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  "DON'T." HE WHISPERED lowly; lips brushing against her hair and his body so close to hers that a shiver ran down her spine.

At once Seven fought the urge to relax into the scent of him, warm and soft, yet pressing. She'd never felt him so close, callus fist still wrapped around her wrist.

The receptionist's eyes widened, "Sir — " But Draco held up a hand, commanding silence but not tearing his eyes from Seven. As if by some cruel spell the woman's mouth instantly clamped shut.

"Go back up to the room, my love." He said, finally releasing her to tuck a stray strand of cherry-red hair behind her ear. A scarcely concealed order glinting behind the handsome facade, "Now."

She nodded in understanding, though some small part of her cried out to stay, — that defiant, unyieldingly oppositional part of her that hated being told what to do, but something in his eyes told Seven that now was not the time to create a scene.

She only looked back once in the brief moment before the elevator doors closed to see Draco staring straight back at her, brows furrowed. If she hadn't known any better she might've thought he looked something close to melancholic as he hastily pulled down his shirt sleeve which seconds prior had been rolled to the hilt of his forearm. And then the doors closed, and Seven was alone once more.

  The ascent was short, taking only less than a minute before the elevator leveled and the doors opened upon the thirtieth floor. She fumbled in her garter for her wand, before pressing the tip to the lock, "Licentia."
  Every lock was enchanted the same way, though each with a unique password given upon checking in at reception.

  " — How can you be sure?"

  She paused at the sound of the strange, yet destinctky female voice hissing out across the preivously barren hall. It came closer, brining with it several sets of footsteps, at least three was Seven's best guess.

  " — Because I checked it myself." Said a second, "It's secure. They'll never find it."

  " — And if they do?" The woman asked incredulously, "What then?"

  Seven winced as she shut the apartment door as quietly as she could, but not before hooking one end of the Extendable Ears that she'd fished from her bag under it.

  "My Lady, first they'd have to make it past Envy's men, not to mention Envy himself..."

  " — I said what then." Snapped the woman, and though her words were not directed at Seven, she could feel herself shrink back against the inside of the door.

  "... Well, theoretically if they were able to, which is highly unlikely, then it's also cursed, only the Dark Lord and Wrath himself know what it looks like and only they may touch it."

  "Is that so?" She sounded mildly impressed, there was a second of silence and then a moment later she added, "Well done Yaxley. You've yet to fail me."

• • •

  EVEN ONCE THEIR voices had long faded into the buzz of the silence, Seven still lingered by the door, as if hoping by some miracle that the dulcet tone of the woman would find her through the woodwork once more.

When the door eventually swung open, Seven had just found her way into the armchair but continued to stare blankly at the wall, trying to process everything she'd heard.

They'll never find it.

— Who was 'they?'

What then?

— Did she expect 'them' to find it? What even was it?

Envy. Envy's men. Hidden, cursed... Wrath.

— Who were they? Were they working for the Sins? What did they mean only the Dark Lord and Wrath may touch this thing?

"What's wrong with you?" Draco said bluntly, pulling a thick-necked bottle from one of the cabinets.

"I — ," Maybe what she'd heard was nothing at all, not even worth mentioning. She closed her mouth, deciding she'd think on it, and tell him in the morning. " — Nothing."

Dense as he was, Draco seemed to pick up on her dissonance, even if he didn't outwardly show it. He softened slightly; dulling the harsh lines of his face. "Come here."

He gestured for her to join him, cocking his head in the direction of the balcony, bottle in hand. So begrudgingly Seven pulled her weighty bones from the armchair.

There was a slight wind that toyed with her hair, appearing sable once more beneath the dying light. She rested her forearms on the metal railing; cold yet not unbearable.

"You fixed it?" She asked after a while, to which he nodded, not tearing his eyes from the skyline as he sipped straight from the bottle, not bothering with a glass. The amber liquid glistening like fire against the nearing sunset, before offering Seven the bottle, to which she accepted. It burned, and she loved it.

For a long while they drank in silence, letting the alcohol dull the harsh edges of the unspoken rift between them. Until eventually, Seven found her voice through the Firewhiskey haze, albeit her words not quite as certain as she'd hoped them to be. "Do you think we'll make it?"

She didn't need to elaborate, he knew exactly what she meant, would they make it to the end and come out the other side alive. Would they even make it to killing Wrath, or would they be killed off one by one along the way.

A strange feeling settled in Seven's chest at the thought; a horrid pang of pain similar to a dagger being pushed between her ribs. She wondered if this is how Lust had felt as he died, had he panicked as he felt the light fading and the world turning dark? Or maybe he'd embraced it, — the inevitability of oblivion. We would all die some day, the question was only when and how.

Though even that didn't matter, thought Seven, in a thousand years we'd be forgotten all the same.

"No." Draco replied bluntly, causing Seven to stare up at him. The dying sunlight carved his cheekbones sharp, his nose strong, and his eyes a wicked shade of peril. The way he said it made Seven think he'd already planned their fate. One of them would die along the way, possibly even both, all she knew that if it meant the death of Wrath then it was a sacrifice worth making.

So she stared into the sunset, watching crimson kissed clouds drift out of sight, at peace with the thought of dying if it meant that one day, the sun would rise on a world worth fighting for.

— Or at least, that's what she told herself.

The truth was, Seven was selfish, and she'd fight tooth and claw to the bloody end, even if it meant tearing herself apart in the process. She would be the one to kill Wrath, — she had to be.

  "Neither do I." At that moment music began to play, somewhere far off in the distance, possibly from the dance hall down below. Seven didn't feel like joining the ball, not now with her mind racing with everything that had happened, — everything that had been said.

  She stared up at Draco, as if hoping to find the cure to all that was ailing her in the fine lines of his face. He really was unforgivably attractive, she thought, swallowing the lump in her throat. Her belly felt warm, though she didn't know if the cause was the man or the drink.

  "The night we met." He murmured, as if to himself more than anyone in particular.

  She frowned slightly, continuing to stare. "What?"

  "It's the name of the song." A strange half-flush Seven had never seen before found his cheeks. She told herself it was just the drink, making her giddy, making her see things. " — The night we met."

  She listened closer to the piano melody, the way it wove itself in and amongst the beating of her heart, steady and solid with every mournful pulse. "It's pretty."

  "...You don't recognise it do you?"

  "Should I?"

  He wouldn't look at her. "No."

  It was definitely the drink, she told herself, as now she was seeing things. She thought that out of the corner of her eye she saw the faintest trace of sadness flash over him, if only for a second.

  They were silent for so long that for a while Seven feared that that was it, they would never speak again, then finally, he turned to her, hand extended, a silver ring catching in the low light, "Dance with me?"

***
QOTD- Who do you think the woman was? -TFOA