Preview
❛Magic is neither good nor evil. Is a knife evil? The answer is no, only if the wielder is.❜
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❛You are a weapon, Miss Collins, and weapons do not weep.❜
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“Today of all days,” The Dark Lord hissed, the depths of his piercing gaze unwavering as he stared straight into the agate blue eyes that had started to shed their tears; up until that point Draco had remained remarkably calm – just as they had planned – but his resolve had started to crumble every second that Darcy remained under the cruciatus curse. The Dark Lord had seen right through the act the second the red-haired witch had apparated into the manor – the way Draco’s eyes followed her protectively, the way his body would turn slightly to the left after every blow, as if he wanted to turn away completely. “See how the most dangerous thing is to love.”
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“Tell me, little oracle,” Voldemort drawled, his forked tongue flicking out to taste the air once as he wandered closer towards the girl who continued her visual assault. “Have the stars foretold my passing? Have they whispered my downfall into your ear?“*
“They don’t need to. Whether it’s tomorrow or twenty years from now, you will meet death eventually – just like the rest of us. He will come to take you by the hand, and I have it on good authority that he will show no mercy.”
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"Promise me you’ll stay," Fred pleaded quietly, his words gargled as if he were speaking through water. No, not water: blood. “Please stay with me.” There was a far away look in his eyes, his gaze trained only on the witch’s face before him as she cradled his head in her lap.
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Darcy barely registered Draco’s hands hauling her up from the ground, her name chanting from his lips as she fought to catch her breath in panic. In a moment of weakness, Darcy allowed herself to collapse against Draco’s chest – his arms the only thing keeping her up and tethered to the Earth as she sobbed with grief. Draco didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around Darcy’s small frame, his other hand snaking up to grasp the back of her neck as her face buried itself in his chest. He took deep, controlling breaths to steady himself, willing enough strength for the both of them as Darcy’s tears started to soak through his shirt and onto his skin.
“Th-they’re really gone. They’re gon-ne.” Darcy choked out, her voice muffled by the dark soft material pressed against her face while her blooded, scraped fingers dug into Draco’s shoulders as she repeated the words over and over again until they no longer sounded like anything at all. The wizard kicked a single heel out, sweeping Darcy’s weak feet out from under her swiftly, causing her legs to give out. He caught her easily, sinking down to the floor as he cradled her as one would do a hurt child. Darcy couldn’t suppress her shudders, the familiar warmth of Draco’s embrace igniting a blazing bonfire in the pit of her empty stomach. Draco allowed his fingers to tangle in the witches curls, his grip on her borderline painful, but he knew as well as Darcy did that it was the only thing keeping all her little broken pieces together. He rocked her from side to side, the same way his mother used to do for him, as he shushed her with his mouth pressed to the crown of her head.
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“We made those plans because you promised to be there with me the whole time, Draco!” She yelled, shameful tears burning a trail down her face while a blurry vision offered nothing but his trembling smile. Darcy hated that look, that blasted expression the Malfoy heir had learned from her – the glimmer that slid over his features that screamed he had already accepted what was to come next. “I can’t do this without you! I won’t! I only did all of this because-!”
"I have loved you in all the ways my heart will let me," Draco soothed, his voice carrying an apology and goodbye that was all wrapped up into one as his fingers skimmed over her falling tears.
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“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
~~
