It was two days after the large meeting and the second time that Amelia had been woken by a wavy nausea. Time felt limited, like trying to keep sand from running through your fingers. This, combined with the reality of potentially facing her demons in Malfoy Manor once more, made her body seem to be in a permanent fight-or-flight response. There hadn't been another meeting yet, but Amelia knew that things were being discussed and decided upon. Her and Draco would spend lazy mornings and evenings together, wrapped in each other's arms, sheltering from the impending doom gripping the resistance. In the afternoons though, he would disappear for hours at a time into the smaller meeting tent with Harry, Kingsley and her brother while Amelia would whittle away the afternoon hours in the duelling tent, practicing curses and defences.
It was mid-morning and Draco had watched her eat a weak breakfast of plain buttered toast, her mouth dry from the nausea she felt. He made coffee for them both, but the smell alone twisted and turned her stomach in painful ways. She could see the concern in his eyes at her unusually quiet nature and could feel him being delicate with her.
"It'll be okay," he offered with a mumble a couple of times throughout the morning, cupping the back of her head and kissing her forehead.
"I just wish it could be okay right now," she said back softly, smiling sadly up at him.
"One more battle – then it will be." There was a fierce sincerity swimming around the silvery pools of his eyes and it was hard not to believe him.
Her smile widened and she weaved her fingers through his, their hands fitting together like two puzzle pieces.
"Right – it's time," Draco said at about 11 o'clock, handing Amelia her coat and placing a scarf around her neck. She smiled up to him as he wrapped it around her, his face in quiet concentration. He returned the smile, though she noticed it was strained. She had been so preoccupied with her own worries for the past two days that she had barely noticed him losing himself in his own head.
"There's uh, something I should probably tell you before the meeting," he said, breaking eye contact and looking downwards as he buttoned his own coat with shaky fingers.
"Is everything okay?" She asked. He slipped his hands into hers and nodded, still unable to look her in the eyes.
"Yes – it's just – this plan that we're all going to be going over today. I wanted to tell you before but I didn't really know how…"
Just as she watched him try to find the words, there was a loud knock at the door. They both jumped as they heard Ginny's voice calling out from the other side of the tent.
Draco looked irritated as the door opened to reveal Harry and Ginny – the latter looking a little more enthusiastic to be greeting Draco Malfoy than Harry did.
"Thought we'd catch you before you'd left!" Ginny beamed, linking her arm with Amelia's. "Shall we all head together?"
Amelia looked back at Draco, flashing a worried look. His own eyes darted around for a moment, before he rolled them, sighed and grabbed his own scarf.
"Draco – a word?" Harry asked. Ginny looked to Amelia and dramatically rolled her eyes and led them forwards, leaving the two men in their wake.
Happy to have a distraction and talk about something other than the war, Amelia excitedly asked Ginny about having her parents back. Her friend beamed all the way to the meeting tent as she described the meals her mother had made and all the fuss she had made about Ron's recent dodgy haircut.
"Aw Gin, I'm so happy for you," Amelia said, smiling as they rounded a corner towards the large tent. She squeezed her friend's hand as they sat beside each other in the tent. She watched as Draco and Harry, still deep in a hushed conversation, sat together at the head of the table and the smile faded from her face. In an instant the reality flooded back into the room. Draco caught her eye and gave her a small wink and a smile… What was he trying to tell her in their tent?
"Right – thanks again for coming here guys. Appreciate your time," Henry said as he stood on the other side of Harry. A quiet settled amongst the dozen or so people around the table.
"Not like we have anything better to do mate," George called out to a brief rumble of laughter.
"Fair enough," Henry said, allowing himself a dry chuckle at this. "So, I'm sure you've all heard about what was heard over the radio yesterday?"
Any lingering laughter was severed immediately by this statement and replaced instead by stony faces.
Yesterday, George had turned the radio on while having lunch in the dining hall to hear the news on the official Ministry channel (now run by Death Eaters, of course). After the Weasleys, Andromeda and Kingsley were tracked down and ambushed, they were expecting more attacks as Voldemort and his followers clearly tried to tease out the resistance and finish them off for good. Amelia had been in the dining hall with Draco as they had listened to the report of a small, remote muggle town being pillaged, resulting in the slaughter of entire families. She placed her fork down, sick to her stomach with what she was hearing. Draco had sat with grinding teeth and fists balled under the table. The newscaster ended the report – all of which had been communicated in an upbeat tone – by reiterating the importance of striving towards a pureblood, wizard-only society in Great Britain in order to move forward, as well as the need for total compliance and trust in the government.
In the meeting room, Henry continued gravely. "I think that we are all agreed – we need to act now."
"I don't think any of us are keen to sit in the shadows for much longer while Voldemort continues to order these murders," Harry said, coming to stand by Henry. There were nods across the whole room.
It couldn't be made more plain: the Death Eaters had increased their violence since the resistance had acquired Draco and successfully rescued someone – something that had never been achieved before by any resistance in the country. They felt threatened.
"We've got a bit of a plan, and it's time now to hash this out together so that we are fully prepared and as strong as possible when we attack. This is it, folks: our one chance to take these bastards down and get our lives back – get our world back," Henry said, and Amelia had to admit that it was hard to not be inspired by the power in his voice as these words were met with a couple of claps and whoops around the room.
"So, what's the plan?" Neville asked eagerly. Amelia looked around the room and saw that all the eyes around the table were hungry like hers.
Henry looked from Harry and then to Draco. Amelia frowned – she knew that he had been going to help them make battle plans, but there was something in the look between the men that told her that perhaps there was more that she didn't know than she had guessed. She sat forward, anxious to hear what they had to say.
"We've agreed that the most logical way to get the snake and Voldemort is to stage an ambush. He's not going to be taking that snake anywhere, especially if he suspects that we might be fighting back after our brush in Malfoy Manor the other week. And without the snake, there's no point in attacking him. We need to kill the snake, first," Harry said. He spoke slow and evenly and everyone was hooked onto every word he said. A couple of people around the table started scribbling on parchment as he spoke, looking up and nodding every now and again.
"But, if we all go and charge into Malfoy Manor en-masse, he's going to take every measure to protect the snake, and we don't even know if he'll be there. We'd suffer too many casualties before we could get any sort of upper hand. When we rescued Amelia there was a small enough team of us to make it work, and even then, we barely made it out," Henry said. "The Death Eaters are afraid of us, they might be expecting something, so we need to catch them off guard as much as is possible."
Harry continued: "We've looked at a few ways of how to do this, but it's been concluded that what makes the most sense is for the person who knows Malfoy Manor the best to be the one to infiltrate, alone, and lure Voldemort to the Manor. And obviously, that person would be Draco." He looked down to Draco, who had his hands clasped in front of him on the table, his eyes looking towards the ground and his blonde hair hanging like curtails to obscure his face.
Amelia stiffened. She tried to catch her brother's eye, Draco's, but they both seemed to be looking determinedly away from her.
"Uh," Harry kept going, speaking in a slightly less certain voice as murmuring around the room bubbled at this announcement. "Obviously Draco has agreed to this – in fact, he volunteered… We're grateful to have had that offer come to us, and it really does feel like our best chance."
Amelia's breathing was heavy; her nostrils flared. Her eyes darted so quickly around the room that it made her head ache.
Henry spoke next, shooting a flash of an apologetic look in Amelia's direction. "There is still a lot to hash out, but this is how we envision our attack: Draco will leave the resistance to allow himself to be caught by snatchers, and will offer them information on the resistance in return for his life. We think that they will go for this: they are desperate to get the upper hand again and enough of them think that Draco's out for himself, so it's not too unbelievable. Presumably, he'll be taken to Malfoy Manor and kept prisoner there. We have a contact on the inside of the Manor – Narcissa Malfoy – who we think will be willing to help Draco. From there, they can make contact with us, silently take down the wards on Malfoy Manor and head towards the snake…"
Amelia couldn't listen any longer and without even realising, she had slammed her hands onto the table with a loud bang. All heads whipped around to face her and suddenly the only sound in the room was her own heavy breathing.
"No!" She shouted. "This – this is madness! This cannot be the only way we have a chance at ending this war!"
"Mills…" Henry tried. She looked from her brother to Draco, who sat stony faced with silent pleading eyes.
"You volunteered for this?! Are you aware then that what it sounds like is a suicide mission?" She shouted at Draco now, who opened his mouth to respond but clearly couldn't find the words.
"Well if this is what you want, I want absolutely no part in a plan that involves one person putting themselves entirely on the line while the rest of us sit back and await some signal! You haven't seen what I've seen from inside that Manor. If someone sees Draco, alone and defenceless in the open, he will be killed on the spot. There is no one they wold like more to see waltzing straight back into their territory!" Hot angry tears threatened to spill from her eyes but she wiped them away with a quick backhand. It seemed that no one dared to speak.
"Look, it's not perfect but it's the best chance –
Amelia cut Harry off. She scoffed and rounded on him, "It is far from perfect. It is idiotic. It will bring us no closer to killing the horcrux or Voldemort. All it will do is kill Draco before he even has a chance to bring down any wards or kill the snake!" Her voice was dark and it cracked with these last words as she felt Ginny's hand slip into hers next to her, in a clear attempt to calm her. She couldn't be in this tent anymore though; she kicked back her chair and stormed out of the room, feeling the shocked eyes of everyone burning into the back of her head.
Amelia stomped from the tent, unaware of the direction she was even heading and hating the suffocation that the protective wards created. Trapped in a bubble. The air was still; the only sound was her heavy breathing and the crushing of morning frost under her boots.
As she rounded a corner, absently making her way back to her own tent while her mind whizzed through a thousand angry thoughts, someone called her name.
She whipped around and saw her brother jogging towards her.
"Mills! Wait up, please!"
She crossed her arms and waited for him to catch her up, a cross, expectant look on her face.
"Sorry – I thought Draco might've told you before today," Henry said as he tried to catch his breath.
"Evidently not."
"I know it sounds risky – but if you listen to the whole plan, there are a lot of safeguards we have in place," he offered.
Amelia frowned and narrowed her eyes. "Apologies if I fail to see anything safe about him handing himself back to the people who so desperately want him dead."
"That's why it's the perfect distraction to get You-Know-Who."
Amelia scoffed in disbelief. "So he's just a distraction? Collateral damage?!"
Henry back-pedalled: "Sorry – no – I didn't mean… Mills, I didn't suggest this: he did."
"Then you should've talked him out of it. He seems to think he has some sort of debt to pay. You should've seen him after the Christmas Eve rescue – he's not thinking straight!"
Henry sighed. "Mills, I did speak to him – I said everything you're saying. I don't think it's that he has some sort of martyred death wish. I think he genuinely saw an opportunity for us to have a chance and proposed it. He knows that if it wasn't him putting himself on the line, it would be someone else with far less knowledge on the Manor and the Death Eaters."
Amelia took a step back, not knowing how to argue against all of this. She felt all the strength her anger was giving her leak out, leaving only fear.
"We've been speaking about this non-stop for days. I've barely slept, trying to think of a different – a better way to execute this. I'm sorry Amelia, but Draco is the best chance that we have at winning this war."
Amelia thought about the bodies of those poor muggles who only yesterday had their small village ambushed and destroyed by the Death Eaters. Innocent children, not understanding what on earth was happening as hooded figures swept into their homes, confused and afraid as the last thing they saw was a bright flash of green…
This war had to end.
"I can't lose him, Henry," she finally said, her voice suddenly small.
"I know, Mills. I know."
Draco walked back from the meeting, eager to get back to his tent and see Amelia, but dreading it all the same. He had never felt so low and cowardly as he did sitting in that meeting, unable to look Amelia in the eye as the plan was delivered to the resistance. He didn't blame her for her reaction; if the tables were turned, he imagined he would've just about set the whole place on fire in rage. After she left he wanted desperately to run after her, but couldn't. He'd made this commitment and he needed to show the others that he was strong, reliable and able to take on this task. Not because he wanted to prove something to them, but because he knew now that they were all part of the same team; that if they believed in him it would give them more confidence in winning the whole war. Besides Amelia, the plan was received positively from everybody else. They sensed the danger in it, and he was almost touched at the look of concern and bewilderment on some of their faces as Harry had hashed out the finer details to them and it had been discussed and developed further around the group of peers.
He opened the door slowly, grimacing at what might await him on the other side of it. Amelia was pacing the length of the living room back and forth, her chest inflating and deflating heavily with seething, angry breaths.
"Amelia, please let me explain?" He said. His voice was calm and he held out his hands in front of him as if opening a negotiation with a dangerous wizard.
She rounded on him, fire blazing in her dark eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?" She wasn't shouting and the icy control to her voice was perhaps more terrifying than loud anger.
"Because I knew you'd try and talk me out of it," he offered with a shrug.
"Yes, because it's insane."
He nodded: there was no denying this. "I know… but it's the only way."
He could see her jaw tensing behind her cheeks as she stormed towards him, an accusatory finger pointed at him. "You told me that we would be together after the war – that the reason you're fighting is to make a better future for us!"
"It still is!"
"It's not better if you're dead! I'd rather live in this damned tent for the rest of my life with you than live another day without you here!"
His heart broke at these words. He hung his head and sighed. "Me too… but I can't sit back while other people die when I know that I can provide us with our best shot."
He closed the gap between them and took her face into his hands, lifting her head to hook her eyes with his gaze. The anger in her eyes started to melt away, leaving only worry in its wake.
"Amelia, all my life I've been trapped by the decisions of others. That's how it was when I was growing up, and then when I was bound to my father's Unbreakable Vow… Now, finally, I'm free to make my own decisions and fight for what I believe in. And I'm choosing to do this – not because I want to. It's the right thing to do though. My life isn't worth any more than anybody else's."
He watched as she considered this; the pragmatic Ravenclaw in her rolling around these words in her mind. Her features mellowed further and she sighed, shaking her head as if banishing a silent thought. "The thought of you being back there, Draco… thinking about what they might put you through…"
He gulped. It terrified him too, of course. If they just killed him on sight then all of this would've been for nothing; he'd be abandoning her again, this time forever. "I know, but I'll be okay. Just think, in a few nights this might all be over. We could be in a proper house, out in the open…" It was dangerous, a seductive daydream, to imagine this.
"How long do we have?"
He was dreading her asking this, and he felt his throat tighten. "I leave tomorrow morning."
She flung her arms around him, her grip so tight around his neck that it threatened to cut off his breathing. He didn't care though: he snaked his arms around her middle, balling her jumper in his fists, pressing their bodies together so that it felt like they could merge into one. He couldn't believe that they would be torn apart by the war once again.
Amelia was still upset that Draco had kept such a thing from her, but time was slipping through her fingers faster than ever before and she couldn't spend their last night together being angry at him. Only the last night for a little while, she tried to correct her own thoughts, with little conviction. It was hard to know how best to spend their time together before he left again; what to do to ensure they were imprinted on each other's heart in each other's eventual absence. The last time they had been torn apart it was unexpected, but this time each tick of the clock mocked them as it drew them closer to their fate.
Draco had sat Amelia on the couch and walked her through the whole plan in a clear attempt to reassure her. It did the opposite though and she stewed in worry and fear for the whole day. Still though, she put it aside and instead drank in every feature of the man she loved: the way he raked his hand through his hair, the way his lips twitched into a smirk and the way his steely silver gaze would fix on her through blonde curtains of hair. As they chatted into the afternoon, both trying to push the war and the attack plans out of their mind, she paid close attention to the low baritone of his voice. How empty the tent would feel without that sound in it…
The afternoon was spent tangled together on the sofa underneath a blanket, Amelia sitting cocooned in between his legs with her head resting back onto his chest. The gentle rise and fall of his chest threatened to lull her into sleep, but the sizzling anxiety coursing through her stopped this from happening. She let her eyes flutter closed though as he combed a warm hand through her hair, the soft musk of his scent filling her up as she breathed him in. She hoped that this scent had burrowed itself into every surface of the tent, so that tomorrow when she went to bed at night and closed her eyes she would feel him next to her though he was miles away.
"Tell me what you want to do after the war is over?" He asked in a soft voice as they sat like this on the sofa. A while ago, Amelia had made a pot of peppermint tea but the pot sat on the coffee table, gradually losing heat as it was forgotten by the lovers who only existed for each other.
Amelia snuggled herself further into him. "I always wanted to be a Healer, when we were at school."
"Oh yeah?"
She nodded against his chest. "My mum was a Healer, before she died."
"Seems like a good reason to follow that path. Was she at St Mungo's?"
Amelia smiled as she remembered her mother. "She trained there, but then she moved on to a much smaller place, near where I grew up. Everyone in our town would go to her; I think she delivered just about every baby for a good ten years. I loved the idea of that growing up: bringing a new person into the world."
"You would be a good introduction into the world," Draco said and Amelia could tell from his voice that he was smirking. She laughed. "I'm sorry I'll never get to meet your mother," he said softly.
The laughter faded and she sighed sadly. "Me too… you would've liked her, she was a lot of fun. From what I remember that is… I was pretty young when she died. And those last couple of years, she was quite ill."
"Must have been tough growing up without her."
"It was. But I had dad, and Henry of course."
He kissed her head, cupping her forehead with his hand and snaking his other arm tightly around her. She melted even further into him.
"What about you?" She asked him, reaching up above her and stroking his face with her fingers.
He shifted. "Never used to think much about my future. Just assumed it would all be decided for me…"
"And now?"
There was silence as he clearly contemplated this. "I don't know," he finally admitted. Amelia bit her lip: she knew that this was because he wasn't convinced he'd live to see a future outside of this war but she refused to acknowledge this thought.
"Get rid of all my family's money, for starters," he said scathingly.
"Oh yeah?"
"Mm, just dump it all on some charity – don't really care where it goes. I don't want it."
"Fair enough." She took his hand in hers and observed carefully as their fingers interlocked with each other. His hand, much bigger than hers, milky and pale with faint blue veins like tiny rivers running under his skin. His wristwatch, gold-faced with a dark leather strap – expensive looking – still mocked her with its ticking hands, counting down the moments they had left together. She squeezed his hand.
Eventually they moved to the bedroom, hands still clasped together, careful to spend not even a second without touching. Draco sat next to her and pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and exhaling deeply. Her heart ached beneath her chest, twisting painfully as he brought a shaky hand to touch her cheek. Her lip twitched with everything she wanted to say: she wanted to beg him to be careful; promise her he would return safely to her; perhaps try one last time to convince him to stay…
Instead she just cupped his cheeks with her hands, rubbing gentle circles with her thumbs as she inched her gaze back to drink him in. His eyes glinted in the honey-glow of the light, reflecting the dancing flames from inside the lamps. They looked sad as they poured into her though.
She kissed him, pressing their lips together as if it could be the last time. She needed him to be a part of her, to print himself all over her body the way that he already existed all over her heart. He responded, swooping his arms around her middle and lifting her to sit atop him, her legs folding either side of his hips. Her hands glided over his body, sweeping the shirt from him and tossing it aside. He mirrored the action, also unhooking her bra with a short and easy pinch. He was perfect, so beautiful in the gentle evening glow of their tent. She knew every inch of his body like she did her own: the three freckles that formed a triangle just above his collarbone; the small scar above his left nipple; the gentle V-shape framing his hips; the sprinkling of hair – darker than his white-golden locks – which paved a path from his navel, downwards.
With strong arms and careful not to break their kiss, he pulled her closer so that their bare chests pressed together and their breathing became one, and flipped their bodies so that she fell back onto the bed. He crawled slowly up, peppering small kisses on her stomach, her breast, her collarbone, her lips. She hooked her legs around his middle, pulling his body on top of hers so that she could feel the warm weight of his body pressing into hers.
With fumbling hands, Amelia snaked her hands between their bodies, past his chest and his navel, to undo his belt and trousers. He buried his head in her shoulder as they were discarded, and let out a faint moan as he copied the action, gently sliding her underwear down her legs and then running his hands back up them, coming to rest on her hips.
Draco pulled back, resting his weight on one arm. His gaze, a thousand mile stare, burned into her and she watched him rake his silver eyes all over her bare body. She made no attempt to cover herself, no longer shy in his presence. She felt it too, the eagerness to savour every morsel of time they had left. He opened his mouth to say something, but apparently couldn't find the words and instead smirked and ducked his head back down to kiss her again, his free hand wandering hungrily over her body now as he moved it from her hip, across her stomach to circle her nipple. The pad of his thumb against sensitive skin made her shudder with pleasure. She moved her own hand up the arm propping him up, sturdy and tensed, and over his shoulder – delicately muscular.
"I need you, Draco," she breathed into his ear and felt his hardness push firmly against her leg as he groaned in the back of his throat at this.
He lowered himself onto his elbow, so that his blonde curtains framed her face and their noses grazed gently. She braced herself as he readjusted slightly, before slowly pressing himself into her. She sucked in breath as her thighs squeezed around his hips, closing her eyes at the sensation of him thrusting slowly, deeply. As always, he pulled back slightly to check this was okay; she hooked her arm around his neck to pull him into a hungry, clumsy kiss and he pulled his hips back only to thrust deeper this time, his pace quickening as he continued to pump. The familiar warm sensation tingled from between her legs and fluttered through her, all the way to her fingertips. She moved her hips in time with his, needing him deeper inside of her, desperate to feel all of him.
She pushed at his shoulder without breaking their kiss and he responded immediately, snaking strong arms underneath her and holding her to him as he came up briefly, before lying down, moving her body into a position on top of him. She bent down, her dark hair dancing against his cheeks and collarbone as she lowered herself onto his length, feeling a rejuvenated sensation in this new position as she started to rock against him. Pulling back to straighten up atop him, she looked down at him through hooded eyes. He was looking back up at her, his mouth half-open, his eyelids relaxed but his eyes fiery. He placed his hands onto her hips, cupping them and aiding her as she pulsed atop him, both their bodies now glistening in the glow of the tent's lamplight. Finally, Amelia swooped back down, coming back to kiss Draco hard on the lips as he made sure to keep up the thumping rhythm of their bodies. She was close; he could tell and moved his head back to watch her orgasm. As a final, rattling moan erupted from her body she felt Draco's body tense as well and the steady hands on her hips grip her tighter, his fingernails digging into her skin. She watched, still suspended in her own release, as he bit his lip hard and his eyes became slits, a small moan escaping from the back of his throat.
Within a few short, heavy pants of breaths, they were lying side by side, chests heaving and bodies sparkling with sweat; the afterglow of love-making. Amelia could feel his soul inside of her now, warming her from the tingle in her fingers, to the gentle buzzing in her toes.
For a while they lay tangled and naked, damp bodies gleaming in the mix of moonlight and dying lamplight. Amelia absently stroked Draco's hair, sweeping away stray strands from sticking to his forehead. She adjusted herself to look up at him; he lay on his back with his eyes half-closed, his lips barely parted.
"Draco?"
He raised his eyebrows lazily in acknowledgement and pulled her a little closer.
"Say that everything's going to be alright."
"Everything's going to be alright," he whispered back to her, kissing the top of her head and wrapping his arms tighter around her.
Draco didn't sleep that night, but he didn't mind. He didn't want to be robbed of a single moment he had left in this small tent with Amelia. They lay in bed as the moon slowly faded from the sky and the sun began to rise; morning birdsong sealing their fate and confirming that their time was up.
They showered together, not making love but embracing, caressing, kissing under the water, determined not to spend even this time apart. Amelia made coffee but he noticed that she didn't drink hers. She looked pale, sickly, but he imagined that he didn't look much better. He gulped his coffee down though, savouring the flavour of something that she had made for him; a painful twist deep in his stomach as he thought of how he would miss even these little details: her morning coffee, always stirred with a spoonful of honey.
They sat at the kitchen table, exchanging quiet chatter. Their voices were weak and hollow, rattling with their anxious breath. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost 10 o'clock. He swallowed hard and looked at Amelia; her dark eyes glared down at his wristwatch.
"It's time," he said. His voice sounded foreign to him. He felt like all the bones inside his body had suddenly turned to liquid and the reality of what he was about to put himself through began to dawn on him.
Amelia reached her hand across the table as he slowly closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to banish their fate and instead feel brave, capable.
They stood up as one and put on their shoes and coats in silence. Draco was convinced that if he tried to talk right now he might break down and by the resigned look on Amelia's face, she felt the same.
There were no possessions for Draco to take; the plan was for him to be captured as soon as possible, so any clothes or supplies were unnecessary.
They stood tentatively at the door, both apparently unable to yank it open and accept what was about to happen. Amelia took to doing up the buttons on Draco's coat, her small hands shaking as if she were deathly cold or afraid. Without looking up at him she took a small silver ring from her finger – something she had always worn, even when they were at Hogwarts – and waved her wand. A silver chain was born out of thin air from the tip of her wand, a glinting spark like tiny fireworks on each end as it hovered by itself in the air like a feather on the wind. It looped itself through the ring with the two crackling ends meeting each other and fizzling out to connect the chain.
"Will you wear this?" She asked rather timidly, the silver chain and ring hanging from her hand as she offered it to him.
"Of course." Any more words than this were too difficult.
He bowed his head, his hair falling about his eyes, and felt her hook the silver chain around his neck. The ring came to rest in the middle of his breastbone, just to the right of his heart. Once again, Amelia waved her wand, hovering the tip in line with the small ring. It glowed bright and golden for a moment and warmed considerably, before returning to its original shining silver. The warmth against his skin remained though.
He watched as she blushed slightly. "It will go warm whenever I think about you… That way we're always connected."
He smiled – something he did not previously think he was capable of in this moment – and swept her hands up into his. "This will all be over soon, okay? I promise."
"Just promise that you'll be okay."
He squeezed her hands. They vibrated with their collective quivering. "I promise."
Amelia walked beside Draco to the meeting point. Their slow and heavy footsteps felt like a funeral march. Underneath her fear and grief a deep hatred for the Death Eaters pulsed within her, echoing around her body with every thump of her heartbeat. They were taking him away from her, again.
In the middle of a clearing, on the outskirts of their protective charms, Amelia could see Harry, Henry, Kingsley, Hermione and Andromeda standing and waiting. Their faces were grave as they greeted her and Draco. She held onto his hand so tightly that her whole arm tensed; she wasn't ready to let go.
"Morning guys," Henry said, his sad eyes lingering on his silent sister.
"All set?" Harry asked Draco. He gave a small and stiff nod. Harry looked to Hermione, who stepped forward.
She handed Draco a small piece of parchment, no bigger than a pocket square, and a half-sized quill.
"Two way parchment," Hermione said. "This is how you can communicate with us – keep it safe so that they can't find it if they search you. I have the partner parchment, so I'll see it appear on mine if you write something, and vice versa. Don't worry, it disappears after you've read it," she added. Her usual confident gusto was humbled and she spoke slowly, softly as Draco nodded along and pocketed the parchment and quill.
Hermione reached back into her pocket and extracted something long, thin and wooden. "A spare wand, for when they inevitably disarm and take yours." Hermione took out her own wand and shrunk the spare to be smaller than a toothbrush.
Again, Draco nodded and knelt down, stuffing the spare wand into the inside of his sock.
Hermione held up a small vial of misty red liquid. "An antidote to veritaserum. It should be effective for at least a day if you're forced to drink any truth potion. I made it as strong as possible." Draco took this as well and tucked it safely into his pocket. Even through her grief, Amelia was impressed by Hermione's abilities – she didn't even know there was an antidote to truth potion.
"And, mostly importantly of course," Hermione carefully reached into a small canvas bag slung around her shoulder and extract something that almost looked like a long, sharp bone. "A basilisk fang. One stab of this to the snake, and it will kill the piece of Voldemort's soul inside of it." She put the fang back in the bag and handed it over to Draco.
"Thanks," the Slytherin man muttered.
Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. "Right – so we'll wait to hear from you after you've… been captured," Harry said.
"Sure. Hopefully today." Amelia looked up at Draco as he spoke; his eyebrows were set in a frown, his jaw tensed.
"Other than that, we just need to make sure that we stick to the plan," Harry continued. Draco patted his coat pocket as the ghost of a smirk crept onto his face; Amelia knew that their plan was scrawled on a folded piece of parchment in his pocket.
Harry put out his hand; Draco grasped it with a resonant clapping sound as the one-time enemies shook hands. "Good luck Draco – and thanks again."
Draco shook Kingsley's hand. Henry pulled him into a hug, clapping him on the back and to Amelia's surprise, Hermione ignored the handshake he offered her and instead flung her arms around him with a tiny whimper. "Good luck Malf- Draco," she said.
Amelia stepped back as Andromeda came forward, taking Draco into a long embrace as she whispered something into his ear that was swallowed by the wind. Amelia bit her lip and watched the estranged aunt hold onto her younger nephew.
The moment she had been dreading came crashing into reality as Draco rounded on her, his face painted in anguish as he made slow steps back towards her. Her heart plummeted into the pit of her stomach like a tree falling in the middle of a forest. The others seemed to be melting back slightly, giving the lovers their space.
"I can't believe this is happening," Amelia said, finally allowing the tears that had been sitting at the back of her throat for the last day erupt. "I can't believe we're being separated again."
"This is the last time. I told you, Amelia, I'm going to win this war for you. I promise."
His voice trembled and faltered as he stammered through these vows, and Amelia watched through tear-blurred vision as his own eyes welled behind his lashes.
Finally, the effort of keeping her tears at bay was too much, and she let choked sobs bubble in her throat as she blinked away tears. With fumbling and clumsy fingers she tucked the ring and silver chain beneath his shirt so that it lay hidden against his bare skin. He brought his hands to hers where they hovered at his chest, cupping them and pressing them against his chest and through his shirt Amelia could feel the warmth of the ring. Keeping their hands in place, he leaned his forehead against hers. She sobbed harder.
"You are everything to me, Amelia. And everything that I am, is because of you. Okay?"
She shook her head and spoke in between sobs, her voice scratching painfully against her throat. "Don't do that – don't speak like it's the last time."
The enormity of this idea seemed to take him over and he pulled her into him, holding her head against his chest. Her sobs heaved through her chest so wildly that she was sure it would rip her open. His body felt taut and strong against hers as she crumbled.
"After this, the rest of our lives can begin," he said, though his voice cracked. She hated that he had to be strong in this moment because she couldn't be. Finally, she looked up at him, her entire face damp so that hair stuck to her neck and cheeks.
His face was hardened and resigned, but two silent tears rolled down his pale cheeks. Somewhere swimming around her fear, grief and anxiety swelled a great pride for him as he prepared to singlehandedly put himself on the line to help save the wizarding world. She remembered the boy he was when they were at Hogwarts: a sneering and snobbish bully, forced into a self-serving and prejudiced life and a set of beliefs from the day he was born. And now here he was, willing to carry the weight of the fractured world on his shoulders. All alone.
"You're incredible, Draco Malfoy," she managed to say, thumbing away one of the tears on his face. "I believe in you."
He smiled; warm and tender and she felt his body relax ever so slightly under her touch.
"I love you," he said. His voice was low, barely audible so that it could've just been the wind speaking.
She nodded. "I love you, too."
He took her face into his hands and bent his head to kiss her, their tears falling onto their lips and mingling so that they were indistinguishable. She put her arms around him, grabbing onto fistfuls of his coat.
"I'll see you soon," he whispered. His warm breath caressed her quivering lips and she kissed him again, choking sobs into his mouth.
Slowly, he peeled away from her, careful to keep her hands in his. She took him in, strong and fierce but tender and loving all in one. Her warrior. She couldn't watch him leave though, couldn't bare it, and she closed her eyes.
With a wave of the wind sweeping through the nearby trees, his hands fell out of hers and she didn't need to hear the cracking sound of apparition to know that he was no longer there. She could feel it; in her bones, in her organs. She kept her eyes closed though, determined to hover in between realities for as long as possible before she would have to accept that he was gone. A hand grasped her shoulder; it wasn't Draco's. And sure enough, when she finally peeled her eyes open, he was no longer there.
