My first attempt at Harry Potter fic. Forgive vagueness and badness; I hope it makes some sense
Fifteen feet.
This is the first thought that crosses Draco's mind when the tips of his boots graze the divider. Followed by the one that questions his sanity, and the one that notes the way the waxing moon casts his empty shadow out beneath him.
How long, he muses, would it take for him to fall?
The narrow bridge is empty of cars, and people, and anything but himself. He is alone. In the night. And this is the way he has planned it.
The cold bites at him through the heavy cloak around his shoulders, and through the hood hiding him from the world. Gray eyes stare vacant and dull through the holes in the white mask that rests across his face.
Draco doesn't remember stepping on to the edge of the bridge, but he sees below him the rushing water and feels his stomach drop.
He is coward.
And standing silent in the dark, he knows it.
He is Afraid. Afraid to turn back to meet the end of a wand he deserves. Afraid to keep running. And he is afraid to fall.
But this is what Draco deserves.
He is a failure.
And standing silent in the dark, he knows it.
The hood of his cloak falls back, and he shudders. This is it. The coward's way, because he is afraid, and because in all ways he is a failure.
But he does not want to die.
And standing silent in the dark, he knows it.
The wind is blowing. He hears it in the trees, echoing, in his bones. And for a moment he is flying, falling. And for a moment he is -
The water is cold. Suffocating. Burning. He is floating, drowning, underneath, and above. He chokes on it, gagging. The water is cold. Suffocating. Burning. And there is so much that is dark.
And he wants to live.
He is breathing. He hits the rocks, hard, gasping. Someone is on top of him, leaning, pressing, staring down at him and checking for the breath in his lungs.
And gray eyes meet green.