a c c i o
{ this thing between us is a rickety bridge of impossible crossing }

You can't fight fate - it's there, not acknowledged, but there. Like your hands or eyes. You don't think they are there, do you? But they are, and what would you do without them, and what do you do with them?

Draco Malfoy didn't know.

The hall stood in the darkness, little air, no light, all stiff and suffocating and unhelpful. His frame against the door did not have its usual pride, the straight back that told you how haughty, how perfectly arrogant, its owner could be. It seemed limp, almost afraid. He closed his eyes, the long eyelashes drooping in the absence of light [and only because he knew he couldn't be seen here. He'd never have let go of his defenses in front of anyone, not even his mother] and then, his slender fingers curled gently but expertly round his wand, he pointed it in thin air.

"Accio - accio Ginny's locket."

He didn't chide himself for stumbling over the words, for the knot in his stomach, or the lump in his throat. He only clasped his hand round the familiar golden ornament, and then let it drop to the floor.


Song credit: Set Fire to Flames. <3