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— Dedicated to AuroraDelilahRose

  THERE WAS A SOUND. Not particularly loud, but there, nonetheless.
  Seven felt drunk; giddy almost, in a leisurely kind of way. If she had been capable of thoughts at that moment, she may have thought about how the noise came again, louder this time.
  The water stole the harsh edges of the sound, making it low and round, a trembling bass that shook the belly of the tide.

  Her lungs didn't hurt anymore, for once, nothing did.
  She just felt... Numb.

  Distantly, as if emanating from somewhere far off there came a shout, not that Seven heard, much less cared to hear it.
  But soon she would as suddenly the bathroom door burst open and her world awakened, exploding in pain as calloused hands gripped her under her arms and unceremoniously ripped her from the water.

  Like a newly-woken beast, a gasp tore free from her chest, shortly followed by waves of choking heaves. She collapsed against his chest, limp and bare, unable to do anything other than cough.

  "What the fuck were you doing!" Draco shouted; an edge to it she had never heard before. Panic. " — Seven, what the fuck were you thinking!"
A towel wrapped around her, warding off the icy chill that had quickly begun to set in.

And then he held her, tightly to his chest, as if she were the most precious thing in all the world.

" — I thought —," Draco shook his head, pressing his eyes shut to hide the glassiness that homed itself there. His voice broke, shattering into a thousand pieces before her and bareing the aching soul within, " — I thought you were gone..."

Sleep still weighed itself heavy in the pits of her lungs, like stones to a body in a quarry full of water, not so eager to let her go. It clung there, begging for her return until she'd coughed up the last of its mercy and found herself firmly in the land of the living.
Fate had always been a fickle friend to Seven, deathless in many ways, but somehow, deathly in many more.

"How?" She sounded just as weak as she felt, and at first, she wasn't sure he'd heard through the great, gasping breaths that wracked her, so she asked again, " — How did you know?"

"Because..." He hesitated, as if not quite knowing how to say it, "I was drowning too."

There was solidarity to the sentiment. As if each word was the strike of a fist and Seven found herself the target. Selfish, the word came to her. He didn't have to say it, she felt it all the same.

And in some sick way, it hurt — the knowing that he'd only come for her to save himself. Maybe that's why she'd done it — let the sleep take her — because she wanted to be wanted.
They didn't need her, not really. With or without her their mission would still remain as linear as it always had been. Kill the Sins. Draco knew it, Seven knew it too. Out of all of them, Draco was the only one not trying to make her believe otherwise.
He'd never tried to make her feel wanted because she wasn't. Needed, because she wasn't. All along he had been honest in a way that had hurt far more than the lie.

Even now, with her barely mortal in his arms, he told her a truth.

"It's not possible..." She whispered; breathless, not even trying to move away from the man she swore to hate. She was far too weak and tired for that now, so instead, she didn't fight, relaxing into him and letting his warmth envelope her in momentary reprieve. For now, she could pretend things were as they were before.

In truth, she'd had her suspicions for a while now — that they were linked in ways that were something more than helpless hearts and bitter minds.
She'd initially realised it during his fight with Avery, when he'd fallen against the wire and torn himself apart. When it was almost certain that Avery would win and Draco would die.

He almost had, and the realisation of it had hurt her more than any spell or dagger ever could. At first, she'd thought it was love.
And the feeling, was the ache of losing someone that came from it, an agony that manifested itself physically.

But now...

He'd almost died, and she'd felt it, like a stir within her bones. An awakening that screamed at her to help. And she had, casting a Cruciatus curse on Avery, even without a wand.
She'd almost died, and he'd felt it too. He had found her, saved her.

The two of them were linked.

"How is it possible?" Her voice came like an echo, a bullet in the silence.

She couldn't see it, but Draco's face was grim.
He knew exactly why.
Absentmindedly, his fingers trailed through Seven's hair, the gesture might have seemed tender if it wasn't purely self-soothing and self-serving. An old habit, of sorts.

Seven relaxed into his calming hands, resting her foggy head against his broad chest and listening to his rhythmic breaths. "What does it mean?"

"It means that I'm never letting you out of my sight ever again."

She knew that he meant it to be strictly selfish, that if they were truly linked as suspected, then her death could very well mean his own, but tired as she was, Seven couldn't help but find comfort in his promise. "Good."

Moments drifted by like stolen waves. Calming, soothing, marking the passing of an amount of time that no one bothered to count. Not until Seven remembered, "Draco," she said softly, as if scared to disrupt the illusion of solace they'd cast, "What time is it? We still need to be ready to leave by midnight."

"We have time." He answered with sedate ease, "Just... Stay like you are for a little while longer." Stay with me, those were the words he didn't say but worked their way into Seven's head all the same.

She nodded. Even if she had tried, she doubted her legs would've been strong enough to stand anyways, still addled with waterlogged tendrils sleep.
"Where did you go earlier?"

  "Away."

  "...Away." She repeated quietly, tasting the word and then deciding that it wasn't enough to keep her sated, "Must everything always be such a secret?"

  There was a smile, however small, in his tone when he answered, "Everybody needs secrets, Seven."

  A flash of a memory raced through her mind, white-hot and lightning sharp. The Dark Lord stared back at her from across the table, asking her if she knew what must be done. She replied that she did.
  "Perhaps." Seven looked down in shame, fiddling with the band at her ring finger — the one he'd given her. Then she thought of the real woman he'd sworn himself to, the one she'd never met, the one who probably wore a real engagement ring, rather than some second-hand replica magicked quickly in a moment of need. "Did you go to see your fiancé? Is that it?"

  "Yes."

It certainly shouldn't have made her feel the way it did — shouldn't have made her feel anything at all. But a strange feeling began to breathe inside of Seven, a vivid green creature, one with emerald eyes and a tongue that wanted nothing more than to lash out at Draco for his admission.

"Oh..." The sound came out without warning, like a deflation of her soul. "How is she? — or he?" She'd fumbled too hard for recovery and instead found foolishness.

Draco laughed, then. Actually laughed. The sound, round and golden, shook his chest wholeheartedly, "I'm not gay, Seven."

  Heat pooled itself in her cheeks, embarrassment making her skin flush hot as she finally gained the courage to push away from him, rising shakily to her feet. "I — I need to go get dressed, we'll no doubt be leaving soon."

  "We have hours." Draco said, standing too and watching her, possibly waiting for her to fall again.

  Seven clutched the hem of the towel tightly, suddenly all too aware of just how cold the air was and just how much of her Draco had probably seen. "I still need to change, Draco, unless you'd rather I be naked?"

  She'd half expected him to blush or at least look away, but Draco did neither. He looked straight back at her; unabashed, grey eyes freely roaming over the scant bareness of her thighs and chest. "Do what you want, Seven. I couldn't care less."
  — There it was. The coldness creeping its way back in again. She wondered if it physically pained him — being nice to her for more than five minutes at a time.

  "Get out, then."

  "No."

  "I said — get out!" She was practically trying to shove him out the door but the heavy bastard wouldn't budge.

  "This is still my room, Seven." Though his face was stern, a flicker of mirth danced in the darkness of his irises.

  Seven scowled, gathering her clothes from the door and bundling them into a ball. "You're an asshole."

  "Probably."

  "I hate you." She said, self-relegated to changing in the bathroom as she slammed the door behind her.

  "I know." He said quietly back once she'd gone, eyes down-cast and looking at the necklace he had balled in his fist.

***
QOTD - What do we think Draco's up to? Was he telling the truth? Was he with his fiancé?