Choose

Choose

He was alone.

But as he squinted into the gloom, he could see the hazy outlines of ten figures standing in a semi circle surrounding him. He could feel a soft subtle wind running its hands through his hair, and the mist that drifted lazily in off the water coated the silky strands, plastering them against the nape of his neck.

He looked cautiously at the men flanking him, now becoming clearer as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The moon slightly peeked out from behind a solitary cloud in the sky, and the soft beams of moonlight grazed the masked covered faces of the black shadows around him.

Suddenly, an eleventh masked silhouette appeared at his side. The bulky form of a man's broad shoulders was apparent, and he towered over the smaller boy's frame.

"You must chose Draco," said the man, in a low husky voice.

He gestured to the trees that could barely been seen in front of them. As the moon completed its movements and appeared out from behind the clouds, the group was covered in the pale glow. Where the trees of the forest started, were two immense poplar trees, each with their branches charmed to bind the creature within their grasps.

The man continued in his soft baritone drawl. "Choose which one shall live, and which one shall die. Then you must kill them."

Then he disappeared, stepping back to join the circle of secretive Death Eaters. Draco looked up at the to bound figures, peering through the night trying to identify them. On his left, the man looked up at him, his silver eyes piercing through Draco. Holding his son's gaze, he nodded his head slightly, reassuringly and his creamy white hair glistened in the moon's glow. Draco could only look back helplessly at him.

Next, he turned from his father's gaze, and looked at the smaller of the two figures. All he could see was the bright red of their robes, and the cascading mahogany hair. Whomever it was, refused to raise their head, and he could not recognize them.

The man appeared again, this time standing next to the red shadow on the right. Grasping a handful from the masses of brown hair, he wrenched their head back. Draco could now clearly see the girl, clad in her red robes, the only colour in the dreary clearing. With him gripping painfully at her hair, her head was forced upwards towards the heavens, her fragile and vulnerable neck exposed, her chin jutting out towards him. Sparkling in the night he could see the red trail of blood trickling down from the corner of her mouth, a winding river cascading down her jaw line and across her throat. Her lips were red and raw, shining out against her porcelain skin. Her eyes remained closed.

"Look at him," the man demanded, clenching his hand harder in her locks of hair. "Look at the boy who will be your saviour-" he paused threateningly, "-or your murderer."

It was then that her eyes flickered open. He saw her looking down at him, her eyes empty of all emotion. They were the colour of mud, and if he had not just seen them open, he would have assumed the girl to already be dead. She looked hauntingly at him, and although she seemed void of all feeling, he felt something stir inside himself. But then they were gone as her eyelids fluttered closed, and again he felt empty as if the moment had never happened.

Draco knew what he had to do, and pointing his wand, he whispered the curse, a feeling of hate coursing through his body as he sensed the presence of the men around him closing in. With a flash of green light, he watched the man on the left sag, and hang limply in the tree's confines.

As he turned back to the girl, he saw her eyes fly open wildly as the green glow subsided. But they weren't the same deep brown pools of before. Instead they were colours that mirrored that of his own. She stared at him intently, as if sucking out his soul through their gaze.

Transfixed by her figure, he watched as her hair shortened, and rippled as it turned to pale blonde. With a sudden gust of wind, the robes snapped about and turned black. No longer held by the trees branches, his father stood and began to descend upon him.

Desperately looking about him, he saw a tiny white bundle slumped at the bottom of the left hand tree, it also being released of its bonds. Running across the clearing, he stumbled and tripped in the sands that covered the ground as he made his way to her.

Tugging at the body, he wound an arm underneath her neck, her deep red lips and soft neck pushed up towards him. His fingers traced the red line of blood that continued to run down her neck, before it met with the now milky white of her robes. The colour blossomed forth there, and created inky rivers in the pale material.

Looking around him, not being able to steam the flow of tears that had started their descent down his cheeks, he saw the circle of Death Eaters slowly closing in about him, his father in the forefront of them all, with his comrades flanking him. As his tears glistened in the light, the men began to laugh in mirth, an evil haunting sound filling his ears and echoing off into the distance.

As they moved in closer and closer, a mere foot away from where he was sprawled out on the ground, he could not move from fear. And so he stayed desperately clutching onto the lifeless body of his fallen angel.