the girl with all of the choices

o n e h u n d r e d t w e n t y

6044 words

may second- the end of the world as we know it

~ Addie ~

His eyes were a dark grey that I hadn't seen since the night Dumbledore had died, right before he made me promise to go, to leave, to keep myself safe. The dark grey only came out when he was hurting, really hurting.

It felt like we were standing there for an eternity, staring at each other, neither of us daring to move and pop the bubble that ew found ourselves in, fearing that if we did, the entire world would come crumbling down around us before we ever reached each other. Then I heard his voice in between my ears, a desperate croak, "Addie."

And we were both moving. Except, my hands were fumbling for my wand, doubting wholeheartedly that this was actually happening, that this was real and that he was here, Remus's warning echoing around in my mind. The others didn't like my idea.

Blaise was the first to speak up, shouting after me, "Corbyn what the fuck are you doing?"

Pansy was next, her voice shrill as she realized what was happening. "Adds, I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Maybe we should all just calm down," Theo suggested, his voice booming as he followed me, Draco stopping as soon as he realized what I was doing, his hands flying up near his ears, a wand not in either of them. 

His eyes were hot on mine, almost daring me to do it, his mouth moving and words tumbling out before I could shut him up with my query. "Don't you fucking dare."

"What, um," I stammered, reaching into the furthest depths of my mind to find a question that only he would remember the answer to. "What class did we get detention for in fourth year?" 

He was angry when he snapped back, "Are you mad-" 

"What class!" 

"Fucking Potions! This is the first time I see you in four months and now you're pointing your wand at me and asking questions?"

Potions. Potions was the answer. We were in Potions when Snape gave us detention. We seemed to get detention frequently for that class. Only Draco, the real Draco, would have cared enough to remember that. I doubted Fawn could remember that. He wasn't polyjuiced. It meant that he was real, that the battered and bruised boy standing in front of me was him, that he was real, that he was here.

My wand clattered to the floor a moment later as the sobs overtook me. He was here. He was real. He was alive. His eyes flashed for a moment, hesitant and unsure as his hands lowered and then I was in his arms and he was real and he was holding me and everything was okay for a minute. His chest was warm and his hands were around my waist and his hair smelled like his hair, minty and fresh and a little burnt but it felt as if thunderstorms with his scent were rolling in with every gasp that broke through my lips. 

And with every cry that passed through my lips, he gripped me tighter, his large frame towering over me as I buried my face into the crook of his neck and the space remaining between us obliterated itself even further. 

I could feel his mumblings against the side of my neck, into my hair, the vibrations of his voice wrapping around my insides and warming them even through the cold and the numbness that had set in as soon as I watched a blonde head of hair drop to the ground. And suddenly I was reminded that he might have been here, he might have been holding me, but everything was not okay. 

My knees buckled slightly, but his hold on me was tight enough that I barely budged. His voice was coarse, rough and gritty and emotional in a tone I knew he would use whenever it was that we reunited, whispering, "It's all right. I've got you. You're okay. We're okay."