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Title: Last Glance
Pairing: Hermione/Katie
Prompt: "You can't catch me..."
Rating: R
Word Count: 492
Summary: Katie takes the last few minutes she has to remember a time when "You can't catch me" meant something happier than it does now.
Author's Notes: I know this prompt was holiday-specific, but since the holiday season is no longer here I thought I'd switch it up. Warning: character death.
Link to Prompt Table: Prompt Table


“You can’t catch me.”

You never in your life thought you would utter those words again. The first time they spilled from your mouth you were straddling a broom, holding the handle with your left hand and a book with your right. You don’t remember what book it was, but at the time it was important, and she was stretching up on her toes to snatch it from you, her voice strained and high with protests that sounded like the notes of a flute in your ears. You had floated from the ground and you said those words, and then you shot away from her, laughing.

You weren’t laughing when she shot away from you and into the arms of a ginger boy. You never understood why she made that decision, but the time you took that book from her played over and over in your head and you swore you’d never say those words again.

She’s somewhere now, probably with him, and maybe he’s dead and she’ll come back to you. Or maybe she’s dead and she’ll never come back, or they’re both dead and neither one will come back, but either way in a few short minutes you’ll be dead so it isn’t going to matter. Nothing is going to matter. She caught you in the end anyway, and she got her book back, and her lips tasted of sweat and something sweet afterwards. And now you’re going to get caught again, but there won’t be salty sweet kisses afterwards. You don’t know what there will be.

Your wand is splintered somewhere behind you. You dreamt of this moment before, had nightmares about it, about staring into his disgusting, serpentine-like face. You would awake in cold sweats night after night, and then steady your breathing by planning what you would do if it ever happened. You always told yourself to hold your ground until the end. The members of the DA hold their ground no matter what, and that’s what you’re doing but your knees are shaking.

The laugh comes from somewhere that isn’t his mouth or throat or stomach or lungs, sounds like it’s coming out of a hollow log buried deep inside his rotten core. You’ve got your hands tight around the handle of your broom and you bend your legs. Your mouth curls up into what you hope is a defiant grin, but probably looks more like a grimace someone wears when they know it’s over.

“You can’t catch me,” you say again, and you’re in the air.

Wherever she is, you hope she’s all right. And if she’s all right, you hope she’s happy, you hope she’ll be happy. You’re hearing curses being screamed from every side, but they’re all whispers compared to the Avada Kedavra you hear him roar. You catch sight of her, and in an instant your eyes lock before it catches you in the back and you see nothing at all.

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