𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐄 - 𝐝.𝐦.

𝟏𝟏𝟎 - 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬

—

LMAOOOOO

celeste's pov

—

I nearly black out the moment my feet touch the ground.

Draco tries to wrap his arms around me to pull me steady, but it seems as though he's feeling as weak as I am as we both collapse to the grass below us. I'm not sure where my glasses are — certainly not on my face — but I don't care enough, simply letting my muscles go limp on the slightly dewy ground. I feel the wind, gentle like a kiss, brush against my cheek, making the grass tickle my skin. My wrist is throbbing where the Dark Mark lies, as though the black imprint in my skin is trying to crawl out.

I'm tangled with Draco, not sure whose arm or leg is whose. It takes me more energy than it should to peel my eyes open and see that my glasses lie in the bit of grass between us. It takes even more energy to pick my hand up, grab them, and slide them over my face. I blink. They cracked in all the commotion, though I'm not really sure how. When my vision clears, I see Draco already watching me through low lids and pale lashes. His face is drained of what minimal color it ever had, but the highest points of his cheeks are flush pink.

He raises a lazy hand to take my wand from mine. "Reparo," he whispers, tapping the very tip against the bridge of my glasses.

"Your wand," I murmur weakly, and his hand falls back onto the grass.

"Mm. We keep spares at home. S'alright," he responds tiredly, eyes fluttering shut.

"Draco..."

"Mm."

"Why did you... Why didn't you say it was him? It was him. You knew it was him, right?" I mumble, turning onto my back to look up at the sky.

It is dark out, but I think it's only the storm clouds which make it look that way. They are thick, billowing, cast a dark shadow over us. I see a flash of lightning afar, but no thunder or rain to accompany it. Where did I bring us? A slight turn of my head reveals the Zabini manor. Somewhere inside, Blaise is likely sitting in his room flipping through a Quidditch newsletter. His mother is likely attending to her latest suitor, and my mother is likely waiting for me to come home. 

"I didn't want to see him die," he sighs quietly, so long after I've asked that I nearly forget what he's even talking about.

I turn to him. He too is staring up at the sky, eyes looking slate grey through fluttering lashes. His hair is a mess, falling over his eyebrows. He's cold, I can tell, from the way the tip of his nose begins burning the very shade of pink that Pansy abhors so much.

"You hate Potter," I murmur, watching a blade of grass brush against his neck. "Can't stand the bastard."

"Doesn't mean I want to see him die. Anymore, I mean."

Then the rain begins. The little droplets descend from the heavens, pattering against the grass, the stone pathway, and the manor's roof in a quiet symphony of tears. The rain kisses my skin tenderly, making me shiver as it makes me even colder. Draco instantly pulls his arm around me and tugs me towards his chest. It's cold, freezing even, but I close my eyes and welcome the raindrops as they fall onto my cheek and slide down towards my neck. It is as though I can feel them cleaning me and purifying my body, sinking into each and ever rune that litters my skin and picking up the pigment to fall with them onto the ground. When I open my eyes, though, I still see the little tattoos across my hands. But it feels as though the earth is breathing beneath me and the sky is crying above me.