"If he'd been half the fighter you are, maybe he'd have survived it," Emmeline said, a bit dully. She didn't intend to do Jack any disservice - but he hadn't been a warrior, hadn't been as strong as she was. She'd loved him for it, and despaired of it too. "But I'm not sure he wanted to."
She closed her eyes, remembering. Remembering how it had felt to be unable to move, the curse and the coma combined having wasted most of her body away, drained her magical reserves. "All of the above, but I shut it out," she said, emotion now evident in her voice, a tangle of emotions all bottled up into passion. "I wanted to die, but in the end I wanted to live even more. I can't even describe what it's like, not having magic, not having the power to lift even a finger. And then once I could move one finger, it was a whole new battle to move another. Once I wasn't letting any of my emotions out, it was easier: it was just the simple, logical thing to fight to get my strength back."
Opening her eyes, she looked at Kingsley over her glass as she sipped at her drink. "And I was thinking about revenge, too. When I couldn't quite shut everything out, that was what I focused on. Tearing apart the Death Eaters that had done this to me, that had killed Jack. That made it easier."