Draco sat at the long wooden table with Henry and a few other members of the resistance. The sounds of heavy rain hit the top of the dining hall's tent roof, and it felt comforting to sit inside with a hot tea. He half-listened from the periphery to a conversation about the best wizarding guitarists (a topic he was surprised Henry was so invested in). He hadn't slept properly since the Christmas party and his encounter with Amelia, and had desperately sought another opportunity to speak to her, but she had evidently kept a low profile since their kiss.
There was a loud crack from outside the dining hall, and the sound of a man calling out against the wind and rain. Henry and the others exchanged a look and bolted out of the tent, with Draco – pulling himself back into the presence of the room – close behind.
Though it was mid-afternoon, the bulging grey clouds hid any sunlight, and with sheets of sideways rain plummeting to the ground, it was a bleak scene.
It was Dean Thomas was standing out in the rain, a pained expression on his face as he clasped a hand to his forehead.
"Dean – what happened?" Henry asked, taking Dean's elbow and helping him back inside the dining hall.
"We were just getting the supplies, when two Death Eaters – out of nowhere…"
He sat down at the edge of a bench and Draco joined the others in gathering around, his interest officially piqued.
Henry frowned and crouched beside the dazed Dean. "Wait – who were you with?"
"Amelia."
Draco watched as the expression on Henry's face echoed the hollow plummeting he felt in the pit of his own stomach. Visions around him seemed to go blurry with the urgency he now felt.
"Where is she?" Henry asked, composing himself. Draco noticed though, a fare in his nostrils had appeared.
Dean was struggling for breath still. "Took her…"
Draco felt every muscle in his body tense at this. His jaw locked.
"We fought them off but then… I went down…"
Draco felt rooted on the spot with rage. Towards Dean, towards the Death Eaters, himself…
"And then?" Henry prompted, unconsciously shaking Dean's shoulder as his white-knuckled hand grasped it.
"And then… she kept them at bay for as long as she could, I think… I was out of it… but then they took her. Just disapparated."
Henry stood upright slowly.
"You let them take her?" Draco found himself saying through gritted teeth. Somewhere deep down he knew Dean wasn't to blame, but right now he was the easiest option.
Dean looked up at Draco with defensive confusion. "I didn't 'let' them do anything – they hit me with some curse, I was barely conscious."
"Don't you people do these things in pairs for a reason?" Draco continued. His voice sounded icy. "Isn't that the whole idea – to prevent this exact scenario?" He was vaguely aware of the volume of his own voice.
"It's like they knew we were coming," Dean said deliberately, loud enough for everyone to hear but keeping his eyes trained on Draco, who knew exactly what he was trying to imply.
Fury made Draco launch forward, grabbing Dean by the collar of his shirt and lifting him to his feet. He felt his lip curl into a snarl. "That's what you think, huh? You think I set this whole thing up? You think I want something to happen to her?"
Dean said nothing, but Draco knew from the look on his face that this was exactly what he thought. Was probably what all of them standing there thought.
Draco felt a large hand on his chest firmly push him away from Dean. He dropped his arms and ran them through his hair.
"That's not what we think," Henry said, and a momentary rush of respect for the man washed through Draco.
"Well, it certainly felt targeted," Dean continued. "Like, they wanted her specifically. And I can't be the only one whose seen what Malfoy's like when Amelia is around."
Draco launched towards him again, but this time Henry was ready and put himself directly between the two.
A threatening finger pointed at Dean from over Henry's shoulder, Draco shouted, "watch it, Thomas! You're talking about things you know nothing about!"
"Okay - okay gents, that's enough! While we all stand here yelling, Amelia is somewhere in Merlin knows what state. We need to be on the same side. Dean – Draco could be the key to getting her back: we finally have someone who's lived as a Death Eater on our side."
Draco ignored the mumbles from Dean disputing the definition of 'our side'. A thought struck him and all his rage towards Dean left him. "Wait… have you ever successfully rescued someone in the resistance?"
Henry didn't meet his eye. "No."
His breath came in rattles and he fought the urge be sick.
Dean spoke up once more. "They said something before they apparated… they said we have three days until she's dead."
There was silence where it seemed even the rain dimmed as these words hung in the air.
Eventually Henry cleared his throat and nodded, "okay – this is good, it means they don't intent to kill her… yet. We need to move fast."
"She'll be at the Malfoy Manor," Draco heard his voice saying. His fingers had an odd tingle in them and all the parts of his body felt as if they were disconnected from one another. "They keep people there."
Henry nodded again. "We need to be prepared. Dean – go to the hospital wing and then meet in my tent. Draco, come with me."
"All due respect, Hen, but do you really trust your sister's life with someone who up until a few weeks ago, was a Death Eater?" someone piped up.
Draco looked to Henry, who visibly considered this. "What choice do we have? Yes – I trust him."
Another rush of respect seemed to bring Draco back into his body. Now was not the time for emotion or anger – Henry was right, they needed to be prepared and operate quickly.
They marched towards Henry's tent in silence, both presumably lost in their own anxious thoughts. As they stood around the small table in the middle of the room, Henry looked at Draco with sincerity and said, "you wanted the chance to prove yourself – this is it. I just hope everything's you've been saying is the truth, Malfoy."
Amelia had been sitting in the corner of the dark and damp dungeon for hours now without any sound or movement from around her. Her body ached and head pounded, not just from the lost grocery store battle, but also how rough they'd been as they had thrown her into this small cell. Beside her, she could make out the outlines of metal bars separating numerous other cells – probably about 5 – but if there were any occupants then she was unaware of their presence. The air was icy; she was certain that there must've been Dementors lurking in the pits of the darkness, ready to defend against someone attempting to escape. The weighted feeling on her chest certainly seemed to confirm their presence in the dungeons.
She'd spent the first hour feeling terrified, hugging her knees to her chest with her back pressed against the cold stone walls. Every creak, every drip, every distant howling of the wind, made her jump. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this hopeless; she had no idea where she was - nor did anyone else- and she didn't even have a wand on her.
She thought about the previous people who had been captured from the resistance, a lot of them friends of hers, and all of whom were never successfully rescued. Instead their deaths would often be unceremoniously published in the Daily Prophet, as a warning sign to anyone who might dare defy the Death Eaters in this new wizarding world.
Steadying her breath, Amelia stood on shaky legs and started patting the damp stony walls around her, trying for any clues as to where she might be. Metal bars acted as a door in one corner of the cell, and Amelia tried to peer through them to see what was on the other side, but was met with a sheet of darkness. She could be anywhere in the world.
As she retreated back into the cell, footsteps echoed from beyond the metal bars. She straightened her back and stood in the middle of the small cell; if she was going to die she would at least do it standing.
A small ball of flame flew towards Amelia, swooping past her head and splitting into two, before landing delicately inside of torches either side of the cell, illuminating it with a yellow glow.
"Amelia Collins, welcome," a voice said. Amelia watched as Bellatrix Lestrange and two hooded Death Eaters stepped into the light. "I'm sure you know why you're here."
Amelia tightened her jaw and said nothing.
"Not in the mood to chat?" Bellatrix asked, cocking her head with a false coyness and pouting her lips. "Well, I'm sure we can loosen your tongue a bit." Her mouth slowly split into a yellowing, horrid smile as the two Death Eaters beside her advanced on Amelia, grabbing her arms and marching her from the cell. Amelia didn't resist – what was the point? Instead, she kept her chin held high. She tried to hide any sign of fear from her features, she could hear the sound of her own teeth grinding in her mouth as Bellatrix led them from the dungeons and up some winding stone stairs.
They walked through long and silent corridors, all lined with imposing portraits of stuffy looking witches and wizards, all sneering down at Amelia and mumbling to each other as the procession went past. Amelia could've sworn that she heard one say Draco's name, but as she whipped her head around, the Death Eaters holding her turned a sharp corner.
Finally, Bellatrix came to a set of oak doors with large brass handles. She opened them with a performative gusto, with big arms and a confident stride as the doors parted to reveal what looked like the most extravagant library Amelia had ever seen - save perhaps for the Hogwarts library. It wasn't the amount of books which set this library apart though, but the way the whole room oozed wealth. The walls were lined with not only books, but various vials and bottles of coloured potion, odd looking creatures floating in small jars, and various gold and silver gadgets Amelia had never seen before. It became clear that she was being held captive in a large estate of some sort.
"My lord – I have the girl," Bellatrix said, her voice humbled as she bowed to a figure who faced the other way, his hands behind his back.
The two Death Eaters holding Amelia pushed her forward into the centre of the room, so that she stood alone. She heard the doors close behind her.
"Ah, Amelia Collins I presume. So glad we've finally managed to have you here. You've caused quite the fuss…"
Amelia stifled a gasp as the man turned around: Lord Voldemort.
Henry and Harry had been poring over a detailed map Draco had drawn of the Malfoy Manor, while Draco wrote out a list of Death Eaters he knew resided there. He hesitated as he wrote his mother's name.
"My mother – I don't want her harmed," Draco said, looking up from the parchment at the two other men.
Henry nodded: "I know she helped you escape, but is she on our side, or just your side?"
Draco considered this. "I don't think she has a side. But she will not fight the resistance if she doesn't need to, I know that much."
"Okay, noted," Henry conceded blankly. Any of his usual jovial spirit has diminished and was replaced by a much harder, serious demeanour. Draco could see why he and Harry were the leaders of the resistance.
The three of them started devising a plan of rescue, and Draco strained his mind to focus on the task at hand, and not on the millions of thoughts and worries going through his mind. At this point, no one knew the extent to Draco and Amelia's relationship before she had joined the resistance; they did not suspect that it was because of Draco that she had been captured. Draco knew that this was all a ploy to lure him to the Malfoy Manor, so that the Death Eaters could get rid of him once and for all and stop him from divulging secrets to the resistance, but he didn't care.
"And do you think it will be information on the resistance they'll be wanting out of her?" Henry asked, pulling Draco out of his thoughts.
"Oh, uh - partly, yeah," he said unconvincingly.
"Partly?" Harry repeated.
Draco sighed. "Okay – I haven't told you the whole story, but Amelia asked me not to and I wanted to respect that. I think Dean was right. It was targeted. I think the reason she's been taken is… me."
Henry and Harry stayed silent; Draco couldn't look them in the eye but he felt their confused gaze on him as he took to staring at the parchment in front of him.
"I've been in love with Amelia since we were seventeen," Draco said plainly. He chanced a glance up at the two men before him, both of whom didn't seem to know what to do with the information being presented. "And - up until she joined the resistance - she loved me as well."
He told their story, in complete sincerity, and felt the tension in the room shift as he continued.
"So… the Death Eaters have captured her to what - get your attention?" Harry asked, disdain in his voice.
Draco shrugged. "I suppose so. Aside from their obvious contempt towards me, I can imagine it would unnerve them to think that I am here, divulging their secrets."
"So we're walking into a trap," Harry said with an air of confirmation.
"We were always going to be walking into a trap… now we just know why," Henry said darkly. As Draco had recounted his past with Amelia, he had felt Henry's unwavering inquisitive glare on him; a big brother sizing someone up.
"I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner – if I thought for a moment that she would be in danger, I would've. I just… it's been tough trying to get her to even speak to me," Draco said, and the two men seemed to at least register his remorse.
"It's fine," Henry said in a clipped voice, "we know now." Harry gave a curt nod in agreement. Draco could tell that the two men were thrown by this information and weren't sure whether it made Draco seem more or less trustworthy than before, but luckily for Draco they had no choice at this moment.
"Okay – let's get the others in and tell them the plan. We have four hours until midnight, and I don't think we should ambush any later than that," Harry said, rising from the table.
It was just Draco and Henry left alone in the room. Henry rubbed his eyes, exhaling hard.
"I'm sorry, I should've told you," Draco offered, not minding that he felt like an idiot. He needed Henry to trust him if this rescue plan was to work out.
Henry considered this, then eventually said, "it's fine – really. I do get it. I just really need to believe that it's the truth."
Draco nodded, unsure of what to offer. Henry took a small tin of tobacco out of his pocket and rolled a cigarette with unsteady hands.
"Amelia's all I have, y'know," he said, the cigarette now in between his lips as he pulled a lighter from the same pocket.
"Me too," Draco said simply. Henry looked up at this, and Draco let the older man scan his expression. After a moment, Henry bent his head back down and rolled another cigarette. He passed it over to Draco, who took it with a small nod.
The two of them sat in silence. Draco tried in vain to push the image of Amelia in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor out of his brain.
Amelia was rooted to the spot. Every inch of her body was screaming for her to somehow try and escape the situation, but the sight of him and in such close proximity, was petrifying.
She silently wondered why she was 'special' enough to warrant an audience with him.
"I presume you understand why you have been brought here," Voldemort said. His voice was like an icy mist enveloping the room, and sent an uncomfortable chill down Amelia's spine.
Amelia frowned slightly to indicate that she had heard, but said nothing.
Voldemort's lips spread into a sickly grin. "It is no accident that it is you who is standing before me here."
Amelia's frown was genuine now – what would they want with her?
"Tell me Amelia, about your relationship with our Draco Malfoy," he said. Amelia hated hearing her name come from his mouth – but physically flinched when he mentioned Draco's.
"Not a lot to tell," she eventually offered, trying to keep her voice steady. She was mildly aware that her hands were balled into fists, but couldn't remember at which point she had actually done this.
Voldemort extracted his wand from his robes with long, skeletal fingers, and tapped it against his palm in a calculated movement.
"See, we're having a little trouble, Amelia – as I'm sure you will appreciate – as Draco recently left us quite unexpectantly. And, given your history, we were understandably suspicious that perhaps he had set off in pursuit of, well, you."
Her heart rattled against her ribcage as the Dark Lord spoke.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Amelia said. Her voice sounded like a distant echo of a voice that belonged to somebody else.
"Is that so?" Voldemort asked, slowly advancing towards Amelia, still tapping his wand gently against his open hand. "Well, best to make sure."
In a swift motion, he raised his wand and Amelia felt an immediate splitting pain in her head. White hot searing, pounding agony beamed across her temples and behind her eyes, as she felt herself fall to the floor.
It was a strange sensation; she was aware of someone else – Lord Voldemort – inside of her mind, but as much as she tried to hide any thoughts, he managed to bring them to the surface.
Seamus telling her that Draco had been captured and was asking for her; standing in front of Draco in the tent while he tried to tell her that he had been trying to get back to her for years; Ginny retelling her account of the Battle of Hogwarts and Draco's secret heroism; sitting around with Henry and the others, silent as they deliberated Draco's sincerity; standing atop a cliff with Draco when they were barely 18; Draco kissing her forehead in the cave after the Battle of Hogwarts; kissing him only weeks ago outside the Christmas party. Voldemort saw it all – she couldn't keep it from him – it was like he was rifling around her memories and thoughts like a book. He saw all of her feelings towards Draco, in all of their complexity – saw her love, and her hesitation, and all of the hurt that she felt, the reluctance to accept his reasons. Voldemort ingested it all. He pillaged every corner of her mind.
He released her, and Amelia felt herself go limp on the floor. Her panting breath seemed to echo through her hollow body.
"Interesting, interesting…" Voldemort's voice came from above her, but Amelia couldn't open her eyes for the pain she felt in her head. "She doesn't know who helped him kill Luscious," Amelia heard him saying to someone else in the room.
"She will lure him back here, my Lord, and then we can find out straight from him," Bellatrix's voice came from somewhere behind Amelia.
"Yes, yes," said the Dark Lord's voice absently. "Take her back downstairs."
Amelia felt two sets of hands picking her up off the floor and dragging her towards the door. Her body felt so weak from the legilimency, that she could hardly walk for herself.
"Let's hope that he does come to fetch you, Amelia," she heard Voldemort's voice call out to her, "it will be much more satisfying to kill you in front of him, than to watch you die alone and without a suitable audience." The last thing she heard was a high-pitched cackle from Bellatrix, before she was being marched through the corridors, back towards the dungeons. She tried to pick up any unique marks as they walked; a suit of armour in a corner; a particularly memorable portrait; a small table with an ornament atop it at the end of a corridor… anything that might help aide her, should she manage to get free.
