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Blinding, white lights. Searing, blistering pain.
My body caves into its pull, and I’m drowning, drowning, drowning, until every stifled breath succumbs to the bloodied water; my muscles soaked and numb.
Time ticks like an echo chamber in the back of my mind. Loud and consuming; a reminder of the choice that dangles before me. A heavy, constricting weight around my neck. As each second blooms and dies, the edges of my vision collapse. Through slitted eyes I see Potter loom over me, bloodied hands dripping to that same, ticking beat.
He whispers something, over and over like a plea to the void: I’m sorry. Perhaps it’s wishful thinking that he feels remorse, but I can’t recognise Potter’s voice anymore. I’ve forgotten the melody of his laugh, or that particular way he utters my last name.
All I can remember is the sound of Potter’s voice screaming Sectumsempra!
Why does it have to be like this? Just once, I want to hear him whisper, Draco as if he means it. As if my name falling from his lips is a magic he’s never tasted before.
Tears roll down my cheeks, suffocating the back of my throat. I can’t speak, but I feel my mouth form the shape of his name.
Harry.
It tastes salty and bitter, but freeing. I don’t know if Harry understands, or if he even catches me trying to whisper his name. Perhaps, it’s for the better.
Time is slipping, fading between my fingertips. It’s too late to change the past. I’ve lost my chance, and so I wait patiently for the final knell.
It never comes.
In an instant, Harry's fingers grip the gold chain around my neck. A twist, three times. And suddenly, the world is spinning, spinning, spinning...
It's the beginning of our second chance, and I take my very first breath.