Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

"A dragon! We're riding a goddamn dragon!"

Theo's shouts filled the air around them, competing with the rushing wind by their ears for dominance. Draco barely paid attention as he clung desperately to the beast's scales, hugging himself tight to its massive body. Below them, muggle London turned into English countryside as they flew through the sky.

"Draco," a voice exclaimed from behind him. He turned his head slightly to make eye contact with Daphne, whose white face looked terrified in comparison to Theo's elation. "How are we supposed to get… off?"

"He'll land eventually!" Draco shouted back, noticing the dragon already starting to lose altitude.

"You better hope so!" Blaise yelled. He seemed closer to anger than either terror or jubilance. "If we die on the back of this dragon, I'll kill you again in hell, Draco!"

As if he sensed Blaise's agitation, the dragon spread out his wings one more, the flaps turning into a straight glide, as he rode the air downwards to solid ground. Daphne screeched from behind him as the dragon took a sharp nosedive towards the earth.

Still holding on for dear life, Draco glanced over the side of the scaled body to gain some clue as to their height. Below them, a clear lake was coming steadily into view.

"On my count!" Draco shouted backwards at the group, the idea forming quickly in his head. Couldn't be crazier than riding the dragon in the first place.

"What?" Theo yelled.

"We jump!"

"Draco, I will kill you right now!"

"Can it, Blaise!" Draco retorted as the dragon slipped ever closer to the water's surface. "Would you rather be wet or break every bone in your body?"

"I'll break every bone in your body!"

"Draco!" Daphne shouted, fear permeating each syllable. "Count!"

Draco took a deep breath, eyeing their descent as if on a broomstick; the Seeker needed to know the exact moment to pull up.

One hundred metres. Fifty. Thirty-five.

"Three," he started. Two!"

Now or never.

"Go!" He shouted into the void, before letting go off the scales and plummeting towards the earth.

He had no time to look behind him and check whether the others had followed before his body hurtled through the air, colliding with the lake's surface with such a force to send shockwaves up his spine.

Rushing water pressed against his skin as he plummeted metres into the deep. The silence of the lake was a welcome comparison to the chaos of the Gringotts heist and the following dragon-escape.

But it was a mirage. A moment of peace in a war as his body slowed down. He opened his eyes, seeing old murky bubbles around him, but not the others. He paused for a single second, to regain his bearings, before kicking his legs upwards. The light sparkling across the lake's surface was his compass needle.

His head broke the surface as he gasped for air.

Around him, he heard shouts. He blinked the fresh water from his eyes, legs naturally beginning to tread water, as he had eons ago in the Black Lake at Hogwarts.

Was this the same water as then? Had it moved across the earth to meet him here, the flow reaching him when he needed it again.

Theo and Daphne were not too far from him, clinging desperately to each other. Draco swiveled his head around until he caught sight of Blaise, swimming quickly towards the not-too-distant shoreline. Angling his body forward, he followed.

After a few minutes of swimming, he pulled himself onto the rocky beach, his arms losing strength as he rolled onto the sand. He was sopping wet, his head was pounding, and his body felt like lead.

But there, staring up at the cloud-sprinkled blue sky, he couldn't help but smile, as waves of relief rushed over him with the assuredness of the tide lapping at his ankles.

"That's one for the history books," he said, chuckled quietly.

He rolled over to see Blaise resting against a log, knees tucked up to his chest, head downtrodden, shaking slightly. Theo had his arms wrapped around a shivering Daphne. He met her blue eyes, the sunlight off the lake reflected in them. She smiled.

"I mean," she started. "We did get out."

Draco sat up, wringing out his jacket, pulling Potter's cloak from his pocket. "Is this how the Golden Trio managed their Hogwarts plots? Sheer luck and invisibility? The Gryffindor way?"

"Luck?" Theo scoffed. "That wasn't luck, mate. That was skill and daring. Ends justify the means, even if one of the means is riding a goddamn dragon."

Blaise nearly growled. "I hate all of you."

"Alright, Blaise?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. "Dragon was too much for you?"

"No, Draco," Blaise scowled. "Fighting our way out of a hoard of goblins in the bowels of Gringotts by means of a dragon was too much for me."

Daphne chuckled, her laugh sprinkling through the air. "We're all alive. No one seems too injured."

"You're not the one who almost burned off his hands for Harry Potter."

Draco glanced over at Theo, the other man wincing slightly as he examined his palms. "Do you still have it?"

"Hope so," Theo answered, reaching into his pocket and pulled out the small golden cup. "Be a shame to have left it in the cabin on the Dragon Express."

Blaise finally lifted his head to examine Hufflepuff's cup. "Seems like the burning charm expired at the limits of Gringotts," he said, looking at it. "Gods, Potter owes us all so bad."

"I can't believe we went through all that for a cup," Daphne said, frowning slightly, running her finger over the gold, as if she were scared it would burn her. "Must be important."

"It is," Draco muttered, realizing with striking force that Theo was holding a piece of Voldemort's soul in his hand. "We need to get it back to Potter to destroy it."

"Destroy it?" Theo asked, surprise evident on his face. "We did all that to… to blow it up? Why didn't you tell us? We could have just bombardo-ed the ever-living fuck out of it back at the vault."

"Wish that was the case, mate," Draco replied, shifting his body weight away from the cup slightly, hyper aware of its significant. "Needs a special tool. Basilisk venom. They've got some back at Grimmauld Place."

A silence followed Draco's words. His friends appraised him with curious expressions, forcing him to look away nervously, as if the biggest secret in this war was written across his face.

Theo, Blaise, and Daphne were not stupid. They were brilliant, with a combined knowledge of dark magic that would make Potter and Weasley quake in their boots. If Draco gave even an inch, this tower of secrecy surrounding Voldemort's mortality would come crumbling down.

They were too close to the end to shatter their defenses.

"Come on, then," Draco said, forcing his expression into neutrality and standing up. "Better get that little goblet back to the Chosen One."

The others got to their feet. "Do you think this cup will shoot Potter's name out of it and force him to participate in a tournament?" Theo asked, his face serious. Daphne's mouth morphed into a grin.

"With Potter's luck, I wouldn't bet against it," Blaise muttered. He reached forward to grab Draco's hand while Daphne clasped Theo's.

"See you losers back at Headquarters," Blaise said, as Daphne and Theo disappeared with a pop. Draco prepared to apparate, but before he could twist, Blaise pulled him back. His eyes darkened, searching Draco's face.

"Basilisk venom?" he asked, his voice betraying nothing, but his eyes diving deeper into Draco's mind than the latter wished to allow. Draco raised an eyebrow questioningly, something deep stirring behind Blaise's irises. Before he could answer, he felt a familiar pressure inside his skull.

The recognition and shock came simultaneously.

He raced to push up his Occlumency walls before Blaise could invade his consciousness. He was too late by a single second… which was more than enough time.

Blaise's legilimency crashed through his hastily erected barriers, and he felt his friend probe until he found what he was looking for.

"Are you…" Draco whispered, surprised he could even make a sound. "Are you sure?"

She nodded in response. "We've been hunting them for years."

"But," Draco stuttered. "Seven?"

"Technically six," Potter finally spoke up, his anger and frustration etched into his features. "Seven if you count Voldemort himself."

"So…" he started counting off in his head. "Dumbledore, that year…"

"The year you tried to kill him, you mean?" Potter asked, an eyebrow raised.

Draco wouldn't take the bait. "He was training you, like a mercenary, to destroy all the pieces of Voldemort's soul?"

With a panicked rush, he felt Blaise exit his mind. Draco slammed his Occlumency walls up, pulling away from his friend, breathing heavily as the other man stood frozen.

"When did you become a Legilimens?" Draco hissed, rubbing his temple. "And what gives you the bloody right…"

"Horcruxes," Blaise deadpanned, his voice low, ignoring Draco's objections. "That cup is a Horcrux. One of many."

"Blaise," Draco started, his voice full of warning.

"You brought us on a mission to kill off a part of Voldemort's soul," Blaise started, his voice bubbling over with anger. "And you didn't tell us?"

"That was Potter," Draco retorted, his head still pounding.

"You still didn't fucking tell us, Draco."

He conceded. "I agreed. The less people that knew… the safer it would be."

"Safe?" Blaise demanded ferociously, his voice cracking down the middle with the force of thunder. "How was this safe? You just put a death sentence on each of our fucking heads. You think that the Dark Lord is just going to let us live if Potter fails? When they know it was us who got the Horcrux from Gringotts?"

"You said you didn't need to know!" Draco shouted back, lost in the catalyst of the argument as he threw his hands up in the air. "You can't have it both ways, Blaise! You can't want to be involved in the quest and be laughing about one-upping Potter and be mad that I didn't tell you!"

"You should've told us," Blaise growled back, advancing on him, a threat in his step that chilled Draco more than he cared to admit. "Fuck, we all thought it was some sort of tool that Potter needed, like the Hallows. You sent us as mercenaries."

"I didn't send you," Draco burst out. "I went, too! Gods, Blaise. Do you really think I'd just throw you to the wolves? If you burn, I'll be on fire right next to you."

Blaise shook his head, the fantasy shattered. "This isn't just fighting goblins and riding a dragon. This is our chance at a future."

"Do you really think you're going to get a future if we don't destroy the Horcruxes?" Draco replied, his voice shaking. "Not anymore. All of us, you, me, Daphne, Theo. We've made our loyalty clear as day. We're dead if we didn't do this. And now, what? You regret getting us one step closer? You regret picking a goddamn side?"

"I don't regret that at all," Blaise said coolly, his dark eyes narrowed. "I still would've done the mission if you had told us."

"Then what's your issue? The less people that knew, the better…"

"That's some Potter logic," Blaise interrupted. "Gryffindor martyr bullshit. I knew this mission was instrumental to ending the war and that fucking matters. But you should've told us. It's the different of giving us the choice. Letting us know how much we're giving up."

"I didn't ask you to give anything up for me."

"Not for you," Blaise said quietly. "For a chance at a future. All I'm saying is that you should've told us that this was the point of no return. There would be no turning back."

"Were you seriously going to turn back, Blaise?" Draco hissed, exasperated. "None of us had much of a choice on that front anymore."

"You're completely missing the point, Draco," Blaise said, his voice bordering dangerous. "It's not about loyalty to this side. It's not about whether I would have done the task if I had known; I would have."

"Then what on earth is your fucking problem?"

Blaise's chest heaved, as he sucked in breaths. The air had turned to a bitter cold around them, the sunlight hidden behind the grey of a cloud. Blaise glared at him for another moment before finally speaking.

"I want to die on my own terms."

Draco's heart skipped a beat. "You aren't going to die."

"You don't know that," Blaise replied, an uncertainty in his words that was unfamiliar. "And that's if Potter wins. If Potter loses… we're dead. All four of us. This was the nail in the coffin. We were sent like pigs to slaughter. And I bet you money that Potter didn't realize what he did because he spent his whole life being other wizards' tool. But not me. If I'm putting a death sentence on my head, I want to know, even if the reason is so important that I'll do it anyway. I was owed that right. That choice."

"But you would've chosen the same."

"But I would've known what I was choosing," Blaise continued. "You never really understood choices, Draco, because you didn't have that many. But it's the only thing I still have control over. I'm not a soldier that you or Potter can send into battle, even if you're at my side. Show me enough respect to allow me to know what I'm agreeing to. You owe me that. Daphne and Theo too."

Blaise took a few steps forward and held out his arm again for Draco to grasp.

"You told me that I didn't understand this war, not in the way that the rest of you lot did," Blaise said. "Because I was neutral. I didn't see it. But I think you don't see anything outside of this darkness. You're used to a soldier's mentality. Sent on missions, not asking many questions, so you didn't even consider that this was wrong. You can't hide something this big from us. I'm not neutral anymore. But I'm not yours or Potter's toy soldier. I'll fight. I'll help. But on my own terms. And Daphne and Theo are owed the same curtesy."

Draco stared at Blaise's arm for a full minute as he considered all the words his friend had said. He felt like he was back in the lake, the moment of peace long gone. Deadly silent, the water pressure forcing him downwards as he fought upwards for air.

He hissed out a breath. "You're right."

Blaise nodded. "Then you need to tell Theo and Daphne. And don't you dare let Potter stop you."

Draco sniggered. "When have I ever let that happen?"

"Then grab my arm and let's go. The Dark Lord is going to know soon that we have a piece of his shattered soul. I thought we were screwed before, but Merlin. Now we're really out of time."

They landed with a thud in the kitchen of number twelve Grimmauld Place.

Daphne and Theo had already rendezvoused with Potter and Weasley. The group stood around the kitchen table, talking in low voices, and eyes on the little golden cup standing squarely on the wood.

They looked up at the final two's arrival.

Potter met Draco's eyes, relief shining through his irises. He gave the Slytherin a nod. "Heard you lot rode a dragon."

Draco frowned. "We got your cup and that's the part of the story you focused on?"

Potter chuckled. "It was very Gryffindor of you."

"You mean impulsive and without any rational thought?"

"And it worked nonetheless? Exactly."

Theo rolled his eyes, still shivering slightly from the damp clothing stuck to his skin. "So, what now? We all drink from the cup and then stab it with a Basilisk fang? Is there a blood ritual involved?"

Draco could feel Blaise burning a hole in his head with his eyes alone, forcing him into action. "No, Theo. First… first there's something I need to tell you. About the cup."

Daphne and Theo looked over at him, the question at the forefront of their eyes. Weasley frowned, but Potter knew.

The Chosen One stood up ramrod straight, his eyes flashing in anger. "Don't you dare, Malfoy."

"I already know, Potter," Blaise drawled, adopting a defensive stance at Draco's flank. "And I may have pointed out how ridiculous it was for you all to send us into that mission blind."

Potter bristled. "We didn't send you in blind. You volunteered."

"Because none of us could have imagined we were searching for something like this," Blaise retorted, crossing his arms. "This was a mercenary job and it put death sentences on our heads."

"You still volunteered," Potter continued. "You knew the risks. And look, you're all fine."

"That's not the point and you know it," Blaise answered, his voice bordering a growl. "You of all people, with all the shit Dumbledore must've kept from you over the years. You must understand how it feels to learn after the fact what that damn cup is."

"Excuse me?" Theo asked, eyebrow raised and interest piqued. "What's the cup?"

Blaise, Draco, and Potter all looked at each other.

"Blaise is right, Potter," Draco said, sighing after a moment. "They should've known when they agreed to the mission. Keeping all these secrets, it could kill a man."

"And I heard it causes wrinkles," Daphne added, curiosity written across her face. "So what's this about then?"

Potter was glaring at Draco, his mouth in a thin line. "You shouldn't have told Blaise. It wasn't your secret."

"But is it yours, Potter?" Draco asked, a thought occurring to him. "Yes, Dumbledore set you on this task, but who gave Dumbledore that right anyway? I know you're the Chosen One or whatever, but you were also a child."

"And this war; this war belongs to all of us. We have all bled for it in different ways. And what we did today brought all of us one step forward to freedom. These people have a right to know the difference they made."

"We should've known in advance," Blaise pointed out. "But now is as good a time as any."

Potter glared at Draco unflinchingly for a few moments, but strangely enough, it was Weasley that spoke up.

"They're right, Harry," he said quietly, his eyebrows scrunched in thought. "It's… look at what they did for us. The least we owe them is the truth."

"What are you all going on about?" Theo asked, exasperation seeping through his voice. "I get it's an important cup and all that, but Merlin, what is it to warrant this reaction from all of you?"

A beat of silence. A moment of decision.

Then Potter sighed. "A Horcrux, Nott. It's a Horcrux."

Theo froze.

"Sorry, Potter. It's a fucking what?"

Draco opted to sit as Potter explained the full story to Blaise, Daphne, and Theo. Weasley jumped in on occasion to fill in the blanks. Draco watched as the faces of his three oldest friends oscillated between confusion, disbelief, irritation, and shock.

"That's just not possible," Theo said for what felt like the fifteenth time. "You can't make six Horcruxes."

"Maybe you can't, Nott," Potter muttered. "The Dark Lord did. And that cup you stole from Gringotts is the fourth one we'll destroy."

Daphne was paler than he had ever seen her. "We stole… we stole a piece of the Dark Lord's soul?"

Weasley nodded. "And now we have two left. The snake and something of Ravenclaw's."

Theo whistled. "You lot really don't like easy, do you?"

Blaise was shaking his head. "And this is the only way to destroy Voldemort, then? Destroy the Horcruxes and then kill Voldemort himself?"

Potter nodded, exhaustion evident on his face. "It'll come down to me and him. There's a prophecy…"

"Isn't there always."

"But," Potter continued, ignoring Blaise's interjection. "The first step is to destroy the cup."

"Basilisk venom," Daphne said slowly, eyeing the fang that Potter had placed on the table. "So it can't be repaired."

"Nailed it, Greengrass," Weasley said. "We just need to stab it."

"Fucking easy, no worse than riding a dragon," Theo said, striding forward to grab the white-grey weapon from the table. Potter raised his hand to block the Slytherin's advance.

"Not yet," he said, standing up and grabbing the fang. "The Horcrux… it's going to put up a fight. The diary… gods, the locket… it's going to fight back. We need to prepare."

"It's a cup, Potter," Theo observeD, sarcasm dripping from his lips. "What's it going to do, spill on me?"

"Or show you your worst fears," Potter deadpanned. "Convince you to turn on your friends, to kill yourself, could do anything. You honestly believe that Lord Voldemort wouldn't make destroying a piece of his soul one of the most difficult tasks on this godforsaken planet?"

A silence followed Potter's words.

"Should I silence and lock the room then?" Daphne piped up. When no one answered directly, she raised her wand and did it anyway.

Potter eyed the cup warily, as if concerned it could explode at any moment. Weasley's face had gone white, his dark freckles contrasting against his skin like the plague.

"So now what?" Theo asked, breaking the tense atmosphere. "Do we stare the cup down until the soul piece jumps out and runs away?"

Potter didn't look away. Draco could see flecks of gold reflected in Potter's green irises, the cup shimmering in their spotlight.

"We need to figure out who's going to do it," Potter said slowly. Weasley audibly swallowed.

"Who's going to do it?" Blaise asked, raising an eyebrow. "What, is it a competition?"

Potter shook his head. "It's just… I know it sounds stupid because it's a cup, but you'll see soon enough. Destroying a Horcrux, you're fighting off a part of Voldemort's soul that can almost see right into yours."

"What did you do when you first destroyed one?" Daphne asked softly, her dulcet tones a sharp opposite to the oppressive darkness slowly filling the kitchen.

Potter laughed humourlessly. "The first Horcrux I destroyed was Tom Riddle's diary. I simultaneously had to fight off a slowly corporealizing Voldemort alongside a Basilisk while my now girlfriend lay almost dead. Wasn't ideal."

"And I destroyed the locket," Weasley added, shaking slightly. "It was… blimey, it was awful. Like this weird ghost was in my head convincing me that all my worst fears were true."

"But, it's not real," Theo said, incomprehension evident in his expression. "Besides the Basilisk. That one was real. But the Horcrux. If all it does is get inside your head, how can that be difficult?"

"Just because it's happening in your head doesn't mean it's not real," Daphne said, frowning slightly, glancing between Potter and Weasley. "That sounds traumatic, for both of you. I'm sorry you had to do that."

Shock filled Potter's expression, as if no one had ever apologized for the load the man had carried on his shoulders since childhood.

Then again, who would have?

"Thanks, Greengrass," Potter replied tentatively, as if testing the waters of a cordial relationship with the Slytherin. "It… well, it had to be done. Just like this does. But not by me."

"Or me," Weasley piped in. "I destroyed my one Horcrux, did my time."

No one spoke after the proclamations from the two men. What could be so daunting that the foolhardy, brave heart Gryffindors backed away?

"So who does it?" Theo asked, looking between the group. "If it's really as awful as you lot seem to think, than I am absolutely going to pass."

"Isn't it obvious?" Daphne said quietly, looking around the room at all the men until her blue eyes met his. "Draco needs to do it."

He felt his heart drop out of his chest. "Me? Daphne, what gives you the idea…"

"Draco," she said, using a scolding tone he recognized from childhood. "You're the one that got us out of there, by means of a dragon, no less. You're the one who has the most grievance with the Dark Lord, for everything he did to you and your family. And besides, I happen to think you're quite brave."

Draco felt a flush creep up his throat as Theo snorted.

"Well, gosh, Daph. Just date him, why don't you?"

She ignored her partner. Walking over to Potter, she reached for the Basilisk fang, which the Chosen One forfeited without hesitation. She strode across the kitchen, past Theo, Weasley, and Blaise who all backed up to the wall in preparation.

Stopping in front of him, her blue eyes full of trust he certainly didn't deserve, she held out the fang in her hand.

"It's got to be you," she whispered, the words only for him. "If anyone deserves to stab a piece of the Dark Lord's soul, it's Draco Malfoy."

Draco stared into Daphne's eyes for a moment, looking for a crack in her unwavering belief in him. When he couldn't find any, he felt himself obligated to reach up and take the fang, his shaking fingers tensing around the bone.

Daphne smiled at him, before backing to the wall to join the others. Theo seemed to have sensed the gravity of the situation, and pulled Daphne flush to his side, his chin resting on her blonde curls.

Potter and Weasley were still eyeing the cup warily, and Draco's eyes felt drawn to Blaise's, the latter dark irises focused on him. His mouth was a thin line, the muscles in his jaw tensed. After a moment, he gave a curt nod. Showing support, permission, forgiveness, Draco wasn't sure.

He turned his attention back to his opponent on the battlefield; a small golden cup sitting stoutly on the kitchen table. Would it grow legs and start to fight back? He hesitated, clenching the Basilisk fang upwards, ready to stab forward.

For her, he thought, counting down in his head to begin his approach.

Three… two… one….

Before he had even moved the fang down and inch, a figure burst out from the rim of the cup. A shadow dancing through the carvings, before materializing before him. Made of smoke, it corporealized into a young man. He was handsome, couldn't be more than eighteen.

Draco had never seen him before. But he knew.

"Stab!" He heard someone shout from the sidelines, but he couldn't look away from the dark eyes that would one day turn into the slits he knew from his nightmares and his drawing room.

Tom Riddle opened his mouth and spoke, a hiss ricocheting against the metal of the cup, bouncing around the room and suffocating him.

"Draco Malfoy, my most obedient servant…"

He was frozen, unable to move. This man… this kid… this was Voldemort.

"Ignore it, Malfoy! Stab it!"

"Willing to do my biding… to kill on my order… to watch his mother and father suffer because of his cowardice…"

Memories of sixth year flashed through his mind, his mother's sickly body as she hugged him over Christmas break.

"Willing to leave his friends for the dark side… how could they ever forgive you? How could they ever trust you again?"

"Draco, that's not true!" He heard Daphne shout from somewhere on the other side of the abyss. But he couldn't reach her.

"Willing to lie to the woman he loves because I demanded it… to use her body for a mission…"

Hermione's words after the Battle at Malfoy Manor. The pain in her eyes when she saw his betrayal.

"How could she ever love you?" the smoke Riddle demanded. "How could someone as magnificent and powerful as her see something in you, a worthless, spineless, traitor?"

He could feel his grip on the fang loosening.

"You are nothing to her. Nothing. You never were. You never had her. Only for a fleeting moment, a moment you squandered."

"This is bullshit, Draco! You know that's not true! Stab it!"

"And she will die in this war. No matter her power, she is nothing next to the Dark Lord. You will lose her, and she will never have loved you. Never have trusted you. Never have wanted you. And when she dies, you will know it was your fault… you cannot protect her… you can barely tell her the truth… you are worthless, Draco Malfoy. The boy without a choice? You made your choices…. And you chose wrong."

Choice. The word snapped him back to reality; to the smoke in the room, to the terrified looks on the faces of his friends, to the knowledge that somewhere in the world Hermione was waiting for him to do this task, so she could meet him there.

He had chosen this. For her. And she had chosen him.

His arm moved without volition, as an anguished scream ripped from his throat. A flash of white, a clang against metal, and the Horcrux shattered across the table. Golden pieces went flying, as the piece of Tom Riddle's soul was struck down.

One final, terrible scream. From across decades.

And then it was over.

Draco was panting, as sweat poured down his face. The Basilisk fang slipped through his fingers and clattered against the floor. He blinked into awareness to meet the eyes of his friends.

He hadn't realized he was crying, sea salt stinging as it drew rivers down his cheek.

Potter let out the breath he must've been holding.

"Good job, Malfoy," he nodded, his skin paler than Draco had ever seen. "I… I know what that's like. And it's… you did well."

He returned Potter's nod, wiping tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand. Once the blurriness had subsided, he looked over at Daphne, Blaise, and Theo.

"Oh Draco," Daphne whispered, her own tears showing as she rushed forward to wrap him in a hug. For a single moment, with one of his oldest friends holding him close, he let the vulnerability win.

Just for a moment. Just with her holding him together.

He looked over Daphne's head at Blaise and Theo. The two men were pale, a myriad of emotions on each other their faces.

Theo spoke first.

"Well, good job, you worthless lump."

Draco couldn't help the chuckle that escaped from his lips. Blaise smacked Theo around the head, before pulling him forward to join Daphne in the hug.

It was nothing. Not really. Not to most people, certainly not to Potter or Weasley who considered intimacy and physical affection as commonplace as knuts dropped on the street.

But to Draco, with three of the most important people in his life, all holding each other like it was the end of the world, like they had survived, dangers and Horcruxes and dark wizards, and even each other.

They had never done this. Hadn't ever held each other like this. An act so simple; yet earth-shattering nonetheless.

They were crawling into those cracks that all of them had, that they covered up and lied about and ignored. The cracks where they could be hurt. Where they had hurt each other. And together, with something as commonplace as a hug, they took root within those fissures, breaking them open to allow space for a connection Potter and Weasley would never understand, nor envy. But the Gryffindor duo could also never have it. Because it belonged to them.

It wasn't nothing. It was everything. At least to him.

But as quickly as it came, it disappeared, as they all crawled back into themselves, into the emotional cages they had built for protection, not realizing they were locking up their own bodies in the process.

Theo clapped him on the shoulder, as Daphne wrapped her arms around Blaise. The latter looked him in the eye, and Draco finally recognized the emotion Blaise had tried to show him in his nod from earlier.

Pride.

For what? Destroying the Horcrux? Draco knew it was more than that.

It as for telling him the truth on the riverbank with a dragon flying above their heads. For going against Potter and fighting for honesty with Theo and Daphne.

And Draco understood. He had done what he had rarely done before.

He had chosen them.

He opened his mouth to speak, to maybe acknowledge the weight of the moment, maybe just to say thank you, but before he could, someone cried out from behind them, effectively silencing him.

He spun around.

Potter was grabbing on to the table for support, crying out as Weasley was shouting. The Chosen One's eyes were flared open, but entirely black, no sign of his famous green.

"Weasley? What the fuck?"

"He's in Voldemort's mind," Weasley cried back, terrified eyes on Potter. "They have a legilimency connection."

"He has access to Voldemort's mind?!"

Before Weasley had a chance to answer Theo's shout, Potter sucked in a deep breath, his chest expanding as if he was breaking through water seconds before drowning.

"Harry," Weasley muttered, rubbing his back. "Are you alright?"

Potter was sweating as he stumbled into a chair. He sucked in a couple more breaths before turning to the group.

And Draco knew. Not because of any legilimency connection.

But because this was the next step, wasn't it?

The end was near.

"He knows," Potter whispered, his face ashen. "Voldemort. He knows we're hunting Horcruxes."

"He knows what we took from Gringotts?" Blaise demanded; his expression stricken. Potter nodded.

"Did you see anything else, Harry?" Weasley asked desperately. "Any thing that can help us?"

Potter nodded, shaking as tremors wracked his body. "He's going to check… he's going to check the others to make sure they're safe."

"So, where's he going?"

"Nagini's with him," Potter breathed. "He knows the diary is destroyed. I saw Marvolo Gaunt's shack… the lake that had the locket… and Hogwarts. The final Horcrux is at Hogwarts."

Deafening silence.

Disbelief manifested in the air.

Death on the horizon.

The only question that remained was for who.

Theo groaned.

"Of course, it fucking is."

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