Nineteen
She stumbled a bit, unable to rip her gaze away from the Slytherin boy surrounded by his own blood. There was a deep-seated ache within her chest with the sight, and she barely sniffled her first sob. Water threatened to spill across her cheek, as she frantically searched for any sign of life within the boy's still form.
There was so much blood.
The work of dark magic, no doubt.
Her shoes sent ripples cascading in all directions, disturbing the once peaceful liquid beneath her feet. The first sob tore through her when she finally reached his side, staring down upon his broken body. Whatever magic Harry had used had cut deep into the Slytherin's chest. If she had not seen him clutching his wand the way she had, she may have been fooled into thinking that someone had caused the damage with an actual blade.
The first cascading tear dripped quietly from her chin.
It was all wrong.
Unable to hold herself upright in her sudden devastation, the Gryffindor girl dropped beside the pale Malfoy. More shining tears trailed down her face, as she tried desperately to understand how this could have happened to him. Draco's constant presence within her vision, while unappreciated, had sparked something within her very soul that was suddenly very hard to deny. He was always there, so how could he possibly be—!
Hope gripped tightly at her heart, as a keen understanding pierced through her. He was always there. Buried beneath the veil of the future, Draco Malfoy always stood dutifully at her side.
Kagome reached out for him then, barely brushing her fingertips across the surface of his cheek and beyond. Another sob ripped through her when she felt the telltale sign of life escape his mouth in the form of a breath. He was alive. He was weak, but he was alive and breathing and there with her.
A soft groan escaped the Malfoy, his eyelids fluttering.
"Draco…?" her voice was soft, wanting.