The Great Hall was darker and colder than it normally was, the tables sparser than in previous years. With Dumbledore gone, not all of the students' parents had permitted them to return, and there were only a few new students to be sorted. No one cheered when the Sorting Hat declared a new Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. No one jumped up to welcome the new Ravenclaws and Slytherins. It a somber affair.
Once the Sorting Ceremony had ended, the doors to the Great Hall swung open and Profess—Headmaster Snape appeared, stalking down the center aisle, his black robes swishing and his face a pale, blank slate. No one made a sound. All eyes remained locked on the empty plates in front of them even when he took his place at the podium. Stifling silence descended as everyone waited for his speech. It never came. There was only the quiet command to begin the feast and then he was walking away, back the way he'd come, out the door and down the hall.
The tension eased only slightly. Food leapt onto their plates and everyone began picking at their portions, conversation never rising above a miserable hum. Once glance at the professors' table showed much the same. They were each grim-faced and quiet, eating out of necessity rather than enjoyment, except for the Carrows, who smirked gleefully and ate their weight in portions.
Draco glanced around at his fellow Slytherins. On his left, Theo pushed his food around, unusually sullen. On his right, Goyle stared at his chicken and mash, refusing to look at him. Beside him, Crabbe ate slowly, occasionally muttering this or that. Across from him, Pansy and Daphne were whispering to each other and she didn't so much as glance in his direction. He tried to think of something to say to any of them but nothing came to mind.
Draco's gaze dropped to the food on his plate. He picked up his fork but he didn't feel like eating. He put it back down and folded his arms in front of him.
Once the hour was up, Professor McGonagall declared the students were to go straight to their dormitories. They did not have to be told twice. Everyone hurried out of the Great Hall toward their respective corners of the castle, the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs taking the same path.
Draco eyed Amaris ahead of him in the corridor, walking alone. Hayden wasn't beside her like usual and he hadn't seen Ballard at dinner. Had neither returned to school or had something happened? Draco wouldn't have thought anything could come between them, not even her engagement to a Death Eater. But he had been wrong about so many other things…
As a side path opened up on the left, Draco hurried ahead and snatched her arm. He felt her jump beneath his fingers, twisting as though preparing to run as she turned to look at him.
"I need to talk to you," he said, ignoring Goyle's wide-eyed gaze as he pulled her down the hallway. She did not resist.
When they were alone in a private alcove far away from eavesdroppers, Draco looked at her, at how much thinner she was, at how her alabaster skin had a grayish tint to it and her white-blond hair lacked its usual luster, at how her blue eyes seemed tired and hopeless. It made him feel wretched.
"Draco, what is it?" she asked, baffled.
"You're not flanked by your usual entourage tonight," he sneered, channeling his misery in the only way he knew how. "Where are Ballard and Hayden, anyway?"
Amaris looked down at her feet, fingers twisting together anxiously. "Locke's father left the Ministry. He took his family back to America. Ember's older sister was—" Her face wrinkled with sorrow, and she didn't have to explain what had happened. He knew.
Draco grimaced, watching as she swiped a stray tear off her cheek. "I'm sorry," he said, and she nodded. "I didn't mean for this to happen," he told her. She looked up, her blue eyes watery with emotion and her brow bent in confusion. "I didn't mean to force you into a match with me. I was—"
"Protecting me from your aunt," she finished. "I know." She offered him a wan smile. "But you saved me from being forced onto the Goyle family tree."
"You said you wouldn't marry him."
"M-my uncle wasn't going to leave it to chance…"
When Draco saw that she was visibly trembling, he understood what she wasn't saying: her uncle was going to force her, probably with the Imperius Curse. And in a world ruled by Voldemort, there would be no one to stop him. Draco felt sick. It was all so much worse than he originally thought. Never mind her not having a choice to marry him, she was going to be spelled to make her vows.
"And now you'll be forced onto the Malfoy family tree," he spat in disgust.
"Draco—" she started, reaching out. She barely touched his forearm before he jerked away from her.
Frustrated, he pushed his fingers through his hair. How could he fix this? He could tell her to run—to Ballard, to Hayden—but she would probably refuse to put them in danger. He could not marry her, but then she would be passed to someone else. And once the Dark Lord had won and set new laws for wizarding society, and if she survived, she would be rooted out with the other blood traitors and Muggle-borns, and put to death. Just like Professor Burbage…
It was a recurring nightmare, his professor floating over the table, seeing her die, watching the snake swallow her up. He awoke night after night in a cold sweat, shaking, the last images of the dream burned into his eyelids. Sometimes, his parents took the place of his late professor. Sometimes it was Amaris who was swallowed by the snake, and sometimes it was Draco… But the nightmare that scared him the most was the one with Amaris, terrified him because it was closer to reality than any other version of this haunting.
No. He had to protect her. She might hate him for it, but he would marry her, would keep anyone from looking at her too closely.
"Amaris, you have to hide," he said.
"Hide?"
"That Pureblood armor you sometimes wear," he said and her brow wrinkled in confusion, "you have to wear it now. Like you did at the Christmas party our fifth year, or Easter at your uncle's. You have to pretend to be like them."
"I can't—"
"You can," he insisted. "You have to. I can help you. We'll get married."
Amaris shook her head. "Draco—"
"I'll teach you occlumency. No one will ever know."
"But you—"
"I don't care what you really believe," he exclaimed. "I'm trying to protect you."
Suddenly her face softened and, for a moment, he thought she looked at him with such longing. A few tears slipped down her cheeks that she quickly brushed away.
"Oh, Draco, I want to protect you, too," she rasped, backing away from him, "which is why should distance yourself from me."
Cold alarm rushed through him. "What do you mean by that? Why?"
"Because when the time comes, I'm going to fight back."
"What?" he blurted. "Fight back?" He went rigid. "You mean because you'll fight my parents, fight me."
"No," she answered. "No, I won't. I just don't want the Death Eaters to turn on you for being tied too closely to me."
Draco immediately conjured up the image of Amaris firing defensive and offensive spells, but he couldn't imagine them performed outside of a classroom. She didn't even fight back with her words. How the bloody hell would she fight with a wand? Fear ripped through him as he realized what she was saying, what it would mean.
"No." He shook his head, taking a step toward her. "You'll be killed."
She whispered, "Probably."
"Then why?"
"Because I don't believe anyone has the right to determine who is allowed to practice magic based on something as silly as blood," she answered, and there wasn't an ounce of doubt in her voice. "And I definitely don't want to see anyone hurt for something they don't get to choose."
"But you're Pureblood. You'll be all right."
"Draco, the Dark Lord's future is one of fear and hatred, of oppression and murder. I may be allowed to, but I don't want to live in that kind of world. Do you?"
No. He didn't. The thought of seeing more people he knew murdered was too much to bear. When he had heard of deaths, like Diggory's, it had felt so far away that it hadn't seemed real. It was easy to sneer and mock. But seeing it happen—watching Dumbledore fall and Professor Burbage swallowed whole—the memories made it hard to breathe. And hurting others? Torturing Thorfinn Rowle had been terrible... When Katie Bell had been cursed because of him, Ron poisoned by his hand, Draco had discovered his old hatreds had not rooted so deep as to numb the horror he felt at almost killing them.
Draco frowned at her, unable to respond. Answering "yes" was a lie, but saying "no" felt like a betrayal to his family. "Are you saying we're bad people?" he choked out. "My parents and I—we're bad like he is?"
Amaris immediately shook her head. "You're not bad, Draco. Neither are your parents. They are good people who grew up being taught bad things by people they trusted until they believed them, and they passed those lessons on to you. I know what it's like… If I had been born into my Uncle's house, I would think the same as you." She took a step closer and gently laid her hand on his arm. "You're not like him, Draco."
Draco swallowed the lump in his throat. He gripped her elbow tightly, holding her close. "Let me train you in occlumency."
"But—"
"You don't know what will happen. You might survive. And if you do…"
If she survived and married him, occlumency would save both of their lives. Seeming to understand his meaning, she slowly nodded.
"Okay…" she said, "but I can't promise to be any good at it."
Draco would have smirked if it wasn't so serious. She would be. She had to be. Her life depended on it… But if she wasn't, he would find some other way to protect her. He would make sure she survived. But he didn't say any of it out loud. He just nodded and gently took her hand.
"Good," he murmured, and together they walked back to the main hall. He held her hand until their paths forked, and he didn't care who saw.
Author's Note: I accidentally posted 28 twice. Oops! It was really late and I was tired. Sorry... I've had this scene in my head for months, and yet it's completely different than originally planned. Certain moments that were supposed to be key to the scene feel less important now than other new lines.
