REBEL

23. STEEL GREY

23. STEEL GREY

I scream. And scream, and scream, and scream.

And I don't stop. Not even when someone removes my hands from Draco's face and pushes themselves between me and his unmoving form.

I stagger back, land on my bottom and fall into a state of shock. Then I watch, paralyzed, as Harry produces his Return Portkey, wraps a hand around Draco's upper arm and disappears with him. As if he could save him. As if he wouldn't bring a dead body back to headquarters.

It's only when the cloud of ash that has been hovering motionless in the air dissipates that my voice deserts me. I close my mouth, inhaling sharply through my nose.

Emptiness.

That's all I feel now. Not only has the warmth disappeared, but also the fury, the sorrow, the resignation. There is simply nothing left. Just like he is no more.

I expected everything, but not that only one of us would lose their life; that I would be the one left behind; that he could leave me.

"A shame," cackles one of the few voices in this world that I loathe with all my heart, even if it doesn't sound quite as disgustingly jubilant as usual. "Two of the most prestigious bloodlines of our time, wiped out because of a Mudblood. Our ancestors will turn over in their graves."

As if in slow motion, I turn my head and stare over at Bellatrix.

She's kneeling on the floor — right in front of the still-bubbling cauldron on the coffee table, between the lifeless bodies of her husband and brother-in-law and with the tip of an all-too-familiar wand at her throat.

Ron is standing behind her, breathing heavily, but despite his battered appearance he makes a stable impression. His eyes are clear and his grave gaze is on me, expectant. Blood is dripping from his temple onto his shoulder holster, but the laceration that is responsible for it doesn't look life-threatening. I involuntarily wonder how long he has been awake; how long he has been pretending to be unconscious and waiting for the right moment. It occurs to me that he might even have been able to prevent Draco's death, but I wait in vain for the anger that I've become so accustomed to in recent years to flare up.

No, there is nothing. Only this emptiness.

I slowly scramble to my feet, shake the Cruciatus-induced tremor from my limbs and stomp over to Rodolphus with determination. I kick him hard enough to make him roll onto his back, then crouch down and search him until I feel the familiar wood of my wand under my fingertips. I pull it out of the inside pocket of Rodolphus' robes, straighten up and step in front of Bellatrix.

"Wrong," I say emotionlessly, before pointing my wand directly at her forehead.

Her dark eyes dart wildly back and forth between mine. I think I see something akin to fear flickering in them, but even at this sight, I feel nothing. Not even triumph. There is only this all-consuming emptiness.

"Teddy Lupin is alive," I remind her. "He's growing up in a safe place, protected and loved. The Black bloodline will continue and in a few seconds, for the very first time, it will be truly pure."

At my last words, I make use of a grimace I don't even remotely feel, forcing my tear-streaked face into a spiteful grin.

Bellatrix's right eyelid twitches.

"Once you're dead, Bellatrix, there's only the good part of your kin left," I continue in a whisper. "Then your beloved family tree will finally be free of all rotten apples. All that will remain are your sisters Narcissa and Andromeda and little Teddy Lupin."

Bellatrix juts her chin out defiantly.

"At least now there's no risk of Draco sullying our reputation by fathering another half-breed," she hisses disparagingly.