In Finding My Honor

Chapter 20: The Boy Who Was Given All the Wrong Choices

"NO—!" Draco yelled, his eyes landing on Violet's now stilling body. He dropped to his knees, lifting her head to support it, "I-it's going to be okay...it'll be okay, just..." He couldn't think straight. Wand...Where's my wand? Fumbling in his back pocket he drew his wand, but he'd never been much good at healing spells, "Tergeo." Violet's lost blood siphoned away from her, clearing the wounds. He pressed two shaking fingers against her neck, waiting, just waiting. But the pulse never met his hand. In a storm of anger and despair, he slammed a fist against the ground; his white knuckled tinting with a vivid red.

She was gone. The girl who had changed his life, the girl who had taught him to feel, was gone. He wanted to hug her one last time; he wanted to explain to her everything; he wanted to apologize. He wanted to tell her that he was forced to separate himself from her, that he had still liked her, that pretending to hate her was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, that the Grindylow attack was a warning from the Death Eaters, that if they had continued their relationship not only themselves, but both their family would be at risk of the Dark Lord's wrath. Draco hiccupped as the first sob left his mouth, his hand wrapping around hers. How could this have happened? He had done everything he was told; he had followed every order.

The corridor was extremely dark, muttering a Lumos Maxima, a ball of cooling blue light lifted into the air. Draco looked back down at Violet. Her glazed eyes stared through him, landing blankly on the ceiling above.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" came a blood-wrenching screech behind him. He spun around on the floor in time to see the Weasley girl charge at him, wand outstretched.

"I didn't do anything!" Draco's arms rose to the air in defense.

"You...You killed her!" she shot a bolt of yellow light towards his face, he diffused it. She sent another and another and another. "Get away from her, you monster!"

"I said it wasn't me! She was dead when I got here! It was one of the Death Eaters..." He turned back to Violet, gripping her hand once again, and noting, with a stab to his heart, that it had become cold. "I didn't do anything..." yet that wasn't completely true, he had done everything. It was his actions that had led them all to this place, all of this stemmed from his decisions. Where had everything gone so wrong?

The She-Weasel inhaled sharply, about to argue, but stopped herself, the sound of her own knees making contact with the floor. No one spoke. It was truly a sight of pitiful anguish, he thought, as he saw them through a beetle shaped standing mirror opposite in the corridor. Draco pulled the girl up against his chest, holding her as the last bit of warmth drained from her body, Violet's now glassy eyes staring back at the reflection that she could no longer see.