behind the hood, the barest sliver of silver light catching his eyes—and there it was. That glint of cold steel she’d thought she’d never see again, the mark of a boy-turned-man she once despised.
“Malfoy,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant rumble of collapsing wards and
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“Malfoy,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant rumble of collapsing wards and
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He didn’t answer, but the subtle twitch of his lips beneath his metal mask told her he’d heard. The mask—horribly grotesque, fitted like some monstrous second skin—shielded everything but those cursed eyes.
Even through the haze of her panic, she couldn’t look away.
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“I’m saving you,” she bit out, willing her voice to steady even as her hands betrayed her. She couldn’t stop the trembling. “Don’t think for a second that this is for you.”
A low chuckle, dark and fractured, crawled out from behind the
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“Saving me?” he rasped, his words mangled by the distortion of his mask. “Granger, you’re either a fool…or you still believe in redemption.”
The spell faltered. Her wand
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“Don’t move,” she snapped, her tone sharpening to hide her fraying nerves. “You’ll bleed out.”
“I should,” he murmured, and she hated the
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“Shut up,” she hissed, her fingers digging into his chest to apply pressure. “I can’t have your death on my conscience.”
She knew what she should do. Leave him. Let the gaping wound in his side take its natural course. He deserved it.
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She’d taken an oath, hadn’t she? She had sworn to heal. Even him. Even this.
“You’re wasting your strength,” he
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