Tread softly, little one.
Holding onto her daughter's hand as they walk through the dank, dark woods she fights the tears she knows will somehow reach her eyes, make them sting, and the tears will pour.
She doesn't want to do this. She can't do it. No. She has to. There is no other alternative. With the war raging on, she has no choice. No choice at all.
The road is treacherous and the darkened forest even more so.
She reaches the clearing and hugs her little girl with soft curls the color of moonlight. She won't cry, for the sake of her child. If she does, her daughter will know something is wrong, and won't leave her mother's side. She can feel her heart pounding. Can she trust him? He doesn't know. But he is her only choice, the safest one. She has to.
Trust only those you know, and only those with what trust you must give them.
He stands in the clearing. She can see him, even though he's in the shadows, his platinum hair covered by a black hood. He doesn't know who he's coming to pick up. Only that he is here to protect. He'll do it for her.
She walks to him. And hugs him hard, knowing this will probably be the last time they see one another. He doesn't react, his arms don't slide across her back like they usually do.
Fold your hands on your lap, and breathe, child. Take in the damp musky air and concentrate.
"Why am I here?" he asks.
She looks over at her daughter, and he gives her a look that can only be described as hurt. He knows. He asks why she didn't tell him. She shrugs, and doesn't reply, because she doesn't know why. She only knows she couldn't.
"I need you to take her. She's not safe with the Order anymore, or anyone. But you. You can keep her, and take care of her. Please, Draco." The words slip from her lips like liquid, even though she wants to stop them.
Take the hand of the one who always hides himself from the world, for fear of being hurt.
He looks over at the girl and licks his lips nervously. The child's holding a teddy bear and is sucking on her thumb, a replica of both of them, with her curls and eyes, but his skin tone and hair. She looks about five, and he recalls the year that he didn't see her once.
He nods abruptly, knowing he can never turn his child away. She's relieved.
"I must go," she whispers. "Harry and Ron will miss me." A hard kiss to his lips, like a last goodbye, and she walks over to her child.
She tells her not to be afraid, that this is her daddy, and he's going to keep her safe for Mummy, because Mummy has to fight the bad guys. And that she will see her soon. Her throat hurts as if she's swallowed a large rock. Finally, after a hug and two kisses to each cheek, her daughter leaves reluctantly, so smart for her age, as if she knows what is going on.
She watches them leave the clearing and watches her daughter look back, her brown eyes filled with longing. Only when they are out of sight does she let the tears fall and only then does she let the sobs be released, the soft sounds of her breath catching filling the silent air.
If only she could go with them into hiding. Forget that the war was raging, forget about everything. But she couldn't. She had to go back, and fight.
She knew she wouldn't make it through the war, her gut said it. But she knew her daughter would be cared for, and loved by the man she loved. She knew it.
Take my hand, little child. It's time to come home…