Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Please if you don't like this pairing, don't waste your time posting your hate comment. Thank you.
To leap is to die or kill. No, murder. To kill is to guide them to the brink of the world tenderly, then with the softness of raw diamonds give a slight shove, and watch them plummet into what they hope a place of white and glory and alluring cacophony of angels' caressing whisper filling the vacuum devoid of the evil. Murder is barbaric, a rough Judas kiss, a plan fueled by malice.
To die is to bury ourselves in self-pity, drowning in our impeccable superego.
He won't jump. Malfoys don't sacrifice themselves. Slytherins don't step down, don't break the contact. He is selfish, his lanky legs are firmly rooted to the spot, and he won't leave.
She's Ravenclaw. She would give up on herself (she's so selfless, and he almost pukes), he's sure of that. She just can't due to the organized chaos raging inside that uncanny mind of hers.
To take a step forward? They laugh in unison; hers light as flower seeds drifting in the air, his as strong and powerful as the gravitational pull of the sun.
Never.
It's a stalemate.