"Draco!"
The blonde Slytherin's name echoed across the courtyard of the ruined school. The smoke from the lingering fires clogged the air while the sounds of the injured and the dying blanketed the area. The war was over, and Voldemort was dead. The remaining wizards and witches of the light combed through the rumble, looking for survivors. It was more of a task of taking note of the dead, as most of the injured were inside being treated. Among the search party were Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. They were looking for their son; the family had been separated during the battle. The parents had already looked inside the medical bay and beneath the stained white sheets of the fallen. However, they could not find their only child. The couple separated, hoping to cover more ground, while aurors lurked not too far away. When Shackbolt and a group of aurors approached the elder Malfoys to take them into custody, the two former Slytherins begged for more time to find Draco. They had not seen him since the start of the fight, when he tossed Harry Potter his wand and ran off towards his classmates, away from his parents but, more importantly, away from the dark lord. Filled with a moment of empathy, the minister of magic allowed the accused to search for their son on the condition that they each had an escort.
"Draco!"
Lucius desperately called his son's name once more. The hope he had felt for his family was beginning to dwindle. Draco was just a boy. A child forced to grow up too fast, just like the rest of his classmates. He shouldn't have been on a battlefield; none of them should have. He knows that now. Lucius prayed to any deity who would listen and pleaded that his son would be alright. If Draco is gravely injured or worse, he doesn't know what he will do. What would happen to Narcissa? He knew he would never escape Azkaban. But he didn't want his wife to be alone. If she at least had their son, he knew she would be alright. Draco was everything to her.
He spun, taking in everything and seeing nothing. His mind couldn't focus. All he could think about was his son. He had to find him. Hours have passed and they still haven't found him. 'Wait… There! A pale, slender hand with a Slytherin signet ring on the fore finger. But that couldn't be. Yes, it is.'
"Draco!" Lucius rushed over to the pile of rubble. He grabbed the slabs of broken concrete and decorated stone, and with all the strength he could muster to free his son. Others had joined in removing stones from the injured teen. The boy groaned and gasped as the extreme weight was lifted off his body. Lucius knelt next to Draco, taking in the damage done to his son. Anyone who looked at him could tell he was not going to live; however, the broken father's mind could not comprehend the inevitable.
"Help! Quick! We need a medic!" he shouted.
Hearing the commotion from the other side of the yard, Narcissa threw out all sense of decorum and ran to where her husband was kneeling. Her cries and pleas for her son went unheard by her husband, whose attention is currently solely on their son. Lucius attempted to cradle his son without adding to the damage that was already done. He whispers sweet nothings to him, trying to reassure him that all will be alright. Narcissa did her best to offer comfort to her baby boy.
"Where are the medics?" he shouted. Turning back to face his son, his little boy He remembered that when Narcissa first told him she was pregnant, he couldn't help but be filled with joy despite the apprehension that coiled in the pit of his stomach. He almost couldn't dare to hope; how could he when none of their other children had lived? Either lost in their mother's womb or found cold in their cradles. Draco had been their little miracle. He had lived. He had to live.
"Quick, give me your wand!" Lucius called out to the random wizard not far from him. Startling his wife in the process, Narcissa looked at him in confusion.
"Give me your wand! I can save him!" he called once more. No one moved. Some were frozen from shock and uncertainty, some from pity. How could any of them give the two distraught parents false hope by simply allowing them to believe that their son could be saved? It was cruel. Shackbolt cautiously approached the once noble family.
"Mr. Malfoy, he's not going to make it. There is nothing you can do." He said it tentatively. Lucius just stared at the man. His words didn't make any sense. His son was going to be fine; he just needed to heal him. He could heal him, and all would be fine.
"No! Give me your wand! I can save him!" His voice broke under the weight of desperation and sorrow.
"Father?" The faint sound of his son calling him caught his attention, cutting through his mind.
"I am here Draco. I am right here." He said it softly in a voice he hadn't used in a long time, not since the relationship between the father and son had began to deteriorate.
"You don't have to worry about me. I will be fine. I am written in the stars. Remember?" He whispered in a ragged breath. He stared at his son for a moment. 'Written in the stars.'
"Yes, of course. I remember. I was just taking precautions." Lucius replied, "I know you're fine. You are my brave dragon." Memories of Draco's younger years danced around in his mind's eye. It had been a cold night in autumn, and the family of three had sat beneath the stars, wrapped in a wool blanket and cloaked in warming charms. They had been pointing out the constellations when they came across Draco. He looked down and said, "Look, Draco. There is Draco. You are written in the stars." He'd forgotten all about that night. Draco had been at an age where he still called him Daddy before he started to call him Father.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Lucius began to sob. The reality of his son's fate began to set in. "Just hold on. I can fix this. You'll see. Everything will be alright." Lucius promised. He leaned over his son and brushed away the dirt before pressing a kiss to his forehead.
The soft cries and gentle promises of the two parents rolled over the yard in a somber wave. The short gasps and ragged breaths were almost too faint to hear. The sounds of a broken father begging for his dying son's forgiveness blended with his proclamations of love. If only he could turn back the hands of time. Unravel the threads of fate and rewrite what has been written. He would do anything to save his son, even deal with the devil.
But isn't that the reason his son was dying? Because he had already made a deal with the devil? For power and the preservation of purity?
A weighing stillness lay upon the courtyard as the lost boy took his final breath. The cries of a broken man echoed throughout the audience as they watched the scene before them. The fearsome death eater had been reduced to a sobbing shell of a man as the little piece of light was snuffed from his heart. The crowd looked on as the broken man, who was supposed to be a ferocious criminal, sobbed as he cradled his son's lifeless body.
War steals something from everyone, ripping through the souls of the innocent and the tormented like a rapid beast. Consuming and burning through all in its path, the remaining scraps of its feast grasp at tendrils of hope as they struggle to rise to their feet. And through the horrors and tragedies of war, in this moment, no matter what side they had fought on, none could doubt that a lost boy died knowing his father's love.
Disclaimer:I do not own anything. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights and ownership reserved belong to its rightful owners respectively.
AN: Hey you guys! I hope you liked this little one shot. This didn't turn out the way I expected it to, but oh well. I might rewrite it, I don't know, I haven't decided yet. But stay tuned and until next time.
PS: I hope this makes up for not posting in a while.