The days quickly turned to weeks and by the beginning of May the days were longer, brighter and warmer. Amelia and Draco hadn't exchanged a word since their argument – weeks ago now - though Draco would plan to speak to her every morning. By the evening though, his chance had been lost, or he hadn't the courage, or had too much pride, or couldn't find the words and he would retreat to his dormitory consumed by self-loathing. Partner work in Potions had finished and she no longer sat beside him, sitting with Padma Patil instead, leaving Draco to slump onto a stool in the back row, alone.

One awful evening as the final students filed out of the Great Hall from dinner, Pansy ambushed Draco by linking her arm with his.

"Come to Hogsmeade with me this weekend – I need a new perfume," she said with her insufferable pouting as she pulled on Draco's arm.

"I'd rather sit through five hours of Professor Binns' lectures than do that, Pansy," Draco replied dryly.

Pansy only giggled though and to Draco's surprise, swept a hand through his hair, pulling him closer. As Draco tried to shrug her off his eyes locked with Amelia, coming towards the Great Hall with Luna Lovegood. Amelia's steely gaze held his for a moment and he stepped away from Pansy, hoping that Amelia could sense the silent pleading in his eyes.

She turned away without a word though, and Draco felt himself deflate, wanting to run after her but being unable to. He was surprised to see Pansy looking quizzically at him.

"You know Draco, you should be flattered; maybe you haven't noticed that most of the other Slytherins have just about forgotten you exist," Pansy said petulantly.

Draco shook his arm from her gasp; "Sod off, Pansy," he said, his eyes still lingering where Amelia had stood.

The 2nd of May began like any other: students shuffled around the castle in a perpetually subdued state, Draco ate breakfast from the corner of the Slytherin table as his eyes scanned the Ravenclaw table for a girl with brown hair, teachers like McGonagall tried to swallow their disdain while teaching a class of Slytherins, and Draco went from class to class in a half-stupor.

After an early dinner though Snape caught Draco on his way back to the Slytherin common room, dragging him roughly by the wrist into an empty classroom.

"What the-

"Listen," Snape hissed, his face filled with a panicked urgency that did not fit his usually sneering cold features. "Potter has been sighted – in Hogsmeade."

Draco frowned. "Harry Potter?" He asked dumbly.

"Who else?" Snape spat. "It's believed he is coming here. Now. To fight."

An overwhelming pain stabbed Draco in the gut.

"I am telling you once again – the wise thing for you to do is to play your part… convincingly," Snape said, emphasising each word as he watched doubt wash over the younger Death Eater's face.

"Fight – with the Death Eaters?" Draco hated how childlike his voice sounded.

Snape nodded and, to Draco's surprise, put a shaking hand on his shoulder. "I know that you no longer support the cause, but tonight will be about survival. Think about your next step once you have achieved this."

Silence.

"I… I can't fight with them," Draco's voice felt completely foreign now – the realisation coming over him as quickly as the words stumbled from his mouth. Anxiety rose up him and he thought he might be sick.

Snape sighed and glanced towards the door. His anxiety was horrifically unnerving.

"Then… if they win, you must run. The Order will be reluctant to take you in, even if you have a… connection."

Draco's head snapped up – was it possible that Snape somehow knew about Amelia?

"If – if the fight is coming here… shouldn't you be killing me for even considering betraying the Dark Lord?" Draco said, suddenly feeling unsafe with what he'd just admitted out loud. He allowed himself a glance to double check there weren't uninvited ears around.

"That would go quite directly against the Unbreakable Vow I made to your mother," Snape drawled in an obvious and impatient voice.

"You won't tell him?"

"I won't." Snape sighed. Loud voices sounded from far away in the castle and both men tensed in the dark classroom. Draco saw that Snape had his wand at the ready in his fist. "I must go," he muttered, turning towards the door. "Vow or not; you deserve a better life, Draco."


Present Day:

Draco often thought of this night, now referred to as The Battle of Hogwarts, and these final words that Snape had spoken to him. Knowing what he knew now about his professor and unconventional mentor, his words and his understanding of Draco made a lot more sense. It was only hours after this interaction that he had died. Through the endless lonely nights Draco had been forced to live in the Malfoy Manor with his wife and family, he wondered if one day a similar fate would befall him and he would be executed in an undignified and lonely death. On days when he was too weary to keep up his façade he thought of Severus Snape and how he had died, with no one knowing his sacrifice or bravery or entrapment. He wondered if that had scared the other Death Eater as much as it did Draco: living a life of lies and dying without anyone knowing the truth.


2nd May, 1998

Draco instinctively made towards the Slytherin quarters in a half-jog. He didn't pass anyone on his way to the dungeons, but heard commotion far off in another part of the castle. He wasn't quite sure what he was doing, but the way Snape had spoken made it sound like tonight could be a climax of bubbling tensions and Draco felt he needed to be prepared to do as Snape had told him: run. He packed a rucksack with clothes and supplies and carefully shrunk it small enough to fit in the pocket of his trousers.

A voice spoke out, as if it were whispering directly into Draco's ear. He jumped up and braced his wand, but he was pointing into darkness. He was alone. He recognised the voice and a swelling of nausea washed over him as he collapsed back against the wall.

The voice he had heard so many times last year, the voice of torture and defeat and shame. Voldemort was in Hogwarts.