Yasha's hand was now wrapped around the Tetsusaiga's handle, and he stilled.

 

Hermione rushed to Ron's side, who crouched, trembling and bleeding on the floor, inches out of Inu-Yasha's reach.

 

“I-Inu…Yasha?” Hermione called, beseeching her friend to look upon her with normal eyes of warm amber.

 

And he did. Inu-Yasha looked up, the stripes on his face fading, his claws retracting, and his golden eyes scouring the area, a film of panic clouding his irises. His gaze tracked over the fallen Death-Eaters, finally settling on Ron's telling injury, and then darting to meet Hermione's imploring glance.

 

“Did I…murder anybody?” She knew what he meant. To kill an enemy was to eliminate, but to take the life of an innocent was murder. Softly, she shook her head.

 

“No…we stopped you in time.”

 

His relief was palpable. He looked down at his sword, tightening his hold on it. Hermione quickly formulated long strips of gauze, gently tending to Ron's wounds, as Dumbledore restored Harry to his natural size.

 

“Thanks for the help, Professor.” Harry said, brushing himself off.

 

“You're very welcome, Mr. Potter. Now, am I to assume the worst has happened?” Dumbledore inquired, the look on his face stating that he already knew Kagome had been taken.

 

“Not the worst yet, Albus,” Mr. A's voice sounded as he checked the fallen Death Eaters. Several members of the Order saw to the wounded. “And God help us if we ever live to see the worst happen.”

 

“And if we don't find Kagome soon, that may very well happen!” Hermione squeaked, wrapping up the cut on Ron's arm. She looked over at Inu-Yasha, who had a very pensive expression on his face. She walked over to him, approaching him carefully.

 

“Inu-Yasha…I don't know what you're thinking, but I know that if Kagome were here, she wouldn't blame you. You weren't in your right mind—you couldn't have helped it.”

 

Inu-Yasha looked away, his eyes hard. He gripped his sword, and started to walk away. “But she isn't here, and I have to find her.”

 

Ron shook his head. “But you don't know where you're going—you're headed for the Department of Mysteries, and that's the last place to go if you expect to find something…” But despite Ron's advice, Harry found himself following Inu-Yasha.

 

“Harry! What do you think you're doing?” Hermione asked. Dumbledore frowned, a peculiar expression on his face.

 

Harry replied, without stopping, as the others began to follow. “I…I can't explain it, but I feel like I should go this way…I don't know. Something in my heart is pulling me there.”

 

It was Mr. A's turn to frown. “Where? What's pulling you?”

 

“I don't know…Inu-Yasha, can you smell her?” Inu-Yasha took long, steady strides that forced the others to jog in order to keep up with him.

 

“Nah…but I know she's close by.”

 

Hermione huffed, struggling to keep up. “Well, this is ridiculous. I'm sorry, and I don't mean to insult intuition—I mean, I know I've been a bit biased against the whole divination sort of thing—but I really don't think this is the time to rely—“

 

Professor Dumbledore put a silencing hand on her shoulder, and easily strode behind the pair. “Perhaps, Miss Granger, now is the best time to follow one's intuition.”

 

Hermione sighed, shrugged, and grabbed Ron's hand as they both tailed behind.

 

They passed room after room, until finally, Harry and Inu-Yasha came to a halt.

 

Hermione couldn't help but voice her consternation. “You can't be serious. This is the ever-locked room!”

 

Inu-Yasha growled, sniffing the door. “She's in here, alright, I can feel it. How do we get in?”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, you know, that's a funny reason as to why they call it the ever-locked room…you can't!”

 

“Try opening it, both of you,” Dumbledore suggested.

 

Inu-Yasha and Harry looked at each other, and reached for the doorknob, as Hermione skeptically shook her head. “Now we're just wasting time. Countless witches and wizards have tried to open this door before, and no one, not one, has ever…”

 

But as the two young men turned the waiting doorknob, the lock unhitched with an audible click, and the massive door creaked open, revealing a void of black. They stepped through, the heavy portal swinging shut behind them before the others could follow.

 

And for once, Hermione was left speechless.

 

 

 

 

 

Voldemort shuddered, his veins throbbing with the electricity that flowed into him. `Such power…such power! I will never have enough…' He sneered, breathing heavily, and looked over at his unwilling donor, whose left arm was now stained an ugly purple black from the needle which administered the miasmic, energizing fluid, and whose eyes were now glazed over in a green film that matched the bright shade of the IV.

 

“Draco!” He commanded, but as the tow-headed slave moved to once more shock the poor priestess with the drug, he stopped him. “No,” He said, releasing himself of the bands that gifted him with her sweet blood. “Release her from her shackles. I can't have my little juice box draining out completely, can I?” He said, smirking.

 

As he swept out of his chair, he seemed a little taller. Demonic qualities that had once significantly altered his image were lost. His face had taken a more human shape, his eyes brighter, redder, and sharper, his stature more menacing. He seemed to move like fog, eerily graceful and quick. His cloak rippled soundlessly as he stood before the freed Kagome. She swayed woozily in her chair, until she, losing control, drooped forward, her body folding.

 

Voldemort's arms snaked about her body, deftly catching her before she met the ground. Her wrists leaked, dribbling half-heartedly as he held her, and he pressed them to his mouth, his tongue caressing all traces until the cuts were sealed, leaving shining, green scars on her pale flesh.

 

Holding her to him, he sauntered out of the room, Lucius and Draco following behind. He took her through a long, narrow hallway, winding through many turns and stairwells before they finally entered a dimly lit room, furnished simply with a tired sofa, worn armchair and ebony low table. The area shined crimson in the meager glow of the fireplace, reflecting poisonously off his own scarlet irises.

 

Heavily, she lifted her head, her mind working very slowly. She opened her mouth to speak, but found that she could not utter a word.

 

Voldemort could read her eyes as he sat down on the armchair. “No, my dear, you are not permitted the luxury of dying.” He chuckled cruelly, licking his lips. “In fact, I plan for you to live a very long time.”

 

Kagome's eyes widened in foreboding wonder. He shifted her head so that it was closer, her lips in dangerous proximity to his. “But I think we both know I can hardly trust you to agree with my terms, and I find myself averse to compromise. So, I've allowed time for proper…reflection…and the only thing I can think of to do, is a wonderfully useful activity I taught my own darling daughter, Kanna…also performed efficiently by the Dementors…”

 

Kagome grimaced in fear, silent tears streaming down her cheeks as she desperately tried to shrink back from the advancing mouth of her captor. He merely laughed in her face, his white, pointed teeth gleaming ominously. “Tsk, tsk, Kagome…it's no use playing hard to get. I had quite enough of that with your soul's previous casing.”

 

He moved his lips ever closer to hers, his claws digging into her scalp as he held her head higher. Kagome desperately used all of her remaining strength to purse her trembling lips together, stubbornly choking back a soft whimper.

 

“Now…I've heard that you are considerably well-endowed…with a rather large soul, that is…so I expect this kiss will prove to be rather…satiating...”

 

He took his other hand and jammed the tip of his thumb into her injured inner arm, causing her to open her mouth in a gasp of pain. Taking the opportunity, he covered her mouth with his, consuming her lips and thrusting his tongue inside of her, greedily rooting itself into her mouth, her weak, futile struggles encouraging him to drive into her ever more forcefully. He held her there mercilessly, his fingers imprinting themselves in her arms, shoulders, neck, and torso. Every inch of her would be his—inside, and out. Her body, her blood, her mind…his tongue scorched her, a cruel, purple snake invading her warm, wet, cavern. It forced her jaws wide, running itself along their walls, sliding through the ridges of her teeth…He commanded her, dominated her, and felt rich for it. Drunk on possession of that ever-illusive being who once stood so high and mighty, condescending to help him, no different from the mother who hated him, villagers who castigated him, the father who left him, and the simpering, so-called followers who pleaded loyalty and gave cowardice, denying him when he was weak. But now, he was a god. Her god. With every bud on her tongue he tasted, felt, consumed, feeding on her fear and drinking in her essence. He deepened the kiss, working her mouth with renewed vigor, his snake reaching the back of her throat as he moaned in wild excitement.

 

Finally, he felt it. That glittering wisp, like breathing starlight.

 

Her soul.

 

Lucius found himself looking away, strangely disturbed by the scene. His son, however, watched intently, his eyes glittering with an inner fear and helplessness he could not express.

 

Voldemort growled as he sucked on Kagome's tongue, greedily inhaling her soul, sip by sip. Her pupils dilated as he sucked harder, his chest swelling with the enormity of her spirit. He fiercely clutched her, pressing her head harder into his face, gripping her shaking body beneath his, his hipbones crushing hers as he moved his chest against hers, his pelvis rocking into her body with reckless abandon. Her soul came to him as if it were juice expelled by a ripe Satsuma orange he had been ravaging, and his eyes closed in its complete, brilliant rapture. So affected by the intensity of her soul's blazing radiance was he that he could not help himself as he sank his fangs into her bottom lip, the blood sweetly mingling with her soul's remnants.

 

Coming down from the height of his bliss, he drained her of her spirit, her consciousness, her sense of self, and let his mouth leave hers slowly.

 

“That, my dear, was birth, life, and death.” He whispered against her lips, feeling her inside of him, flowing through his veins, inflating his lungs, and filling his belly. He licked at the puncture wounds that marred her bottom lip, and stared into her lifeless orbs. He coolly stood, tucking her to the chair as he gathered his bearings.

 

Chuckling, he stretched out a spindly, white finger to straighten her bangs. “And now, you shall forever remain by my side. For as a soulless husk, where else have you to go?”

 

“Back with me, where she belongs!”

 

Inu-Yasha and Harry came crashing through the fireplace, the flames illuminating the fierceness in their eyes. “Expelliarmus!” Harry quickly shouted, the force of his voice throwing Lucius Malfoy back, his wand flying to the opposite side of the room and his platinum hair draping over his twisted, unconscious body. “Expelliarmus!” Harry repeated, this time to Draco, who somersaulted backwards in the air, falling to the ground in a heap beside his father.

 

Meanwhile, Inu-Yasha lunged at Voldemort, who merely sidestepped him, pointing that spindly, white finger in the air. At the tip of his sharpened nail, a green orb of energy boiled—identical to Kagome's pink bubbles signature to her purification powers, but inverted in a heavy, syrupy malignance. Straightening his arm, he shot a long, vibrant beam of emerald light in Inu-Yasha's direction. Inu-Yasha barely dodged it, taking note how the area where Voldemort's beam had landed sizzled and decayed from the miasma.

 

“Oh shi—!” Inu-Yasha was cut off by another beam, which narrowly missed his right ear.

 

“Wha…what the hell is that?!” But as he turned to get a better look at Kagome, had the sickening feeling he knew exactly what it was.

 

Voldemort used Inu-Yasha's distraction as an opportunity to send another beam in his direction. Deftly, Inu-Yasha dodged it once more, and quickly unsheathed his sword. Once more, it would not transform. Inu-Yasha's face crunched in a look of utmost frustration and incredulity.

 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!! WHAT'S THE POINT IN EVEN HAVING THIS GODDAMN THING IF I CAN'T FUCKING USE IT?!”

 

“Ku, ku, ku, ku…” Voldemort cackled, sending another bolt at his shoulders, narrowly missing the clearly distressed hanyou. “Surely, you didn't think to terminate me with that sword? Not when the blood of the very thing it protects flows within me?”

 

Inu-Yasha growled, his fangs menacingly bared at the murderer before him. Quickly, he shoved the sword back through the loop in his hakama.

 

“You can't kill a human with that sword, Inu-Yasha—and despite the fact that I am more powerful than a hundred demons, I am still part human. Now more than ever before, what with having been touched by your maiden's purity—or was I who have touched hers?” He jeered, Inu-Yasha responding with a wild strike at the head. He missed as Voldemort sent out another stream of miasma, this one a hair's breath away from connecting with the jumping half-demon.

 

It was a dance of death, and until Inu-Yasha could find a means to thwart Voldemort without getting too close, he would be reduced to running on the defense; and he could only do that for so long.

 

While the two were engaging in battle, thoughts were running madly through Harry's mind, as he tried to come up with a good idea. `What could kill Voldemort?' He wondered, each possible solution seeming weaker than the last.

 

Another beam crashed against the wall, this one dangerously close to the armchair upon which Kagome lay lifeless. `Lifeless…' Harry thought as he covertly moved to her side, desperately clinging to hope that she was not yet dead. `But she looks so still…what was Voldemort saying earlier? A “soulless husk”…? Surely, he couldn't have…' Gingerly, he moved to test her pulse—but was taken aback by the green scars that marred her delicate, if now unnaturally pale skin. He examined the crook of her inner arm, noting the hideous bruising. And finally, he noticed the puncture marks of teeth on her bottom lip. Marks of a kiss. A kiss delivered to take the thing most precious to a living being.

 

“Oh, God…he did.” Harry's eyes burned a dark emerald. They had to retrieve Kagome's soul—if it cost him his life ten painful times over, he would bring it back to her. There was no Cruciatus Curse too excruciating for him to bear for her sake—and he would endure them all. He owed her that much for the love she allowed him to feel, a love for living, and friendship, a love so powerful, it could completely overtake any curse or evil—

 

“Wait a minute.” Harry stopped, brushing a lock of Kagome's hair out of her face. He became aware of additional company as he began to sort it out. “A love that could overtake evil…withstand the bonds of friendship…the penultimate countercurse…” The shadows took familiar shape as they positioned themselves by his side. “The door…!”

 

Meanwhile, Voldemort let loose another beam, hurtling it at an already exhausted Inu-Yasha, who still hadn't fully recovered from his battle with Fenrir and transformation. He leapt wildly in the air, missing the most of the substance, but permitting the slightest graze on the side of his ankle.

 

“Arrghhh!” He screamed in response, crashing into the side of the wall. He quickly glanced down to survey the damage.

 

From his knee down, the leg had started to bubble and fester. Pockets of lime green pus oozed and popped as the flesh twitched and blackened, burning and rapidly changing shape. Voldemort once more sent out another miasmic beam, as Inu-Yasha quickly rolled away, pus and blood leaving a trail behind.

 

“Heh, heh, heh…forgive me if I take the time to enjoy this moment, Inu-Yasha! But I never dreamed I'd see the day when the invincible hanyou would cower before me!” Inu-Yasha's whole body felt as if it were being forcibly drained. Cramps warped his muscles, and his ears began to shrink as his hair darkened.

 

“…What? Surprised? Well. You shouldn't be…after devouring Kagome's sumptuous soul, and absorbing her blood, the blood of the jewel, it's only natural that I inherit some of her more…useful talents. Purification turned out to be a most pleasing result of the transfusion!”

 

Inu-Yasha coughed, his bright, livid eyes a strange mixture of piercing gold, indigo, and firelight. Voldemort smiled.

 

“Oh, don't look so damn angry, Inu-Yasha. You've always been a whiney little bitch, haven't you? `Nobody likes me,' or `I've lost my mummy,' or `A half-demon like me has no place in this world…' Buck the fuck up!” Voldemort came closer, taking his foot and letting it fall on Inu-Yasha's leaking leg with an audible crunch.

 

“You're not the only little shit who has been spat upon by God. I was the child of a rapist and a whore.” Crunch. “I was born poor, and beaten daily by my mother and her patrons.” Crunch. “I was cast out to make my own living, begging and stealing. I thieved, murdered, coveted, and suffered for it. And what's more, I repeated the process…over, and over, and over again…” Crunch, crunch, crunch. Inu-Yasha's gums bled from clenching his teeth in pain, his foot pulpy and barely recognizable. Voldemort swooped down, his breath blowing the hairs on Inu-Yasha's brow.

 

“I have made sacrifices for what I want, Inu-Yasha. Once, it was my humanity. It is only fitting that I progress from there, and give up mortality. I decided to become my own god, and smite the one who created me! And now, thanks to our pretty little priestess—you know, the vegetable on the armchair—I can continuously replenish my power supply, sans arguments!” He sneered. “…Sure, she's not much for conversation, but she was only ever good for her body, anyway. And I'll be sure to make use of that.”

 

It was then that Inu-Yasha spat in his face, his eyes alight with pure, unadulterated hate. Wiping the flecks of ebony blood from his face, Voldemort threw Inu-Yasha a look. “Please,” he said dryly. “Surely, you wouldn't be so insulting as to think that would hurt me?”

 

“No, but this might! Embraciate!” Five voices sounded, their wands pointing to Voldemort's heart. He whipped around, his curiosity raised mildly. So enraptured in the fight against his rival of five hundred years was he, that he barely noticed the arrival of Mr. Joseph Antoniello, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and an irate Professor Albus Dumbledore. All four stood at the side of one bright-eyed and impassioned Harry Potter, whose jaw was set as his scar blazed through the mess of the ebony brown locks that tousled about his forehead.

 

As they chanted the incantation, Voldemort found the power of their words—the power of their will—compelling his abdomen to forcefully contract, squeezing the slippery coils of his small intestine to release their contents into his esophagus, causing Voldemort to retch violently. Having not ingested much—attributing to his colorless, sharply skeletal figure—blood spewed forth from his fanged mouth; much of it belonging to Kagome.

 

His torso continued to shudder, the floor pooling with scarlet, until a pure, white puff of glowing, iridescent matter emerged from his dripping, red lips. It cast a light so bright and warm, that it enveloped the room in a peaceful blanket, filling its residents with softness and strength. It floated through the air, caressing the faces of the five witches and wizards, and then stopped to linger upon the chest of the injured hanyou, instilling within him a renewed determination and touching his heart with translucent fingers of burnless fire. Then, it drifted towards its body—Kagome's body, which lay in wait to reclaim its lost soul. Sliding onto the tips of her lips, it seemed to evaporate, absorbing itself into her with a feathery burst of pink iridescence.

 

Voldemort sputtered a little, regaining his strength as the spell completed its purpose in purging him of his stomach's contents. He heaved harsh, drawn out breaths, his lips stretching to reveal his fangs, his taut, dense muscles carved by swelling veins, pulsing with Kagome's Shikon blood. Tilting his head back and ripping his eyelids wide around red eyes of fury, he let loose a mighty roar. Simultaneously, he cast a burst of energy around him, throwing the witches and wizards back with extreme force. Seamlessly, he struck out a finger at Ron, who moved to grab his fallen wand. “Crucio!”

 

Ron fell into a heap, his sore lungs ripping out a great cry of anguish. Hermione leapt up, desperate to relieve her dearest friend of his pain. As Voldemort moved to strike her, Harry attacked him from the side.

 

“Incinario!” From Harry's wand erupted a conflagrant burst, which zeroed in on Voldemort's chest, causing him to experience an intense burning sensation all over his skin and insides.

 

“Aarrgh!” He growled, his wand bolting out to retaliate. “Decairiot!”

 

A beam of decay shot out, ricocheting against the fireplace and scoring Dumbledore's wand arm. Dumbledore fell, grunting as he met with the floor. The flesh of his arm began melting off of his bones, as his wand was reduced to a mere pile of ash.

 

“Professor!” Harry called, running to his side. As Harry reached for his arm, Dumbledore struck him with his other arm.

 

“Don't touch it!” Dumbledore hissed, as Harry recoiled from the bubbling, black mass of goo that once resembled the structure of a hand. “It's infected with miasmic energy…it will spread—I need you to cut off my arm at the elbow with your wand.”

 

Harry panicked. “But Professor—I can't! That's your wand arm—if I cut it off with my wand, it can never be restored!”

 

“Just do it, Harry! For goodness sakes, I've still got the other one...quickly, now!”

 

Harry promptly set his wand ablaze, casting sharp edges upon it so that the wound would be cauterized once a cut was made. While his raised wand came down on the professor's scorched arm in a cut of fire, Voldemort continued to shoot off rounds of miasma in Mr. A's direction, trying to shake off the spell Dumbledore had set upon him. Mr. A dodged and shot back disarming spells, the both of them missing each other nearly in a dangerous tango. With the power of the Shikon soaking his innards, Voldemort thwarted the spell within him, and began firing for real.

 

“Avada Kedavra!” He exclaimed, barely missing the American wizard, who retaliated and missed likewise.

 

Ron, however, still writhed in pain from the Cruciatus curse. Hermione had since scrambled to her feet frantically, directing her wand at Voldemort. Turning on her, he began to aim the killing curse in her direction. She dodged the bright beams of green, shakily landing on the armchair, balancing over Kagome. “Immunorare!” She cried. Her aim was true, and Voldemort temporarily lost control of his magic. Ron was immediately freed from his curse, and lay panting on the ground, sweat soaking his forehead.

 

As Hermione rushed to Ron's couch, Dumbledore and Harry jumped to their feet alongside Mr. A, seeking to take advantage of Voldemort's lack of magic. But he quickly recovered, and resumed engaging in the battle, each shot missing by a smaller and smaller distance. During the bout, the injured and human Inu-Yasha veered towards Kagome, who was still lying on the armchair.

 

“Come on, Kagome—I leave you alone for one second, and you end up like this?” He scolded, his voice struggling to be angry but failing miserably. “Keh…I told you you wouldn't last a day without me, but it looks like I overestimated you! You can't last five minutes!” He jeered, this time attempting to retain his usual condescending humor. Again, a failure.

 

He looked at her face, smoothing out her bangs. He wore an angry, pained expression that had nothing to do with his shredded leg. “Dammit, Kagome! Wake UP! God! Didn't you know? It was always you I had to, needed to…” He sputtered, his eyes glassy and limpid.

 

“…wanted to protect…I'll always want to protect you, Kagome! Shit! How the hell am I supposed to do that if you don't wake up, huh?!”

 

Meanwhile, Voldemort shielded himself from a disarming spell cast by Dumbledore. The spell ricocheted, hitting Harry square in his chest, knocking the wind out of him and freeing his wand. As he fell to his feet, Voldemort delicately bent, his spider-like fingers curling around the fallen stick, mate to his own tool of magic. He grinned, his teeth a scalding white, contrasting with the pestiferous sheen of his incarnadine lips.

 

Inu-Yasha unwillingly sniffled, rebelling against his eyes' seeping reaction. “Ughhh…DAMMIT! I HATE BEING HUMAN! Why the hell do they have to get so friggin…moist?!” He said, vigorously rubbing his eyes.

 

Voldemort held both wands together, the pair eliciting sparks in reaction to their magnetic proximity. He pointed them at the fallen form of Harry, who stared, entranced, at his formidable assailant. “Avada Kedavra!”

 

“No!” Harry turned his head from the fatal blow, as twin bolts of green light shot forth. Screams filled the room.

 

Inu-Yasha grabbed Kagome by the collar of her shirt, shouting in her face. “Kagome, I swear! You don't wake up RIGHT NOW, I'm going to rip open those pearly gates and yank you out of heaven, and you'll be stuck with me on earth forever! I don't care if I have to find a rosary for you myself, you're not leaving me!”

 

Harry blinked, fully expecting to find himself hovering in the air, looking into his own dead eyes. But he was not hovering, and the dead eyes he saw were not his own.

 

Mr. A lay in a heap before him, having jumped between him and the curse, his heart stilling the moment Voldemort's spell had hit him. Harry's eyes widened in horror.

 

“Oh, God, No…”

 

“Kagome! Please!” Inu-Yasha continued, disregarding the lone tear that escaped him, followed closely by other glistening trails that dampened his cheeks and stung his eyelids. He moved his hands from her collar, and enfolded her waist in his arms, hiding his face in her chest, muffling his voice as he pleaded. “I've always—I can't help it…but, I do! I love you, Kagome! Please, dammit, just come back!”

 

A light, quite unlike the abrupt spark that generally signifies the flicking of a switch or the casting of a curse, began to glow, as if a fire had slowly begun to start. Soft, gentle. Slowly, the room illuminated in a warm brightness, like the moments after a storm when the clouds slip by to reveal a windbeaten earth to the sun. Movements were stilled, and mysterious vibrations in the air created a strange, barely audible hum.

 

The light began to get brighter, and it took a while for the other occupants to find its source. Kagome, whose torso was wrapped in Inu-Yasha's oblivious shadow, glowed with a startling brilliance, pink bubbles of light floating from her body. Her eyes were open, but glazed over, a milky, penetrating gaze of sky blue.

 

The room around her grew swollen with light until it began to be difficult to see. The humming became louder, reverberating off walls, objects, and people, and causing them to tremble. The magnitude of pink bubbles increased rapidly, and it was only when Kagome sat up that Inu-Yasha noticed any of it. He tried to voice his surprise, but found he could not speak, and had not the strength or will to move from his place on by the armchair. He could only watch, fixated, as Kagome stood.

 

She walked as if in a trance, her feet making quiet, even taps against the stone floor. She was conscious, and yet, she was not. She could hear the sound of blood rushing through the veins of those who watched her, but felt as if her ears were drowning. And though she could see, she did not understand the world she saw any better than she would if her eyes had been blindfolded.

 

But as she steadily strode through this fog of chaos and confusion, she found clarity in the one she sought. The taps of her footfalls came to a halt, as she stood before Lord Voldemort, who looked down at her, red eyes starkly piercing through the lucent haze.

 

Their eyes met. Her elbows bent as she lifted her arms high above her, allowing her palms to fall on his shoulders. Embracing him, she reached up, her lips touching his in a feather-light caress, so unlike the one he had previously bestowed upon her.

 

Voldemort found himself paralyzed beneath her gentle touch, so gentle, and yet, he felt his skin start to rip apart in the light. His innards smoldered, his soul shuddering with her force. The bubbles of light infused his body as if it were being electrocuted, and he felt her purity consume him, burning him, purifying him.

 

Even as his hair whipped in a strange, stormy wind, he could not move or make a sound. Their lips still connected in a kiss of death, a kiss that would both banish and free him forever. His bones shattered and crackled, mincing his organs and shredding his muscles. Her lips seemed to suck the life from him, wringing our his lungs like a sponge until they were clenched so tightly, the heat from their friction fused them into a condensed pulp of cells. His heart struggled to beat fast enough, veins leaking their blood and breaking until no more could be pumped throughout his deteriorating body.

 

Flesh, bone, and hair were enkindled in a great white conflagration, clear smoke erupting in a silent scream until there was almost nothing left.

 

The wands Voldemort clutched clattered to the ground, the sound of their fall alerting the others from their daze.

 

Kagome's eyes unclouded as she let her hands fall to her sides, the ash from his bones drifting off her lips and flying off into oblivion.

 

“Rest now, for I have purified you.”

 

 

 

 

All that's left is the EPILOGUEEEEE!!! Just in time for the last book. I'm so glad it's nearly finished! :D