Hawk's knuckles were white now, gripping his wand so tightly that the aspen's intricate designs dug into his palm, imprinted there in his attempts to reign in his recently-freed magic. If he couldn't control himself,  it wouldn't matter if Albiorix summoned Analiese. Hawke would inadvertently draw her here on his own.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> "If you think I'd let you escape after betraying me to that bitch, you're wrong. As soon as you enlighten her to my location, it won't matter if I use magic or not and I promise you I won't be binding you this time. The Ministry won't blink over the death of a dark wizard,"</span>he growled as he considered once again the question of what sort of damage might result to Hawke in the event of severing the link in such a way. Not to mention, a small part of him balked at the idea of killing this man. Albiorix drew out a sympathy in him now that he'd seen, and felt, the other's loneliness, the emotion even stronger now as he watched the struggle before him. And the things  he'd seen. Perhaps Hawke didn't have all of the pieces, but he didn't need them.<i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">It might be the only way,</span></i>he reminded himself, readying his battered body for a duel that seemed unavoidable as Albiorix's wand hand wavered sporadically at his hip, the emotions rolling into the blond from the other side of that mental barrier. He eyed the dark wand warily, ready to react at a moment's notice, in-tuned with the other's thoughts as they danced between violence and restraint. Hawke didn't quite know what to make of it, only that he needed to play his cards carefully or he might not escape this.<br/><br/>He took in the Death Eater's threats, his own wand still gripped tightly, but in his pocket nonetheless. This man had  clearly become unstable and Hawke questioned how he might react if he raised him own wand. Not likely in a positive manner.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> "Any sane individual would despise this kind of magic!"</span>he spat between gritted teeth, the sudden urge to end this almost overwhelming, but he shut his mind down like a vault, blocking the ring's influence.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"And you think I care about your fate?" </span>He laughed, then, scoffing at such an absurd claim.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"I'm under no illusions as far as your loyalties are concerned, trust me. The only reason you didn't leave me to die is because you were indebted to me from the very moment we met in the Ministry." </span>It hadn't occurred to him at first, but the concept of life debts was ambiguous at best.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"I am doing my 'goddamed job,' as you put it! As an Auror it's my duty to seek out and destroy anyone or anything with malicious intent towards the wizarding community and, like it or not, that includes you!"</span>He paused, questioning himself as to what that really meant. Was it really his vows or was it something deeper that made him feel an overwhelming responsibility in ensuring Albiorix wasn't driven mad by a cursed object?<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"You're not the only one whose made a fucking vow!"</span>But did that vow include Death Eaters? Murderers? Those who would be so stupid as to toy with a magic as black as a horcrux? He didn't know and now was not the time to be questioning his own morals.<i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">That's all I ever seem to do around this bastard.</span> </i>No, his only concern was destroying the ring, not the other wizard's well-being, or so he told himself.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"And how I die is none of your concern. Certainly not here and certainly not today." </span>Protecting his brother, most likely. On the job. Or perhaps from old age, alone in a bed at St. Mungos. Like Hell he'd let a single wizard take him down. No matter who it was.<br/><br/>Then he blinked to find that ebony wand directed towards him, the hand still shaking as Hawke's own wand shot up in preparation to defend himself, but his hand's sureness, in contrast, didn't reflect his emotions underneath.<i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Don't make me do this. </span></i>He didn't care if the other heard his thoughts or not, too busy keeping his tumultuous magic in check. He'd surprised himself thus far, his magic lying dormant beneath the surface rather than boiling over and acting out of its own accord. Perhaps subconsciously he really was terrified of bringing Analiese down upon them and his body reacted likewise.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"><i>Or perhaps I really don't want to hurt him.</i></span>The man was still shouting and Hawke only caught the end of his tirade, Albi's anger reminiscent of his father's, of Hawke's own temper. He flinched, subtly, as the door flew open behind him, half expecting an attack their link hadn't foretold. He eyed the street beyond the door, lowering his wand in defeat and much too tired and aching to continue with such stubbornness. Green eyes turned back to Albiorix.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"Perhaps you should have just left me there at the pond's edge. Or I should have let the dementors have you. Might have simplified things," </span>his brow furrowed as he shook his head with a sigh.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"This isn't over."</span>He turned his back on the other then, confident the man wouldn't attack him, almost testing him to do so. He'd return to the Ministry, have this trace removed, bide his time and allow his wounds to heal. But this wasn't over.