We crawled through the small hole at the bottom of the trunk after freezing the Whomping Willow. Me leading the way, Draco following behind.
"Etta, wait," Draco rasped the second I dropped down into the tunnel and started to race up ahead. I skidded to a halt, wheeling round to face him.
"What?" I asked as I impatiently jogged on the spot, keen to go and get this done. I had a bitch to fry.
Draco, however, did not seem to share the same enthusiasm as my awesome self.
Body drooping, pale grey eyes looked exhaustedly into mine as he propped himself up against the tunnel wall, clutching a hand to his chest. His white-blond hair was now dirty in colour, falling messily around his soot and blood streaked face. His normally immaculate black suit was crumpled, filthy and torn.
My heart immediately twisted and I ran straight back to him, pulling his wearied body to mine, hoping to give him some of my strength. His arms clamped around me, hands clinging to my back, and I heard him sigh as he nuzzled his face in my hair, welcoming my embrace.
"I'm sorry, Etta," he murmured despairingly above my ear, "I just can't do this, the thought of taking you to him is killing me."
"Draco, listen to me," I said, bringing my hands up to cup his face and forcing him to look into my eyes. "I've got to do this, this has to be done. You do understand that, don't you?"
Closing his eyes, he slowly nodded, his face screwed up in pain. I reached up on tiptoes, pressing my lips hard against his, desperate for him to draw comfort from me. His arms tightened around me, pulling me closer as a huge, shuddering sob escaped him.
"Look, I can go on from here alone," I offered, suddenly feeling desperate to get a move on. I couldn't have anyone holding me back, no matter how hot they were. "Why don't you go and find your mother? She's probably worried."
I had not meant for it to come out sounding as though I was taking the piss, but when you have had a rivalry for as long as ours, it was difficult to keep the ridicule out of my voice.
"I'm not fucking leaving you to face him by yourself!" Draco hollered, looking completely affronted by my suggestion.
I could feel the familiar stirrings of frustration that only Draco Malfoy could evoke in me. And despite this being neither the time nor the place, I could not help but throw a little snide dig at him.
"Wouldn't be the first time," I scoffed, recalling our first year's detention in the Forbidden Forest when he literally ran away screaming from a silly little monster, probably wetting his pants in the process.
He looked as though he was going to argue, but then he paused, a familiar and almost forgotten glint in his eye as he met my defiant stare.
"Alright, Potter," he said, a smirk twitching at his lips as he grabbed my hand. "You're not getting rid of me that easily anymore."
And without another word, he strode on, leading the way to the Shrieking Shack.
That's my boy.
*****
I knew we were close when my scar started prickling.
"Etta?" Draco asked, a deep frown etched upon his face when I could not help but wince from a particular painful twinge.
"It's nothing," I dismissed, not wanting to upset him any further. "It's normal when He's close by."
"Your scar?"
"Yes-" I was cut off as a sudden excruciating pain tore through my head, forcing me to cry out and clasp my hands to my scar.
"Etta!" I felt hands grappling at my arms but I couldn't respond, the pain was so terrible that I was convinced my head was going to split open.
And then, in my mind, Snape's face appeared. He looked afraid. Very afraid.
The pain stopped at once and my eyes flew open. Draco's worried face was right in front of mine, his hands gripping my arms tightly.
"Etta?" he demanded, shaking me, "what's happening?"
"Snape's with him. I think he's going to kill him." I gasped breathlessly, my heart thudding noisily against my ribs, threatening to burst from my chest.
A look of fear flitted across Draco's face. But he was quick to recover this time as a determination flashed fiercely in his eyes.
"Come on," he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me along, "let's go."
We were practically running now, stumbling and tripping our way along the tunnel, the throbbing in my scar getting fiercer and fiercer.
And then, finally we reached it. The Shrieking Shack.
Draco climbed out of the tunnel first, and then reached down to help pull me up. Finding ourselves at the bottom of a dark stairway, we slowly turned on the spot with our wands gripped tightly in our hands, trying to work out where to go.
"Over here," Draco whispered, as he crouched down by the wall beneath the stairs, beckoning for me to join him.
There was a light shining out of a small gap between two wooden slats. I crouched down next to Draco and carefully peered through it. On the other side of the wall stood Voldemort, his back to us as he faced Snape, whose fearful dark eyes were fixed upon the coiling serpent at Voldemort's feet.
My scar once again exploded with pain, and I had to press my fist hard against my mouth to stop myself from crying out. Draco's arm instantly drew around me as he pulled me close. I screwed my eyes tight shut and buried my face in his shoulder until the pain subsided.
And then we had to sit there and listen to Voldemort harp on about how much he wanted to kill me and that the only way he could possibly achieve the outcome of my death was by killing his most 'loyal' servant first.
I mean, all the thick twat had to do was turn around and throw a knife in my heart. But sure, kill Snape first, whatever helps him to sleep at night, I guess.
"It cannot be any other way," Voldemort insisted when Snape tried to reasonably point this out too. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."
Ew, this dude was talking about me as though I was some kind of freaking prized puppet for him to play with.
Inevitably, Snape got butchered by Voldemort's snake. I'm not going to lie, it wasn't a pretty sight.
Blood spewed everywhere.
"Where are you going?" Draco hissed as I pelted for the door to the room where Voldemort had just left our old Potions Master lying in his own blood.
But I didn't answer, my mind only on the dying man on the other side.
I entered the room as quietly as I could, and there, slumped on the floor against the far wall was Snape, white faced as his fingers tried to staunch the bloody wound at his neck.
I strode over and looked down upon the man that had done nothing but bully and belittle me throughout my entire Hogwarts life. His black eyes widened upon seeing seeing me and, as he opened his mouth, a terrible rasping, gurgling noise issued from his throat.
Not so full of yourself now, are you, Snivellus?
Feeling in a forgiving mood, however, I dropped heavily to my knees and pressed my hand to his bleeding wound, but I could see it was no use. With the little strength he had left, Snape clasped my wrist and looked deep into my eyes.
And to my horror, he started to cry.
"Take them..."
I stared at him, confused. What the fuck was he on about now?
"Take them!"
And then I noticed the tears from his eyes had turned a silvery blue colour, and I suddenly understood.
"Please."
Before I could work out how on earth I was to collect them, a glass flask was pressed into my hand and I looked up to see Draco stood behind me. He swallowed as our eyes met and I nodded a silent thank you to him.
My hands trembling, I tilted the flask against Snape's ashen cheek, letting the silvery blue tears flow within.
"They are the same..."
I searched Snape's face, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. But he just stared at me in wonder, as though lost in my eyes. I tried not to visibly shudder. He was dying, after all.
"You have your mother's eyes..."
And then his face slackened, and something in the depths of his eyes vanished. The hand holding my wrist thudded to the ground.
Damn, I thought as he moved no more. My mother dodged a bullet there.
***