Our Hearts Desire

3.15 - Episkey

2.2k words

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(Y/n)'s POV

Rage simmered within me as I marched down the corridor, my eyes scanning for a familiar blonde figure, fully aware of where he was likely to be. As I rounded a corner, I spotted him in the courtyard, surrounded by his friends, talking and laughing. One of them noticed me headed their way and nudged Draco, prompting him to glance in my direction.

Without hesitation, I seized his arm and pulled him away from the group. "I need to speak to you for a moment," I said firmly, my tone leaving no room for argument.

His friends erupted in a chorus of teasing whistles as we hurried away, and he had to quicken his pace to keep up with mine. "What's going on?" he asked, confusion lacing his voice. I remained silent, guiding him into an empty classroom and shutting the door behind us. With a whispered spell, I locked it, ensuring our privacy. "Ah, I see. You couldn't wait until later," he remarked, his voice smooth and playful—a sound that usually made my heart race, but not today.

I turned to him, my expression a mask of fury. "No, Draco, I didn't bring you in here for that."

He folded his arms and tilted his head slightly, his expression curious as he picked up on my frustration. "What's this about then?"

"Buckbeak," I said flatly, my voice barely a whisper. My heart broke for the creature and it broke for Hagrid too, watching him cry over it was one of the saddest things I had to witness.

He sighed deeply. "What about it?" His tone was careful, as if he were walking on eggshells. He knew, he had to know, I don't know why he was acting so ignorant right now.

I moved closer, and pressed my wand against his chest. "He's going to be executed." My voice quivered with a mix of anger and desperation, "All because of you."

He uncrossed his arms, his gaze locked on the wand pressing into him, surprise flickering across his face. Slowly, he reached out, taking the wand from my hand and lowering it. "I can't change that, (y/n). It wasn't my decision."

"It may not have been your decision, but you certainly influenced it." Tears filled my eyes. A beautiful and innocent soul was on the verge of leaving this world simply because he chose to act like a spoiled child.

He threw his arms up in frustration, "What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know!" I shouted, running my fingers through my hair as a tear slipped down my cheek. "Maybe you could talk to your father." According to what Hagrid told us, it was his testimony that determined Buckbeak's fate.

He shook his head firmly, his expression hardening like stone. "I can't do that."

"Can't or won't?" I shot back, my tone sharp.

"Can't," he answered, his voice measured, the word carefully chosen as if he were weighing the consequences of every syllable. "And even if I tried, he wouldn't listen to me."

My frustration erupted, a volcano of emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface. I pushed him, my hands pressing against his chest, feeling the solidness of him beneath my palms. He stumbled back, hurt flashing in his eyes. "Well you better find a solution, because if he dies, I swear I'll never speak to you again." The gravity of my words lingered in the air, heavy and unyielding, and I meant every one of them.