Across any Divide

Chapter 18

Riddle and Malfoy said nothing as they let themselves out. Twin puddles of vomit had been vanished from the floor of Bonaccord's dorm room, and the witch was no where in sight.

Not that Malfoy had much to say - his mind was still reeling. What the actual fuck had just happened?

Bonaccord - his mirror match. That's what had just happened. She was his... soulmate? The word didn't fit. Not to her. Not when the image of her, gun aimed directly at him, was still burned into his mind.

"Fucking psychopath," Riddle mumbled under his breath as he limped beside Draco. Malfoy was inclined to agree with him - what the fuck kind of witch turned her wand into a gun? A fucking gun of all things; dirty, messy muggle killing machine.

His pocket was heavy with the healing potion Bonaccord had given him - he hadn't had the courage to take it. She'd nearly shot him - how was he supposed to trust a potion from her? Much less one that came in an unlabeled, unidentifiable black bottle.

No, he'd rather slit his own throat. Better to go out by his own hand than hers.

"I'm going to kill her," Riddle seemed to forget that Malfoy walked beside him as they came to a stop in front of their adjacent dorm rooms. "I swear - give me half a chance and that lunatic witch is dead."

Draco couldn't form words to respond. That lunatic - the witch that had held him at gunpoint, the girl he had spent weeks staring into a mirror searching for.

Soulmates.

He was going to be sick.

His dignity demanded that Draco vomit in private this time. He barely made it to his bathroom in time before his stomach churned and he emptied his stomach's contents again.

Fucking witch - what was she doing to him? He hadn't been sick to his stomach in years - not since his first kill. Her grass green eyes wavered in front of his swimming gaze, and Malfoy retched again.

He was out of time. He was fucked. What was he left with? Help Riddle kill her, or... pay her off? Marry her?

He retched again at the last thought.

No. Looking at her, his destiny and fate all in one, standing in front of him, gun aimed at his testicles, he'd choose Azkaban.

Azkaban or death over her.

His jaw tightened, and he fought for control over his body's instincts. No more. No more being controlled. No more letting others make his decisions for him.

And no more Bonaccord.

______________

It took him four hours and half a bottle of firewhiskey to decide to leave his dorm room. He'd just stepped into the corridor when a sound across from him had his head snapping up. Riddle was emerging from his dorm room, looking just as drunk and in pain as Draco felt.

"What're you doing?" Riddle's words were slurred, his gaze blurry and eyes ringed in red.

"Looking for Nott," Malfoy gestured towards the common room with his hand that held the liquor bottle clenched in his fist.

Sheepishly Riddle withdrew a bottle of scotch and shrugged. "I suppose I was looking for a nightcap."

Malfoy squinted, trying to narrow the three Matteo's he was seeing down to one. "Let's go, then."

The boys fell into step together, each leaning on opposite walls to manage to walk straight. They followed the corridor until the wall opened up into the Slytherin common room. The vast space was mostly empty - the bar was neglected, most students long since gone to bed.