Angel of spring ✩ HP

𝚈𝟼 ࿐ 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚛

ᴀɴɢᴇʟ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴘʀɪɴɢ - 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙭

The days pass slowly, each one more agonising than the last. Draco is healing, but the distance between him and Angel feels growing, a chasm of unspoken tension and danger that she knows she must address. When she finally sees him in the corridors of Hogwarts, his face still pale but composed, she makes up her mind.

She finds him near the entrance of the Slytherin common room, his posture stiff, his eyes darting nervously around as though anticipating someone might be watching. Her heart pounds as she approaches, her footsteps soft but purposeful, knowing this conversation might end up like most of the others—fighting.

"Draco," she calls softly, her voice almost pleading. He stops but doesn't turn immediately, his shoulders tensing as though he knows what's coming. She steps in front of him, blocking his path. And when the two of them less expect it, she hugs him. A hug of relieve, of asking for forgiveness, of all at once.

His grey eyes meet hers when she pulls apart, cold and distant, the shadows under them darker than ever. "What are you doing." His voice is flat, emotionless.

"Draco, please," she says, barely able to keep the tremor from her voice. "Just don't do it. Stop trying. Don't kill him. Not for him, not for anyone. Just for yourself—Draco, It'll destroy you."

Draco's face hardens instantly, his jaw tightening as if her words have struck a nerve. "You don't understand." His voice is low, dangerous. "I have no choice."

"You do," Angel insists, stepping closer, her eyes searching his. "You always have a choice. Please, this isn't you. You're not a murderer. This will ruin you. You'll hate yourself for the rest of your life."

The flicker of something vulnerable flashes in his eyes, but it's quickly replaced by anger. "Draco—" Without warning, he pulls out his wand, his movements sharp. "Stupefy!"

Angel gasps as the spell hits her, sending her back a few feet, dazed but still standing. She barely has time to recover before Draco shoves her against the cold stone wall, his hand gripping her shoulder, his face twisted in fury.

"Stop trying to save me!" he snaps, his breath hot and fast as it mingles with hers in the close, suffocating space. "I'm well. I'm doing what's right. To keep my bloodline, to keep my family. I don't need saving!"

"You will," Angel says through gritted teeth, her voice breaking but determined. "You'll live a life with no true love. You'll lose everything—"

"I love you." he spits, his voice harsh, almost mocking. "Myself, and mother. We're purebloods. You don't need to prove a point by tainting our family for him."

Angel's chest tightens at the venom in his words and the change of subject, but she doesn't flinch. "You're brainwashed." She states. "You've been fed lies all your life, about purity, about blood. It isn't like that. Love isn't about that."

Draco's grip on her tightens as his eyes blaze with cold fury. "He's the one who's brainwashed you," he hisses, his face inches from hers. "You're the one who's changed, Angel. Not me. I'm doing what I have to do to make things right. To get father out of those walls."

Her heart clenches at the mention of Lucius, but she doesn't waver. She knows the cost of this mission Draco has been burdened with, and she knows it will break him beyond repair if he goes through with it. "And at what cost? Your soul?" Her voice softens, but the pain is clear. "I love you." She lets the words sink in, the words they have never said to each other but that now seem the right thing to say. "Too much to let you do this to yourself."