There was no wind in the air on the day that Theodore Nott died. Everything was still.
Smoke spiraled up towards grey skies, but the eagle that circled the wreckage did its best to avoid passing through it. Large wings arched and beat in heavy strokes as talons splayed to grasp onto a thick branch, and keen eyes trained themselves on the crumbled steel that had edged far too close to the river.
The scene was still, and life on the shoreline of the Rhein had come to a grinding halt when those brakes gave out. Nothing moved. The raptor canted its head, and its sharp gaze flitted from the wreck to the flames that licked the ground around it.
For a moment, the only movement was the dance of fire and the pillar of smoke, but as feathers ruffled against the cold, the eagle kept its sights honed on the car. There was movement, and after a moment of nothing , it was a stark contrast of life versus no life that drew the eagle’s attention to a man as he crawled from the decimated remnants of the vehicle.
But as it watched the scene play out, life seemed to dwindle. There was fire. A loud sound and a ripple of something the bird’s eyes could not see shook through the air. The bridge crossing fell. Another man was pulled out of the vehicle. There was noise. Shouting.
They stumbled into the river together.
And then the river took them away, so that life became no life once again.
The art of dying was as simple as letting go. When I saw her face, I let go.
The last time I saw her face, she was crying.
The last time I saw his face, he didn’t seem to feel anything at all.
I had heard somewhere long ago that hypothermia felt warm. Whoever said it was right.
There was no art to drowning. You just stop fighting.
The water was too cold to feel anything else. It was easier to let go.
My dearest Daphne– was that her name?
Leave me, brother. I hope you burn in Hell.
Glass shattered into Theo’s eyes, but it didn’t hurt. It wasn’t glass, because it was in his lungs, too.
Leave me, brother .
Leave me, brother.
I can see her.
She was beautiful.
A warm place.
There was snow on the ground. Theo could see their tracks, but he knew they would fade and he wouldn’t be found.
The river was dark beneath the surface.
What a tragedy, it was really quite beautiful down here.
Leave me, brother.
Leave me, brother.
The air was cold. It sliced into his lungs, sharper than glass. He coughed. It felt better to just let go, but Draco’s voice was calling. Something sharp pulled at his bones, a jolt of pressure yanking on the very fibers of his nerves. Everything hurt when the air was cold.
Leave me, brother.
Letting go felt warm.
She smiled. He couldn’t remember anything after that.
Leave me, brother.
Touch. A ghost of something warm laced between his fingers, but Theo let go. He choked, fighting the current. She was beautiful.
Leave me, brother.
A hand. Draco’s hand. Theo let it go.
He pushed it away.
In another life, sweet girl.
Another life. More time. In another life, there would be more time.
She smiled. He forgot the rest.
Glass shattered in his lungs. He could feel the air on his skin. His hand reached up, breaking the surface. The current was pulling, but the air–it was cold. It felt like him. He could see light breaking through the darkness underneath, pushing into the shadows that tugged at his vision.
She was beautiful. Smiling. There were no tears in her eyes, but glass shattered in his.
Everything was black and she was the only light he could see.
Warm, wrapped in a soft glow. Like morning light filtering through sheer curtains.
There was no morning light beneath the surface.
Her eyes were shining. Drops of honey–
No–sugar. Melting on his tongue.
She was something sweet.
He couldn’t see anymore.
It didn’t hurt.
Dying didn’t hurt.
And all that–
Everything.
Pieces.
Draco–cold, moonlight, whiskey, iron gates, risks, wants, rooftops and constellations and the ideations of suicidal poets and all the promises, and–
‘I love you’ / ‘What a waste.’
Grey. His eyes were grey.
You won’t find me here.
Good riddance.
She was sweeter.
“Hermione .”
Fading.
In another life, sweet girl.
All these pieces–
“THEO!”
I’ll disappear. Just like you wanted.
(‘Have you forgotten, Draco?’
‘Forgotten what, Theodore?’
‘ Everything we could have been? ’
‘Of course not.’)
Lights out.
I remember everything. (I know what you did.)