Draco felt rooted to the spot. His mouth had gone completely dry. The hissing echo of Voldemort's voice had subsided from his ears and left in its wake the loud thumping of his heart.

Motley looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes. "Master Malfoy should leave Malfoy Manor. Master Malfoy has disarmed the wards, so he can escape now!"

Draco smiled sadly; if only that were an option. Perhaps it was the option he would've happily taken at fifteen years old, but now the fate of the wizarding world depended on his next few actions. If he pulled this off and survived in the process, he would finally be free of all the demons that stalked him through his life…

He crouched down so that his eyes were level with Motley's. "My father's room in this house – where he kept all of his possessions safe, and the Dark Lord's… I need to get there right away." He tried to keep the urgency at bay his voice; he needed Motley to understand him, and quickly.

"But Master Malfoy has to leave! The Dark Lord is hunting him!" Motley squealed again. Draco steadied his breath. "I can't do that, Motley. The reason we needed to disarm the wards is so that I can get into that room. If we get into that room, it could mean that the Dark Lord is finished, forever."

Motley frowned at this, his dinner-plate eyes glaring back at Draco in contemplation. "Motley must do as Master Malfoy wishes. Motley knows all of the rooms in Malfoy Manor, sir. Motley has worked here since before Master Malfoy was even born."

Draco silently thanked his mother for her wise choice in helpers. "I need to get to the room that father used to keep the dark artefacts in – the hidden room. The one that Voldemort uses now," he repeated.

Draco felt the tension in his shoulders give slightly as recognition washed over Motley's face. "Yes, yes - Motley knows the room, Master Malfoy!" The elf's previous hesitation seemed to be forgotten in his eagerness to do the right thing by his masters.

"Can you take us there?"

Motley nodded, his large ears flapping. "Motley can apparate there, Master Malfoy."

The elf extended his hand and for the second time that night, Draco took it in his grasp. He had hardly a second to note how small the elf's hand was in his own, barely fitting into his palm, before the familiar pull behind his navel sent them spinning from the room.

They landed in a corridor. Immediately Draco withdrew his wand, whipping it in both directions, but they were alone.

"It is the door at the end of the corridor," Motley squeaked proudly.

Draco stalked towards the door, his wand arm taut and steadily aimed in front. Motley scuttled alongside him as they closed the space between the heavy black door and the carpeted corridor.

As they approached, Draco felt Motley's eyes on him. Again, he crouched beside his unlikely ally.

"Motley, you've been brilliant. I'd be dead right now if it weren't for you."

He allowed himself a grin as Motley's chest expanded with pride at this comment.

Draco was just about to take the basilisk fang from his sock and wrench the door open, when Voldemort's voice cut through the silent air once more.

Draco froze on the spot as he listened.

"Draco… you must think you're awfully clever as you play hide and seek around your home… But the time has come to reveal yourself. Myself and your dear mother are beginning to get worried you are trying to leave without saying goodbye…"

Draco stared at the closed door in front of him. A door which was usually guarded with all sorts of protection that he had just managed to secretly disarm, seemingly without any of the Death Eaters knowing what he was truly up to. The plan was all working smoothly and it was beginning to look like the resistance might have a chance, but there was no mistaking what Voldemort was saying in his message to Draco: he had his mother and would kill her if Draco didn't show himself.

"Is Master Malfoy alright?" Motley asked, confused by Draco's sudden stillness when moments ago the urgency had practically vibrated through his body.

"Fuck – fuck," Draco hissed to himself. He strained his ears to hear the resistance, but was still only met with silence. Panic coursed through him as he grappled with how to respond – half his body seemed to be pulling him towards the door that stood between him and Nagini, but the other part of him pulled him towards saving his mother.

In a split second, he made a lot of decisions at once.

He turned back to his elvish companion. "Motley – I need you to apparate to the dungeons. There will be lots of witches and wizards apparating into there that I want you to lead up to the main entrance hall – tell them that the snake is not yet dead, they'll know what you mean. Tell them that Green Phoenix sent you – that's uh, that's me."

The house elf listened to this, nodding along to each instruction Draco gave. "Motley will go right away, sir." With that, he clicked and disappeared.

Still cursing under his breath, Draco turned his heel and bolted down the corridor, away from the door that shielded Nagini from him. He just hoped that the resistance were on their way.

.

.

Amelia braced herself: she was facing a long line of resistance members who she had to apparate into Malfoy Manor. Beside her stood Henry, looking every piece the soldier that he was. Beyond the lines of people who would be transported to the Manor to fight were a small handful who had to remain behind in the medical tent, all of whom now watched the crowd with resigned faces. Amongst them was Michael Corner and Amelia caught his eye, sharing a small smile with her friend. He nodded and managed a stiff smile; she knew that the conversation hadn't been easy – Henry had told her this earlier. Michael and the other few gifted healers in the resistance wanted to fight; they felt guilty staying behind. But the truth was that the resistance needed them to fill this role. Amelia just hoped that the medical tent would be able to cope with the casualties the night could bring…

"One my count, the first group will be apparated. Remember: constant vigilance as soon as you land!" Harry shouted over the wind to a sea of determined nods.

Seamus stepped forward from the front of the line, as if it were his turn to board a train or order a pint of butterbeer. He held out his hand to Amelia in a mock-ceremonial fashion, and despite of the weight of the world collapsing atop the resistance, Amelia managed a small chuckle as she took her friend's hand into hers with equal gusto.

"Three, two, one!"

With Harry's commands Amelia closed her eyes, gripped harder to Seamus' hand, and envisioned the place she had hoped she'd never return to.

Damp, grey walls, cobwebbed corners, cold steel bars, shadows and dust and darkness…

Within a cycle of breath she felt her feet lift from the ground and her stomach turn and spin as the sound of wind vanished from her ears.

As her feet found new ground the wintry outdoor smells of the wind and grass were instantly replaced by a thick musty smell of mildew. She felt the hairs on her arms and neck prickle with the new unmoving chill in the air. Before she even opened her eyes she knew she had apparated to the right place.

"No alarms," Seamus noted from beside her as several other pairs from the resistance popped up either side of them.

"No alarms," Amelia repeated, sharing a slight grin between Seamus. It was true: Draco had successfully disarmed Malfoy Manor.

There was no time for celebration though; Amelia had to continue apparating people in. She squeezed Seamus' hand before letting go and closing her eyes, once again feeling the familiar sensation of apparition. Just as she felt herself leave the room someone near her yelled 'Expecto Patronum!'.

Apparating twice in such quick succession made Amelia's stomach turn and she sucked in a deep breath as she landed back at the resistance, thankful for the sturdy ground underneath her feet. She thought of the life growing inside of her and touched a hand briefly to her middle, hoping that the back-and-forth travel wouldn't upset the small bean in her belly.

She only had a moment to take in the crowd of fixed and determined faces – a smaller crowd than there was before. People popped back either side of her and extended their hand for the next side-along apparition and Amelia did the same.

George Weasley stood to one side of the apparating crowds, speaking into the radio with a calm, clear voice: "…I repeat: the resistance against the Death Eaters will attack tonight. This is Red Bludger urging any witch or wizard listening to join forces with us and help us win back our wizarding world. Long live the resistance!" Amelia wondered who might be on the other side, listening.

It was Andromeda who stepped forward from the line and Amelia quickly rearranged the surprise on her face.

"Don't look so shocked, my dear. I've been waiting for this moment for many years," the older woman said with a set expression. As she placed her hand into Amelia's though, she flashed the younger witch a small but wicked smile. Amelia squeezed Andromeda's hand in reply before closing her eyes once again and hoping that this bout of travel didn't turn her stomach so.

Once again the smell of damp and misery filled Amelia's nostrils, and thankfully no sounds of battle seemed to bounce around the walls. She looked around quickly and saw that everyone who had been apparated into the dungeons of the Manor were making formations, preparing to enter into the Manor itself for whatever awaited up there.

Three more trips in the space of less than three minutes and Amelia felt as if she'd spun around on the spot for hours. She could see the other dedicated transporters looking similarly queasy, but still resolute.

"That's everyone," Henry's voice came from beside her as she stood in the dungeon, wand ready in her hand. "Okay everyone, let's move out into the Manor. Keep in our formations and don't break until we reach battle. Stick to the plan."

Amelia felt Henry grasp her shoulder briefly. "Stay safe, sis."

She looked up at him; there was no humour in his face anymore as he said this to her. " You too. See you on the other side," she said, knowing that anything that she actually wanted to say her voice would not allow her to. Their eyes – both dark and unmistakably carved from the same wood – locked for a long moment, before Henry nodded to her and pushed his way to the front of the crowd.

The plan that Henry spoke of consisted of the resistance group moving in formation through the dungeons to the ground level of the Manor to engage in battle with any Death Eaters who were there. Harry had said that it would be likely that not many would be in the Manor, but that they would be summoned as soon as the resistance were found out to be there.

From there the plan was simple: make sure the snake is dead, and then kill Voldemort, taking out as many Death Eaters in the process as possible.

They stalked through the long, dark corridor of the dungeons like a large swarm of bees in a tight huddle towards the spiral staircase which would lead them up to the Manor. A loud crack at the bottom of the staircase though had the whole cluster of fighters startled and as a small figure appeared and blocked the staircase, every wand shot straight up to point at whoever it was that had just apparated.

Amelia squinted through the darkness in front of her; she stood in the middle of the large group of resistance fighters. From the small, scrawny stature and large pointed ears, she could have sworn it was a house elf.

"Please, there is no need for this," a small squeaky voice echoed around the dungeon walls as the small figure threw its arms in the air and took a few steps forward. "Motley only comes to assist, sent by Green Phoenix."

Amelia's stomach flipped at the mention of Draco: he was here. She wanted to call out to the house elf and ask if he was alright, or ask where he was, but swallowed the urge. Amelia saw Henry – at the front of the crowd – relax slightly as he lit his wand to reveal the small house elf in front of them.

Henry kept the light from his wand on Motley the house elf. "Why has he sent you?" He demanded.

"He has asked me to assist you in reaching the entrance hall, where you will find who it is you are looking for."

"You mean, Lord Voldemort?" Harry asked, standing shoulder to shoulder with Henry.

Motley nodded so vigorously that his ears flapped wildly. "He also wishes you to know that the snake is not dead!" The house elf spoke with great pride at delivering this information and with none of the understanding of the weight of it. In any other situation, it might've been comical.

"Where is he?" Harry asked. "Drac - Green Phoenix, I mean," he added hastily.

"Motley left Master Malfoy as he ran away, towards the voice of the Dark Lord." This was the first time that Motley's upbeat delivery faltered and he looked worried. Amelia's throat went dry – why was Draco going towards Voldemort without having killed the snake yet? From the murmurs that rippled through the dungeons from the other fighters, they were equally confused by this information.

"Right – we default to plan B. Seamus, Neville: when we ascend, the two of you will need to link up with Draco and kill the snake. The rest of us will keep the Death Eaters distracted in battle until you've done so. And then we end this," Harry said. Two heads in the crowd – Seamus and Neville – nodded silently, eagerly.

"And remember, any injuries and you should use your portkey to get back to the resistance. Michael will have re-activated the wards by now so apparation will not work," Bill Weasley added. "If things don't go our way tonight, we need to protect the location of the resistance as much as we can."
There was a hushed mumble of agreement, and then, as one, they all moved forward, out of the dungeons.

.

.

Draco's chest burned as he threw all of his energy into sprinting down the corridors of Malfoy Manor. Portraits came to life either side of him as he ran, some yelling out to him, and a couple even jumping from frame to frame demanding to know what he was doing. He ignored them all. Every joint and muscle in his body still ached, his barely-healed stab wound throbbing on his side and a headache making him feel as if his very brain was bruised, but he set all this aside. The basilisk fang pressed against his ankle, cold and stiff, a reminder of the task at hand; the task he was abandoning to save his mother.

He raised his wand to eye level as he approached the entrance hall and blasted the door off its hinge with a silent 'reducto', running straight through the splintering wood and debris.

He swivelled around, aiming his wand at every shadow in the vast entrance hall, but it was empty. So empty that the squeaking skids from his boots on the polished floor echoed around the room as he frantically double checked to see if anyone was waiting to ambush him.

Where was Voldemort? Where was the resistance?

Before he had a moment to consider the answers to these questions though, a gust of wind flew through the room like a hurricane swelling out of nowhere, almost bowling Draco over. He kept his ground and followed the gust of wind with his wand as he tried desperately to catch his breath.

As if born from the hurricane itself, Lord Voldemort appeared, gracefully setting himself to stand tall at the foot of the wide marble stairs of Malfoy Manor. Next to him stood Narcissa, her eyes pleading with Draco.

"Mother –

"Draco – get away from here!"

Draco followed the terrified eyes of his mother to the wand that was trained on her back; Voldemort's wand.

"It's me you want. My mother has nothing to do with any of this," Draco said through gritted teeth, keeping his wand steadily pointed at the face he despised more than anything in this world.

"Oh, on the contrary young Draco. I do believe that she has an awful lot to do with all of your escapades," Voldemort replied, his voice smooth and his curled lip revealing pointed, jagged teeth. "I was a fool for not seeing it sooner. You would never be clever enough to do all of this on your own. Of course there had to be someone helping you out."

"That's not true," Draco said, shaking his head. His knuckles had gone white from the grip on his wand.

"Draco, stop," Narcissa pleaded.

Draco chanced a glance around the room: no one else was here, only the three of them. Where the hell were the resistance?

He needed to buy more time; he couldn't take on Voldemort himself, especially not in his weakened state…

"I've already said: I'll tell you anything you need to know. You don't need to do this; I'm not resisting," Draco said, trying with all his might to keep his voice from shaking.

Voldemort's head tilted. The flash in his reds told Draco that he was thoroughly enjoying this. "And why would you do that?"

"I can tell you all you need to know about the resistance – about Potter – if at the end you let me and my mother go." He hoped he sounded convincing enough.

To Draco's surprise, Voldemort chuckled, a sight that he wasn't sure he'd ever witnessed before. Just as suddenly as his face had broken into a sick grin though, it snapped back to its usual snakelike glare. "You dare to insult me with bargaining, Draco? After every chance I have given you, all of which you have sullied and disrespected?" His voice grew as he spoke and the sound bouncing off the marble floors almost made Draco wince. He saw his mother clasp her eyes shut at the sound of the Dark Lord's bellowing.

With a grunt of fury, Voldemort took his wand from pointing at Narcissa and slashed it through the air, sending a curse in Draco's direction. Draco was quick enough though and deflected it, though his feet faltered under the strength of the curse. He managed to hold off the Dark Lord for a few moments as another curse flew towards him, before his wand flew out of his hand and rolled several feet away. Before he could dive for it, Voldemort pointed his wand at him, aiming straight between Draco's eyes.

As if on cue, several black figures flew through the air, gliding so quickly that they were nothing but long black smears gliding around the room. As they halted though, closing in around the large entrance hall, Draco flicked his eyes around the room to see at least ten Death Eaters, all masked, surrounding him and his mother.

"Bellatrix – the veritaserum," Voldemort asked without taking his eyes off Draco.

Draco could've sworn he heard something from another room – a rustling perhaps. The only movement though was made by Bellatrix, who swept the mask from her head with her wand to reveal an eager face as she stalked towards Draco, a vial of liquid dangling in between her fingers.

"Open wide, Draco," she said, brandishing the vial of veritaserum in front of him.

There was little point in resisting: he had no wand and there were a dozen Death Eaters, including the Dark Lord, all standing ready to curse him into oblivion. He just hoped that the veritaserum antidote was still swimming through his veins.

Draco snatched the vial from Bellatrix with a snarl. His most despised aunt giggled and clapped her hands excitedly as he downed the potion in one gulp. He tossed the vial aside to shatter on the cold, hard floor.

He felt something shift deep within him, like stiff old cogs turning for the first time in a long time.

"Let's start easy, shall we?" Voldemort mused, walking towards Draco, his wand still trained on him. "Who killed Luscious Malfoy?" He spoke slowly and clearly. Draco saw his mother stiffen behind Voldemort.

It was like vomit rising up his throat, hot and burning and impossible to keep down. He balled his fists by his side and tried to swallow it down: there was certainly something fighting against the urge inside of him – the almost-gone antidote – trying to hold up invisible shields against the truth telling potion. Voldemort was laughing, encouraging the other Death Eaters to taunt the once-Death Eater.

Still, Draco tried with everything to keep the answer inside of him, but still it rose towards his pursed lips. He collapsed to his knees with a grunt as the potion threatened to completely take him over. On his hands and knees he finally spluttered, "My mother."

He desperately gasped for breath as a wave of shock went through the room and all masked figures turned towards Narcissa, who still stood at the bottom of the stairs, wringing her hands as silent tears streamed down her face. Draco watched on, helpless, as she lifted her chin, capturing at least one ounce of dignity. Shame washed over him; he should've been strong enough to protect her.

"Narcissa… how could you?" Voldemort said in a silky whisper, turning his attention – and wand – to her. His eyes looked practically gleeful.

Draco watched from his knees as his mother straightened up slightly and dropped her hands to her side. "I did it for my son." Her voice didn't shake; it sounded strong, even. She glared at the Dark Lord and Draco could swear that he saw a look of irritation come across his features for the briefest of moments.

He took his chance while Voldemort and the other Death Eaters were distracted and launched across the floor, snatching his wand up into his fist.

"Don't even think about it!" Cried Voldemort, sensing the movement and swooping back towards Draco who aimed his wand from the floor. "Avada Ked-

A ball of fire flew through the air, landing at Voldemort's feet and erupting into a ceiling-high wall of flames, before disappearing entirely. For the second time in his life, Draco had somehow managed to dodge the Killing Curse. All heads in the room turned towards the direction of the fireball and a wide grin broke out onto Draco's face.

The resistance were here.

They descended onto the scene from the left-hand corridor en-masse, a deadly swarm flooding into the room. At the front of the horde stood a tiny house elf, leading the pack like a soldier, pointing ahead. Strength came back to Draco, the sight of the resistance inflating him completely and he jumped to his feet, armed with his wand.

Draco turned to face Voldemort once again, but he had vanished from the room. Cursing under his breath, he threw himself into the battle.

.

.

Amelia walked shoulder to shoulder with her friends through the corridors of the seemingly deserted Malfoy Manor. She had assumed they would meet combat as soon as they had apparated in, but it seemed that with the wards down that anyone in the large estate was none the wiser to the dozens of resistance fighters closing in on them. She saw the house elf in front, marching along, occasionally glancing back at the pack he was leading. Eventually, at the end of a long stretch of a dimly lit corridor, he turned on his heel and pressed a finger to his lips before pointing to a closed door in front of them.

Harry turned to the group and made a silent gesture, prompting each person to lift their wands a little higher and square their shoulders. Adrenalin pumped through Amelia, making her limbs fizzle with anticipation.

Motley the house elf opened the door, silent and careful. Amelia could almost make out the scene from where she stood behind the heads of her comrades. Every muscle in her body tightened when she saw Draco on the marble floor of the entrance hall, looking entirely worse for wear but still alive. She watched, holding her breath in her chest, as her lover dove across the floor towards his wand as Lord Voldemort turned on him. She was about to launch herself forward as she saw the Dark Lord raise his wand to Draco when in front of her Kingsley Shacklebolt looped his wand in the air, a ball of fire the size of a quaffle erupting from the tip and flying through the air.

Within half a second all of the resistance were surging forward, teeth bared and wands gripped in their hands, unto the battleground.

Amelia wanted to run towards Draco but it was impossible; as soon as she ran into the room with the resistance fighters she was engaged in a battle with a masked Death Eater twice her size. Her and Digby tackled the Death Eater together, standing only inches apart and throwing curse after curse at the Death Eater in front of them until eventually, they were quicker than he and the hooded figure collapsed to the ground.

"Nice one!" Digby cheered beside her and Amelia allowed herself a small smile.
Combat raged around her and the whole room was lit up with curses of every colour flying through the air, like a sinister display of fireworks had erupted in the hall. At first it had looked like the resistance fighters far outweighed the Death Eaters, but now there were more and more hooded men and women descending on the scene out of nowhere, swooping in like ravens to carcasses and spilling out onto the battlefield in the entrance hall.

A Death Eater threw a curse at her from across the room and she ducked instinctively, rising back up with her wand as a weapon grasped firmly in her hand. As the Death Eater came towards her she saw Draco, Seamus and Neville slip through the far door to the entrance hall, apparently unnoticed by everyone around them. Still the Death Eater pursued her and Amelia threw a curse their way, making them falter but only slightly as they continued to advance, backing her up the marble stairs, where the battle already spilled onto.

From halfway up the stairs Amelia could really see the chaos of the fighting all around, and the grand entrance hall was already hardly recognisable. There were so many Death Eaters now, more than she could count, and what looked like snatchers as well. Just as she worried that they might be outnumbered, loud cracks started echoing from all around the room as more witches and wizards appeared. They weren't Death Eaters though. George's plea had worked: the people of the wizarding world were rising up.

A flurry of energy surged through Amelia as if it were shooting up from the ground and she slashed her wand through the air with a grunt, making the Death Eater she was in combat with fly back down the stairs, landing in an unmoving crumpled heap at the bottom. She charged back down the stairs into the fray.