A REASON TO LIVE AND FIGHT.

Harry had been anxious all throughout the night before leaving for his first year of Hogwarts; Darcy remembered it very well. She remembered how he insisted he slept on the bed, but every so often, he would wake up and fall asleep next to his sister on the floor. She found it oddly adorable when her ten-year-old brother cuddled up next to her. In fact, Darcy loved when Harry showed her signs of affection because it was rare. But Darcy loved it simply because it proved to her that she had done a good job in taking care of him. Harry trusted her. Harry loved her.

Hagrid was to come and get the Potter siblings that morning and take them to Diagon Alley to get all their new school supplies. Harry stared in awe at the list Darcy had received ("You need a cauldron? For what? Making soup?") and seemed awfully excited to read his, but alas, Hagrid had kept it instead of letting McGonagall send it to Harry, as she usually did with all the other students.

"But what if I'm not in Gryffindor?" Harry had asked Darcy with wide eyes. It was nearly midnight and he was still wide awake, sitting up straight on the twin bed. Darcy was curled up in blankets on the floor, exhausted and ready to return to Hogwarts - her favorite place in the world. Harry was keeping her up, asking ridiculous questions about what to expect.

"What if?" Darcy repeated. "There's a one in four chance, Harry. Every House is a good house, mind you. If you aren't sorted into Gryffindor, then you'll have to take pride in the House you are sorted into."

"But I won't have it! I don't want to be in any other House but Gryffindor."

"What is so special about Gryffindor that you absolutely must be in it? Will you die if you're put in Ravenclaw instead?"

Harry didn't answer her right away. He looked almost fearful, so Darcy climbed up into the bed with her brother and hugged him, ruffling his already messy hair.

"All the Houses are special. Ravenclaw has wit or some strange thing like that. Hufflepuffs are wonderfully loyal. Slytherin students are ambitious. Then there's Gryffindor - the brave. What's so great about being brave that you want to be in that House so badly?" Darcy said to him.

Harry hesitated. "You're in Gryffindor, Darcy."

Darcy was beyond flattered. She was glad the lights were turned out because she blushed furiously and brought Harry's head to her chest. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat calmed Harry down immensely. "That's true," Darcy replied. "Professor McGonagall says the Sorting Hat usually sort family members in the same House, though, so there's really no need to worry."

"What did the Sorting Hat say when you put it on?"

Darcy had to think back to her first year, when she was one of the nervous first years waiting to be sorted in front of the entire school. But she recalled it very clearly, sitting up on the rickety stool and having McGonagall place the patched hat on her small head. "Oh," sighed the hat as soon as it touched Darcy's reddish hair. "A Potter, at last. I have been waiting for this day, you know! You've been taking good care of your brother, haven't you?"

"Yes," Darcy had answered quietly, under her breath.

"I can see you've inherited your father's temper..." the hat chuckled, but Darcy did not reply. She simply blushed and looked down at her swinging feet. "But also your mother's bravery. That is why I shall decide - GRYFFINDOR!"

When Darcy told Harry what the Sorting Hat had told her, Harry was impressed. "Do you think I'll be in Gryffindor?"

Darcy laughed. "You want to be known as brave and chivalrous instead of smart or loyal?"

"Well, yes," Harry shrugged. "Besides, mum and dad were in Gryffindor. And you are! If we're in different Houses, how are we going to be able to talk?"

Smiling, Darcy stood up off the bed and pulled the blankets back, allowing Harry to lay down. She covered him up, ran her fingers through his hair, and kissed his forehead. "No matter what House you're sorted into or what classes you have, I will always find time to talk to you, okay?" Darcy nodded and Harry nodded back, content with that answer. "Even if you think you belong in a certain House, the Sorting Hat knows better than you. Sorting boys and girls is its job - its been doing it for hundreds of years now!"

"I'm just worried that I won't like my House."

"Harry, you'll always have me, okay? I hope you're in Gryffindor, too, but it's up to the Sorting Hat. I won't leave you just because you're at the opposite side of the castle!"

Harry's eyes widened. "Is it really that big?"

"Well... kind of..." Darcy got back down on her spot on the ground, wrapping the blankets around her and closing her eyes. "But don't worry - I'll show you around."

"Darcy?"

"Hm?"

"I won't leave you, either if I'm not in Gryffindor."

"Okay. I'll hold you to it," Darcy laughed and shook her head. "Good night, Harry."

Darcy woke up in terror. Nightmares plagued her sleep - Snape's death, Tonks and Fred lying silent on the ground, Harry walking away from her. Everything had been taken away from her except for the man who was wrapped around her, Lupin - not Charlie. Darcy briefly scanned the Great Hall for Charlie, but could not find him, so with Lupin sleeping, she stood up and swayed back and forth, thinking of what to do next. Looking down, Lupin looked so worn out and he was snoring a little bit. Lupin always snored when he was very tired and in a deep sleep. Darcy knew that he would not wake easily. She glanced out the window; it was close to morning and it broke her to know that Voldemort would not have stalled so long. Harry was already most likely dead. Or maybe Harry had killed Voldemort... but that was impossible, for the snake was still alive...

Everyone in the Great Hall was calm, so Darcy assumed Voldemort had not spoken again to them. But wouldn't Voldemort have announced Harry's death? He would have wanted to rub it in Darcy's face. Right? Or would he have done it to her face? Proved to her that Harry had truly died by his hand after all these years? Her heart beating erratically, Darcy headed towards the exit discreetly, not wanting to answer anyone's idiotic questions. Okay, perhaps they weren't idiotic, but Darcy did not want to give answers at all to any questions. Where was Harry? How was the Weasley family holding up? What happened to Darcy during the battle? The answers would hurt her heart too much, so she slipped past resting friends quietly.

As she turned the corner towards the large doors of Hogwarts, trying to escape the destroyed castle, she ran into someone she wasn't expecting and apologized profusely after nearly knocking McGonagall to the ground. However, the older woman touched Darcy's cheeks, holding her face in her shaky hands. Darcy accepted the loving gesture and slouched, becoming suddenly depressed again. There was an emptiness in her chest that could not be fixed by Lupin or Ron or Charlie or Hermione. She needed Harry - only Harry could fix the hole in her heart. Neither of the women spoke, for there was really nothing that could be said. But after a while of silence, McGonagall broke it, wishing to have Darcy know how much she was admired.

"I am so proud to have had you in my House," she whispered to Darcy with a big smile. Darcy just nodded, unable to reply. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Darcy looked down at her once blue shoes; they were torn up and ripped, stripped of their color. "No," rasped Darcy. "There's nothing you can do." Tears welled up in her eyes suddenly and Darcy couldn't bring herself to meet McGonagall's eyes again. Darcy felt so weak and so tired; she felt her old professor would simply be ashamed. Ashamed that Darcy had not gone with Harry like she should have. They were a team and Darcy left Harry to die alone.

"Look at me, Darcy." McGonagall wiped Darcy's tears from her cheeks, trying to get Darcy to look up. But Darcy shook her head, sniffling. "Look at me, Potter. You've done nothing wrong. Stop blaming yourself for all this."

Darcy cried harder, knowing that McGonagall was only trying to protect her. But Darcy didn't want her to. She wanted to be alone.

"I will not let you break again, okay? Not like before. No one will let that happen to you again. Understood?"

"Okay."

"Are you sure you don't need anything?"

Darcy nodded one last time.

McGonagall knew that it wasn't her; there was nothing anyone could do for Darcy. "Okay," she sighed sadly, lowering her hands back to her sides. "Okay."

As McGonagall walked towards the Great Hall, leaving Darcy standing by herself, Darcy turned around and called out for her old professor. McGonagall looked over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows, listening carefully. "Snape..." she breathed in heavily, telling herself that it was okay. "He's dead, you know?" Darcy cleared her throat and nodded, more tears falling from her eyes. "Voldemort killed him and, uh - I couldn't do anything for him. I just watched him die."

Darcy had never seen McGonagall look so sympathetic - or was it indifference?

"He was a good guy," continued Darcy. "He was a good guy... On our side the whole time. And Dumbledore knew it. So, uh - there is actually one thing you can do for me."

"Anything, Potter," McGonagall said so quietly, Darcy strained to hear it.

"Please... just - just don't be angry with him," Darcy pleaded. "He was just trying to help me. To help us. And if you knew the things I did, you wouldn't be angry with him. If you saw the things I've seen -"

Darcy had to stop talking, for her sobs began to take over. McGonagall watched her break down, not knowing how to help, but she nodded and agreed. "Okay," McGonagall told Darcy sincerely. "I won't be angry."

As the sun rose over Hogwarts, Darcy sat out on the courtyard, unable to bring herself to do anything. She needed to keep fighting, but couldn't bring herself to stand without Harry by her side. Without Harry, her bravery and courage had disappeared. Oh, how she missed him. And it had only been a few hours since his brave idea to surrender himself. It felt like years. She cursed Dumbledore silently for not preparing them better for this outcome - had he not thought of Darcy? Had he not thought of what she would be forced to go through? Obviously not. He cared only of defeating Voldemort. He did not care for anyone else's feelings. Darcy's emotions were last on Dumbledore's list of priorities. That was Snape's job, to teach her to grow up and be independent and let her know she could get on just fine without Harry. But Snape had not prepared her enough for that, either.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the booming voice she dreaded so much. The voice that she would never forget; in years to come, she knew she would dream of that voice and hear it clearly in her head. And that voice alone was enough to pull Darcy to her tired feet, to give her that extra boost of energy, to give her a reason to continue fighting. "Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone."

Darcy felt her blood boil. Harry hadn't run away to save himself - he had gone to save his friends and loved ones and everyone else who had been fighting. He had gone to keep more people from dying. Voldemort was not a hero nor victim for slaying Harry Potter. He was the villain. The evil monstrosity that had broken so many hearts and relationships. She clenched her fists as Voldemort continued.

"The battle is won. You have lost half your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member if their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."

Voldemort's voice rang inside Darcy's ears. He had already destroyed her family, ripped her friends' families apart. He had ruined her entire life just by existing and if he was going to kill her for standing up for everyone, then so be it. Darcy was ready to be slaughtered. She stood still, waiting for Voldemort and his army and behind her, she could hear the wounded and unwounded soldiers stepping outside to see Harry Potter - to see if he really was no longer the Boy Who Lived. She secretly hoped that she wouldn't be the only one to stand up to Voldemort, but she knew everyone else was tired. Tired of hurting and tired of fighting and they just wanted it to be over. They just wanted to be alive to see the end of the battle. Most of them were only kids Harry's age. What a horrible way to go - what a horrible thing to have seen at such a young age...

Darcy waited for the army of Death Eaters approaching, coming from the forest. She was waiting for them to come close enough so she could fire spell after spell and kill as many as she could before Voldemort killed her himself. She pulled out her wand and gripped it tightly as hundreds of figures approached the castle, a slightly larger man among the mix. There was no mistaking that man - Hagrid was walking alongside them all, not willingly, but forced against his will, ropes around his neck, wrists, and ankles. He was being led like an animal on a leash, obeying silently, his eyes wide and cold and dead. But when Darcy saw who Hagrid was holding, all thoughts of killing Death Eaters flew from her brain and she felt numb and dead yet again. But this time, it was worse, because she knew for a fact that it had definitely happened and Voldemort was not lying or exaggerating.

Harry Potter, lying limp in Hagrid's arms, was enough to kill Darcy where she stood. That was her dead brother in Hagrid's arms. Her best friend... The only family she had left... Voldemort might as well have ripped her heart out and threw it on the ground, shattering it into millions of pieces. Her army of wizards and witches was standing behind her, already defeated, while she stared at the opposing army, full of giddy and happy men and women ready to continue the fight. Darcy picked out Bellatrix, near the front of the line, and Lucius and Narcissa hiding behind others. "Harry... Oh, Harry..." she gasped, trying to catch her breath. Her heart was beating so fast, out of anger, and she felt her mouth move uncontrollably, letting out a horrible scream. "Harry!"

Voldemort eyed Darcy down and laughed, his laugh just as evil and snake-like as his voice. She felt Ron beside her, wrapping his arms around Darcy and holding her close as she held back tears. She had to be strong... Don't go down without a fight... Voldemort was enjoying her misery and horror. Darcy wanted to stop crying and shaking, not wanting to give Voldemort power over her, but she found she could not stop. Even Ron's comforting hold could not calm her. She knew Ron was holding her to help himself, as well. She could not imagine how Ron and Hermione were feeling. Did they have the same feeling of dread wash over them? Were their hearts all the way down in their stomachs? By the rapid heartbeat in Ron's chest, Darcy knew that she was not the only one.

It was silent as everyone began to mourn Harry's valiant death. Everyone fighting against Voldemort knew that Harry had not died for himself. Everyone that knew Harry knew he was a selfless person to begin with. One of the most selfless people. And Darcy knew that especially. And by the way Ron had his arm around her tightly, Darcy was sure Ron knew it very well, too.

"You knew this would come, Darcy Potter," hissed Voldemort, looking her directly in her eyes. "You should have known, ignorant girl, that this was to happen sooner or later."

Darcy huddled by Ron and his family, afraid of what was going to come next. She automatically assumed she was about to die... Would it really be that bad? Maybe Voldemort would kill her instantly and without pain. What did she have to live for anymore without Harry? All her life, she had lived for Harry. And then, as she thought that, Ron's arms weren't as comforting as they had been only seconds before. She took a step back towards the remaining soldiers, removing herself from the clan of redheads and she felt a hand on the small of her back, keeping her upright. One that made her relax and one that gave her courage. Lupin had always given her courage. Just a simple touch made electricity flow through her veins.

"Such a shame that Dumbledore did not tell you of his glorious plans for the Potter siblings," sighed Voldemort happily, his crooked and yellowing teeth mocking Darcy. "Of course, he was only interested in the famous Potter. You meant nothing to him. Just as everyone else in the world."

Darcy was quiet. She knew that Voldemort was wrong. Dumbledore cared about her... It had nothing to do with fame. She and Dumbledore never had the connection he and Harry had, and that didn't bother her. Of course he cared about her, though. Darcy thought for a moment, but could not bring herself to believe it. If Dumbledore truly cared, he would have told her all the things he told Harry... She refused to speak, not wanting to answer to Voldemort anymore.

"No..." Voldemort chuckled and shook his head with a small smile. "You took an interest in another. Severus. And you should not have, Darcy. You made a foolish mistake. You see - Severus was on my side. And he always was. He was never faithful to Dumbledore, Hogwarts... or even you. And now he's dead."

At his mention of Snape and the hand on her back grabbing her shoulder, Darcy suddenly found the courage to speak out. She was angry with Voldemort's lies about Harry, but after bringing up Snape, she was tired of it all. Out of nowhere, she gritted her teeth and shouted, "Snape was on our side! Ever since you killed my mum!" Lupin looked down at Darcy with a proud smile, squeezing her shoulder.

Voldemort scoffed as if Darcy was speaking nonsense. "You poor child. Nothing left for you here." He thought for a moment, glancing at Bellatrix, who was standing at his side. And then continued, "You are talented for your age. You have fought bravely and survived - unlike your counterpart. Come here, Darcy." He held his hands out, but Darcy was rooted to the spot, her face red and her eyebrows furrowed. "We can give you everything you want; you just have to come fight for me, as Severus did."

Darcy shook her head. "You killed him," she spat, her voice trembling. "I saw it. I watched it. Snape died while I was right beside him. He died while loyal to me and all at Hogwarts, and I know that. I don't wish to suffer that same fate." Holding her chin up in the air, Darcy tried so incredibly hard to be brave and not to break down. Lupin held her close, staring Voldemort down. He knew Darcy would never agree. He knew how heartbroken she was over Snape and Harry and because of that, she would never consider joining the team that killed him, no matter what they offered her.

Voldemort gave Darcy a forced smile, most likely irritated that Darcy did not decide to join him right away. "You heard what I said about those who resist - I'm afraid your fate has already been decided. But what will people remember you for, Potter? Being the sister of The Boy Who Lived?"

"People will remember me," Darcy uttered. It was deadly silent. No one dared to speak out. But that was okay with Darcy. This was now her battle. She was fighting the battle for those that couldn't - Fred, Tonks, Harry, Snape. "I promise you that." And that was the complete truth. Darcy was done lying. She knew that if she were to drop dead, Charlie would remember her as a best friend; Lupin would remember her as a lover; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would remember her as their second daughter; Ron and Hermione would remember her as their best friends and older sister... People would remember her...

Darcy closed her eyes as Voldemort lifted his wand eagerly, pointing it at her. This was it. He was about to kill her. Darcy knew she didn't stand a chance. She knew that she was going to die. It was all about how she died, what she had done. And she couldn't think of a better way to die. Defending herself, refusing to join the bad guys. Standing up to the bad guys. That was honorable, right?

"My Lord?"

With her eyes still shut, Darcy was surprised that she was still alive and standing in front of Hogwarts. A deep and broken voice had spoken out from the opposite side, one that was strangely familiar. Opening up her eyes, her jaw dropped when she saw Voldemort turn angrily towards Lucius Malfoy, whose head was bowed, his eyes swollen and bloodshot. He looked even worse than he did when Darcy was being tortured at his home. Narcissa touched her husband's arm gently, silently begging him to stop. "What?" Voldemort snapped, still pointing his wand at Darcy.

"I - I just, My Lord - perhaps we - you know... Maybe we should not kill her just yet?" Lucius suggested weakly and Darcy looked at the older man, pursing her lips. "After all, My Lord, she is very powerful - I've seen it - her. And I was, well, thinking... maybe you could just curse her and have her work - for - you?" Then he added quickly, "My Lord?"

Voldemort stared at Lucius. "That is wise, Lucius," Voldemort agreed quietly, but did not lower his wand. "But can't I have a little fun first?"

"I - I'm sorry, My Lord?"

"Crucio!"

Darcy held her breath as the pain hit her like a train. She fell to the ground and let out a massive scream, making nearly everyone on her side cringe. Voldemort cackled as she rolled around, gasped for breath, and trembled on the bloody concrete. He was truly enjoying himself, torturing Darcy and killing her slowly. Her body was bleeding, but Lupin did not know from where, and he fell to his knees and shouted her name over and over, trying to help her. He slapped her face with ease, trying to force her to keep her eyes open. When Darcy finally shut her eyes slowly, the veins popping from her neck and temple, her body slowly ceasing to move, Lupin stood up and pulled his wand out, firing a curse at the Death Eaters and Voldemort, causing a riot to break out.

The pain momentarily left Darcy's body still as screams and shouts echoed around her. She was too weak to move, close to death, and completely drained of energy and life. Something was happening, but she did not know what, for she could hardly see out of her half opened eyes. Many avoided stepping on her, running around her and jumping over her body, leaving her there. But two people had the decency to grab Darcy's arms, pulling her away from the messy battle and just inside the castle.

"Remus?" Darcy breathed, closing her eyes and licking her lips. "Remus?"

"No," replied a voice. Looking up to her left, Darcy tried hard to open her eyes all the way, attempting to see who had dragged her out of the way. The outline of a skinny body appeared before her. She recognized the bruised and swollen face instantly.

"Neville," she smiled. "I'm so glad you're okay."

Neville was beaming, looking directly at the other person who was holding onto Darcy tightly. Darcy, with help from Neville, rolled over and when she looked up into the bright green eyes, all life was restored to her body. She felt numb again, but it was a good kind of numb. The kind of numbing that made her forget about all the physical and mental pain. The kind of numbing that was good for her and helped her. The kind of numbing that was caused by her brother, sitting beside her, his wand out and his face bleeding.

"Hi, Darcy," Harry whispered, grabbing onto her hand and dodging a spell shot at him. "I'll be back to check on you, okay? But for now -" Another spell hit the wall right above Harry's head. "Find Malfoy!"

Darcy was so bewildered by Harry's appearance. Was she seeing straight? Was she dead? Was she in Heaven? Why was Harry so calm about this? She could hardly catch her couldn't even speak. Why was she supposed to find Malfoy? Out of all people? That was Harry's first command? To find Draco Malfoy? "Malfoy?" repeated Darcy, lightheaded and dizzy. She couldn't say anything else. Harry just nodded, running away quickly to rejoin the battle. He let Voldemort catch sight of him and then retreated deeper into Hogwarts, the evil wizard chasing after him and screaming, completely forgetting about Darcy. "Neville!" She grabbed onto his sleeve and pulled him close.

"What?"

"The snake," she instructed him gently, slowly building her strength and trying to sit up. "You need to kill the snake. Someone does. Kill it."

"The snake?"

"The snake."

"Voldemort's snake?"

"Voldemort's snake."

"You'll be okay?"

Darcy nodded slowly, still trying to take in the fact that Harry was alive and still fighting. "I think -" she hesitated and started to laugh. "I think I'll be okay."

Neville stared at Darcy like she was crazy for laughing. She was exhausted and confused and wasn't entirely sure if she could stand up or not, but so what? Her brother was alive. Voldemort hadn't killed him, that was for sure. The people loyal to Hogwarts had a reason to fight again. Darcy had a reason to fight again. She had a reason to live again. And Darcy wasn't about to let her brother down, so she stood up with great difficulty, holding onto Neville's hand and smiling at him as she regained feeling in her legs. Laughing made her stomach hurt, but she couldn't stop.

"Are you sure you're okay, Darcy?" Neville gave her a weird smile, afraid that Darcy was honestly going crazy.

"I - I'm just -" She laughed all she could laugh until a spell was shot at her and she had to take cover, pulling Neville along with her. Her heart was racing and pumping blood back to her limbs again. The pain had gone away - she was okay. "I'm so happy, Neville."

Neville was impressed, surprised, and proud all at one time. He nodded. "Me too."

"Snake," Darcy reminded Neville, letting go of his hand and backing away slowly.

"Malfoy," Neville answered with a wink and they went their opposite ways.