By the time he had left his empty dormitory, the commotion he had heard was closer, and as he approached the main hall, smoke and rubble clouded his vision. Still empty, though there were voices incredibly near. Just as Draco made to go up the marble staircase, yellow sparks flew past his ear.
He ducked and pointed his wand at whoever had shot at him. He saw Remus Lupin, his third year Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher running off.
He gazed at the smoke and rubble from the recent confrontation in the main hall and assumed that Snape was right – Potter had come to Hogwarts, and it looked like he had brought The Order of the Phoenix with him.
Amelia. He had to find Amelia.
He had a vague idea where Ravenclaw Tower was. It was in the west side of the castle, on the fifth floor, so he kept climbing staircases, willing them not to move or vanish. He hoped that whatever altercation was happening only involved teachers and Death Eaters, and no students, but he knew that if there were to be a battle tonight that Amelia would make sure she was there.
He made it onto the fifth floor and sprinted down, his eyes darting around as he looked for something that somehow signified he was in the right place.
"It's Malfoy!"
Again, sparks shot past his head. He was more prepared this time though, and whipped straight around, slashing his wand through the air, sending a curse back at his attacker. He counted three students; Dean, Seamus and a sixth year Ravenclaw he recognised from their Quidditch team.
In desperation, Draco threw his hands in the air as the three advanced. "Wait – listen!" He panted.
"Not so tough without protection, what a surprise," Seamus said with a hollow laugh.
Draco glared at him and prepared a retort while he considered duelling all three to prove himself, but a loud bang echoed from somewhere nearby, followed by muffled screams, and panic set back in as he thought of Amelia.
"It's not that – Amelia Collins, I need to find her."
The boys stopped in their tracks and looked puzzled; a sight that Draco would have found comical under a different circumstance.
It was Dean who spoke up. "You're sick," he said, closing the gap between himself and Draco, slamming him roughly against the wall. Still Draco did not fight back, instead dropping his hands by his sides.
"I'm not here to fight you – please, I just need to find Amelia."
"What has she ever done to you?" The Ravenclaw boy asked boldly.
"It's not that – look – I'm not here to fight," Draco said again, exasperated.
"Yeah – I'll bet you're just waiting until a couple more of your pals get here until you make a move," Seamus said, raising his wand to Draco's chest as Dean held him in place against the wall.
Draco had to think fast. He was trying to appear a pacifist but time was running short and he needed to get to Amelia and make sure she was safe.
Another bang – closer this time. There were voices nearby, so close that Draco could almost make out the words. Someone shouting for help. The three boys holding Draco in place exchanged glances, before reluctantly letting him go, choosing instead to sprint towards the commotion.
Draco followed, his wand at the ready. The corridor led to a large landing, where he was met with a flurry of sparks flying in every direction, piercing through thick and foggy debris. He scanned the faces of those fighting the four Death Eaters on the landing – some students, but none were Amelia. He started to back away and continue his mission, when a student – Ginny Weasley – was knocked off her feet by an advancing Death Eater. Draco looked, but no one in the room seemed to notice her fall. He watched as she scrambled for her wand in the thick clouds of dust and smoke. He didn't care about Ginny Weasley – it was Amelia he needed to find. He couldn't waste any time.
The Death Eater pointed their wand directly at Ginny, less than a metre away from her. Before the Death Eater could speak though, Draco ran forward, slashing his wand through the smoke, sending the Death Eater flying across the room. He offered his hand to a bewildered Ginny Weasley.
"M-Malfoy?" She asked.
Draco pulled her into the corridor, ducking a curse as they did.
"Amelia – where is she?" He asked directly, his eyes on the battle behind them, his wand still poised.
Ginny looked confused. "I don't know."
"I don't want to hurt her – I need to get to her, now," he said through gritted teeth, frustrated to come to another dead end.
"I didn't say you did want to hurt her! I haven't seen her since before… this, all began. Honestly," Ginny said. Draco took his eyes from the battle to search her features; she looked genuine.
"Fine," he said, turning away.
"Malfoy!" He whipped back around. "Thank you," was all she offered. Draco gave a curt nod and ran back down the corridor.
It was another hour of him running aimlessly around the castle, searching down every corridor he came across. At one harrowing point he almost tripped over the body of a Death Eater and thought briefly of his father and wondered whether he was here. Twice, he came across confrontations between The Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters, and both times he felt himself physically unable to tear himself away without aiding the fight with the Order. The battle was so fast paced that no one from either side seemed to notice who he was.
Hours passed, and Draco felt exhausted. He slipped into an empty classroom and sank against the wall, wiping sweat onto his sleeve and gasping for breath. He was amazed he was still alive – he had watched so many fall.
A piercing, ear shattering whisper rang out all around him once more, coiling right inside of him as he clamped his hands to his ears.
"You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured…"
Draco barely registered the rest of what Lord Voldemort said into the darkness of the classroom; he was already racing back through the corridor he'd just travelled. He knew the Hospital Wing could not contain the havoc. He made his way back down flights of stairs.
The Great Hall was sombre and quiet; only the echoes of a hundred whimpers and sniffs bounced between the walls. Everyone was huddled in small groups, exchanging whispers. People tended to each other, or else held one another tightly. The room was a blur of despairing witches and wizards of all ages. He was surprised at the amount of students who it appeared had fought throughout the night, as well as the amount unfamiliar faces there were. Across one side of the Hall was a long line of bodies, neatly placed, their eyes closed as if they were just sleeping. He couldn't bear to check the identity of them.
Draco walked slowly through the Hall, aware he was a foreigner. He felt people's stares on him as he walked, heard their worried whispers. He was suddenly very aware of his rolled up sleeves and exposed Dark Mark, but hadn't the energy to cover it. His eyes lingered for a moment on a small pool of red heads, crouched over a body. The Weasley's. Ginny looked up and caught Draco's eye from where he stood; her eyes were bleary, her face blotched and tear stained, but she gave him a small nod.
With every step he became more and more aware of the injuries his body had sustained. He could feel a slight limp in his leg, and knew that he'd cut his head from the sticky consistency through his hair. He gazed at people wrapping each other's wounds, dabbing at foreheads and offering comfort. He was entirely alone; there would be no one offering to help him, no one scanning the bodies with the fear that one belonged to him.
A figure bumped roughly into him, mumbling something as Draco stumbled on his feet.
"Draco? Draco!"
He whipped around. Through a nearby sea of debris-covered students, a girl was pushing her way desperately towards him. He stumbled on his weakened legs towards her, keeping his eyes fixed on her, worried it was his tired mind playing a cruel trick on him.
But it was real. She pulled him into her, wrapping her arms around him, her body shaking with sobs as her fists clung onto the back of his shirt. He pressed her head to his chest, instantly relieved upon feeling her hair twist through his fingers.
"I wasn't sure if –
"I'm okay," Draco confirmed quietly. He was mildly aware of curious glances in their direction, but couldn't have cared less in that moment. He gently took her shoulders and drew her back, inspecting her appearance. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, looking up at him with a terrifying sadness. From head to toe she wore the effects of the battle: covered in dusty debris, a large cut across her arm, her clothes torn.
"Draco, I'm so sorry about –
"No. I'm sorry. I'm an idiot," Draco insisted, and was relieved to see the hints of a smile come across Amelia's face. "I've been looking everywhere for you for hours," he admitted quietly.
She took his hand. It felt warm and Draco felt less alone in the Great Hall. "So have I."
She leant up towards him and kissed him, putting a shaky hand to his cheek. He squeezed her hand and kissed her back, feeling a lump rise in his throat.
"Draco – my dad – he was here. I can't find him," she said as they parted. He could hear the fear in her voice as she glanced over towards the growing line of bodies.
"I'll help you find him. He's probably helping the wounded," he said in an attempt to reassure her as fresh tears spilled silently from Amelia's eyes.
They walked through the hall in silence, Draco's hand clasping Amelia's as they weaved through the clumps of people. People stared as he walked past, and a couple of them made a comment or shouted something at him through their tears, but mostly everyone seemed too weary to notice or concern themselves with an apparent Death Eater walking among them.
Together they had lapped the Great Hall twice, without going near the line of bodies.
Draco feared what he felt he already knew to be true. He knew that if her father was here he would've surely made certain he was reunited with his daughter. He glanced over to the line of bodies and hoped against everything that Amelia's father was not amongst those there.
"We can just sit for a bit – that way, if he is looking for you, he'll be able to spot you easier," Draco suggested, putting an arm around her shoulders and nodding towards a vacant bench nearby. In the back of his mind he calculated that it had probably been almost an hour since Voldemort's voice had rung out throughout the castle.
Amelia looked up at him, her expression blank. "Do you think… he might be over there?" He followed her eyeline to the bodies lined up in the hall.
"I don't know, Amelia," he finally said, unable to fathom what else to say.
"Will you stay with me?"
"Of course."
Again, they walked in silence, Draco's arm protectively in place around Amelia's shoulders. Almost instantly though, her pace broke into a run and she let out an agonising cry, collapsing before a body not far from where they had stood. Draco rushed to her side and looked at a man who was remarkably like his daughter. His eyes were closed like the rest of the bodies, but his arms lay limp by his side. Draco watched helplessly as Amelia gathered her father's hand into hers, willing him to wake. She put her head onto his chest, mumbling indistinguishable words into his ragged clothes.
There was nothing Draco could do except kneel by her, stroking her hair and squeezing her shoulder. He frustrated himself; he wanted to be able to do more, like find the person responsible for this and do unimaginable things to them, or run back into battle and avenge her family by slaughtering every Death Eater in the castle – that all seemed easier than having to sit there, silent and still, helpless as she wept. He had never dealt well with emotions – it was a part of life that the Malfoy's chose to ignore. Being emotional was a sign of weakness, Draco remembered his grandfather saying this to him once, as his father had nodded alongside, glaring down at his small ten-year-old son.
Things moved in a muddled blur from there; Draco and Amelia moved with the crowds at the sound of Voldemort's voice once more and felt the collective shock of seeing Potter's body brought forth by a weeping Hagrid. Draco saw Amelia put a hand to her mouth and felt her shoulders slump in defeat. Indeed, as much as it pained Draco to admit it, if they had lost Potter it felt like all hope was gone.
Again, he was aware of people staring at him, and the odd mumble of 'coward' or 'traitor', but it wasn't important right now.
With a jolt, he remembered the rucksack he had shrunken in his pocket.
Just as Draco was going to pull Amelia to one side to try and devise some sort of plan, Potter had leapt from Hagrid's arms, and before Draco had a moment to register what on earth was going on, the battle had resumed with a new sense of gusto.
Draco took the opportunity to pull Amelia behind one of the pillars in the courtyard which had yet to be damaged.
"Wha-
"We need to make a plan. Quickly."
Amelia nodded. Draco kept his eyes darting around, but they seemed to be invisible to those fighting around them.
"I need you to go to Ravenclaw Tower and pack a bag. Just essentials. We need to be prepared to run."
Amelia frowned. "Run away?"
"If the Death Eaters win this today – we won't be able to live out in the open."
He hoped she understood; there was no time to explain.
She gave a small nod, clearly turning this over in her mind.
"Will you come? I don't want to get separated again…"
Draco's chest flooded with relief as he nodded. She grabbed his hand and they ran around the side of the courtyard, dodging stray curses.
It took ten minutes to reach Ravenclaw Tower, but with the battle raging outside, it was without confrontation. Draco accompanied Amelia into the Tower, through the regal and cosy looking common room (untouched by the war), down some stone stairs and into a dimly lit dormitory, with five four-poster beds placed neatly around the room. Amelia gave a small smile to Draco before leading him over to the furthest bed from the door.
"This is mine," she said timidly. Draco nodded in acknowledgement as he looked around. It felt strange that they had shared so much and had never seen where the other spends so much of their time. Flashes came into his head about how things might've been if he were here under different circumstances, when there was a loud bang and the floor vibrated. Draco and Amelia both reached out to steady themselves on a post or a wall, and the urgency leaked back in to the situation. Silently, Amelia rummaged through her trunk, occasionally stuffing things into a small rucksack of her own, until she stood and did as Draco had done, shrinking the rucksack until it fit neatly into her pocket.
"Let's go," Draco said, but Amelia didn't move. He looked at her quizzically.
"Do you really think we'll need to run?" She asked.
Draco stopped in his tracks and turned back around. "If we do – we'll be okay, I promise."
"I trust you," she said, her voice stronger now. She glided her hands over his chest to sit around his neck, pulling him into her. The kiss was clumsy and desperate, the kind that could be the last, and Draco savoured everything he'd missed about her those last few weeks. He could taste the salt of her tears fall onto their lips and pulled her even closer.
This could be it.
"We should go," Amelia finally mumbled, pressing her forehead against his and taking his hand.
Draco would've happily forfeited the rest of the battle to be alone with Amelia, but the fire that he saw in her eyes just then, he felt as well. He wanted to fight. To avenge those fallen. To help the Order.
