Draco's wand shook in his cold, clammy hand, and the mark on his forearm surged with power. He felt nothing, he saw nothing, he knew nothing, but what was happening at that exact moment. He studied the girl in front of him, her blond ringlets cascading down her waist, her cloudy blue eyes filled with question, and wonder, her pale, porcelain like face, and her cheeks pinched a rosy pink from the eerie, dark chill. Her pink dress hugged her body tightly, tracing each curve, and the hem blew and willowed with the breeze. She cocked her head to the side, and without hesitation or doubt, she exclaimed,
"Just do it then," Her expression held no fear, or regret for what she had spoken. "I can tell you're probably going to. You wand is pointed right at me, and I can see the image of it growing deeper and deeper in your eyes."
His breathes became hot in his nostrils. Two words. Just two words could end this, the light leaving her glistening orbs, to never hear another story of wackspurts, or nargles, or plimpies. To have her light, sing-song voice morphed into an ear-splitting scream. To have her washed away like a pile of dust in the drifting wind.
His knuckles were white, gripping his wand so tightly he was afraid it would snap under the pressure. He just couldn't do it. Orders or no orders. Draco's eyes drifted to a long, blissful close. Only for a brief second, and his wand fell from his fingers, the small clanking echoing, diffusing in the silence.
Luna slipped closer, and snatched it up it up from the snow sheeted ground. She began to back away, but he laid a hash grip on her wrist.
Luna's breath caught in her throat, and she stared down at his hand, which was holding her so aggressively there was no point in trying to escape. Her attention trailed up his wrist to his forearm, where the grotesque tattoo was branded onto his body, slithering and flicking on his skin. She brought her glare back to his face, meeting his. He reached his hand up, and without their gazes breaking from each other, he unclasped her bottle cap necklace, from her graceful neck, freeing it in his hand. The stood still there for a while, a few inches from each other, the fog emerging from their mouths blending in one thick cloud.
"Run," Draco uttered, his silvery strands falling in his ashen gray eyes. "I want you to run, and don't ever come near here again, and lay low. You understand?" She nodded, tears beginning to blur her eyes. "Now run, run!" he shooed her away, and she ran into the mist, and was followed by a loud crack, and Luna Lovegood was gone.
"Has the girl been disposed of, Draco?" The Dark Lord said in his chilling, cold whisper. Draco looked up, trying not to look into those cruel, pitiless red eyes.
"Yes, master," he swallowed. "She is dead" His throat felt dry and sharp, preventing him from swallowing. I am lying to The Dark Lord, he may well kill me for this. He took a deep breath, only to inhale the deep, rotting scent of blood the room had acquired.
"Whatever is the matter Draco, is something bothering you?' Voldemort's words were kind, but they were said in a taunting hiss, swirling around him. Draco looked to the tiled floor, and noticed the long, fat, vicious snake scrutinizing in him fiercely, then flicking it's tongue swiftly, giving him a glimpse of its crimson stained fangs.
He took a small gasp. "Nothing, master, nothing," He swerved on his heel, and began to exit the silver doors, his breathing calming, and his heart felt as if it were finally beginning to beat again. He ignored the scrutiny of the other followers as he stalked throught the corridors. She will be safe. They will not found out. She will be safe. He thought, as if repeating it over in his mind would make it true.
Draco reached into his thick winter cloak, and his fingers wound around a cool, metallic shape. He closed his grip around it, stroking the base of the caps with his thumb. She will be safe. I promise.