rock/fist/paper/scissors || sid & fred || ii.
I am proposing a game If one of you dies as the sacrificial I am proposing a game dies as the sacrificial Mudblood I am proposing a game honorary Pureblood the other may live and a game the other may leave and I am proposing a—
It was with a start that Fred woke, breath sharp and eyes wide.
For a moment, in the brief lapse of limbo between sleep and consciousness, it had all been a dream—the Portkey, the room, the bodies, the note. She sat up abruptly in the darkness. What time was it? What class was going on? Could she afford to miss it? God, if she skipped Ancient Runes again Babbling was gonna—
It wasn’t until she reached for her nonexistent blanket that she remembered.
Not a dream.
She froze, body rigid, on the alert. Listening. Any sound, any movement. God damn, it was hard to hear things when her heartbeat was rising so dangerously in her throat.
A tense moment passed. Another.
Nothing.
Warily, she leaned back against the wall, into the corner. She didn’t remember falling asleep. All she knew was that there had been that note, behind the door.
Two half-bloods. One Mudblood, one Pureblood.
It was then that she recognized the pair of arms wrapped around her from behind. She turned, carefully, to face the boy curled up in the corner next to her. Bruised, cut, just as banged-up as she was. Still asleep. Still dreaming.
She reached out tentatively, gingerly brushing some hair back from his forehead. She knew next to nothing about where they were or what was happening, but she was sure of one thing.
She wasn’t going to kill Sid Oliver.