𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 | 𝐃.𝐌

₄₁ ᴀᴄᴛ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

"Very good," The lord still slouched his throne, "Now her arm—"

What? Ava thought it was over. Had thought it was done, but she realized that a foolish thing to have hoped for.

Draco turned, facing Ava again, stepped forward and in one instantaneous movement, sliced the dagger over her bicep. Ava gasped, the pain blinding her for a moment but she was going to be strong. She was going to be brave. When her sight came back, Draco was heaving in front of her. She couldn't imagine what was going on inside his head.

"Very convincing," Voldemort said as he stood to his feet.

Ava watched him lower and pick up a dagger, Draco turned and she tried to retreat but she was chained in place, reminding her once again how helpless she was. Voldemort walked up to her and everyone had moved out of their Lord's way. Draco was still and did not move from in front of her. Even when Voldemort stood in front of him.

"What else must I do to prove to you that this girl means nothing to me?" Draco growled, "I am loyal to you. Not her. Not anyone. Only you, my Lord."

Such disgusting, hurtful words to hear him speak. But it was an act, a show for the Lord to save them both. This was an act of love, Ava told herself. This is what she gets for falling in love in the middle of a war.

"Then why did Kingsley and Barret say they saw you kissing her?" Voldemort asked.

"Because they are jealous of what I am," Draco said, "They want to be your high assassin. They want to be your general. They want to be everything that I am. They want me dead so they can take my place."

If Barret and Kingsley had any objections they didn't dare speak their truth.

Voldemort raised his chin and looked between Draco's eyes. Ava was most scared at that moment, especially because Voldemort was holding a dagger so close to Draco.

"I would never kiss her," Draco snarled, "how low do you think of me?"

"So you won't mind if I have my own fun with her?" Voldemort raised the dagger and Ava watched it twinkle.

Draco was stiff, frozen in place as he said, "Go ahead."

Voldemort stepped around Draco and looked Ava in the eyes, his head twisting and turning like a starved ravenous snake, "You fought well in the tournaments," he snarled, "I could see you being one of my best."

I only fought so well so I could kill you in the end, Ava wanted to say.

"It's such a pity that I have to do this to you," Voldemort said and then dragged his blade down her wrist, so much deeper than Draco went. So much more painful than Draco's cuts. So much more blood.

Ava screamed in pain. Screamed like it would ease the hurt somehow.

"But I just don't know if I believe my general or not," Voldemort began, "So the only thing to do is to kill you and either kill Draco or re-make him into the Assassin he is."

Re-make him like he is a broken toy.

Ava shook her head, begging him not to do it. Not to kill her, not to kill Draco. To leave them be.

Voldemort gripped Ava's shoulder, his nails digging into her skin, "so much skill wasted. It is such a pity—"

"Don't."

It all happened so fast. Ava looked past Voldemort who was now holding his dagger to her stomach. And Draco—you fool—was holding his blade to Voldemort's neck.

Draco was heaving with rage and desperation. And the other Assassins were holding their wands and swords up at Draco. Even Theo and Blaise who couldn't let their act drop. But they were not the fools, Draco was. Now they both are going to die. Ava would rather herself die than Draco. He was going to die, and Ava could not save him.

"You fool," Voldemort seethed, "you would choose a girl over your Lord—?"

"Don't you dare hurt her," Draco seethed right back.

"What happened?" Voldemort asked, "When did your loyalty for me die?"

Ava admired Draco's bravery but wanted to kill him herself for being so stupid and so reckless.

"It was never born," Draco snarled and Ava saw the little twitch of a grin as he said the words like he was proud, like he had been waiting long to speak the words.

Voldemort laughed.

"Let her go and drop your dagger or I'll slice open your neck," Draco warned, raising his voice.

He did. Voldemort let go of Ava and stepped back, dropping his dagger to the floor. It seemed easy. Far too easy. Ava watched Draco and Voldemort closely, waiting for disaster to happen.

And suddenly, it did. Voldemort somehow got out of Draco's hold and grabbed the dagger out of his hand. Draco was shoved to the floor and Voldemort gestured over to Kingsley and a masked Assassin and they grabbed Draco, yanking him up to his feet.

"Foolish. Foolish boy," Voldemort yelled, his saliva spitting out of his mouth. He approached Draco and held the dagger up at him, the dagger that still had Ava's blood on it. Draco did not flinch. Did not seem scared. But Ava was.

"Please. . . don't," Ava spoke, her voice quiet and her blood had made its way to her lips and would have made her look menacing if it wasn't for the terror that had wrecked her face.

Voldemort whipped his head to Ava and only then did Draco seem scared, "well, isn't this just adorable."

Draco struggled against the hands that were holding him in place and Ava's eyes were watering, terrified of how this would end.

"I'll do anything," Ava spoke, her bravery glistening with hope, "please. Please don't kill him."

Voldemort stepped away from Draco and her hope grew wilder. Draco continued to struggle against the hands that held him but it was a useless fight. Voldemort stood in front of Ava now, but it was okay, Ava told herself, as long as Draco lived. It was okay. Even if that meant she would die or be Voldemort's slave for the rest of her life. It was okay, she would do anything for the man that she loved.

It was okay if she never got to see the bright blue sky again or see her mum and dad. It would be okay.

Voldemort's skeletal hand reached up to her bloody cheek and gently stroked her skin, "You would have been a perfect Assassin if you hadn't been fooled by love. Love only gets you killed in this world."

Ava furrowed her brows, she could have sworn she just saw a hooded, cloaked figure jump across the beams above them. The ones that were high in the hall. But before she could react, before she could look closer. Something sharp and agonizing impaled her stomach.

Draco's cries and groans were nothing but a chaotic echo.

Ava looked down and saw blood pooling over Voldemort's hand. And then the realization hit her, he had stabbed her—

She doesn't want to die, she thought as she choked on her own blood. Her vision had started to blur but when she looked back up, she saw how pleased Voldemort looked with himself. She would never get the chance to kill him.

Voldemort yanked the Blade out of her stomach and Ava fell forward, her body swaying with the chains. She gasped for air, as if it would somehow save her, and looked over at Draco who was now face down on the stone floor and being held down by four assassins, he was growling with rage and all Ava could do was watch and fade away.

And die.

Voldemort laughed again. Deep and loud. And when Ava looked back up at Voldemort he looked as though he was about to stab her again, but then an arrow came out of the air and impaled his arm. He roared in pain.

"There are intruders," someone had burst through the doors and was yelling at Voldemort and then there was an explosion from Voldemort's throne. Ava wouldn't live to know anymore. There was no more strength in her body. Nothing. She let herself droop, her body hanging from the chains and death welcomed her.

It will be okay.

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