Marked

The Heir

Run.

Run with Granger, of course. He was confident he could hide her, and he was sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was everything he would build his world around. Build his life around. They could build a life together, somewhere far from here.

Against the backdrop of the moment he saw flashes of a life with Granger. He saw her holding his hand, relaxed and peaceful - just the two of them. Somewhere in the sun, maybe. On the beach, if they were lucky. In a white dress - someday. There was Granger, holding a baby. Granger smiling at him, a little older. A little older, but happy. Every image in his mind was calm and happy, the scattered pieces of a life in front of him that he knew he could choose if he wanted.

But then he heard her voice in his head.

"I'm going to fight for you, Draco," she'd said, and his chest ached to remember. "Wouldn't you fight for me?"

Why?

He'd asked her then and he asked it now, too. Demanded it, actually. Why would they have to fight at all? Was this even their fight?

He watched her now, fighting back tears at Harry's expense, hearing her response. "You think that I could live with myself, leaving Harry and Ron behind?"

His heart ached, pulsing between brutal thuds - but her voice wouldn't fade.

She'd been so small, so vulnerable. "Don't you see that you'll have to choose?"

And what had he done, when she'd said that to him? He'd told her they shouldn't talk about it. Like a fool - and a blind one, at that - he'd told her they would get through it. One day at a time, he'd said.

But that had to end today, didn't it? Today, he'd have to choose. Today he'd have to stand for something, because it was about more than just a happily-ever-after with Granger, much as it pained him to admit it. There was a right and a wrong side in this war and he had to find the line and cross it. It was bigger than him, bigger than both of them. It had always been bigger than them.

Fuck. It had always been, hadn't it? He just hadn't noticed it until now.

His ears were ringing, his eyes were burning. Fuck.

Within moments of Weasley's outburst, the three intruders yanked Harry and Weasley into a small, tight formation and there was a loud crack as they disappeared.

Granger looked up at Draco, her face pale. "What do we - "

"We're going after them," Draco said firmly, smoothing his hair away from his face. He tried to be strong for her, despite the storm that was swirling in his head.

Fuck. "Pack the tent, would you?" Fuck. "And grab Potter's cloak." Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck everything. "We'll need it."

"Draco." If she wasn't crying before, she certainly was now. "Draco, it's so dangerous - are you - are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he said gruffly, not wanting to question it further. If he gave it any more thought, he would surely change his mind. Fuck. But the reality remained the same. "We can't leave them."

She threw her arms around his neck, her body shaking for a moment in his tight embrace as she fought a heart wrenching sob - before she suddenly straightened, managing somehow to pull herself together in a way that left him awestruck and stunned.

Heart of a lion. Always.

"Right," she agreed, nodding. "Okay," she murmured to herself, hastily listing off their needs. "The tent - the cloak - your wand - "