originally for the read-aloud-your-drabblefest, for the challenge draco/snape, a type of courage
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Draco shivers as they pass through the doors of Azkaban- invisible, made of magic so strong it that makes his teeth rattle in his head. He tastes blood. Perhaps the blood is real. “We made our choice.” Snape’s wand presses into the small of Draco’s back, halfway between a caress and a jab. Draco can remember: trees, mud, pain- running. And here is salvation. Here ruin. “I failed,” Draco says, twisting his hands in Snape’s sleeves as the Dementors glide past. Snape places his hand on Draco’s cheek. “You are not a killer,” he says quietly. “That is not failure.”
Draco shivers as they pass through the doors of Azkaban- invisible, made of magic so strong it that makes his teeth rattle in his head. He tastes blood. Perhaps the blood is real. “We made our choice.” Snape’s wand presses into the small of Draco’s back, halfway between a caress and a jab. Draco can remember: trees, mud, pain- running. And here is salvation. Here ruin. “I failed,” Draco says, twisting his hands in Snape’s sleeves as the Dementors glide past. Snape places his hand on Draco’s cheek. “You are not a killer,” he says quietly. “That is not failure.”