Draco slipped into the shadows and then turned away, unsure whether he'd ever see his friend again. Perhaps he should have confided in Blaise more, it appeared he understood all along. Too late now. Now he had to see what Greg and Vince were up to and possibly stop them. It would mean overtly crossing the line but maybe now was the time to make his allegiances clear, though he'd prefer to wait until he knew his mother was safe.
He cast a Disillusionment Charm, it was easier that way, and he slipped across the huge entrance hall just as McGonagall raised her wand and said 'Piertotum Locomotor.' He knew he would have liked to stop and watch as all along the corridors statues and suits of armour came to life. On the outside of Hogwarts too, all those stone statues that he'd ignored, year in year out, had jumped down from their plinths and fell into formation as she directed them forward to protect the school.
She really is a formidable queen, he thought. No wonder Potter is fiercely defensive of her. But he had to press on. He had to find Vince and Greg. As he made his way up the grand staircase, he saw Flitwick, and Sprout, and Slughorn join McGonagall in casting a magical shield over the entire school.
He searched aimlessly, uncertain where they might be. He wondered if the Dark Lord had told them to guard something or whether they were hopelessly targeting Potter too.
Potter was looking for something. Where did you hide something in Hogwarts...?
Salazar, he nearly slapped his own forehead.
He hoped Potter had realised too as he raced towards the seventh-floor corridor. He could hear muted explosions and knew the Death-Eaters were attacking the shield. He wondered if his father was down there, standing beside Voldemort, without a wand because Voldemort had taken his first one and Potter had taken his spare. He thought that perhaps he ought to be angry with Potter for leaving his father vulnerable but he found he didn't care.
He saw Potter stumble in the corridor as he ran towards the Room of Requirement. He was staggering against an unseen force, roaring in agony, and when Draco saw his eyes, he stopped in shock for his irises burned red as if they reflected the glow of the guttering wall sconces where he'd steadied himself.
For a moment, everything seemed frozen and Draco knew that something important had happened.
Outside, the sky turned white, and the shield trembled, then it began to flake and fall.
It was followed by an enormous explosion which shook the castle and went to his core. He looked out to see the spanning bridge splintering into the night sky in a blaze of light. Then he saw the red in Potter's eyes fade as a window imploded inwards, showering Potter with glass but the man seemed oblivious to the razor-sharp shrapnel.
He also seemed oblivious to the fact that Vince and Greg had just rounded the corner with their wands drawn.
Instead, he pushed open the door into the Room of Hidden things.
Draco closed his eyes briefly, stealing himself to go back in there. He reached the door at the same time as Vince and Greg.
'He's ours, Draco,' snarled Vince.
Draco wondered if he could do this without breaking his cover. Not yet anyway. Vince and Greg had their own wands, he needed his to take them on. 'Actually, I think you'll find the Dark Lord would be rather angry with you if you killed him. We take him to the Dark Lord...'
The room seemed to be thrumming as Draco glanced between the stacks of decaying spellbooks and dusty cannisters, the old broken furniture and pock-marked statues. The Vanishing Cabinet still stood amongst it all. He turned away from it. It made him feel faint just to think about it. He closed his eyes and listened. He could hear Potter running and he knew Vince and Greg had guessed whereabouts he was too. He had to buy time...
He was two steps behind Vince and Greg as they rounded a corner and saw Potter reach for what looked like a tiara on the stone bust of a warlock with glass eyes. Where were Granger and Weasley for surely Potter couldn't take on all three of them? And certainly not with his back turned on them.
He drawled out the first thing that came into his head. 'Well, well, what brings you here, Potter?' and he pushed between the two oafs, stopping them from firing on the man.
'I could ask you the same.'
'I virtually lived here last year.'
'I remember.'
'You have something of mine. I'd like it back.' He glanced meaningfully at the wand sticking out of Potter's pocket.
'What's wrong with the one you've got?'
He studied his mother's wand idly. 'It's my mother's. It's powerful but it's not the same. It doesn't... understand me. Know what I mean?' He looked into Harry's eyes hoping he saw what Draco was trying to relay, two against two was far better odds but he needed his wand.
He saw Potter glance briefly to his left, a brief flicker before he went back to studying Draco's face. Draco hoped that meant Granger and Weasley were here too.
'Why didn't you tell her?' Potter suddenly said, blindsiding Draco.
He didn't answer. Don't do this, Potter... not here, not now...
'Bellatrix. You knew it was me. But you didn't say anything...'
He wanted to scream, Shut up, Potter! You're signing my fucking death warrant! Luckily Vince and Greg just seemed confused. Instead, he said coolly, 'give me my wand!'
'I don't think so...' Potter blithely pulled the wand from his pocket, studying it.
'Easy!' growled Greg.
'Besides, it's allegiance is to me now. If you want it, you'll have to win it back. Perhaps even kill me...' he and Draco locked eyes. There was no challenge. Potter clearly knew Draco wouldn't kill him.
'C'mon, Draco. Just do 'im,' said Vince.
'Don't be a prat, Draco, forget your bloody wand,' said Greg angrily.
Draco briefly closed his eyes, partly to block out the intensity of Potter's gaze. Partly to buy himself time, to think. Did he turn and fire on Greg now?
Granger made the decision for him as she pointed her wand and fired a stunning jinx at him.
Potter had raised his hand as if to signal don't! but Greg had stepped into the breach and had started to fire back. He thought, he hoped, in that moment that an understanding passed between him and Potter.
And, surely, Potter got it when Draco screamed 'DON'T KILL HIM!' as Vince tried to fire the killing curse, luckily aiming wildly but he brought down a wall of junk, cutting Draco off from Potter.
The next thing he knew was Ron was yelling from somewhere close by 'RUN! RUN! Crabbe's set the bloody place on fire!' and a wall of fire was bearing down on him. Dragons, chimeras, and serpents seemed to be writhing amongst the flames, grasping towards him. He would have frozen but Greg was reaching out an ape-like arm and was hauling him up a mountain of burning junk.
The heat was unbearable, sweat poured down his face, his hair stuck to his forehead and bothered his eyes, smoke choked his lungs as he scrambled upwards.
The world slowed as he watched Vince fall. The scream was horrible, piercing the clamour as the flames devoured him.
Draco knew he would be soon be engulfed too and wondered if perhaps it would be better to let go quickly. Just to go the same way as Vince. The tower would surely crumble imminently; he was only prolonging the torture. Only that was when Potter's hand stretched towards him through the rising choking smoke, clasping his wrist firmly, dragging him onto a broomstick he'd found somewhere, he didn't even understand how Potter had the strength but he could feel the commitment and surety in his movements. Weasley had a tougher job with Greg. But Draco, no longer caring for his dignity, threw his arms around Potter's chest and held him firmly, his eyes shut tight until he felt them tumbling to the floor in the corridor.
For a moment, he didn't want to let go. For a moment, in the middle of this madness, he felt safe.
But then he was face down and he crawled onto his hands and knees, retching, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten and there was nothing to bring up. He saw Greg scramble to his feet, fleeing, looking back at Draco in fear but not staying. Draco turned his head towards Potter in time to see Granger throw what appeared to be a large fang to him as the tiara that Potter had been reaching for spun wildly on the floor. Potter scrambled forward and drove the fang into the tiara.
Draco couldn't move. He didn't understand but what he saw was Potter grimace in agony, and then roar with pain. He saw the veins at his temple throb and his knuckles burn white. Fissures appeared in his fingernails and Draco wanted it to stop, he wanted to pull Potter away. The fang crumbled to dust in his hands and, thankfully, Weasley was there, more prepared, he seemed to know what to do as he kicked the blackened diadem into the Room of Requirement where it exploded in a vortex of flames before the room resealed itself.
He knew he watched Potter fearfully.
'Go, Malfoy,' Potter said, his voice hoarse. 'Your fight is not here.'
'But...'
'But nothing. Go! And thank you...'
Draco rose to his feet but still, he lingered.
'GO! Or do you want me to hex you for effect?'
Weasley was hauling Potter to his feet.
At the end of the corridor, he turned and looked back at the Golden Trio. He should thank Potter, Potter had saved his life, but the trio were already deep in conversation.
Standing on the hillside, facing Hogwarts, Narcissa Malfoy knew her boy was somewhere in that mess that the others around her were attacking. She wondered how many of them had children within those walls yet seemed so whipped up into a frenzy of bloodlust that they were willing to catch them in the crossfire. Perhaps they thought their children would fight for them on the inside but she wasn't so sure. A few, maybe. But she had seen her son's disillusionment with it all, he had seen the truth.
And what of the Death-Eaters and Snatchers who'd already made it into the school? Did they care who they killed? What of Fenrir Greyback? Let loose amongst those innocents. For what? For whose benefit? Why? What sort of monster does that?
She decided, as she watched the Dark Lord's stricken face wheel towards the black sky above as he released a dark and mournful shriek, as the Elder Wand seemed to craze in his hand, as his eyes glittered with madness and he blasted his own men away in callous disregard, that enough was enough. If she got out of this alive, she was going to divorce Lucius and move to France. Hopefully, Draco would come with her. Anything would be better than this.
Voldemort had withdrawn, temporarily leaving his ranks in disarray. Some even wondered if he'd given up.
Clearly, something significant had happened. No doubt Harry Potter had achieved whatever it was that he was doing and she allowed herself a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, Potter was actually going to be able to defeat Voldemort. She certainly sensed his power at the manor. He wielded a power that scared her. It was very different to the Dark Lord's. It seemed wilder, rawer, more emotional. That passionate determination was harder to understand than the Dark Lord's callous and soulless hatred. It was so much fiercer.
The Dark Lord hadn't withdrawn at all. Instead, he called back his Death-Eaters who were in the school and gave Mr Potter an hour to give himself up.
She looked at her husband defiantly. He was a mess, his hair lank, his Azkaban tattoo on his neck showing, a two-day stubble grazing his chin. His features hopeless. He looked so weak as he trembled in front of the Dark Lord. He was an embarrassment.
She looked at her sister in disgust. She was gleefully, madly twirling on the spot, her matching Azkaban tattoo displayed proudly. Bellatrix was revelling in the bloodshed, eager for more. She was foul.
Narcissa didn't want to be amongst these people. They were a disgrace. There was no honour in their actions.
She wondered where her other sister was. She wondered whether Andromeda was at the school. She knew she'd lost Ted to the Snatchers; Bella had announced that joyfully. She knew Dromeda was a grandmother now and she felt a little pang of envy in her heart. She wondered if Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks were at the school, leaving their month-old son with Dromeda. She wondered if Harry Potter knew he was a Godfather.
She felt sick of the death and destruction but she behaved as only Narcissa Black could, she held her face aloof, her features straight, a slight sneer on her face; it was a sneer for the creatures she stood amongst, but not for those poor people, poor children, out there.
Lucius had been sent to find Severus and when he returned, she knew Severus has been killed by the Dark Lord, just from how shaken Lucius looked. She knew their days were numbered too; it would only be so long before he turned on them too. She knew she must decide how to play the next part of the game.
When Harry Potter walked into the Forbidden Forest alone, Narcissa's first thought was that he was mad. But she studied him closely. Just like at the manor, he looked wild, but also determined and unforgiving. That made him look so much more powerful than the Dark Lord. And she knew he had a plan. He cared not for the other Death-Eaters, that Bellatrix paced or Yaxley stood close, even Hagrid who was trussed to a tree wasn't spared a glance.
'Harry Potter. Come to die,' cackled Bellatrix and Narcissa wanted to hex her. She was a fool.
He ignored her, only looking at Voldemort, unyielding.
Voldemort watched him scornfully, eyeing him slowly before announcing, 'the boy who lived.'
There was no warning, no duel, Voldemort simply raised the Elder Wand and a bolt of green light shattered the night sky before Potter collapsed to the forest floor.
Narcissa didn't believe it. It was too easy after everything he'd been through.
She also wondered. The boy had volunteered to die, had offered himself. She vaguely remembered reading something long ago about Sacrificial Protection, an ancient strain of magic, and she looked at Harry Potter in wonder in her heart. If it was true-if she'd remembered correctly-he'd just sacrificed himself to protect those he loved; all those children and young adults and adults at the school; all those who fought by his side. If it was so, he truly was a remarkable young man.
She turned to watch Voldemort as he stumbled backwards, his expression faltered, doubtful as he glanced warily at the boy.
If the Dark Lord showed doubt, that meant there was hope at all levels. There was a possibility that Mr Potter had survived the Killing Curse again. She wasn't sure whether to be awed or scared.
She was the one who approached him, the others held back but she was intrigued. She ensured her Occlumency shields were in place, she didn't trust anyone in this clearing. She knelt over him, her back to the Dark Lord, and she placed her hand over Potter's heart, feeling a strong heartbeat beneath his t-shirt and the rise and fall of his chest. He was more than alive. His face was shielded from the others by her body and she carefully straightened his glasses which had been knocked askew. His eyes opened, only a few millimetres as he clearly checked his own safety, but then his gaze shifted to her. His eyes, she realised, were incredibly intense.
Behind her, Bellatrix said loudly, 'is he dead?'
She ignored her sister and whispered, 'is he alive? Draco. Is he alive?'
He gave a barely perceptible nod.
She withdrew her hand and stood to face the waiting Dark Lord and his Death-Eaters.
'Is he dead?' repeated Bella, eagerly.
'Yes,' Narcissa announced with her head held high, her eyes glistening, and her heart singing.
After the war, Draco would often think the moment he spotted Hagrid crossing the viaduct bridge as the most bitter-sweet moment of his life. He was delighted to see the half-giant was still alive even though he'd clearly been captured. Then Ginevra Weasley had cried out 'No... NO!' and her primal scream made them look a little closer, made them see that Hagrid carried Harry Potter in his arms.
All hope fell away. For how could they defeat the Dark Lord now without Potter to lead them?
His father had beckoned to him, summoned him like a dog, told him not to be stupid in front of everyone. But he hesitated. It wasn't until his mother called to him; her tone quiet but absolute that he looked at her. She was saying something different so he ducked his head as he approached her to avoid the reproachful looks. He didn't fail to hear Ron Weasley hiss, 'he saved your life.' He faltered, stung, but stepped forward again to reach his mother, unable to avoid the awkward embrace the Dark Lord offered him. Once he'd reached his mother's side, she handed him a wand, his wand... Potter's wand... and he looked at it balefully. Not really understanding how it had come to this. But he felt his mother tug lightly on his sleeve and when he looked into her eyes, it was just in time to see them flick towards Potter, lying limply in Hagrid's arms, and then to the wand in his hand.
He didn't listen to the Dark Lord's words or Neville's, he heard Bellatrix laugh but he ignored her. He watched Potter. Looking for a sign, any sign.
Then he saw it, the briefest of movements.
He heard Bellatrix scream as she deflected a curse but he was already moving towards Potter as he spilt out of Hagrid's arms.
'Potter!' he yelled and he tossed his wand into Potter's hand. In one continuous movement, Potter turned and fired on the Dark Lord.
He heard Ron shout, 'well done, Malfoy!' He also saw, rather than heard him mutter, 'can't believe I just said that.' But it lightened his heart for a brief moment when Ron grinned at him. He nodded in return but there wasn't time for pleasantries or reconciliations.
Potter and the Dark Lord were duelling wildly, Voldemort pushing him back into the school. The Death-Eaters who didn't desert their master in that moment followed behind him as they attacked everyone on sight. It was, Draco knew, a fight to the death for many of them and therefore all the more desperate.
Blood, rubble, noise, curses, death... too much death. And it wasn't over yet.
He wondered when he'd last slept as dawn crept across the sky.
Draco went to follow but his father held his arm as he tried to persuade his family to leave. Draco shook his arm free and stood his ground.
'There are children in there, scared, injured, dying, because of you,' he raged. 'Because of you!' he spat. 'You willingly brought the Dark Lord into our lives. You enabled this. You let someone like Greyback into the school for what? FOR WHAT? You disgust me.'
And he turned his back on his father and, with his mother by his side, marched up the steps and turned into the Great Hall. They didn't see Lucius scurrying across the viaduct, running away, instead, they spent their time helping where they could in the Great Hall. It was all Narcissa could do without a wand and Draco knew he was better off here than trying to fight out there. He sighed in relief when Blaise joined him.
Afterwards, when it was all over, when Harry had destroyed the Dark Lord, the silence was too quiet. It seemed to ring in Draco's ears.
He glanced around the Great Hall and saw people huddled in small groups, nursing their wounds. They were all there. There were tears. There was quiet laughter. There were low conversations. Poppy Pomfrey and Blaise were making their way around the injured, working together. He was surprised to see Pansy too, working unobtrusively in a corner, healing the cuts on a fourth year who had snuck out and joined the fight. Aberforth Dumbledore and Oliver Wood were pouring goblets of something strong, handing them out. The Hogwarts House-Elves were among the witches and wizards, being helped and helping. Some of the groups were too sad to watch, Draco glanced briefly at the Weasleys huddled together around Fred's body. And Potter standing next to Remus and Tonks as his mother tenderly cared for their bodies, cleaning them and straightening their clothes. Draco watched as Potter turned away, his dirty face streaked from crying. He saw Aberforth give Potter a stoic nod and offer him a goblet, which he declined. And then McGonagall was pulling him into her arms, hugging him tightly and he returned it fiercely. They didn't let go of each other for a long time until she pulled back and lightly touched his face before turning away, tears glistening in her hazel eyes.
He almost wished he had a camera to record these moments. Although they were painful, they were intimate and precious. The most genuine emotions he'd seen in a long time. They spoke the truth about these people.
Dean and Seamus laughed quietly together at a table, holding hands, unable to let go of each other, eyes only for each other. Filch stood hopelessly with a broom amongst the rubble, Mrs Norris by his side. Flitwick, Sprout, and Slughorn sat quietly together, they look dazed as they passed a hipflask between them. Cho Chang looked up from a group of Ravenclaws and smiled gratefully at Potter. Neville was sitting by Luna. Professor Trelawney was comforting a younger student. Then Hagrid was filling the aisle and Draco wanted to run to him but instead the half-giant had turned towards Potter and had pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. Draco saw Potter wince but he couldn't raise a smile. When Hagrid released him, he cuffed Potter on the arm, nearly knocking him off his feet and hobbled away, blowing his nose into a giant handkerchief. It was then that Hagrid spotted Draco and limped over. Perhaps others were surprised, he didn't care. Draco finally let his guard down and finally let his mask shatter and he hugged Hagrid as resolutely as McGonagall had hugged Harry a few minutes earlier. And he couldn't help the tears that clouded his grey eyes as he sobbed into Hagrid's horrible and smelly and beautiful leather jerkin as Hagrid patted him firmly on the back.
'Come on, then, Mr Malfoy,' he said gruffly. 'I reckons we've got some animals to be checking up on. I'll be supposing there'll be a fair few which is shook up by all this nonsense.'
As he left by Hagrid's side through the doors of the school, he glanced back, just in time to see Potter kiss Ginevra Weasley as they stood at the bottom of the great staircase.
It left him feeling surprisingly hollow but he didn't question it. There were other things to focus on.
***