Forever Forgotten [Book Two]

Chapter 13

Credence dreamt of dragons and dancing and fire-

Oh, the fire he felt.

He could feel the flames licking his skin with their pointed tongues from the inside out. He wondered if he was dead. He wished that he weren't. If this was what death felt like, then he would surely not be able to bare torment like this for the rest of eternity.

But not only that, there were his friends. The people he loved.

Newt, and his creatures.

Tina, his wife.

Jacob and Queenie and their wedding he had promised to attend.

And Graves.

At least he had been able to see him one last time, although it was only a glimpse.

But what had happened? What had gone wrong?

- - - - -

Graves stayed at Credence's side.

All day.

All night.

For three months, as Credence lay in bed, unconscious and bandaged. He dreamt of what happened every time he fell asleep.

How Grindelwald had used Credence as a human shield just as they fired that god awful spell. They had all hit Credence.

And, oh, how his body had bled.

He had been weak anyway. He'd been held captive for months, but according to Grindelwald during questioning afterwards, when he had been captured again, Credence had succeeded in escaping.

After arriving back from MACUSA that night, Graves had felt Credence's call; he had used the necklace. So he, Newt, Tina and Queenie had apparated there and found Credence before noticing Grindelwald and trying to use that spell against him.

But they had all hit Credence.

And he had been unconscious for three months.

Only Graves had the slightest hope that he would survive somehow.

- - - - -

Credence was suddenly aware that he had the ability to open his eyes. He squinted, letting as little light in as possible, in the attempt to prevent his eyes from hurting too much. After a minute or so he opened them fully and looked around.

He was home. He was in one of the guest bedrooms, on the bed. He twitched his fingers, and felt something in his left hand. He turned his head and saw the one thing he had longed for for so long.

Percival Graves.

The man was asleep, sat in a chair next to the bed. His head was resting on the edge of the mattress, at Credence's side, and he had his hand clutching Credence's. His face was drawn, and there were creases and lines where there used to be none, making him look older than he was. More of his hair had become more grey than black, although only subtly. It looked like he hadn't shaved in weeks, so his face was covered in overgrown stubble, although it hadn't quite become a beard.

Credence tried to sit up but an immense pain overtook his chest and his lungs felt on fire as he cried out in pain.

Graves' head jerked up with a start, and when his eyes fell on Credence's open ones he gave a cry of his own.

"Credence! My Credence!" He sobbed, reaching out a hand to brush Credence's cheek. "You're awake... You're alive..."

"What happened, Percy?" His voice was rough and scratchy.