Of Doves and Dragons

Chapter Thirty-one: The Choices We Make

"The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken. Remember the pact of our youth. Where you go, I'm going. So jump, and I'm jumping. Since there is no me without you."

-Gangs of Youth, Achilles Come Down

As soon as the dust had settled; meaning Narcissa had let go of Draco, Lucius had stopped berating the air (as no one was listening to him), and Bellatrix had finally left the room, Ember grabbed Draco's arm and hauled him up the stairs and into their room.

He was a little shocked at her urgency but let her maneuver him at her will, having none left of his own. When she shut the door behind them she held her hand out expectantly, her face hard. "Wand," She demanded, leaving no room for argument.

Exhausted, hurt, and only mildly curious, he passed her his wand easily. "Why do you want my-"

"MUFFLIATO!" Ember commanded pointing the wand towards the walls. A resounding muffled blimp bounced off the walls and ensured that their conversation would not be heard.

Whatever respite Draco had been given was suddenly ripped from beneath his feet and he felt the tension in his muscles return. Apprehensively, with blue eyes that burned, Draco asked slowly, "Em, what is going on?"

She turned back to him with compassionate eyes, grabbing back on to his lapels and giving him a once over. "Are you okay?" She asked in response, backing him up into their bed until his knees were knocked from underneath him. She stood in the open space between his legs with his face in her hands. Her eyes an angry shade of green, having been agitated between too many emotions, settled only on concern as she caressed his jaw and nibbled on her bottom lip.

"I'm fine." He assured, taken aback by her heavy gaze. "Sore beyond belief but thanks to you, I'm fine."

She chuckled humorlessly, "Thanks to me." She murmured, a guilty expression taking over her features.

He grabbed her waist with one hand and her wrist with the other. Her expression frightened him, for it was nearly identical to the look in her eyes at the entrance hall of Hogwarts where he silently begged her to return to this nightmare. "What is it?" He whispered, blindly hoping that he would be able to take it, whatever it was.

She shook her head and he was startled to find her eyes glassy and unsure. "I don't want you to hate me." She whispered so softly that his ears had to strain to hear it.

He squeezed her wrist that was still cupping his cheek. "Sweetheart, I could never hate you."

Her eyes flitted over his face as if memorizing the slopes and lines of him. "I'm leaving. Tonight." She said with great conviction.

The air was stolen from his lungs, as if a hand had reached down his throat, grabbed his heart in a vice like grip, and squeezed. His world, that was already spinning out of control from the telling moments of the night, began to blur in dizzying flashes until nothing made sense.

Her head shook as she looked beseechingly into his eyes. "I can't do this; be here with them, with him, anymore Drake. I can't. I won't be a piece to be manipulated any more than I already have been."

"We've been over this Em," He spoke carefully, fully understanding the weight of this choice and knowing that he was about to fall head first into the unconceivable unknown. "We can't just leave. He'd hunt us down. We wouldn't make it two days out there."

Her hand dropped from his face, but he held it tight to his chest before she could pull away any further. "No." She argued, stubbornly. "We could do it."