His hands were shaking. His wand threatened to snap under the pressure and his chest constricted so tightly that it was hard to breathe.
He avoided the bodies strewn on the ground. Avoided the ghastly ginger hair,
(Merlin, how he had hated them, but he didn't mean for it to be like this. Not when he can still hear the screams in his head.)
avoided the masked corpses,
(The snakes on their arms hissing viciously at him, even though he couldn't see it, couldn't stand it. Could not stand them; could not stand himself.)
and avoided the strangled looks that pierced through the silence.
(They were stupid and worthless, but he had not meant for them to end up this way; had not meant for him to end up this way.)
He had a mission, and it was that single goal that led him forward through the bloody mess. His robes cling onto him as he breaks out into cold sweat.
(She was still here. There was hope; as long as she was still here.)
His breath hitched,
(It's alright, it's alright.)
and his heart thumped erratically as he caught sight of her.
(I'm alright.)
She catches his eye and he sees the relief. It eases- it shrouds all the panic and fear, and everything is fine. Everything is fine and he smiles.
(He doesn't realize how stupid he's being, how stupid it is for him to stumble out into the open where blood was meant to spill; where his blood was meant to spill.)
She smiles back, but it is a momentary smile. She frowns before her eyes widen and her mouth opens.
(His eyes widen too. Turn back, turn back, behind you!)
He raises his wand,
(Too late, too late; you were always too late.)
and he sees nothing.