Amelia stood her ground as she and the Death Eater kept their wands carefully trained on one another. She flinched but resisted throwing another curse as the Death Eater in front of her tugged the mask from their head with their free hand.
Amelia supressed a small gasp.
Pansy Parkinson. Looking every bit the miserable, snooty brat Amelia had known years ago.
"Pansy…" Amelia managed to say.
The shock at seeing Pansy Parkinson – Draco's still-wife – made Amelia falter for the slightest moment; enough time for Pansy to disarm her, leaving her wandless.
Amelia cautiously raised her hands up. "I don't want to hurt you, Pansy."
Pansy smirked, her squashed nose wrinkling. "I don't think you're really in a position to hurt me, Collins." Even her voice was the same: sickly sweet but entirely rotten. Her face dropped then though. "I hear that you have something of mine."
Amelia frowned with genuine confusion.
"My husband," Pansy explained impatiently.
Amelia shook her head. "Draco's not a Death Eater. He doesn't belong here."
Pansy scoffed. "You think a blood traitor like you would have the first idea about where he belongs? Have you forgotten perhaps, that he agreed to marry me?" These last words dripped from her tongue with immense satisfaction.
It was hard to listen to these words. Throughout their reunion, Amelia had never really considered Pansy Parkinson in all of it. In Amelia's mind, she was just another Death Eater blindly following their leader. Was it possible that she was actually in love with Draco that whole time?
"And then you ruined everything," Pansy snarled, her lip curling upwards. "Everything was planned – from when we were children – and you stepped in and ruined it. But now I can finally fix things."
Pansy twisted her wand, raising it so that it's tip was pointed directly in between Amelia's eyes. Amelia kept her hands up, but squared her shoulders.
"I don't think that killing me will make much of a difference," Amelia said plainly. She was more afraid of the crazed look in Pany's eyes than she was of her wand.
"Just wait, Collins. After you lose tonight and we've cleared away the bodies and cleaned up our home, he will come back to me. Beg for my forgiveness. You think that you know Draco, but I actually know him. Since the moment we both could walk we've been together, and I know him better than anyone. I know that he'll always do what's easiest for him."
Amelia shook her head, furious to hear Draco spoken about like this. "You're wrong," she growled.
Just as Amelia was going to take a chance and dive for her wand, the slapping sounds of approaching footsteps caused both women to whip their heads around.
Relief blossomed inside Amelia at the sight that came around the corner: Draco, still alive and appearing at just the right moment. He looked as if he'd lived through a thousand of these war torn nights though: dried blood crusted above his lip from his nose, and powdery debris clung to his face and through his hair. She frowned slightly at the defined line of a clear streak cutting through a smudge of dirt on his cheek, almost like the track of a tear.
Draco stopped in his tracks as his eyes swept the scene and landed on Amelia. For a moment the world stopped and they drank in each other's appearance, but finally Draco's eyes were torn from Amelia and onto the woman holding her at wandpoint.
"Pansy?" He sounded exhausted as he spoke, but a confusion at the sight still cut through his weary tone.
"Don't move or I'll curse her into a million pieces," Pansy seethed, glaring at Draco while her wand stayed very much on Amelia. "Put your wand down."
Draco didn't comply at first, but when Pansy's wrist jerked and Amelia flinched, he hastily dropped his at his feet. "Alright, alright. No wand."
In an instant, Pany's wand shifted from Amelia onto Draco and with an almighty sob she slashed the air clumsily, sending a curse in Draco's direction which he easily ducked to avoid.
"You left me - without even a hint of notice! You humiliated me!" She cried. Amelia watched as actual tears ran down her face.
"I had no choice!" Draco barked back defensively.
"I'm your wife, Draco," Pansy shouted back, her beetle-like eyes ablaze. "You don't think I deserved to know if you were running away?"
Draco sighed and shifted on the spot. "Pansy – we both know that marriage wasn't real." He lowered his voice. "Not really, anyway."
Pansy's expression faltered and Amelia was surprised at the hurt in her voice as she spoke far more softly. "Do you have any idea how much you embarrassed me?"
Draco bowed his head slightly and raked a hand through his hair. "You're right. It was wrong to leave you without saying anything. I had to though Pansy. Surely you can understand? They were going to kill me if I didn't give you a child."
"Would that have been so bad?" Pansy asked, her voice meek and her lip quivering slightly. Amelia didn't know what to make of it all. "All our lives we've been the same – I've never even given another boy a second thought – the plan was always that it would be us. And you ruined it, you ruined me."
She watched as Draco shook his head. "I'm not a Death Eater – you know this. I couldn't live that life another second."
"Your father told me that you would come around. He convinced me to marry you – even after you failed to kill Dumbledore and went on the run. Your father told me that if we married it would put everything right, that you'd see the error of your ways! I put my entire reputation on the line – my whole family's – just for you to betray me, betray everyone. Again."
Pany's voice cracked as she bellowed, still sounding like a child throwing a tantrum, but there was real hurt behind her words. If the situation wasn't so bizarre, and she wasn't so vile, Amelia might've even felt sorry for her.
"Betray? – Pansy, I am not a Death Eater. I was imprisoned here. I'm sorry you were a part of that – but I didn't choose any of this!" Draco shouted back. Amelia's eyes darted back to Pansy, scared that she would react with her wand, but she just glared at her estranged husband who stood in front of her.
"Evidently not, Draco. But I thought that perhaps our history might count for something and you would at least tell me you were planning on leaving and completely humiliating me."
"I'm sorry," Draco finally said gravely. "Maybe I should've made things clearer to you. I'm sorry you were caught in the middle."
This seemed to satisfy Pansy for now and Amelia noted that she lowered her wand slightly.
"It's not too late – you can still make everything right. My family can speak to the Dark Lord and convince him to spare you when tonight is over," she piped up hopefully. "My father said that no one would want Draco Malfoy's scorned ex-wife, but if you come back then that will all go away and we can continue the Sacred 28."
Draco frowned and glanced over to Amelia with exasperated eyes. "Pansy, I told you. I don't want this life, I haven't for years. I'm happy where I am."
"With no family, or money? A reputation as a weak blood traitor?" Pansy said, her privilege seeping out through every syllable she spoke.
Draco nodded, his face set. "All of this – everything that Voldemort is trying to do, it's not the way our world should be. Wizard rights shouldn't depend on your blood."
For a moment Pansy looked disgusted, like she'd swallowed something sour. "How can you actually still believe that?" She whispered harshly. "Look at you – if you were fighting for the right side, why do you look about an inch away from death? Why do you have to live in hiding?"
"Very good questions."
Pansy rolled her eyes, now clearly impatient with the way the conversation was going. Commotion rumbled from the floor beneath them.
"Look, Pansy. It doesn't have to be like this. Fight with us, alongside your schoolmates (Pansy scoffed loudly) and be a part of rebuilding the wizarding world. I understand – you're right that we are the same – brought up to believe something and never even question it. All the darkness that I know you feel inside of you, that will go away. All you have to do is make the right choices, from now." Draco's words were pleading, and his face looked pained as he appealed to his estranged wife. Amelia had a feeling that he wasn't just trying to get she and him out of their current bind, but because he genuinely wanted someone from his old life to see sense.
"How dare you try to reduce the loyalty I have shown to the Dark Lord," Pansy said in a scolding whisper. "Even suggesting that I would simply jump over to the losing side is punishable by Dementor's Kiss. Lord Voldemort is the greatest wizard to have ever lived, and he is restoring the wizarding world to the way it should be."
"A man who has to kill and enslave in order to gain power?"
"Because mudbloods and muggles deserve it."
Draco shook his head, sighing in frustration. Amelia continued to watch on, scared to move or speak in case Pansy sent a curse her way.
"It's not too late to switch, Pansy. Fight alongside us tonight and help build back the world," Draco said, urgency leaking into his voice.
"Build back the world? You live in a tent, hidden from the world. You're constantly avoiding being ambushed and killed. And you think I want that?"
Draco shrugged. "It won't be like that forever. Pansy – come on – I know you don't want to hurt us. I know that deep down you're the same as me. That you don't believe people should be tortured and killed for someone to stay in power."
Pansy slashed the air with her wand again with a loud growl. The curse was so far off that it couldn't have been intended for either of them, but Draco instinctively dove towards Amelia, angling his body in front of hers so that he stood in between the two women.
"Lord Voldemort is the only thing I believe in," Pansy retorted through gritted teeth. "You will die tonight for your foolish mistake of leaving him, and I will be rewarded for my loyalty."
Amelia frowned; her words sounded manufactured, like they had been fed to her.
"Maybe we will," Draco said, his shoulders slumping in front of Amelia. "We knew that could happen when we stormed the manor. But please, don't let it be by your wand."
Finally, Draco's words seemed to wash over Pansy and Amelia looked on at two people who – for better or worse – had been companions for all of their childhood. Tears began to pool in Pansy's dark eyes as her whole face began to soften.
"You have thirty seconds," she eventually said in a low voice as she slowly lowered her wand.
"Good luck, Pansy," Draco said and Pansy nodded, her usual expression of mild disgust already planted back on her face.
Draco didn't waste another moment, he swept Amelia's hand into his and pulled her back along the corridor. They sprinted all the way to the end, Pansy's glaring eyes burning into the back of their heads until they turned a corner at the end of the hall and continued all the way down the next corridor. A couple of times Amelia chanced a glance over her shoulder, but if Pansy had actually followed them, she was very far behind. Finally, Draco halted at the end of a corridor, in front of a fading tapestry which seemed to depict a war between centaurs and giants scattered across a grassy field.
Amelia faced Draco: his hair was matted, his clothes were torn and scuffed but his silver eyes shone beneath all of the dust and dirt on his face. They held each other's gaze for a moment, perhaps feeling the same sense of disbelief that they had made it this far, before Amelia flung her arms around his neck.
She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and buried her face into his neck, letting the last agonising days melt away. She thought back to their last embrace – how terrified she had been that it could be their last – and held him tighter.
Draco's chin rested atop her head as he twisted a hand through her hair, his other arm holding onto her as tightly as she did. She couldn't speak, so she just kept gripping onto him, scared that if she let go this all might end up being some cruel trick of her own mind.
Finally, convinced that this was indeed real life, Amelia peeled her face upwards to lock eyes with him. She kept her arms hooked around him though, still needing the comfort of his warm body against hers.
"Told you I'd be fine," Draco mumbled with a small smirk.
Amelia let out a breathy laugh and felt the knot that had taken up residence in her stomach loosen. Her smile faded though as her eyes once again took him in.
"What happened?" She asked in a small voice, worry creeping up into her face.
"Nothing out of the ordinary," Draco replied dismissively. When he saw the look on her face he added, "Honestly – I'm fine. I'll need a long shower and a decent sleep, but I'm okay." Amelia forced herself to be satisfied with his response.
A smirk crept back onto Draco's face and he brought a hand to her face, cupping her cheek gently and drinking in her presence. She leaned into his touch as he stroked small circles with his thumb. He swooped down, bending his head to catch her lips with his. Amelia wrapped her arms around his neck as he snaked his own around her middle, lifting her up from the floor. She was reminded of the Battle of Hogwarts when they had come into the Ravenclaw dormitories, preparing to flee. They were only kids then…
Draco rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and letting his breath slow. Amelia watched him from beneath her lashes; her body ached all over but she couldn't begin to imagine the exhaustion he must've felt.
"Sorry about Pansy," he eventually mumbled.
Amelia chuckled lightly. "I suppose in a way she has a right to be mad."
"She's not as bad as she makes out to be. She's just scared."
Amelia squeezed his hand with understanding. "I know."
"Amelia…" Draco began after a moment's silence, a pain suddenly erupting behind his eyes.
Amelia frowned and stiffened. "What?"
"Shit… I have no idea what the best way to say this is…"
Amelia's eyes widened and she suddenly felt very sick. "Say what?"
Draco bit his lip and tore his eyes away from her, clearly searching for the right words.
"Say what?" Amelia repeated more pointedly.
Just as Draco opened his mouth, an almighty booming sound echoed through the whole corridor. Both of them stiffened and gripped each other's hand as the tapestry next to them billowed and the nearby windows rattled dangerously in their frames. The sound was followed by the distant sounds of people screaming and it pulled Amelia back into the reality of the war. She looked up at him and could see determination etched back into his features.
"We should go," he said with a lot more urgency. Amelia nodded. "This way – it'll take us back to the entrance hall."
They continued on, their wands outstretched and their eyes alert as they made their way further down the corridor towards the sounds of battle.
"Is the snake –
"Dead," Draco confirmed. "Neville, Seamus and I just about managed it," he explained.
A surge of something – hope, determination? – coursed through Amelia at this and the end of this war suddenly felt in sight. Her hand went almost instinctively to hover over her belly and she glanced up at Draco – the unknowing father of her unborn child – and scolded herself for not taking advantage of their brief reunion from the battle to tell him; if she died tonight he'd never know. She thought about asking him to continue what he was about to tell her, but something inside her made the words die on her tongue. For now, survival was all that mattered, and whatever they both needed to say could wait.
.
.
Draco skidded to a halt at the top of the stairs to the entrance hall. The battle had grown immensely since he had left what felt like hours ago to kill Nagini. Death Eaters seemed to be joined by snatchers, werewolves and people who Draco assumed to be Ministry workers and aurors; their numbers were immeasurable. However, the resistance did well to match their growth: alongside the entirety of the resistance, many others had joined and Draco recognised Hogwarts teachers, Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley shop-owners, and others who wore similarly shabby and mis-matched clothes to the resistance who he could only guess had lived in similar conditions, on the fringes of society, waiting for the right moment to strike.
A few bodies were strewn on the floor, collapsed and unmoving in an undignified way while the battle manoeuvred around them. Draco thought briefly of Henry – his body safely back at the resistance – a small factor to be grateful for that Amelia could give him a proper burial. The thought caused his throat to constrict, so he blinked it away: the only way to honour him was to fight, and win. He looked around frantically for Potter's unmistakable messy, black hair and round glasses, but couldn't see him anywhere.
"Stay near," Draco muttered to Amelia. She squeezed his hand in reply and nodded silently.
And so they dove back into the fray. Their hands wore torn apart almost instantly, but they stood shoulder to shoulder, slashing the air with curses at approaching masked figures. In a nearby corner, Draco clocked Dean Thomas, looking worse for wear by this point and backed against a wall by Greyback. With a quick glance to his right to see that Amelia was confidently fending off a short and stout snatcher, Draco gnashed his teeth and darted through the crowd towards Dean.
He watched as Greyback's clawed hand rose into the air, ready to slash down upon Dean like a guillotine. Before he could though, Draco bellowed, "Avada Kedavra!"
He watched as Greyback's legs buckled underneath him and he wilted pathetically to the ground.
Draco snatched up Dean's wand from nearby and threw it to him as he crouched on the floor, a bewildered expression on his face.
"Bloody hell," Dean exhaled, wiping his forehead. Draco offered his a hand and helped the Gryffindor to his feet. "Thanks."
"No problem. He's far better off dead anyway," Draco said, looking down on the expressionless face of Fenrir Greyback, someone he loathed more than just about anyone. Just as quickly as Draco had intervened between Dean and the werewolf, two snatchers rounded on them, noticing the body of Greyback at their feet. Draco fought side by side with Dean – another unbelievable image from the night – but the snatchers were no match for them; clumsy and slow, they were both knocked to the floor within minutes.
"Where's Potter?" Draco shouted to Dean over the noise of the battle.
"No idea, mate – he'll be in here somewhere."
Draco sighed as he nodded. "If you see him – tell him the snake is dead." With that, he headed back into the battle, scanning each dueller for signs of Potter.
There were determined faces, some bloodied or bruised, nearly all of them sweaty and muddled with dusty debris from explosions, but none of them were Potter. As he darted through the chaos of limbs, wands and curses, he spotted something at the top of the stairs.
His mother and Bellatrix, their wands pointed at one another, neither one backing down. Draco knew how skilled Bellatrix was with a wand though, and how much more ruthless she was in combat, and he started hastily pushing people aside as he raced towards the stairs, eager to help his mother. He realised he was swearing under his breath, muttering to himself frantically as he desperately tried to reach them. Getting through the dense crowd though was like wading through mud; he was slowed by people falling around him, or trying to grab a fistful of his shirt.
They were duelling now, two sisters in the throes of battle. Draco's chest tightened as he willed his mother to hold on and not falter. He could see that Bellatrix was taunting her as they duelled, cackling with enjoyment. His mother's face was stony, her lips clamped tightly shut.
Before he could even reach the bottom of the stairs though, a figure was ascending from the crowd ahead of Draco, bolting up the stairs at a speed that seemed to defy the age of the witch.
Draco's eyes widened as he watched Andromeda reach the top of the stairs. Even from halfway across the room he could see the fury blazing in her eyes.
Bellatrix didn't even know her scorned sister stood behind her with their wand to her back when a green light flew from the tip. Any sounds were muffled by the booming echoes of the battling witches and wizards scattered around the room. In all, Bellatrix being killed looked an unceremonious sight.
Finally, he reached the top of the stairs, panting as he raised his wand, not sure whether Andromeda was yet to finish her business with her two sisters. Her wand was pointed directly at his mother now. Draco glanced at the body lying on the floor: Bellatrix's beetle-black eyes stared at the ceiling, her lips slightly apart, no sign of her usual twisted grin.
He looked on – his wand still raised – as Andromeda cautiously lowered hers. Her eyes had become quizzical, uncertain of the estranged figure in front of her.
"Thank you," Draco's mother finally breathed, bowing her head slightly.
"You're lucky that I've grown quite fond of your son," Andromeda said in a way that was clear she was aware of Draco's presence behind her. "And that I don't believe he deserves to lose his mother."
"Mother has been helping the resistance just as much as anybody," Draco said, perhaps too defensively.
Andromeda stood to the side to properly acknowledge him. She swept her eyes from Draco to Narcissa. "Is that so?" She asked her sister.
Narcissa gave a small nod; her expression was stiff but her eyes brimmed with tears.
Andromeda took a deep breath in, closing her eyes. "That is good to hear." She too, was restrained, but Draco knew her well enough now to recognise the emotion sitting behind her words.
He lowered his wand as he watched Andromeda slowly reach out her hand, offering it to Narcissa, who looked at it like it was a foreign object for a moment, before grasping it in her own. The corners of his mouth twitched.
"Draco!"
Wrenched from the moment, Draco spun in the direction of whoever called his name. Harry Potter stood at the bottom of the stairs, partly obscured by three separate pairs duelling on the steps.
He wasted no time in ripping back down the stairs towards Harry.
"Been looking bloody everywhere for you," Draco said with gritted teeth when he reached his once-enemy.
"Me too," Harry said, his face serious. "Is Nagini –
"Dead, yes. Seamus, Neville and I, about an hour ago."
Something washed over Harry's face that looked like hope or relief. "Have you seen Voldemort?"
Draco shook his head. "Not since you lot charged in."
"Coward," Harry mumbled, glaring up at the ceiling as if Lord Voldemort could perhaps be lurking directly above them. "We need to finish this – I don't want any more casualties."
Draco agreed, the image of Henry under the fallen statue invading his mind once again and making him wince.
"He'll still be here – waiting for his moment. He won't miss an opportunity like this with so many people he wants so badly to kill. He'll know that if he can win tonight, he'll have undisputed control," Harry went on darkly. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a backhand, leaving a smudge of charcoal coloured dust.
Draco nodded again, thinking. His eyes drifting towards the chandelier in the middle of the room. "If he won't come, maybe you've got to convince him," he said with a slight smirk. "Get his attention."
Harry's eyes followed Draco's to the chandelier and he nodded slowly. He slashed his wand in the air and the chandelier erupted into flames. Bright orange tongues licked outwards from the golden spines, completely engulfing it in a ball of fire within seconds.
Several people below shrieked and dove out of the way. The pace of the battle had been interrupted. With a loud grunt, Harry slashed his wand again and the chandelier flew off the chain connecting it to the ceiling. He kept his wand steadily trained on the giant fireball, quickly but carefully spinning it around the room just above people's heads. Everyone was frozen: wands were still pointed, but it was as if the scene were a tableaux.
His wand-arm outstretched and controlling the flaming chandelier, Harry stomped onto the stairs. Draco covered him, staying on the outskirts at the base of the stairs but keeping his wand steadily at eye level in case anyone tried to curse Harry.
"I know you're here Tom!" Harry bellowed. "Cowering while you order these people to do your dirty work for them!"
The room was silent. The fireball still spiralled around the room like a shark circling prey.
"Is this the kind of leader you are? Letting your followers die for you while you hide away?" Harry continued, his voice almost cracking as he shouted into the silence. "All these years that you couldn't catch us, and now you are too afraid to face the resistance!"
A strong wind flew through the room, extinguishing the fireball and causing the chandelier to crash to the floor and splinter into dozens of fractured pieces. Harry kept his wand out in front of him, unperturbed by this.
Something began to materialise in the centre of the room, as if it were being moulded by the dust and debris itself. Draco's lip curled with disgust as he understood exactly who it was.