going to take what? i splutter out later that night.

we're in your room and a fire heats the bottom of many cauldrons.

you're in more casual clothes, a button down and slacks and my eyes linger longer than they should.

the draught of living death is the closest thing to a near death i can achieve.

i could shoot the killing curse at you.

you raise a brow, you think you're capable?

your tone is domineering and i glare, i'm sure i can manage.

shaking your head, your hair dances with a mind of its own and you gesture for me to stir the potion a few more times.

the killing curse is guarantee death, i need the slow incline into the action of passing away, you look at me pointedly - and i'm in no mood to get killed due to your own personal vendetta.

you're properly insane but then i suppose i am too, given that i'm helping you with your suicide mission.

if it fails you're gone - i'll be left alone but i come to terms with the fact that i won't have to see you any longer.

there's a difference between missing someone who's dead and who isn't.

if they're alive there's reminders of them leaving with every waking moment.

if you're dead then well, that's it i suppose. i cant fight death - you seem hell bent on trying.

another thing, you begin - i don't like how you're looking at me.

i'll need you to tie me down to the bed and put this into my mouth - you hand me a phial and i turn the glass over in my hands - black liquid staining and sloshing. it's heavy.

what is this?

poison.

thomas.

i told you, near death.

my mouth goes dry as i look up at you - what if i can't get you to wake up?

you step closer and rest your hands on my shoulders, weighing me down but it's oddly comforting.

remember, spikes of adrenaline. leaning past me your mouth brushes my ear for a moment - you're warm and it burns - pulling back you hold a small case and lift it open.

inject this in my leg only when my heart stops, not a second earlier and not a second later.

there were two metal syringes, which he probably nicked from the infirmary. my hands began to sweat and i wipe them on my skirt - i feel like i can't breathe.

what is it?

epinephrine, it will stimulate my heart and raise my blood pressure. first injection right after my pulse stops. if i still don't wake up, inject the other in thirty seconds.

... and if you still don't wake up?

taking hold of my jaw - gently - your ink spills into me and it feels like i'm the one dying.

my life is in your hands, diana.

why trust me?

your thumb runs along my skin, because i know you don't actually want me dead.

i might if you actually die.

then let's avoid that scenario.

handing me the case, my hands shake and i follow you to the bed. you're acting too brash - almost too calm - it makes me wonder if you're actually nervous.

after all, who would chase after living forever if they weren't mortified of dying?

there are fates far worse than death, thomas.

i know you hear me - you roll your shoulders and look at me - my skin feels tight when you start to take off your shirt.

you have your wand?

i nod mutely, watching as you lay down and how the silk swirls around your pale skin.

i fill a phial with the draught and carefully stepped towards you - restrain me after i'm out, i don't want to see the look of amusement on your face as you tie me up.

i scoff, trying to feel better but i don't i feel sick and i want to throw up.

but i tilt the potion into your mouth - it tastes disgusting but you make no indication, your eyes get heavy and i mutter an incantation - ropes shooting out and anchoring you to the bed frame.

the poison is heavy in my hand - i stare at the needles - i don't want to do it.

diana.

don't die.

you give a small smile and the ink pours down your throat.

when your eyes roll back - white - red - haunting. your mouth gapes open - i think you're going to scream - you don't - there's a moment of deafening silence and you fall into the bed.

twitching.

you won't stop.

it's horrifying.

sweat beads like blood on your skin - you're burning - i search for your pulse - moment my moment it walks away.

i stare at the needles - grab one - my hand won't stop shaking.

why did i say yes?

why did you ask?

why are you doing this to yourself?

your eyes drift shut - potion and poison fighting in your system - you're deathly pale.

slower and slower and slower - your not moving anymore.

your chest barely rising.

slower and slower.

my hand trembles against the metal - am i crying?

don't die.

slower.

please don't die.

it's gone.

my arm raises - falls - the needle slips into your flesh - piercing - sinking - i push and the drug fills you.

seconds tick.

you're still not moving.

i search for pulse - not there - come back.

don't die.

i look at you - you look peaceful for once - like a boy and your cracks are straining - you're dying dreaming about life.

don't die or i'll kill you.

tick - thirty seconds.

the second needle stabs into you - a moment - don't die - thomas.

your eyes shoot open and you gasp in air sharply.