Chapter Text
They say that before death, a person will be taken through a seven minute voyage harking back to one's best memories...
Betty did not get that.
As gravity pulls her enfeebled body to its core, extinguishing numerous clouds hovering above the lake as she passes through them, her eyes see only the boy.
The outrageous look married with the betrayal that she had used magic to leave him - she knows it will forever be chiseled regretfully into her head.
The final present timing image she sees is him being wrenched away from the railing by a bushy arm and relief pours over her, knowing that he will be okay.
Draco will be able to hold his own, she knows justifiably. He will stay alive.
The relief seeps away, replaced with the fear of impending death waiting for her with open arms at the end of the fall.
She pinches her eyes shut, mustering courage to face the gloom of death without resistance herself.
She waits for those seven minutes, but instead of her past memories coming to embrace her, she sees a horrid image of what could have been her future.
The vision of a riveting cottage, coloured sage with tinted windows comes to light. Trees with an overgrown crown scarcely mask the lone house. Bunnies and deers follow soon, lightly invading the forest.
Behind one of the windows of the house stars her. Her hair has grown out, looking extremely dishevelled as it is tied into a half bun, with the rest of the tangled strands cascading below her ribcage.
In her arms carries a swaddled baby in a thin blanket dotted with tulips and stains. The girl through the opening is bobbing up and down, trying to shush the crying baby but...
she looks happy.
Coming into view of the same window, are two people. One ostensibly younger than the other, as the child is hanging atop the man's shoulders.
Draco's hair has grown into a brighter blonde, curling downwards freely unlike his usual gelled-back straight hair. His pearly white teeth spill through his wide, pale lips, laughing at something.
The boy on top of him has hair the same as his, but eyes noticeably a dull brown. He sways back and forth on his father's shoulder, trying to reach for something on the kitchen's counter.
Then the glassy image becomes foggy with wetness that stretches until the deceptive film is totally obscured, leaving an intrinsic grey.
Betty opens her eyes and she is immediately blinded by the bright light leaking through the gaps of the grey clouds.
The clouds are replaced with a white abyss again. The only stagnant image is the ray of light beaming through, shining especially brighter as the girl attempts to reach for it.
Resounding all around is the sound of her heartbeat going rapid, reaching its maximum before it finally stops. She feels herself getting closer, being cloaked with tranquility each time the shine of light fills the whiteness even more.
But just before she can grasp it with her fingers, the figment of imagination fades away and she sees a sea of grey. Everything slips away. Even the etched image of the boy's face has been erased.
Splash.