Draco threaded his fingers with Pansy's and they apparated away from the Great Hall. Pansy let Draco lead them away, effortlessly keeping her mind blank. There was nothing to think of now, it was over. They were over. Still, nausea washed over her as she fell out into the huge entrance hall of the Malfoy Manor, Draco still at her side, his parents standing before her facing into what had once been their house. Technically, all the Malfoy still lived there, but Pansy knew they hated it now, had done for a long time, the house Voldemort had lived in. It had once been a place of splendour and wealth; Voldemort hadn't removed anything, or damaged anything, but the place seemed rank now, plagued by a man the house itself had hated. She heard the crack as Theodore and Blaise apparated in, speaking to each other in quiet voices that she couldn't be bothered to decipher. She waited without really meaning to, to see if anyone else would follow, even though she knew they wouldn't. Vincent was dead, Gregory had fled before the battle was even over and Millicent had evacuated before it started. Daphne was still in France with her parents, probably completely unaware of what had happened. Pansy hoped she was, hoped she was safe and as happy as she could be, even if her absence had left a raw wound that bled every time she thought of her. Truthfully, Pansy would have had her here instead.
Without anything much else to do, the six of them moved into the downstairs drawing room. Nobody so much as uttered a word, settling down onto the hard sofas for what would be an exceptionally long night. They could hope that the Order would leave them alone, just for one night to grieve their losses as they might do, and come in for questioning in the morning, but the likelihood of it was minimal. Pansy leaned into Draco as she felt him begin to shake, tears tracking down his cheeks, dripping off his pointed chin into his lap. He didn't move to wipe them away so Pansy didn't either.
Within the hour, Kinsley Shaklebolt and his Aurors arrived. They said nothing while Lucius cowered further into the sofa, begging them not to take him, insisting over and over again that Voldemort had cursed him into doing everything. One of the Aurors took him first, and then a second took Narcissa, standing still and straight as if she hadn't just lost everything, just watched her sister die. Kingsley took Draco away himself, tears still spilling down is face unchecked. He said nothing to the three of them, so they said nothing back, and suddenly it was just the three of them, sitting in a room in a house they'd been in a hundred times before that wasn't their own. They didn't have anything to go back to now anyway, or at least Pansy and Theo didn't, both war orphans now, or as close to it. Blaise's mum was somewhere, and though she hadn't come for him yet, Pansy knew she would because she always did.
The three of them stayed mostly silent, hunger gnawing at Pansy's stomach in a different way from the bone deep fear that was eating at her, fear that she'd never see Draco again. She lifted her hand to push some of her dark hair away from her face only to find her eyes wet with unshed tears. She bit her lip, ignoring the sorrow suddenly threatening to take over and looked up at the two remaining boys. Theo had fallen asleep against Blaise's shoulder and Blaise looked back at her steadily over his head, his dark eyes acknowledging her pain, her fear and echoing it back to her. She didn't try to smile at his reassuringly as someone else might, and he didn't try to smile back, they simply looked at each other, a shared gaze of desolation.
A deafening crack that mightn't have been loud at all in other circumstances echoed throughout the Manor, followed immediately by running footsteps. At any other time, the three of them would have been on their feet, wands out, ready to fight. Now, they simply sat, dread that had sat in their stomachs for hours sharpening into an acute nausea.
The door to the drawing room burst open and Pansy threw herself at the girl standing there, tear tracks staining her cheeks, a wild, desperate look in her brown eyes. Finally, she let herself cry, heartbroken sobs ripping through her chest, leaving her shaking and breathless. Daphne held her tighter, tucking Pansy's head under her chin and pressing her lips to it in fleeting butterfly kisses all over.
"Daffy," Pansy sobbed, her voice breaking. "Daffy you're here."
"I'm here Pans," Daphne whispered back wetly, "I'm here."
Daphne didn't ask anything, didn't expect any explanation, and Pansy wasn't sure how much she did knew. Everything, Pansy suspected, in the way that Daphne did sometimes know everything without a word even being spoken. Without saying much at all, she convinced Blaise and Theo to go to bed, taking the smaller guest bedroom directly above the drawing room and leading Pansy to another two doors down. Pansy felt the pain that was threatening to consume her ebb away, slowly, almost without her noticing at all, and with one word from Daphne, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Daphne looked peaceful in her sleep, even though Pansy knew she wasn't, her pale golden hair a beautiful mess over her pillow. She was snoring lightly, the way Pansy had gotten used to in five years of sharing a room and then even more used to in a year of sharing a bed. Pansy smiled down at her, kissed her on the temple and left the bedroom they'd appointed themselves.
A clock chimed four, and a crash burst from the kitchen at the end of the corridor. She started walking faster, hope burning through her despite her best efforts for it not to. She pushed the door open, and there stood Draco, looking lost and broken, pale and bruised.
"It's over now," he said.
Pansy ran to him.