Little Miss Diggory || A Draco Malfoy Love Story

Chapter 66

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Snape hated himself for what he had done. I mean, how could he not? He had killed a man who trusted him, been forced to act like a Death Eater, and left the only family he had to fend for themselves. And now, he was about to give Layla away.

He had to tell them, or he would have failed Dumbledore's wishes. He had to tell them what time Harry would be moved. There was no doubt Layla would be there. How could he do this to her? He was a terrible uncle.

Those words circled his head as he strode towards the meeting place. As he entered the room, a familiar woman floated above a grand table, surrounded by Death Eaters. She looked almost lifeless. Emaciated, trembling and covered in dirt, cuts and bruises.

Guilt. This happened to be Snape's new favourite feeling. The quiet chatter among the group was silenced by Voldemorts menacing tone. "Severus," chills ran down Snape's spine as he caught sight of the pale so-called 'man.' "I was beginning to worry you had lost your way." Severus stood still, contemplating running out of the room and disappearing entirely. But he was quickly interrupted once again. "Come, we've saved you a seat."

There was no turning back. Severus was waist-deep, and there was no escaping the quicksand that slowly drowned him. He sat, regret swirling sickly in his stomach.

"You bring news I trust."

Five words sent him into an internal dilemma. But he couldn't let him down. This was the bare minimum he could do for the man he betrayed."It will happen Saturday next, at nightfall."

It was done.

But as Draco looked at Snape with pure disgust and hatred, he began to regret it.

If something happened and she got hurt, he would never forgive himself. In fact, he probably couldn't even go on living.

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Thrill. It seems to numb the pain, momentarily at least. Perhaps thats why Layla was putting her life on the line. But then again, maybe this was just who she was.

The order had arrived at Harry's by now. Everyone had had their catch-ups, and Layla and Harry had finally shared a hug after months of awkwardness. But now came the hard part, getting Harry out. A feeling, much like those Layla had felt before, surged in her stomach. Something was going to go wrong. Someone would get hurt. But something was different about today's feeling. She felt as though it was aimed at herself as well.

But she pushed the thought aside, not wanting to be selfish. Moody was explaining the plan to everyone as Arthur stood behind awkwardly in quite a humorous matter.

Moody scared Layla. She had met him during the tournament, and he considered her the real brains behind Cedric's strategy. But he wasn't all that bad. However, now, his voice was ominous. And as Layla looked at him, she got a feeling. Something was going to happen to him too.

Her thoughts were put aside by everyone's sudden movement. The people who would be taking the potion, which was said to taste so dreadfully, stood forward, including Daniel and herself. However, Charlie Weasley and Jemma stood back, angst on their faces.

"For those of you who haven't taken Polyjuice Potion before, fair warning: It tastes like goblin piss." I shook my head, a smile playing on my lips, matching the situation at hand terribly.

"Have a lot of experiences with that, do you, Mad-Eye?" Fred said, causing her to chuckle quietly. When Moody returned his comment with the disapproving eye, he said back, "just trying to diffuse the tension."

Everyone took a swig from the bottle and soon began to shrink and distort. Layla was only just shorter than Harry. So she grew slightly and felt her body grow broader and more muscular. It was an uncomfortable process. And as she finally became Harry, she grew dizzy, and her stomach swirled.

Gaining composure, she held herself up and began taking long breaths to avoid hurling all over the floor. "Wow, we're identical," two Harry's said, George and Fred. Layla giggled a little. Despite their history, they were once again on good terms.

"I didn't think I could dislike myself more..." She whispered, looking down at Harry.

After changing and going over the plan once again, Moody began pairing the Harry's with none Harry's. Layla previously expected she would be going with Jemma. But as Moody called out her and Chalie's name together, confusion overwhelmed her, as it did Jemma.

"What? No, she's going with me," Jemma protested. Moody scowled and reassured that Jemma would not be getting in the way of the thought out plan.

"Jemma," she whispered gently, knowing nothing was going to change. "It's Charlie. I'll be fine." Jemma looked down at her sister tearily before pulling her into a tight hug and reminding her to be careful as she had done to Charlie.

And now we are here, about to take off. Everyone was scared, worried for themselves. But somehow, Layla wasn't. She was more concerned for Moody. The feeling Layla had gotten had not faded.

She and Charlie were on a Thestral like Fleur and Bill were. And as they took off into the dark sky, she knew that was the last time she would see Moody. But it was too late to warn him, so instead, she held onto Charlie's waist, tears falling silently.

Cold air, dark sky, a bad feeling.

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Layla
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Things hadn't gone to plan. We had been flying for hours. They knew we were there. They were waiting for us.

A sharp pain was shooting through my leg, and warm blood trickled down me. The potion had worn off by now, and I was back to my thin, frail self. But I wasn't sure that was a good thing.

Charlie had gotten away relatively unscathed. I, on the other hand, had been hit numerous time, and once nearly my the killing curse. I could tell Charlie felt guilty that I had taken all the hits, but I assured him it would be fine, pushing aside the shakiness in her voice.

As the two of us landed cleanly on the ground, everyone was back and inside. I began to sob. Moody was dead. I knew it. I should have said something.

"Hey," Charlie said in a panicked tone, "what's wrong? Is the pain bad?" He helped me off the Thestral. Charlie slung my good arm around his shoulders. I had a gash on my leg and arm, and there was an undeniable nauseousness. "He's dead, Moody. I had a bad feeling, and I didn't say a thing." I felt terribly guilty. Should I have said something? Charlie calmed me down, assuring me that we couldn't be sure of what had happened.

As I hobbled into the house, George was laying on the couch, a mess of blood over his head. My eyes widened at the sight.

In such a state of shock, the only person who noticed our arrival was Jemma. She rushed over tears in her eyes as she noticed the blood and gashes that covered my body. She let out a cry of horror, holding me off the ground. Everyone's head turned towards us, faces turning pale.

A few people rushed over and began attempting to help. Even as I sat down, people fussed. But that's not what I needed. I didn't need to feel like the main character more than I already did.

"Stop," I pleaded. A few of the lot looked up confused but brushed away my comment. "Please stop," I said louder. "I-I, I'll be fine, just please." I needed space. My thoughts were louder than the pain.

"Layla-" Ron began sitting next to me.

"He's dead, isn't he? Moody?" I looked at the faces of everyone and got my answer. Tears poured down my cheeks. "I had a bad feeling from the start. I knew something was going to happen... To him specifically. I said nothing. God, how could I be so stupid."

People could try to tell me that this feeling's meant nothing, but they did. Every time I had them, something would go wrong.

And now, someone else had died.