The Broken Children
-Scorpius-
"If we fall, take him and run, as far and as fast as you can," he says, lower lip trembling as he hands the toddler to his father.
Draco Malfoy looks far older than his fifty-five years, and before Scorpius' eyes, the man seems to age a decade within the span of an hour. His father has lived through two wars, but he can't ask the man to fight in the third, not when Astoria and Cassiopeia are both standing with the rebels.
All he can do is entrust his son's safety to his aging father, knowing that he would kill, and die, for Orion in a heartbeat.
"You don't have to go, Scorpius," his father pleads, and never before has he heard the venerable Malfoy patriarch beg. Despite his father's urging, he cannot stand idly by, not now.
Rose is on the battlefield.
And he owes her pain.
He presses a final kiss to his son's brow, and hugs his father, nearly squishing the boy between them. Then he's gone, swallowed by the suffocating darkness of Apparition.
When he reaches the Ministry, it's chaotic, the entire building crumbling around him as dozens of duels are being fought. Bloody howls and feral shrieks rip the air, and the Atrium buckles beneath the raging crescendos of magic.
Albus is there, upon the dais, dueling Harry with a ferocity that he's never witnessed before. Father and son circle each other, curses flying from their wands, and it's painfully obvious that they're both dueling to kill. Without thinking, Scorpius slashes his wand through the air, releasing a pillar of flame upon the younger Potter, only for the inferno to be blasted aside by another fighter.
Platinum-blonde hair swirling behind her, she strode forward, and raised her wand to his chest.
"You should have stayed home with your son, Brother," scowls Cassiopeia, her eyes narrowing.
"Stand aside, Cass," he sighs, "I don't want to hurt you."
"That's adorable," she smirks, "Now you leave me no choice."
Their duel is furious, a roaring cacophony of aqua and scarlet, jade and amber, jets of light crashing in midair, sending sparks dancing throughout the room. He sidesteps and twirls, moving this way and that, his wand slashing the air.
Then her curse makes contact, and he's hurled through the air, feeling his skin upon his chest crackle and burn under the force of her attack. A dull buzzing fills his head as he's slammed into the wall, crumpling to the ground, blood and pus oozing through the holes in his shirt like some macabre stencil.
The battle still rages on, and he can't see his sister any longer, and with good reason. The room is too chaotic, and there are so many faces that he recognises, even as they lay dying. He struggles to his feet, just as her toneless voice carries through the air, and he takes off in the direction from which it emanated.
Scorpius hurtles over the fallen, their bodies marred by curses and dark magic, till finally he sees her, and it appears as though he's just in time.
Hermione is on her knees, blood dribbling from her nose and ears, and she's got her wand trained on the brunette woman. It doesn't seem to affect Rose that she's killing her own mother, or that the bones along Hermione's arms are sticking out of her skin like the quills of a porcupine.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The jet of green light leaves his wand, streaking through the air, and Rose is whirling, wand stabbing the air and blasting his curse to smithereens. Not caring that she's just blocked a curse that cannot be blocked, he engages her, dancing a bloody dance across the floor as they do battle.
Her first curse sends him crashing to the floor.
Blood fills his mouth as he's thrown backward, and then she's beside him, her heel pressing against his throat. He coughs, blood and saliva gurgling from his lips as she raises her wand, ready to whisper the final words.
Scorpius grabs her legs and yanks, and she falls, but before she can recover he's stabbed his wand into her throat, and with a vicious twist, snapped the splintered wood within her.
"Burn in hell, bitch," he coughs, not even seeing her wand move, not realising that he's let his guard down till the Fiendfyre envelops him.
The last words he hears over his piercing screams are hers, and she's grinning like a maniac through the raging, twisting plateau of flames.
"I'm not going to burn alone."