One Last Breath

a companion to "Brothers in Arms"

My first thought, when I feel something hit my back, is "Bugger." I've been cursed a lot in the time since I came over to work for Dumbledore. Hell, I was cursed a lot when I was a Death Eater; when your boss is a scary, power-mad chap with glowing red eyes, you learn to curse the little people to make yourself feel less scared. At least, that's what I used to do. Funny, being cursed in the back doesn't hurt too badly.

Doesn't explain why there's all this blood, though.

I'm surprised when my body staggers, and I start to turn, but the air next to my right ear crackles as a curse blazes past my head. My wand is in my hand, and I shoot a few curses over my shoulder, and hear someone swearing briefly. Then suddenly my vision is getting fuzzy, and my body decides it's time to sit down.

All right, I'll lie down, then.

Ron was out on our left flank somewhere. He ought to be turning up here any moment now. I'll rest until he gets here and helps me up. Ron--he's turned out to be less of a prat than I always thought. Funny how your perspective changes when you've saved someone's life. And why the hell did I do it?

Well, I did it because being a Death Eater was getting me nowhere, wasn't it? No, that isn't true, either. Face facts, Draco--you were hacked off because they killed Professor Snape. One of the few people who ever saw any potential in you, and he was dead. Dead for that silly little tart of a History of Magic professor, who turned around and married someone else, anyway. All right, credit where credit is due, she was pretty torn up about Snape's death.

Damn my father, anyway! He only valued me because I was a more powerful wizard than he was, and he thought he could use me to his own ends. Showed him, though, didn't I?

It's bloody cold out here.

Dumbledore thought I had potential, too. Not such a fool as I'd always thought--though he's the genius of the slightly mad variety.

I yelled back when I heard thunder
But I'm down to one last breath

The Battle of Diagon Alley, when I killed my own father for a Weasley. A bloody Weasley. And Ron Weasley, of all of them--the Weasel! Couldn't even be the pretty one, could it? All right, all right, the pretty one. Virginia Bloody Weasley. So my father would be disappointed in me, so what? I think I've disappointed him as much as I possibly ever could, by killing him. Anyway, she's with that overblown git of a celebrity, Harry Potter.

Oh, fine, so he's not an overblown git. He's--well, he's--damn it, he's just Harry. Brave, a bit stupid, stiff with honour--but what Gryffindor isn't?--and luckier than, well, somebody really lucky.

Did I lie down in water? We were set up along a small stream, but I don't hear any water. My clothes feel wet. It's making me shiver.

So Ginny and I have been talking a lot lately. Nothing happened. Well, after that one kiss--well, all right, it was more like a brief snog. Very brief. Nothing else happened.

Won't happen. I'm a ruthless bastard, but I save my strategies for the Death Eaters now. Dumbledore made that plain, and General Lupin is strict about enforcing Dumbledore's decisions. No politics, Draco. No needless digs at the Weasleys, Granger, or Potter. Don't provoke Sirius. Don't make fun of Hagrid or his monsters...erm, pets. After all, those pets are on our side. Some of them even manage to hurt the enemy instead of us. Gives new meaning to the phrase "friendly fire."

Bloody hell, my lungs don't like this cold.

And with it let me say
Let me say

"Malfoy! Oh, shit, Malfoy!" Weasley. He sounds awfully cowardly for a Gryffindor. "Ah, Draco, dammit!"

Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
That maybe six feet
Ain't so far down

Weasley? I try to speak, try to open my eyes, but it seems like so much effort...

I'm looking down now that it's over
Reflecting on all of my mistakes

It occurs to me that I'm dying. Strange thought, even though I've wished for it sometimes, prayed for it, even. Ever since I realized what I'd become, Death seemed like a release. I knew I had to try to stay alive. I needed time to try to make up for all the mistakes I've made, all the vile things I've done.

I thought I found the road to somewhere
Somewhere in His grace

I read once that it's better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven. I used to believe it. Funny, though--my father never seemed happy as Voldemort's second. I've found a lot of...well, call it satisfaction, I suppose, serving Dumbledore. He makes you feel like you're worth the whole world.

I cried out Heaven save me
But I'm down to one last breath
And with it let me say
Let me say

I wonder if they'll take me in Heaven. Maybe I'll be stuck serving in Hell. My shivers become more violent.

"Draco, dammit, are you alive?"

Weasley again. Why won't he go away and let me die in peace? I dredge up the energy to open my eyes, and he gasps. "You," I whisper. I hope he doesn't take it as a complaint. He's turned out to be better than I expected. And that sister of his...

Bloody hell, Ginny's going to kill me.

"Draco, what happened? Who did this?"

I don't know. I arch my eyebrows, but can't quite find the breath to say things that are unimportant, really.

"There's a bloody dagger in your back, Malfoy," he tells me, and he sounds angry but somehow I know he's not mad at me. "Some coward stabbed you in the back."

Ah, well. We Malfoys are raised expecting that, eventually. Though usually it's a bit more figurative.

Sad eyes follow me
But I still believe there's something left for me

My arms feel heavy. I fumble around until I find one of his hands, and I grip it tightly.

"Reckon my time is up," I whisper. It's becoming very difficult to breathe.

He shakes his head, but I discover that I don't mind dying. Solves things neatly, dying. Ginny and Harry can be happy together, without my interference or unrequited love involved.

Ginny. "Weasley, your sister." I see his eyes widen. "Virginia. Tell her I'm--tell her--oh, sod it." I gasp for another breath. "Tell her I loved her." Can't hurt anything now.

He's staring at me, but he doesn't get mad, doesn't even do the characteristic ears-turning-red thing I used to see when I gave him a particularly distasteful order. He opens his mouth, gulps, and nods.

So please come stay with me
'Cause I still believe there's something left for you and me
For you and me
For you and me

I hope he'll stay until the end. I don't mind dying, but I think I would mind dying alone. Never thought I'd want to die with a Weasley at my side.

There's a very sharp pain in my chest, because my lungs really don't want to inspire anymore. Bugger. I force air in, making them work just a little longer. The pain drives tears out of my eyes, trickling down across my temples before Ron pulls me up just a little. They have to work a while longer; there's something else I have to say.

"Weasley...Weasley, I'm sorry."

Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking

"What for?" he asks, and his voice is thick, and I think it's a minor miracle that he's going to cry over me. Me. Tears slide down his pale, freckly skin, and suddenly there's nothing left of The Weasel, and he's a brother. A brother in arms, someone who's been in the trenches with me, who's taken my orders, sometimes with equanimity and sometimes only after a lot of shouting.

I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking

"All the times I gave you a hard time," I whisper. Damn. Bloody lungs won't-- "You've been a real mate, Weasley...Ron." Cough. Breathe in. "A real mate."

Ain't so far down