Evanescent

September 3rd, 1997

The screams lasted long into the night.

When Draco was finally able to sleep, he dreamt of her.

He chased her through a blurry landscape of shapes and shadow. When He finally catches her in a bear hug, they tumble to the ground, him landing on top of her. They laugh and breathe heavily, staring into eachothers eyes. He runs the tips of his fingers down her jawline and leaned in-

“Master Draco?“

NO!

Groaning, Draco held his eyes tightly shut, chasing the images of her, trying to live in the space where he could be with her just a little bit longer. 

“Master Draco?…” Pippy nervously asked, shifting from foot to foot. 

Realizing his efforts were futile, Draco huffed a sigh. 

“What is it, Pippy?“ he grumbled, throwing an arm over his eyes. 

“Pippy is very sorry, young Master, but Pippy comes with a letter from the Mistress... She says for me to bring it with your breakfast and to stay and make sure you eat all the food today, sir…“ Pippy squeaked. Draco could tell he was uncomfortable with the orders and spared the young elf further torment.

“Thank you kindly, Pippy, but I don't need a chaperone while eating. Please tell mother I promise to eat all of my food today.“

He would do no such thing. His stomach was still in knots as memories of the day before came rushing back; Harry Potter, captured and crumpled on his drawing room floor. Screams from torture flooding his senses and blinding flashes of green light filling the drawing room leaving empty green eyes staring back at him…

Nausea rolled through him as he slowly sat up in his bed. Running his hands through his hair, he swung his legs over and leaned his elbows on his knees, looking Pippy in the eyes. 

“Seriously, Pip. You can go. My mother is used to my stubbornness by now.“ Draco smirked.

Ringing his hands, the young elf dipped his head and replied with a quiet, “yes, young Master. Pippy will go and relay young Master's message to the Mistress.“ 

With a resounding pop, he was gone, leaving Draco in the silence of his room. He stared at his feet and sighed again. He idly wondered if Weasley had stopped screaming because he physically couldn't any longer or if he passed out at some point. Draco hoped it was the latter.

Getting up, he pointedly walked past the silver tray on his table and headed straight for the bathroom.

Stepping into the shower, he let the hot water cascade over him, bracing his forearms against the wall and closed his eyes. His thoughts drifted back to yesterday’s events.

A whole lot of fuckery had gone down without a single explanation. He had never seen Voldemort react like that before. The Dark Lord was always so… composed. Inhumanly so. But yesterday, for the first time, he’d shown something resembling emotion. Surprise, maybe? Yes. Voldemort had looked almost stunned when he saw Umbridge. Then, as if acting on impulse, he killed her. And Potter.

No theatrics, no gloating. Just a casual, effortless execution- like blotting a bug out of existence without a second thought.

Draco had never liked Potter. Had even hated him at times… but that didn’t mean he had wanted to watch him die. And yet, fate had placed him there, not just as a witness but as an accomplice. By doing nothing, by standing idly by, he was just as responsible as the Dark Lord for Potter's death. The weight of that realization sat heavy in his chest, though it shouldn’t have. He knew where his priorities lay. Self-preservation was second nature to him, as instinctive as a bird knowing how to fly.

Do what needs to be done to stay alive.

Protect your mother at all costs.

Keep your friends under the radar.

And above all else—guard your secret.

Granger…. Where are you?…

He focused on washing his body to distract his growing anxiety. When he was done, he grabbed a towel and walked to the sink, gripping its edge. He leaned in and stared at his reflection, his mind drifting back to the exact moment his obsession with her had begun.

It was in potions, fourth year.

They had both been gathering ingredients at the back of the classroom when he had leaned over to grab something at the same moment she pivoted. The next thing he knew, he had a face full of Granger's soft curls and was enveloped with the deep, rich scent of roses. She continued on, completely oblivious to her assault on his senses but the exchange had left Draco momentarily transfixed.

He had never noticed how good she smelled before.

After that, he found himself constantly looking at her every time they were in the same room. And then, without meaning to, he began noticing the little details about her, like the way she ran her quill up and down her right cheek while deep in thought, or whenever she did something to her curls to make them all sleek and shiny, but chalked it up to curiosity since he had always deemed Granger insignificant. But then the Yule Ball happened and Granger walked in like a fallen star in her periwinkle dress with a smile that lit the heavens themselves and that was when Draco realized it had never been curiosity that drove him to incessantly think about her. He had simply, finally become aware that Hermione Granger was beautiful.

He bowed his head and closed his eyes at the memory.

He was such a cowardly fool.

He desperately wished he could've done things differently. But he was going to try and make it right. With Potter now dead and Weasley soon to follow, Draco knew it was up to him to keep her safe. He was going to find her and protect her and tell her all of the things he couldn't say before.

Feeling determined, he walked into his suite to dress and eyed the silver tray as he passed it again. He paused, grabbing the ecru colored envelope propped against it and opened it as he continued to his closet. He quickly read his mothers elegant script.

My Son,

Your father spoke to me and I have arranged more occlumency lessons for you with Severus. You will meet him in his office at Hogwarts in 3 days time, 3pm sharp. Do not be late. 

Love you always.

Smirking to himself, he unceremoniously dropped the letter on the floor and pulled out a black button up and matching black trousers. 

Thank merlin, his suggestion actually worked! He felt like he could finally take in a full lung of air. One thing less for him to worry about for the moment. Now he could devote more energy towards finding Granger. 

He dressed quickly and made his way to the door, but as his hand reached for the doorknob, he froze. He nearly forgot to occlude. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, grounding himself in the moment.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

With his mental walls up and mask firmly in place, he stepped into the hallway, moving swiftly down the stairs toward the loud murmur of voices. As he reached the foyer, his father's golden hair stood out among the group of men, and Draco beelined toward him.

“Aw, look. The pup is finally awake!“ Dolohov sneered. A choir of laughter filled the air and Draco rolled his eyes, deliberately ignoring him as he approached his father. He greeted Lucius with a stiff bow.

“Good Morning, Father.“

His father looked down his nose at him, brow raised.

“Son. For what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?“ Shit. Draco forgot he was supposed to stay in his rooms until given notice. Fuck it. He couldn't back out now. 

“I came to inquire about the prisoner… I was wondering if I could go down and spend some time with him.“

A flash of anger crossed his father's face before quickly falling back into a look of boredom. “And why ever would you want to do that?” Lucius' eyes bored into him with silent warning.

“Well…” Draco swallowed nervously, clenching his hands behind his back. “I was hoping to practice Unforgivable curses on him,“ he said. “Aunt Bella mentioned that it's time I started utilizing them, but I have no experience casting them yet. I'd like to perfect my skills so I do not disappoint the Dark Lord when he calls me to action.“ 

He tried not to fidget under his fathers scrutinizing gaze. Fuck, he really needed to get better at occluding.

“Is that so?“ His fathers upper lip started to curl in disdain. “Well, I am happy to see you finally taking your role as a supporter of the Dark Lord so seriously. Tell me, why the sudden interest?“

Draco forced himself to maintain eye contact. He felt his palms grow sweaty when he realized the foyer had fallen silent and everyone's attention was now on them. He needed to get this right, he couldn't appear too desperate or eager. 

Show the right amount of interest and devotion. You can do this, Draco. Don't. Fidget.

“Well, with Potter now out of the way, I recognize that the Dark Lord will need us united and at the ready to begin carrying out his plans. I want to be useful and show my dedication to his cause, Father. I want to be prepared to serve our Lord at my fullest potential.“

Lucius' mouth fell slightly open, his face softening in surprise. Then for what seemed like the first time in years, his father smiled. A genuine full stretch of the lips. If Draco hadn't been occluding he might've passed out from shock. 

“That is wonderful to hear, my Son! Yes, you are correct. Just this morning the Dark Lord held a small meeting giving us directives to start hunting down the remaining Order members and you can't very well participate in that without having the ability to cast strong unforgivable's. Since the Dark Lord has given permission to do as we see fit with the traitor, I see no harm in letting you get some practice in before his execution.“ Lucius said, looking pleased.

Dolohov leaned in and elbowed Draco in his side before whispering “Yeah, maybe you can muster up the ability to finally cast the killing curse for once instead of hiding behind your daddy's robes.“ Draco's jaw clenched tightly as he side eyed Dolohov. He refused to dignify that with a response. 

“Excellent, Dolohov, you can go with Draco to guide him since you seem so interested.“ Lucius said with amusement. Draco looked back at his father, fighting the irritation that bubbled up within him. That was not part of the plan.

“Father, thats not necess-” Draco began but Lucius was having none of it.

“That is an order, Draco. Now go, I'm very busy. I expect to see exceptional results when I return this evening.“ 

Draco huffed out a sigh and gave a reluctant “Thank you, Father” before turning and walking through the halls to towards the dungeon. He could hear Dolohov on his heels, snickering. 

“What a delightful turn of events! I get to spend the day puppy sitting! And here I thought my day was going to be boring!“ Dolohov taunted. 

Draco stopped in his tracks, using all of his willpower not to turn around and throat punch the prick.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

He refused to let this worthless wanker break his focus. Draco looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Your presence is much appreciated, Antonin. You have no idea what a driving force it will be for me.“ Promptly walking off, he barely caught Dolohov's angry rebuttal of profanities. 

Draco hated how difficult Dolohov's presence now made this situation. He couldn't very well talk to Weasley if this fucking sadist was going to tag along. He'll have to adjust his plan a bit but the goal remains the same. He could do this.

As they descended the dark stairwell, a foul stench hit Draco hard enough to make him gag. Dolohov laughed and teased him about a weak constitution giving Draco the motivation to continue on. As they entered, Draco paused and took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dimly lit room. The torches barely gave enough light to make out the vast space, only giving enough for him to scarcely make out the silhouette of a body along the back wall. He took in a deep breath to prepare himself and immediately regretted it, almost gagging again. 

Seriously, what is that horrible smell?!

Draco plugged his nose with his left hand while using his wand to light his path with the other. He slowly made his way toward the still form on the ground. As he approached, he noticed the floor growing tacky, causing his shoes to stick with every step. The sensation made him cringe inwardly- he suspected that the substance covering the floor was the source of the foul odor. Draco halted, directing the wand’s light downward, and immediately recoiled. Stumbling back, he doubled over and began dry heaving, feeling grateful for having skipped his breakfast. Through watery eyes, he looked up at Dolohov, who stood a short distance away. His stance was tall and imposing with his arms crossed and feet apart, his face a mask of stoic indifference.

“What the fuck did you guys do to him?!“ Draco said through clenched teeth. 

Dolohov tilted his head slightly, exuding an animalistic aura. 

“We played with him, you silly little dolt. What else do you expect us to do with a blood traitor?“

Draco stared at him, mouth agape in shock. Although he had anticipated something like this, seeing it firsthand was far different. Slowly, he turned back and looked down at Ron, his breath quickening as he took in the full extent of his injuries.

Ron lay crumpled in a puddle of his own blood, urine, and excrement, his clothes torn and his right arm and leg both bent at unnatural angles. Both of his eyes were swollen shut, and his nose was twisted too far to the left. As Draco leaned in closer, he noticed a dark ring of purples and blues blooming around Ron’s neck, evidence of prolonged choking or restraint. But it was when his gaze fell on Ron’s hands that Draco nearly lost his composure; the three middle fingers were missing from each, the stubs thick with oozing blood.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

He couldn’t do this. He didn’t hate Weasley enough to add insult to injury. This part of his plan had been simple- manipulate his way into seeing him, ask about Granger, and get her last known location. He had prepared himself for the possibility of using an Unforgivable or two if necessary, but killing him? That had never been part of the plan.

Merlin… is he even going to be able to talk at this rate? Gods, I hope they didn't cut out his tongue!

“Well? What the hell are you waiting for?“ Dolohov said impatiently. 

Draco glanced over, scrambling for an excuse. "But... he's not even awake. How will I know if the curse is working if I don't see any reaction?"

“RENNERVATE HIM YOU BLOODY IDIOT!“ Dolohov bellowed.

Draco swallowed thickly as sweat made his grip on his wand slip. He knelt down and sat on his heels aiming his wand at Ron's face.

“Rennervate,” he said in a hushed voice. 

Ron immediately began to stir, a low gutteral groan emanating from him. Draco quickly stood, taking a few steps back and outwardly cringed as he watched Ron start to flail around, his groans escalating into wailing moans. As his wails grew louder, Draco felt a wave of guilty relief when he noticed his tongue was in fact, still intact. 

Well that answers that…

Dolohov stepped up next to Draco, a grimace now on his face. 

“Shut him the fuck up, will you?“ 

But Draco felt paralyzed, unable to move. Suddenly, Dolohov shoved him aside. Stumbling, Draco watched in growing horror as Dolohov cast an unfamiliar spell that began sealing Ron's mouth shut.

“WAIT!“ screamed Draco, his hands shooting out in a gesture for him to stop. He hadn't meant to but panicked, not wanting to risk Weasley's ability to speak being taken away indefinitely. 

“Just… wait, alright? I'll cast a muffliato around him and I if you'd like but I want to hear him scream. I need to get used to all that comes along with overpowering another. That includes the pain and pleading.“

Dolohov raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he slowly lowered his wand, releasing the spell mid-cast. Ron's wails started up again, this time louder and more panicked, and Draco wasted no time in casting the charm around the two of them, feeling his ears pop as it fell into place. 

Taking one last glance at Dolohov, Draco addressed Ron, trying to snap him out of his breakdown. “Weasley?… WEASLEY!“ 

Ron paused in his crying, swiveling his head in the direction of his voice. “M-Malfoy?… Is that y-y-you?…” 

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

He took a second to reinforce his mental stronghold before replying, “Yes, it's me Weasley. Do you know where you are?“

"I-I…" Ron stammered, a sob escaping him. "I'm in the dungeons of your m-manor…"

Draco hummed in agreement and squatted down on his heels, arms hanging over his knees. “Yes, you are. And it seems you're getting even less mercy than Potter did- you know, with his swift, sudden death and all…" He glanced up to see Dolohov beginning to slowly circle them. He didn't have much time. “Weasley, I am down here with Dolohov and I'm going to be practicing curses on you.“ Ron began to whimper again. 

“LISTEN!“ Draco barked. “I need you to know that I don't want to be doing this but we have an audience. I need you to scream for me when you hear me cast, understand?“ Dolohov was directly in front of him now, his brows furrowed as he tried to decipher Draco's hurried words. Without waiting for a response from Ron, Draco quickly rose and nodded at Dolohov, signaling the beginning of his casting practice. Playing the part, he looked down his nose at Ron's crying form and tried to summon every bit of disdain he had for him, praying Ron would play along. 

“Crucio!“

Draco knew right away that the spell wasn't nearly strong enough to elicit a pained response but Ron understood the assignment and began to buck and thrash on the ground, screaming loudly. After a few more seconds, Draco released the spell and lowered his hand. Ron relaxed and resumed crying making Draco wonder if it had hurt more than he thought. He looked up to see Dolohov intently staring at him, arms once again folded. Sighing, Draco looked back down at Ron, who now lay on his side, breathing heavily as drool dripped from his mouth. Draco's stomach rolled and he tightened the hold on his wand. 

“Brace yourself, Weasley. We're in for a long afternoon…” 

*****

Draco felt hollow on the inside, as if the slightest breeze could carry him away. He had been at it for hours now and his occlusion failed not long into the practicing, making him feel like he lost a small piece of himself with every scream or new injury inflicted upon Ron. As his distress grew, his strength wavered. Every time Draco failed to properly produce a spell or if a spell was casted weakly, Dolohov would send a stinging hex at him, grinning and laughing. By the seventh hex, Draco lost control on the muffliato spell and Dolohov wasted no time slinging insults about his inadequacies. 

Exhausted and drained in every way, Draco was finally able to stop after Ron fell unconscious again. Having grown bored, Dolohov remarked, “Well, that's my cue. Puppysitting is over!“ and flipped Draco off as he strode out of the dungeons without another word.

Ignoring the filth on the ground, Draco collapsed against the wall. Breathing heavily, he stared despondently at Ron. Weasley was in bad shape and Draco wasn't sure if he could rouse him enough to have a coherent conversation with him. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and sent a silent prayer into the universe asking just this once for some help. Realizing he didn't have a lot of time, he then scooted closer to Ron and woke him with another Rennervate.

Ron awoke rolling to his side and retched bile onto the floor. Draco waited patiently for him to catch his breath before speaking.

“I'm sorry about all that, Weasley…”

Ron let out a humorless chuckle. “Never thought I'd hear those words coming from your mouth, Malfoy...“

Draco rolled his eyes. He never thought he'd be saying that, either.

“I tried to rein back in my casting. Thank you for playing along.“ Draco said.

Ron then rolled onto his back, arms splayed out. “I didn't have much of a choice, did I?“ he replied bitterly. A long pause stretched between them before Draco spoke again.

“No… I suppose you didn't.” A mix of shame and saddness washed over Draco as he stared at Ron, waiting for him to lash out but nothing more came. When he realized Ron wasn't going to say anything, he decided to jump right into his interrogation.

“Look, Weasley. I came down here for a reason. I… I need to know where Granger is.“

As if shocked by electricity, Ron jolted and sat upright, his mangled face distorted in a look of pure rage.

“Why the bloody hell would I tell YOU Malfoy?! Why do you want to know?! So you can capture her?! Torture her?! KILL HER?!! What made you think I'd ever give you that information?!“ 

Unfazed by his response, Draco replied calmly, “Because, in exchange for this information, I will find a way to help you escape. You don't need to worry. Once I am able to find her, I intend to protect her.”

An awkward silence settled over the room, and Ron’s expression shifted to one of open surprise. After what felt like an eternity, Draco snapped, “WELL?”

Ron's mouth opened and closed a few times, reminding Draco of a guppy, before Ron blurted out, “I knew it! I always knew you had some kind of fascination with Hermione!“ 

Draco shifted uncomfortably as Ron continued,

“I told her! I told her and Harry both, multiple times! I'd always catch you just… staring at her, like a creep!“ Draco cringed at this last part, feeling a blow to his ego. 

“I'm not a creep you fucking twat!“

Ron let out a sharp laugh. “So what is it then, huh? You like her? Is that it? You treated her like shit her entire life at Hogwarts and now all of a sudden you want to find her so you can- what? Protect her? SHE NEEDS PROTECTION FROM YOU!!“ he screamed.

Draco flinched and closed his eyes, willing every ounce of patience from within him. Nothing about this was going according to plan and he was struggling to remain calm. He needed to hurry.

“LOOK, WEASLEY. I don't have a lot of time before someone comes looking for me! I need you to just trust me! Please, PLEASE! Just tell me where she is!“ Draco pleaded.

“I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!“ cried Ron.

“What?“ Draco's breath hitched, his brain short circuiting. “What do you mean you don't know?“ he hissed.

Ron propped himself against the nearest wall and sighed deeply.

“Harry and I haven't seen her since Dumbledore's funeral.“

“EXPLAIN.“ Draco said through gritted teeth. 

Seemingly resigned, Ron did.

“We decided to split up after the funeral. It was Hermione's idea. She said she needed to go home to her parents and take care of something, but didn't say what. Harry and I didn't think much of it when we left for my place. She owled us around the fourth of July letting us know she would arrive at my house the first of August for Bill and Fleur's wedding, but she never showed…” 

Ron paused to sniffle. “Harry and I were so caught up that day with the wedding preparations and all of the excitement that we didn't even notice Hermione didn't show until the ceremony began. By the time we started to worry during the reception, it was too late to do anything because of the interruption of the Death Eaters. Harry and I had to leave quickly and go into hiding…”

Ron trailed off and Draco tried to wait for him to continue but quickly grew irritated. 

“AND?!“ Draco yelled. 

“And…” Ron paused. “I can't tell you anything more, Malfoy. You're the enemy…”

Draco gave a loud, dramatic sigh, throwing his hands up in the air. 

“COME ON, WEASLEY! Didn't I tell you I don't have much time?! Spit it out! I'm trying to help!“ 

Ron sighed again and drew his knees up to his chest, tucking himself into a fetal position. He sat quietly for a few minutes while Draco began to pace. Finally, Ron asked, “Are you really going to help us? If you find her, are you really going to keep her safe?…” 

Draco stopped his pacing and looked at Ron. He could hear the despair and hesitation in his voice and understood it perfectly. 

“Yes, Weasley. I swear it.“

Draco then sat down beside Ron, mirroring the same position and waited for him to continue. 

“Harry and I had to flee from the reception quickly,“ Ron began. “We went into hiding, and by then, we didn’t know how to reach her- or find her- without alerting the enemy and risking both our lives and hers. So we waited at Grimmauld Place. You know, the property left to Harry? We stayed there as long as we could, hoping she might eventually show up looking for us. But when we realized the safe house might be compromised, we decided to leave, leaving behind a cryptic note that only she could understand in case she showed up looking for us. But… she never did. We assume she never found the note because she never met up with us.“

They sat there quietly as Draco processed all that he was told. 

“So… let me get this straight. It took you guys over a month to notice Granger was just… missing?“ Asked Draco. 

Ron hung his head and nodded. Draco clenched his fists, his anger rising but he swallowed it down before asking, “And you and Potter hid in a house that was left to him from my mother's side of the family? How did that come about?“ 

“It was left to him by his godfather, Sirius.“ Ron replied.

Draco silently nodded in understanding and then realized Ron couldn't see his response. 

“Okay…” he said. “So… the last place you knew Granger to be was her parents house, correct?“ Ron nodded. 

“Do you know the address to her home?“ Draco asked. 

Ron waited a beat before replying, “Yeah... I do.”

“Give it to me,“ demanded Draco. Adrenaline began to pump through his veins. 

Ron said nothing so Draco pressed on.

“Weasley, give me the address. Maybe she's still there. I'll go and see. Maybe there was a mixup and she couldn't leave to meet you guys.“ He didn't actually believe this but it was worth a try. 

“She might be…” Ron said skeptically. “But it's not like her to not reach out, Malfoy. She's smart so if she's been with her parents all this time, I'm sure she's heard what happened and reconnected with the Order by now.“

Draco hummed in agreement but didn't want to leave any rock unturned. 

“I'll go anyway. Check for any signs of her. If she's not there, maybe I'll find a clue as to where she might've gone.“ 

Ron slowly nodded his head and Draco could tell he was starting to tire out.

“I can heal you a little bit, if you want…” Draco offered. “I can't do too much, or they'll notice, but I can at least take away some of the pain…”

Silent tears ran down Ron's face as he said, “Yeah… I'd appreciate that…”

Draco shifted and placed a numbing spell over Ron's hands and neck, then recited the only healing spell he knew over his eyes and right limbs, snapping them back into place. Ron screamed, left arm gripping the right, but quickly fell into quiet sobs as Draco placed a numbing spell over the limbs as well. 

Draco leaned over and placed his hand on Ron's left sholder, an awkward attempt at comfort. “I have to go now Weasley, to check and see if she's there. I don't know if I'll get another chance to do it so I have to do it now. I can't take you with me but as soon as I get back I'll let you know what's going on and find a way to get you out of here, alright?“ 

Ron began crying again. “Yeah, okay…”

Standing up, Draco dusted off his hands and asked Ron for the address.

“8 Heathgate, Hampstead Garden suburb, London,“ Ron said. 

“Alright then. I'll be back.“ Draco turned to leave when Ron called out to him, making him pause to look over his shoulder. 

“Thank you, Malfoy…” 

Draco gave a small smile and a quick dip of his head before continuing on up the stairs and out of the dungeons. 

*****

It was nearing dusk when Draco apparated in front of a large, two story house. He tilted his head slightly, taking note of the differences between the muggle architecture and that of the wizarding world. He hesitated before slowly beginning his approach to the brightly lit windows of the house, crossing the well manicured lawn of soft, bright green grass. As he drew closer, he heard voices. Trying to remain as discreet as possible, he peered through the nearest window. Inside, a family sat around a table, laughing and chatting excitedly. Draco immediately recognized that this was not Granger's family. He recalled seeing Granger's parents once in a bookshop before second year and remembered idly noticing at the time that Granger looked identical to her parents- clearly different from these people before him. 

He watched for several minutes, hoping he was wrong and that these people were just guests over visiting and she would appear into the room any moment. However, as minutes ticked by, that hope steadily faded. 

Slowly moving back into the shadows, Draco recalled a spell that tracked magical signatures and immediately pulled out his wand. 

“Appare Vestigium.“

A faint, thin blue trail lit up in front of him. He quietly began to follow it, down and around the side of the house before leading him to the back garden. Glancing around before stepping out of the shadows, Draco followed the trace before stopping in front of a flow pot where it ended. He lowered his wand and looked down, and froze. 

There, sticking straight up out of the flower pot, was Hermione's wand. With a shakey hand, Draco slowly bent down and plucked it up out of the dirt. He stared at it, confusion and terror flooding his brain, blocking out all reason. 

“Fuck…” He slowly shook his head back and forth, backing out of the garden. 

“FUUUCK!“ he screamed, turning and running for the street. He paused but for a second before spinning and apparating back to the front gates of his manor. Pocketing both wands, he rushed through the gates and down the path, bursting through the front doors. He continued on, sprinting through the dark halls, ignoring the people he passed. Nearly tripping, he stumbled down the stairs into the dungeon. Panicked gripped him as he lit his wand and called out to Ron. 

“Weasley! WEASLEY?!“ he called desperately. He could vaugly make out his outline, still in the back of the room. He rushed towards him. “You were right, she wasn't there! Something must've happened-”

Draco suddenly tripped, falling hard to the ground and catching himself with his hands as his wand skidded several feet away. Muttering curses, he sprang up, retrieving his wand, and spun around to see what had tripped him.

He cautiously inched forward, then abruptly stopped before stumbling back, falling hard on his ass. There, he came face to face with the ashen, decapitated head of Ronald Weasley- his face forever frozen in a scream of terror.