𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐄 - 𝐝.𝐦.

𝟏𝟏𝟐 - 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞

—

will we ever learn ? we've been here before

—

CELESTE

"Celeste!"

The sound of my name echoing from the Slytherin Common Room brings my attention from the mirror to my door. I frown softly, my fingers still working on entangling the bit of hair that got caught in the clasp of my necklace.

"Cel—" 

The door slams open. It was locked, I'm sure of it, and I heard no spell uttered to open it. There stands Draco, face flushed and pink lips parted to give way to the air that allows his chest to rise and fall with great drama. He's shoved it open with sheer force, with sheer panic maybe that makes my pulse spike without even knowing why.

"Draco?" I question softly, feeling my heart slowly drift down to my feet. I am filled with cold, white dread, and the silence between us is thicker than the fog in my chest. 

"I ran into Carrow," he continues to pant softly, knuckles white from his tight grip on the door knob. "Amycus. Celeste..."

"Draco, what is it?"

"Alecto pressed her Mark. She's called him over, Celeste. She's found Potter." Draco swallows thickly, a strand of hair falling into his right eye. "It's happening, Celeste. Tonight. Now."

My throat turns remarkable dry, as though someone has shoved chalk dust down my mouth. I waver slightly where I stand, letting his words run through my head over and over until the echoes sound like incomprehensible gibberish.

"Did you hear me, Cel?" Draco steps towards me, grabbing my cold hands into his feverish ones and giving me a gentle shake. "He's coming, now, but we still have enough time to leave. We can run."

"You can run," I murmur under my breath, my eyes unfocused yet on his chin.

"What? I didn't hear—"

"I said you can run," I repeat myself louder this time, squeezing his fingers. The cool of the metal is a sharp bite in contrast to his warm callouses. "I told you already, didn't I? That I plan to fight. Against him. I meant it, so I'm not running. But you can run."

He shakes his head. "Celeste... You know I'm not going anywhere without you."

My eyes lift to his, vision a little blurred. "But you won't fight against him, will you?"

I'm responded to with silence.

"You'll fight with him?"

More silence, but he breaks it before I can. "If you won't leave, then I won't. I'll stay. But not to fight — I'm staying to protect you."

"I don't need pro—"

"Shut up. I don't care who it is, if anyone shoots a spell at you — I mean anyone — that's what I'll stay for. Doesn't matter who it is," he spits, his hands shaky yet his voice steadier than ever before.

I spare him an ironic smile, glancing down at the watch sitting on his wrist. He wants to protect me. Of course — why wouldn't we both want the same thing? Only thing is that I have a better plan to do so, just as it should be. He's looking at me with almost pleading eyes when I look back up. It makes it impossible not to lean up and press my lips against his. So I do just that, embracing the warmth of his face against mine. He pulls me into him tightly, fingers pressing into my back and messing up the way my shirt is tucked into my skirt. I hold him just as closely, pulling him back every time I feel him pulling away even slightly.