"Draco, get it over with!" I whimper, his wand raised at my chin.
His face contorts, and I assume his mind is filled with all of our memories. The day when I ran into him in Diagon Alley, or when he took me to Honeydukes, or the night we danced at the ball. Each memory painfully jabbing at my chest.
"If you're going to kill me, get it over with. Or don't," I whisper. My eyes are glazed with tears, and his are glistening as the moonlight shines on his pale face.
"Don't you understand?" he sobs. "I have to do this. I have to kill you." Draco's hand shakes as he struggles to point the wand at me.
"Then do it!" I shout. "Kill me! Just forget everything that happened between us. Please Voldemort, whatever. Just get it over with." I grit my teeth and continue to hold eye contact with the boy I love.
Draco shakes his head. "I c-can't," he stutters. "I love you." He slowly lowers his wand but my feet are still planted to the ground. I can't move.
For what could be an hour we just stare at each other. I stare at the boy I fell in love with. The boy who teased me, who took so much pride in himself, who I never imagined I could love. But would he have killed me if we didn't have a history? No doubt.
"Y/N," he says, breaking the silence. He crashes into me, his arms holding me so tightly as I'm heaving for breath. "I can't do this anymore." His tears dampen my robes, but all I care about is comforting him.
We sink to the ground and I rub his back to reassure him. "Shh, it's okay. You're done fighting, I forgive you. I love you." My voice is softer than usual. But he needs the comfort he never had. Draco's the boy who never had a choice.
