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Author's Note:

Please check Author's Note at the end for spoilers.

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XXXVII: The Magician

The light of the blue flame pierced through Draco's pupils, burning with the brightness of a small sun while it flickered in the safe confines of the jar.

"It'll burn through any wood," Hermione said, elbow-deep into her book bag. "It can disintegrate it into fine ash. Shouldn't hurt your skin, but be careful with your clothes."

Ron peered at the flame from an uncomfortably close distance before drawing away and mindlessly rubbing his eyes.

"Right," he muttered, his lips curled as if he'd tasted the bitter flavour of burnt toast. "And how are we going to even get to the Seventh Floor from here without being murdered to death by Death Eaters?"

"Murdered to death," Draco said with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

"Whatever," Ron spat.

With a twist of her torso that shielded herself away from the others, Hermione slowly withdrew her hand from the bag and slipped them into her pockets.

"Are you two finished?" Tonks asked, her hands folded over her chest.

Though Tonks was known for her lack of patience, in that moment Hermione found the response appropriate. She, too, was starting to feel a bit antsy about the idea of separating from Draco. Despite his insistence that they stay together, there was no logical workaround; it was neither efficient nor prudent to stay together, a band of four drifting down the corridors of Hogwarts - surely that would gather attention and put them at larger risk. Plus, with Hermione needing to go to Dumbledore's office while Draco insisted that he had to go to the Room of Requirement to 'take care of something,' it was clear that they had to split up. Still, it made her stomach hurt.

"You two should take the map," Ron urged, though she could sense the hesitation in the way his voice quivered and cracked when he said the words.

Draco nodded, agreeing with Ron for what Hermione presumed was the first time in his life.

"We'll send a Patronus if we see any danger headed your way," Tonks said.

"But they - the boys don't have any protection," said Hermione.

"We'll be fine," Draco said with a firm nod.

His mastery of emotion was frustrating in most circumstances, but Hermione could not determine whether she preferred it in moments of actual danger or if she wished he would just react like a normal person - with fear and anxiety. With the acknowledgement that danger was lurking in the walls of Hogwarts, just floors away.

"We need to get going," Tonks said.

"Could we have a minute?" Hermione asked, her knit, lifted brows pleading for her.

"Fine," Tonks said and grabbed Ron by the sleeve.

Though there was an edge to Tonks' voice, Hermione could make out the softness around her eyes that seemed to indicate a shred of sympathy for her. Ron's reaction, on the other hand, was so openly disapproving that she turned away from it immediately.

It took no time at all for Hermione to wrap her arms around Draco's waist and bury her face in his chest. There were no more words left to be spoken. He knew what she wanted to say, she had said it a dozen times already. With a final firm kiss to her temple, Draco reciprocated her sentiment with the quiet intensity that he'd poured into her, showing just how much he'd loved her back. Even in moments of turmoil, betrayal, and utter pain - even when he didn't know how to convey it - it was unwavering.

Draco's muscles tensed with surprise when he felt a tight squeeze of her hands against his bum. He glanced down at the smiling girl with a deep arch of his brow, all inquiry silenced as she rose to her tip-toes and pressed her lips to his. When she withdrew, she looked at him with a sense of acceptance he didn't understand before she gave him one final kiss.

"For good luck."

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The journey to the Room of Requirement was even more precarious than Draco anticipated as, with each turn, the halls seemed to echo with whispers that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

It was as though the walls were breathing, trapped with a thousand spirits that were begging through an ethereal plane for release. It was made even eerier as the sensation procured memory after memory of this familiar feeling.

He'd sensed it before. In the walls of his family home, lingering on the robes of his father. Dark magic permeated and seeped onto every surface, dripping from the Death Eaters as they patrolled the hallways. It clung to the cold stones of Hogwarts castle.

It didn't seem to affect Ronald Weasley, who lumbered through the hallways, arms swinging at his sides. It wasn't that he wasn't afraid, really, the boy was skittish on average days, but he didn't seem to hear it - didn't seem to feel the pull of the energy. Its dark scent filled Draco's head, seeped to his blood, and coursed through his veins.

Hurt, it told him. Seek power.

His wand felt slick as his palms were coated in a thin sheen of cold sweat. His whole body felt clammy, and he couldn't wait until he could find a safe place - perhaps back at Gryffindor Tower - far from the lingering effect of the darkness.

"Stop lagging behind, Malfoy. I told you - five feet ahead of me."

Draco's head snapped toward Weasley.

"Sod off, I'm not standing in front of you so you can hex me behind my back."

"Why would I hex you? How do I know you're not leading me to them?"

At this, Draco stopped abruptly, the sneer plastered on his face nothing compared to the rage that burned in his eyes. It was so easy to slip into fury as his blood boiled in his body and pounded in his head.

"Are you accusing me of something, Weasley?"

"You know I am."

Weasley stood his ground, his wand clenched against a fist that was growing white from tension. His ears and nose had bloomed a bright red.

"If you thought I was a Death Eater you would have stunned me already. It's not my fault she chose me. You had your chance - years, in fact, to make a move. Stop being a child about it and get off my back."

At his words, Weasley's face glowed even more like a tomato. It almost looked like steam was about to come out of his ears from the heat.

Draco didn't give him a chance to respond as he turned on his heel and bounded down the corridor. Yes, it gave him the disadvantage should Weasley choose to shift from words to hexes, but he didn't care - they were more at risk by lingering in the corridors than by any silly spell Weasley could muster.

"Stupid tosser," Draco heard from behind, followed by the sound of Weasley's hurried footsteps as he caught up.

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Draco averted his gaze, his eyes already aching from the brilliance of the blue-white flame that had swallowed all shadows in its radius. Smell and sound would have to suffice as he listened to the crackle of the wood as it crumbled onto its own weight, slowly disintegrating into ash that wafted into the air and filled his nostrils with the scent of charred wood and pure destruction. He revelled in the cleansing sensation that overcame him.

There was something so final about fire, which consumed anything and everything it came into contact with, reducing it into its final form of ash. Everything became ash. Why was that such a relief to him?

Regardless of creed, colour, substance, good or evil, it all fell to ash under the destructive kiss of fire. It was so purifying.

He wanted to give it more. Feed it. Cast away any and all evil that had touched him. If he could, he wondered if a part of him would cast himself into the fire. Clean the darkness from within. Draw out whatever part of him remained sensitive to the smell and sound of dark magic that a simpleton like Weasley was unable to detect.

Alas, no. The intrusive thought faded as quickly as it came and another took its place. He knew what he wanted to cast into the bright flame. He reached into his jacket to seek the three-pronged blade - the instrument of his first murder. Despite being cleaned, the blade still glistened with the blood of Bellatrix Lestrange as her dark magic seeped in it. Unable to find it in his jacket, Draco slipped a hand into his back pocket for the sheathed knife.

His brows furrowed at the sensation of something else. It was the shape of a cylinder, and it was tucked away in his back pocket. He hadn't felt anything there before. Did it have a weightless charm on it? As he withdrew the mysterious item, his stomach sank and his heart dropped.

"What the fuck."

Draco glanced down at his hands, cradling the glimmering golden vial that he'd asked Hermione to keep and use when they were in the cave. That Draco had given it to her.

"Granger, you disobedient brat…" Draco whispered under his breath, heat rising up his face and burning his eyes.

Weasley, who'd taken the opportunity to dig through the various treasures and garbage that littered the forgotten Room of Hidden Things, peered from behind a tattered armoire.

"What is it?"

Draco ignored the words as he quickly overcame his feeling of - was it betrayal? Rage? A protective love that made him want to stomp all the way back to Hermione and force-feed the liquid luck to her, ensuring that whatever fortune the potion could possibly bring, it would bring to her?

Draco stared helplessly at the Felix Felices. He blinked rapidly, fighting the sting as his vision grew blurry. As much as he wanted to respond in rage, he understood her intention. The men were helpless. They were without the map, in a dangerous part of the castle, with no guarantee of finding their way back. This was the only edge toward their survival that she could give him, and he, begrudgingly, understood that.

Draco swallowed the flurry of mixed-emotions as Weasley hovered nearby.

They both jumped with a start as a loud bang reverberated throughout the room, casting clouds of dust that blew off of the forgotten artefacts and furniture.

Blue eyes met blue eyes as they stared at each other with panic.

Draco glanced down at the golden liquid, his heart pounding in his ears. His fingers pinched the stopper and he could see down the glass opening. It sparkled in invitation and Draco brought it to his lips. It nearly shook out of his hands as, with another loud bang, Draco's muscles seized in surprise but he threw his head back and took a large gulp of the liquid.

It tasted like the sweetest candy he'd ever tasted. Like sunshine on the first day of spring. It was delightful as it ran through him and made his insides tingle with unnatural joy.

Weasley watched, his face pale like the pile of ash behind him.

Draco's lips lifted in a sneer and he turned away from Weasley, unwilling to glance at him as his hand slowly drew outward.

"Wh-what?" Weasley asked, wide-eyed.

"Drink the rest and let's get the hell out of here."

They had nowhere to go. Draco knew this as Weasley took the half-full vial of Felix Felices and swallowed the contents without hesitation.

It didn't matter anyway as the door burst with a final bang, large pieces of splintered wood flying everywhere. Draco ducked behind the armoire and tried to keep still from shaking with dread as a Death Eater he vaguely recognized entered the room. It wasn't the man that had Draco quivering, but the twelve-foot long snake that slithered behind him.

Draco nearly let out a scream when, without notice or provocation, the snake snapped its head back and whipped forward, burying its fangs into the man's neck and causing ribbons of blood to spray out his carotid artery.

"Bloody hell," Ron whimpered.

"We've got to make a run for it," Draco said, his lungs barely strong enough to carry the words from his mouth as terror gripped him. He could see the enormous fangs of the serpent, glistening as both blood and venom dripped to the floor from its sharp points.

"I-I'll distract it," Ron said, his hand reaching for the nearest object - to throw, Draco figured, but the idea was unnecessary as the snake turned around and began slithering back out toward the exit.

It was almost enough to let out a full sigh of relief. The feeling was short-lived as the next sound Draco heard filled his lungs with ice.

"No, please! Draco!"

His heart suddenly felt squeezed in a vice.

"Hermione," he breathed, his eyes wide. His heart leapt in his ribcage.

"What? Hermione?" Weasley asked, staring straight at Draco's terror-stricken face.

Without another word, Draco broke out into a run - snake or not. The sound of her shrieks filled the hallways and reverberated in his skull. He never wanted to hear it again, but he chased after it.

Draco could hear Weasley's hurried footsteps behind him but he barely noticed as he followed the screams. The end of Nagini's tail turned a corner, and he pursued it - unsure how or why the snake seemed to also chase after the sound. He was ready to kill the creature with his bare hands if it meant saving Hermione from a fate even close to that of the Death Eater.

He followed up the spiral staircase. His lungs burned and his limbs ached as he climbed up dozens of steps, two, three at a time.

Draco could hardly believe it when he heard the last scream, calling for him. He could barely comprehend it when he realized where he was -

He blinked once. Twice. It wasn't a dream.

He was at the Astronomy Tower.

With a determined gulp, Draco pressed his pale hands against the heavy wooden door and thrust forward.

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Author's Note (SPOILERS BELOW):

For the sake of some of the readers that would prefer to know, as we are in the middle of some tension and there are only a few more chapters left, I am sharing whether the story will end HEA or UHEA. So if you'd rather not know, please stop reading lol. This fic will end up happily ever after. If you're prone to anxiety like I am, hopefully that'll help alleviate your concerns a bit lol.

Anyway, we are so close! I am secretly crying each time I update because I don't want it to end, but I'm pleased with how things are coming along. If you are too, please leave me a review and let me know your thoughts!

S