In an attempt to write:
Don't know what this is, but, I figure, whatever.
They shouted his name. Over and over again, they cried out, calling him. Like it was enough to make him come back. Like he could, even if he wanted to.
The Weasley girl was clutching at his robes, wailing. Her brother - his best friend - was no better. Weasel was in a rage, in despair. Finnigan was hitting anything, everything, nothing. Longbottom was repairing the damaged furniture and walls, healing Finnigan’s hands, trying to pry the Weasley girl off. Granger was on the floor, eyes vacant and yet continuously wet. She did not know how to react.
Not one of them, Potter’s closest friends, knew what to do. For all their planning the last seven months, for all the Plan A’s to Z’s they had carefully made and the intensive training they underwent, they did not have anything that told them what to do when their hero fell.
It was stupid, Draco thought, for Granger to think that they can be several hundreds of steps ahead of Voldemort. It was foolish for any of them to think that they could come up with enough plans to avoid Potter’s death.
Draco wanted to laugh at them, but he did not. He had a cover to keep. Potter gave him this cloak for a reason, and he damn well going to hide it until he finds out just what the git wanted to happen. Did Potter think Draco could save him? That he would?
It was foolish, all so foolish, and Draco really just needs some firewhiskey. Maybe he could use some furniture, too, for breaking.
With a soft rustle of cloak, Draco Malfoy was gone. It happened almost as fast as Harry Potter died.
I don't think that was DH compliant. I'm not sure about HBP. I'm not even sure what's canon. Hah.
They shouted his name. Over and over again, they cried out, calling him. Like it was enough to make him come back. Like he could, even if he wanted to.
The Weasley girl was clutching at his robes, wailing. Her brother - his best friend - was no better. Weasel was in a rage, in despair. Finnigan was hitting anything, everything, nothing. Longbottom was repairing the damaged furniture and walls, healing Finnigan’s hands, trying to pry the Weasley girl off. Granger was on the floor, eyes vacant and yet continuously wet. She did not know how to react.
Not one of them, Potter’s closest friends, knew what to do. For all their planning the last seven months, for all the Plan A’s to Z’s they had carefully made and the intensive training they underwent, they did not have anything that told them what to do when their hero fell.
It was stupid, Draco thought, for Granger to think that they can be several hundreds of steps ahead of Voldemort. It was foolish for any of them to think that they could come up with enough plans to avoid Potter’s death.
Draco wanted to laugh at them, but he did not. He had a cover to keep. Potter gave him this cloak for a reason, and he damn well going to hide it until he finds out just what the git wanted to happen. Did Potter think Draco could save him? That he would?
It was foolish, all so foolish, and Draco really just needs some firewhiskey. Maybe he could use some furniture, too, for breaking.
With a soft rustle of cloak, Draco Malfoy was gone. It happened almost as fast as Harry Potter died.
I don't think that was DH compliant. I'm not sure about HBP. I'm not even sure what's canon. Hah.