With everything cancelled, Marilyn had nothing stopping her from going straight to the vanishing room immediately after Dumbledore's speech. Not to see Draco - some nauseous, denial-fuelled part of her hoped she wouldn't see him again at all before leaving if she could only play her cards right - but to collect all of the things she'd left there so she might avoid returning entirely. It would be harder for him to get her in private then. Maybe he wouldn't even want to. With his idol on the rise once again - a thought that still had her chest seizing up in abject horror - he'd have to be on his best behaviour.

Moving with speedy efficiency about the room, she gathered all of her text books into her arms, having promised to sell them to a third year for half the price they'd have gotten them in the shops, throwing other odds and ends into her satchel - her spare pair of pointe shoes, a couple of resistance bands, a muscle soothing potion, a hairbrush. It was ridiculous the amount of knick-knacks she'd ended up accumulating in here. A testament to how long she'd spent here. A testament to how utterly stupid she'd been.

She was just doing one final sweep of the room - steadfastly refusing to look at the stupid sofa where they'd spent so many stupid hours stupidly curled up together when she heard the door click open, and everything in her seemed to sink. She didn't turn towards the door, instead preoccupying herself with shifting and then re-shifting her text books in her arms.

"Ah - I wasn't sure if you'd be here, but when I saw you weren't with that lot I decided to try my luck," Draco said in the way of greeting.

Like it was any other day. Marilyn said nothing. She wasn't sure she could speak - she was too sad and much too hopelessly angry.

"I couldn't get away last night," he continued "Not with everything on lockdown as it was. I expect it was the same for you."

Still, she said nothing.

"Baxter? Hello?" he prompted, his shoes clicking against the stone flooring as he approached.

Gripping the books until her knuckles turned white, she knew she had thirty seconds at most to rile herself up for the inevitable shit-show that was about to occur. She'd have to make the best of them. It didn't take him long to round the sofa, but she didn't lift her gaze even when she felt his eyes burning into her face.

"Oh Merlin, not you too," he groaned.

Marilyn gritted her teeth, wondering if counting to ten might help her keep her head so she didn't leave this conversation in yet more tears.

"You didn't even know Diggory! Tell me, did you ever exchange more than five words throughout this whole school year? Or more than two, even?"

"A person just died, Draco," her voice shook as she spoke "He was seventeen, he was decent, and he was murdered. By…by him. I don't have to have been his best friend to be upset. All that takes is being human."

"If Potter's telling the truth."

"He is," she said sharply "And I know that if your lot gets their way, it'll be me before long. Then you can giggle and smirk your way through my memorial, too."

His jaw slackened as she finished venomously, dropping the books down to the sofa where they landed with a series of dull thuds, a few smacking against each other like they were punctuating her point.

"You're being absurd," he scoffed.

"Am I? How?"

"A boy - one neither of us particularly knew, mind you - died in a tournament famous for how dangerous it is. The Dark Lord likely wasn't even responsible, Potter probably did it himself and he's lying to cover his saintly bloody reputation."

Marilyn choked on a fresh wave of sobs. Not because of the obvious bullshit he was trying to feed her, although that played a role too, but because of what he'd called him. The Dark Lord. Only his followers, his supporters, his ardent little bloody fanboys, called him that. Only Death Eaters. She'd known. Everybody knew about the Malfoys. But there was something about having a shining example presented so neatly before her where beforehand she could fall back in denial-ridden reasonable doubt.

But no. She'd done far too much of that lately. All year, in fact. She'd been an utter bloody idiot.

"He didn't, Draco," she sobbed "You know it. I know it. And I know you know it. After everything this year? All the signs? The- the World Cup, and Crouch, and all the other disappearances? And now this? It all only points to one thing. So what are we doing here?"

The question appeared to catch him off guard, and he gaped at her for a few moments before scoffing and answering an entirely different one.

"Of course you won't be next."

"Maybe not next, but eventually. Or if it's not me, it'll be Hermione - don't fucking smile at that!"

"Oh please, you're not like Granger! You're not like any of the rest of them! You're different," he frowned.

He said it like it was a compliment, which only made it sting all the more.

"No," she sniffed, shaking her head as she furiously wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand as if more weren't still spilling "I'm not. That's the point. And if you can't see that? If you can't…if you won't…"

She didn't even know what she was saying anymore. Just that she needed to get out of this room, burn these robes, and rid herself of everything he'd ever touched. When she dropped her hand, the bracelet slid down her wrist until one of the charms dangled against the dip of her palm. Well…that would be a good start, wouldn't it?

Moving as if the action didn't send a fierce, hollow ache throughout her chest, she undid the clasp of the bracelet with the opposite hand - thanking god that she didn't struggle with it, because that was the only way this whole thing could get even more embarrassing. It dropped from her wrist and into her other hand with an air of finality.

"Here," she held it out to him.

He made no move to take it, staring at her in disbelief for a prolonged moment. And then his features contorted into a sneer, his lip curling in disgust as he eyed her with disdain. It was a look usually reserved for others. Never her. Not since before the Yule Ball.

"All of this because you're that committed to being a grief thief over Diggory's death, is it?" he asked "What, now that your little end of term performance was cancelled you feel like you need more attention? Classy, Baxter. Very classy. It's my fault for expecting more of you."

Yeah. What else could she have expected from him?

"A sentiment we can both share," she gave a teary, pained imitation of a tight-lipped smile "I'll leave the broom in that spot by the courtyard for you to grab."

Dropping the bracelet to the sofa, she took up her books into her arms. Looking at him was difficult - damn near impossible, even - but she made herself do it. To prove a point to him, or to herself? He glared back, but his face was a shade paler even than its usual porcelain. Out of anger? Probably.

"I've plenty, I have no need of it."

"Even so, it'll stop you from having to make up any awkward explanations in future. Can't have your loyalties questioned in the years to come, yeah?"

"My loyalties have never been in question!" he hissed, visibly affronted "How dare you, you–"

And then he stopped short. But she knew what he'd almost said. You filthy little Mudblood. He'd said it to her before, hadn't he? She supposed the fact that he'd stopped short now was as close as she'd get to a good sign. It was too little too late, and she wished she could bloody well stop crying. When that wish wasn't granted, she did look away.

"I suppose you're right. They haven't been," she sniffled "Goodbye, Draco."

She felt like she should say more. But what else was there to add? Take care? Good luck? Keep in touch? No. He didn't respond - he didn't even move - as she walked by him, giving him a wide berth while she did so. The door had almost closed entirely behind her as she stepped out of the room when she heard him let loose a hex that had the sofa bursting into pieces. Marilyn flinched, and she kept walking.

A stupid technicality meant that rather than just catch the Hogwarts Express down to London, from which she could hop on a train to York at King's Cross, Marilyn had to travel back to France with her fellow Beauxbatons students, only to then be Apparated back to England by one of her teachers. Probably Madame Garnier. As mind-numbingly annoying as it was, especially given her current state of mind, at least it would save her train fare north, considering they could just side-long Apparate her right back to her home city.

When everybody filed outside to say goodbye, Marilyn ducked away to tuck the broom away, as promised. Once she returned to join the fray and begin saying her goodbyes, she looked about the courtyard to see if Draco had noticed her stick to her word - or if he was here at all. And he was. In the corner, talking to Pansy - very closely, with a forced smirk on his face. She was beaming, and giggling at every word he said. Marilyn hated that the sight made her feel sick.

"I take it that the goodbyes went well, then?" George asked when he caught up to her.

Tearing her gaze away, she looked to him instead "You were right about him. I'm not afraid to say it."

Not saying it wouldn't make it any less true. And she'd already decided no more denial.

"I wish I wasn't."

"Do you really?" she raised her eyebrows.

"In the grand scheme of things, wouldn't it be nice, what if we lived in a better world kind of way, yeah," he shrugged "But I knew I was - though I won't stand here and gloat about it when you've obviously been crying."

"Maybe I've been crying because I'm going to miss you."

"I can't gloat when you're saying that, either," he made a face "And I'll see you soon, remember. I'll hound mum with making arrangements as soon as we get home - she'll be dying to ship me right back to Hogwarts before I'm done."

Now tears did rise to her eyes again, turning and extending her arms in offer of a hug. George accepted, leaning down and hugging her back fiercely.

"Tell you what, though, if looks could kill, I'd be dead right about now."

It didn't take a genius to work out what - or who - it was that he was talking about.

"It doesn't matter."

And it really didn't. Not anymore. She was leaving it all behind.

Her goodbyes with Fred, Hermione, Harry, and Ron came next - giving them all hugs (which was worth it for how it sent Ron scarlet) and swearing up and down to Hermione that they'd keep in touch via letter…and that she'd send free ballet tickets when she was in a position to finally do so. She even managed to tune out Flint when he called across the courtyard "where's my hug, then?", and most of all she managed to look at Draco again. It was a relief to know that it soon wouldn't be something that would require effort.

As she joined the line waiting to file into the carriage, she did take one last look at the castle. It spoke to the sheer presence that Hogwarts had that, despite everything, she still didn't quite have it in her to be thrilled at having seen the last of the castle itself. It had a hell of a presence - more than any building she'd ever been in, in fact. It almost felt like it had shown up with everybody else to say its own goodbye. It was a shame, she could very easily imagine having attended her throughout all of her years. But then she wouldn't have been able to dance, and dancing was worth it.

The primary thought on her mind as the Abraxans began their running start before they would take to the air and pull the carriage with it was that the sooner she could put this entire year behind her, the better.

A/N: According to the Harry Potter wikia, there's a bit of conflict over whether it really is only Death Eaters who call Voldemort the Dark Lord. Harry says so, and uses that fact to accuse Snape of being a Death Eater at one point, but that conflicts with a handful of odd prior instances where other characters (who are very clearly not Death Eaters) refer to him as that. So, as readers, we're kind of left to decide whether we think that's an error on JKR's part, or if Harry is so blinded by his anger that he incorrectly accuses Snape on this basis. Personally, I'm more likely to fall on the side of the latter, so we're going with that.

We've reached the end of book four! I'm not skipping straight to the fifth, there will be a few chapters that take place over the course of these summer holidays, but I'm excited for the drama to really ramp up as the action does!