The Pact

My last day of freedom before the inevitable—the plan I have to act out—comes and goes in a whirlwind of my own meticulous training. I skip every class, desperate to make the time count. From sunrise to well into the evening, I’m in the Room of Requirement, perfecting my newly created combination spells with as much effort as I can muster. Spells of my own creation ricochet off the walls, starting out as elements of other spells before I break them down and craft them into something new.

I’ve got a solid repertoire; charms that can freeze someone in place and bind them simultaneously, or push someone back and cause their own curses to reflect back to them. I can flip someone upside down and disarm them at the same time, or make them say all of their spells backwards and move backwards, too. I can make someone go mute, blind, deaf, or all three at the same time if I so choose.

I’ve been at it for so long the room itself is crackling with dark magic. I can feel it in the air, embedded in the walls where my spells have made contact over and over. The power of it, the strength of it all has left me feeling giddy—almost drunk with power.

But no, I have to reign it in; keep it contained, stop it from going to my head. Whereas my training used to turn me stone cold angry if I did it for too long, now it just leaves me feeling wonderfully, blissfully powerful. Like I could take on the world or make it stop turning.

My grandmother told me something last night as we left the Conseil des Sorciers. I know it was important, but for some reason, my brain is fuzzy right now. Like my head is full of nargles, as Luna would say.

What was it she said, again? Something about overexertion. Detrimental effects—or did she say dangerous? I can’t remember.

Oh, well.

I haven’t even experienced hunger or thirst for as long as I’ve been in this room today. I keep meaning to take a break to go eat, but it keeps slipping my mind.

Right, back to the thought at hand. The plan. I have to do it tomorrow. Way too soon, in my opinion. If I never had to enact it, I would still call it too soon. But as always, I have no choice.

I never really did.

On accident, I end up zoning out, staring right at the clock on the wall. When I come back into my head, I actually read it.

“Merlin’s beard,” I mumble to myself. “It’s half seven!”

Fine, I’ll take a break. I should really eat something.

Strangely enough, none of my friends have come looking for me yet. Not that they would, of course. I told them to leave me alone to gather my thoughts or some other lame excuse they probably didn’t believe. And even if they did want to come find me, they can’t. I charmed the door to the Room of Requirement to not show up for anyone else right now.

Let’s be realistic, here. I can’t risk any of them walking in while I’m firing some aggressive offensive spell. They could get hurt.

That’s why I’m doing this, I remind myself. For them.

How did I almost forget that?

As soon as I step out of the Room of Requirement, I can feel my magic shift. Retreating back inside of my chest in the presence of light magic, at the absence of the dark that’s become so comforting to me.

The headache rears itself once more, and I immediately start to feel a bit faint from not eating and training all day. I brush it off. I’ll remedy it soon.

But first, I have this feeling, deep in my chest that I can’t shake.

I really, really want to see Draco.

So, off to the Slytherin common room I go. I twist through the castle, walking at a neck breaking pace—nearly a jog, even—until I start to feel even more uneasy. Faint, weak. A dull ache in my chest makes itself known, and I start to feel the fogginess in my brain lift.

Five floors down, two more to go until I can make it into the dungeons. I just have to keep walking.

And I do, but as I push on, I’m hit with an overwhelming sense of dread—an impending doom, so to speak.

Bloody hell. I have to kill my headmaster tomorrow.

And when I do, with Snape by my side, he’s going to summon the Death Eaters. Someone will come check to make sure I’ve done my job, held up my end of the bargain.

Then I’ll be taken back to Malfoy Manor, to declare my mission accomplished to Voldemort. To inform him I’ve done as he asked, and now he has to hold up his end of the deal in return. He has to leave all of my friends alone.

I turn the corner. One more floor.

When I’m mere steps away from the common room door, my legs start to tremble. Nearly buckling under my own weight.

Why am I so weak?

I open my mouth to say the password, but no sound comes out. Like my body can’t muster enough energy to actually say the words.

By some miracle, I see the door open anyway—and out walks Blaise.

“Snake charmer! What are you doing—hey, wait. Are you okay?”

He stops dead in his tracks, the door shutting behind him. I sway on my feet a little, unable to articulate anything.

Blaise frowns, furrowing his brow. “You look terrible. And deathly pale. What’s—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish his thought before I fall forward, my legs finally giving out. Blaise barely catches me, hoisting me up by my shoulders.

“Lavigné. Lavigné, can you hear me?”

Slowly, very slowly, I lift my head to look at him. Nothing is in focus, and even holding my head up is taking a great deal of effort.

Blaise looks worried as he mumbles, “Draco. You need Draco. Fuck.”

He must say the password to the common room because the door opens, but I don’t hear it. My senses have gone practically static, a wild buzzing in my ears making it impossible to understand anything he’s saying.

I feel my body falling—then I hit something soft. He must have laid me down somewhere. A couch, maybe.

Then, without a second’s notice, my vision goes black.

The static in my ears clears, and I’m left in a void—of my own creation, I’m sure—seeing nothing, unable to move, and the voices around me all muffled.

The sounds get clearer gradually. I can hear voices—three of them. Maybe four. Multiple boys and a girl.

Then the blackness disappears as suddenly as it came, and my vision slowly comes back.

Draco, Blaise, Theo and Pansy are all looking at me in horror, clearly panicking as they talk over each other. When Draco notices my gaze trained on him, finally in focus, he rushes over, dropping to his knees to come to my eye level.

“Hey, hey, what happened, love? What’s going on?” he asks in a panic, grabbing one of my hands and holding the side of my face. “Blaise said you collapsed? Oh Merlin—you’re white as a ghost. And your skin is ice cold.”

I can’t muster the energy to speak, to sit up, to do much of anything, really. All I can do is look at him, look over his shoulder and see his friends frantically running around, appearing at his side with various things. A blanket, some potions, a snack and drink. Whatever they can think of to fix something none of us know how to fix. We don’t even know what it is.

Draco snatches the blanket out of Pansy’s hands and throws it over me, grabbing a vial from Blaise. “Pepper up?”

Blaise nods, and Draco turns back to me. “I need you to drink this,” he says softly, uncorking the vial. “Can you open your mouth for me, darling?”

Weakly, I oblige. He sighs in relief before tipping my head back to pour the potion down my throat. I swallow, letting the spicy potion start to work.

“Draco. What in Salazar’s name is wrong with your girlfriend?” Pansy asks, voice high and shrill.

Draco whips around to face her. “I don’t know! Don’t you think I’d fix it if I did?”

“Calm down,” Blaise interjects, his voice smooth.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Draco shouts, waving his hands in the air.

Blaise takes a step towards him placing a hand on his shoulder. “Panicking isn’t going to help her. So stop freaking out—we’ll figure it out.”

Theo joins the pair, running a hand through his curls. “What has she been doing all day?”

“I. Don’t. Know,” Draco responds, his voice a mix of annoyance and desperation. “I’m not her keeper. She doesn’t like when I hover, so I don’t.”

“Surely you have some idea,” Pansy quips, crossing her arms. “Right?”

Draco shakes his head. “She said something this morning—she wasn’t going to come to classes today because she was overwhelmed with things. Needed space.”

“That’s why she wasn’t in front of me,” Pansy says thoughtfully, tapping her chin.

Blaise sticks his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight. “Now that I think about it, mate, I didn’t see her in the Great Hall today, either.”

Draco’s eyes go wide. “Bloody hell, you’re right. I didn’t see her at dinner—or lunch. Shit, she didn’t even come to breakfast.”

“Could be why she fainted,” Theo says quickly, shoving some crisps and a water into Draco’s hand. “Low blood sugar.”

“As soon as she perks up I’ll give it to her. She could barely open her mouth to take the potion,” Draco sighs.

Pansy spells over a chair, collapsing into it, clearly frazzled. “I don’t think low blood sugar would make her this bad. Something’s happened. Think, Dray. What else could she have been doing today that she wouldn’t want you to know about?”

Realization dawns on Draco’s face faster than I thought it would—or hoped it would, maybe. The realization quickly turns into worry as he runs a hand over his face. “Damn it. I bet she was training.”

“Training?” Theo echoes, tilting his head.

Draco turns back to me, waving at Theo dismissively. “It’s what she calls practicing her magic.”

“Her wandless magic?” Blaise asks, seemingly unsurprised.

“Or her dark magic?” Pansy chimes, perking up in her seat.

Draco pointedly ignores both of them, kneeling down once more. “Y/n. Be honest with me. Have you spent the day training?”

The pepper up potion has started to work its magic, giving me enough energy to nod my head. “Yeah,” I whisper.

Draco drops his forehead onto the edge of the couch for a moment before looking back up at me. “Why in Merlin’s name would you do that?”

“I have to,” I reply meekly. “I’m running out of time.”

“So you nearly worked yourself to death to make up for it? Y/n, how long have you been training for today?”

I wince, looking away. “Since five this morning.”

“Five this—” Draco cuts himself off, wiping a hand over his mouth. “Why would you do that? You know your body can’t handle that! Hell, I’ve seen you fall dead asleep after two hours. You can handle maybe four maximum. And you’re telling me you’ve been at it for…” he counts off on his fingers, eyes wide. “Fourteen hours?”

“Dray,” I say quietly, reaching for his hand. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be cross with me.”

He simply sighs, moving to sit on the couch. He gingerly pulls me into his lap, ignoring the looks he gets from his friends. I let my head fall into the crook between his shoulder and his neck, my arms wrapped around my own torso. “I’m not mad at you. But—Merlin, Y/n—do you have any idea how much you’re scaring me? You’ve been acting strange for weeks. At first I chocked it up to stress, but I should’ve listened to my gut. I knew something was wrong.”

“It’s not your fault,” I say simply, the potion now in full effect. Despite that, I don’t make any move to change my position.

“Talk to me. Please. What’s bothering you?”

I mindlessly play with one of the buttons on his shirt, taking a breath. “I can’t tell you.”

“No. Bollocks. We’re not playing this game anymore. I don’t care what you think is going to happen if you tell me. It’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out. I swear. Just talk to me. Please.”

The room falls deathly silent, everyone looking at me expectantly. Finally I sit up enough to look at him. “Not here. It’s not safe.”

Draco tenses at that, but he doesn’t flinch. “We’ll go to my room, then.”

“Hold on a second,” Theo says suddenly, holding out his arms in exasperation. “You can’t just act like the world is ending and leave us out of it. We helped, too!”

I shake my head. “It’s really not safe. Knowing puts you in danger.”

“Maybe we like danger,” Pansy says with a smirk.

Blaise shoots her a look, but keeps his posture rigid. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you can trust us.”

I scoff, looking between the three of them. “Seriously?”

Draco tightens his grip on me slightly, a warning more than a comfort. “Y/n, they’re right. Whatever this is, they can all know. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” I say immediately.

“Then trust them.”

I swallow hard, glancing at Pansy, Blaise, and Theo. They’re all watching me closely, their usual arrogance subdued, replaced by something else—something serious. It unsettles me.

“I—” I start, hesitating.

“Y/n,” Blaise says smoothly, leaning against the armrest of the couch. “We’re not stupid. We know something’s been off. We just want to help.”

I shake my head. “You don’t understand. If you know, you become part of it. It stops being something you can turn away from. You’ll be in danger.”

Pansy snorts. “Oh, please. You think we aren’t already in danger? Do you think you know who cares who we are? He’d kill us just for looking at him the wrong way. You think we don’t know what’s coming?”

I look at her sharply. She holds my gaze, unflinching.

“We’re Slytherins,” Theo adds quietly. “We know when the tide is shifting. We can feel it. Whatever you’re caught up in, we’re probably already tied to it in some way.”

I press my lips together, my mind racing. Letting them in is dangerous—no, reckless. But looking at them now, seeing the determination in their expressions, I know they won’t let this go. And maybe… maybe I don’t want them to.

I exhale slowly, feeling Draco’s hand tighten on mine. “Fine,” I whisper. “You can listen. But once I tell you, there’s no going back.”

Theo gives a humorless chuckle. “Like there was ever a chance of that.”

Slowly, I rise to my feet. Draco and Blaise are on either side of me, seemingly making sure I don’t collapse again. To everyone’s surprise, I don’t.

We walk to Draco’s dorm, and he opens the door with a click. I sit on the bed, joined by Draco, and his friends take various positions around the room. Pansy sits on the desk, Blaise in an arm chair, and Theo on the floor in front of me.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I pull out my wand, casting silencing spells over the room so there’s no chance of anyone passing by and overhearing. When I finish, the air in the rooms is tense.

Blaise nods once. “Okay, then. Start talking.”

I hesitate one last time, looking between them, then letting my gaze fall on Draco. Tears prick at my eyes as I choke out, “If I tell you, you’ll never see me the same way.”

Draco shakes his head, placing his hands on either side of my face. “Listen to me. There’s nothing you could ever say—nothing you could ever do that would change how I feel about you. How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have to explain yourself to me?”

A single tear rolls down my cheek and his eyes soften. “I promise. I just need to know so we can figure something out. Okay?”

I nod slowly, taking a shaky breath before I finally let go of the secret that has been eating me alive. “Tomorrow,” I whisper, “I have to… kill Dumbledore.”

The silence that follows is suffocating. I don’t dare look at any of them, instead staring at the floor, bracing myself for the inevitable outburst.

Theo is the first to react, exhaling sharply. “Bloody hell.”

Pansy’s expression hardens, but there’s no shock in her face—just calculation. “That’s why you’ve been training.”

Draco runs a hand down his face, muttering a curse under his breath. He knew something was wrong, but not this. Not this.

Blaise is the only one who doesn’t immediately speak. When I finally dare to look at him, his expression is unreadable. He leans forward slightly, steepling his fingers together. “And if you don’t?”

I swallow hard. “Then Voldemort kills everyone I care about.”

The room stays silent for another long moment. Then, to my surprise, Theo lets out a slow, almost amused exhale. “Well, shit. That’s quite the predicament, isn’t it?”

I blink at him, stunned. “That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say? ‘Oh no, what a terrible fate’?” Theo shakes his head. “We need to figure out how to make sure you don’t get yourself killed in the process.”

Draco glares at him. “That’s what you’re concerned about?”

Theo shrugs. “Well, yeah. She’s obviously not getting out of this, so the only thing left to do is make sure she survives it.”

Pansy hums in agreement. “We should probably make sure you don’t collapse in the middle of the job, either. Which means no more skipping meals like an idiot.”

I stare at them, completely thrown. “You’re not—” I hesitate. “You’re not trying to talk me out of it?”

Blaise raises an eyebrow. “Would it work?”

I hesitate. No. It wouldn’t.

Draco shakes his head, looking exhausted. “We should at least try to find another way.”

“There is no other way,” I say quietly.

Pansy sighs, rolling her eyes. “How are you going to do it?”

“Are you going to use the…” Draco trails off, but I already know what he’s suggesting.

“No,” I say quickly, panic flooding my features. “Never again. I… I can’t.”

Blaise furrows his brow, leaning forward. “Again?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” I reply sharply, holding up a hand to silence him. To my surprise, he relents.

Theo leans back on his hands, studying me. “I assume you have a plan, then?”

Hesitantly I nod my head yes. “I’m going to… poison him, technically.”

“And, what, you’re going to slip it into his pumpkin juice?” Pansy replies sarcastically.

“No. I’m just going to give it to him.”

Draco snaps his head in my direction. “He’d never drink it. He’s not that stupid.”

“Yes he will,” I shoot back, bringing my knees up to my chest. “He already knows about it.”

Across the room, Blaise starts to wave his hands. “Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean he knows about it?”

Finally, tired of the relentless interrogation, I spill everything. “I went to him a few days after Voldemort gave me the task. I was hoping he’d come up with something, some kind of way around it, but he didn’t. He just told me I had to do it. Said Snape could help me.”

The group gawks at me, but I press on. “Snape walked into his office and told me about a potion we could brew that would be less brutal than liquid death or something like that. Like falling asleep—then just never waking up. More humane, I guess.”

I freeze at the words coming out of my mouth, nausea swirling in my stomach. “Fuck, I can’t believe I just said that.”

Draco presses his palm to my knee. “When did the dark lord assign this to you?”

I look away, shame burning in my stomach. “A few weeks ago.”

Draco freezes. His tone slips into something icy. “When you went to my manor alone.”

It’s not a question. He’s pieced it together.

“You said it was nothing. Just a normal meeting.”

The tears flow more freely now, but I don’t do anything to stop them. “I lied.”

Draco’s jaw tightens, his entire body going rigid. “You lied.”

I nod, wrapping my arms around myself as if that will hold me together. “I had to.”

Draco pulls away from me slightly, the warmth of his touch disappearing. “You had to?” His voice is dangerously quiet, laced with hurt. “You had to lie to me? About this?”

Pansy lets out a low whistle, breaking the tense silence. “Well. This just keeps getting worse.”

Blaise elbows her, shooting her a warning glare, but Theo leans forward, eyes sharp. “So Dumbledore knows you’re supposed to kill him?”

I swallow the lump in my throat, nodding. “Yes. He told me it had to happen, one way or another.”

Theo exchanges a glance with Blaise, then mutters, “Bloody hell.”

Pansy shakes her head. “So what, we just go along with this? Let you commit murder and act like everything is fine?”

My stomach churns. “It’s not murder,” I say, though the words taste like poison. “It’s… mercy.”

Draco scoffs, standing abruptly and raking a hand through his hair. He turns his back to me, his breathing uneven. “You should have told me.”

“I couldn’t tell you.”

“You should have.”

The words hang between us, thick and heavy.

I exhale shakily, forcing myself to sit up. “I didn’t want to drag you into it. Or any of you. I didn’t want this to touch you.”

Draco whirls back around, eyes burning. “Touch me? You think this hasn’t touched me? You think I haven’t been going mad, watching you pull away, knowing something was wrong but being too stupid to figure it out?” His voice cracks at the end, and he clenches his fists. “I knew something was off. And you just let me—”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”

Blaise clears his throat, breaking the suffocating silence. “Alright. So what’s the plan, then? You give him this potion, he drinks it, and then… what? Snape takes over?”

I shake my head. “Not exactly. Snape will summon one of the Death Eaters to come confirm that he’s—well, you know. Then I have to go back to the manor and tell Voldemort.”

Theo tilts his head. “And you trust Snape?”

I hesitate. “I… I don’t have a choice.”

Draco lets out a bitter laugh. “No. You don’t.” He shakes his head again, eyes flashing. “This is madness.”

Pansy crosses her arms. “Do you have the potion already?”

“I will. It’ll be done brewing tomorrow.”

Blaise exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. “So this is happening. Tomorrow.”

I nod once. “Tomorrow.”

The weight of it crashes down on all of us at the same time.

No one speaks.

Then Pansy, of all people, steps forward and snatches my wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. “Then we’re listening in.”

I blink. “What?”

“We’re not letting you go through this alone,” she says, her voice firm. “You’re our problem now.”

Blaise nods, stepping up beside her. “We’ll find a way to be there. Even if it’s just to make sure Snape doesn’t double cross you or something.”

Theo leans back against the couch, arms crossed. “It’s not like we can stop you. So we might as well make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

Draco doesn’t say anything for a long time. Then, finally, he looks at me—really looks at me—and something in his expression softens.

“You should have told me,” he murmurs again, quieter this time. Then, before I can respond, he exhales and nods. “We’re listening in.”

I blink back fresh tears. “Draco—”

He shakes his head. “Don’t. Just… let us do this.”

I hesitate, then finally, I nod. “Okay.”

Pansy smirks. “Good. Now tell us exactly how you’re going to pull this off.”

~

The castle is silent at this hour, the corridors stretching endlessly before me, each step echoing off the cold stone walls. My hands are trembling, but I clench them into fists, forcing myself to steady. I can’t afford to hesitate now. Not when everything has led to this moment.

When I push open the door to Snape’s office, he is already waiting.

His dark eyes flicker to mine, unreadable as ever, and without a word, he reaches into his robes, retrieving a small, unassuming glass vial. The liquid inside is pale silver, swirling sluggishly as he tilts it slightly in the dim candlelight.

“Do not falter,” Snape murmurs, pressing it into my palm. His voice is quieter than usual, lacking its usual bite, and that alone is enough to unsettle me.

I swallow hard. “He’ll take it. He already knows.”

Snape’s lips press into a thin line. “And yet, knowledge of death does not make it any easier to embrace.” His gaze sharpens, his fingers curling ever so slightly at his sides. “You understand what must happen next?”

I nod. “I give him the potion. And then you…” I trail off, unable to finish.

Snape studies me for a long moment, then exhales through his nose. “Go. He is waiting.”

I turn, my grip tightening around the vial as I step back into the corridor. Snape’s footsteps fall into place behind me, silent as a shadow.

The climb to the Astronomy Tower feels impossibly long, and with each step, my pulse thrums louder in my ears. I know they’re there—watching. Beneath the wooden floorboards, tucked away in the darkness, Draco, Pansy, Theo, and Blaise are holding their breath, waiting to see if I’ll go through with it.

When I push open the door to the tower, the cold night air rushes in, biting at my skin. And there he is.

Dumbledore stands at the edge of the tower, his robes billowing slightly in the wind. He turns slowly at my arrival, his eyes soft, knowing.

I clutch the vial tighter.

It’s time.

“You came after all,” Dumbledore says, leaning back against the railing. “A fine evening, isn’t it?”

“Yes, professor,” I respond, feeling like I’m going to be sick.

Dumbledore steps forward, placing a warm hand on my shoulder. “Please, call me Albus. It seems only fitting.”

I give him a weak smile. “I can manage a lot of things, but I don’t know if that’s one of them, sir.”

He simply nods in understanding, his blue eyes twinkling. “You have it, I presume?”

The vial feels heavier in my palm as I lift it up to him, and he admires it in the moonlight. The silver liquid sparkles even more against the night sky. “A fine brew. You made it yourself?”

“Professor Snape helped,” I say meekly. “But yes, I made it mostly on my own.”

Dumbledore gives me a slightly approving look, and something about it makes my heart lurch.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

I swallow thickly, my throat suddenly dry. “Aren’t you… afraid?”

Dumbledore guides me over to the railing with a soft smile on his face. He looks up at the night sky and I mimic him. “No. I’ve always believed death is peaceful—like being welcomed into a new world by an old friend.”

I stare at him, searching for any trace of fear, but there is none. Just calm acceptance, as if he has already made peace with what’s about to happen. I wish I could say the same.

My fingers tremble around the vial, but before I can speak, Dumbledore turns his gaze back to me, his expression unreadable. “Before we begin,” he says gently, “I must ask something of you.”

I blink, taken aback. “What is it?”

His hand disappears into the folds of his robes, and for a brief moment, I tense, expecting him to pull out his wand. But instead, he holds it out to me, the long, intricate wood gleaming under the moonlight. “Take it.”

I hesitate, staring down at the wand in his palm. “Why?”

His smile is faint but kind. “It will not do for my wand to fall into the wrong hands, don’t you agree?”

Something about his tone makes my stomach twist, but I nod, reaching out and curling my fingers around the cool, ancient wood. A strange sensation hums beneath my skin, but I push it aside, tucking the wand carefully into my robes. I don’t understand why he’s given it to me, but I don’t argue.

Dumbledore exhales, as if relieved. “Thank you.”

I shift uncomfortably, suddenly hyperaware of the weight of the wand against my chest. But I force myself to focus. This isn’t about me.

He looks back at the sky, hands resting on the railing. “Now then,” he murmurs. “Shall we?”

I nod, barely able to keep my breath steady as I lift the vial between us. The silver liquid swirls lazily inside, reflecting the moonlight like liquid stardust.

This is it. There’s no turning back now.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

He takes the vial out of my hand, uncorking it. “Don’t be. This is how it was always meant to be. You’re destined for greatness, Y/n. All I ask is that you don’t let it consume you.”

Breathless, hands shaking, I meet his gaze. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

“Good,” he replies simply, before lifting the vial to his mouth. “Until we meet again.”

Then, without hesitation, he pours the contents of the vial down his throat, before tossing the vial over the edge.

He smiles softly before it starts to work. He lowers himself to the ground, his body growing tired. Unable to sit upright any longer, he lays back.

His eyes flutter closed delicately, a soft breath escaping his lips.

Albus Dumbledore dies peacefully, looking at the stars.

I stumble backwards, clasping a hand over my mouth. A choked sob escapes my lips as I sink to the floor, drawing my knees up to my chest.

My entire body shakes as the tears sting my eyes, drenching my cheeks and sleeves. I can’t bring myself to care.

Footsteps thunder up the stairs behind me, but I barely register them. My whole body feels like it’s floating, disconnected from reality, from what I’ve just done.

Then, warmth. A firm hand on my shoulder, another on my back. A voice—Draco’s—whispering something, but the words don’t reach me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but the tears keep coming. My breath hitches violently, chest rising and falling in uneven gasps.

More hands. Pansy kneeling at my side, gripping my wrist as if to anchor me. Theo and Blaise hovering close, their faces pale, their usual sharp expressions dulled by shock. None of them speak right away. There’s nothing to say.

Draco shifts closer, his arm wrapping around me as he presses his forehead to the side of my temple. “It’s over,” he murmurs, though he sounds like he doesn’t believe it himself. “It’s done.”

I let out another shaky sob, burying my face in my hands. Someone—Theo, maybe—rubs slow circles into my back, as if that can soothe the weight pressing down on my chest.

Time blurs. I don’t know how long we sit there, tangled together in a silent mess of grief and disbelief.

But then I remember.

Snape.

My breath catches as I force myself to sit up, pulling away from them. Draco’s arm tightens slightly before he lets go, watching me with wary eyes.

“I have to go,” I rasp, voice raw.

Pansy frowns. “Go where? You can barely stand.”

I swallow hard, blinking away the lingering haze of tears. “To Snape,” I manage. “He—he needs to know it’s done. He’ll take care of the rest.”

The Slytherins exchange uneasy glances, but none of them try to stop me. They understand.

Draco hesitates before nodding. “We’ll be right downstairs,” he says, voice quieter now.

I push myself to my feet, swaying slightly. Blaise steadies me, his grip brief but grounding.

Then, with a deep breath, I turn on my heel and leave.

Snape is waiting just around the corner, as he said he’d be. I don’t have to say anything—by the look on my face he surely knows that it’s done.

Without another word I follow him back up to the astronomy tower. He slows at the sight of Dumbledore’s limp body, but he leans down and checks his pulse nonetheless.

I don’t have to ask. He doesn’t have to say it.

He’s dead.

I clean my face up with a few quick charms, composing myself once more. No weakness. I can’t afford it.

Snape pulls up his sleeve, revealing a dark mark. I tear my eyes away from it as he presses the tip of his wand down, sending a message to the Death Eaters. Summoning them.

After a few brief moments of silence, I see a cloud of black smoke in the distance. It heads straight towards us, before it flies into the tower and reveals a man.

Never in my life have I been so relieved to see Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius steps forward, his sharp eyes scanning the scene before him. His gaze lingers on Dumbledore’s still form, then flickers to Snape, who gives the slightest of nods.

It’s done.

Lucius exhales, slow and measured, before turning his attention to me. He studies me in silence, taking in the remnants of tears on my cheeks, the way my hands still tremble at my sides.

I brace myself for either praise or criticism, but neither comes. Instead, he simply says, “You did what was necessary.”

The words are neither warm nor cold. A statement of fact, nothing more.

He reaches out, his gloved hand hovering near my shoulder before he seems to think better of it. Instead, he straightens, his expression unreadable.

“Come,” he says, glancing at Snape before returning his attention to me. “We don’t linger.”

I nod stiffly, falling into step beside him.

The air hums with tension as more Death Eaters begin to arrive, their black robes billowing in the night. Whispers ripple through the group, eyes darting to Dumbledore’s lifeless body, then back to me.

Lucius pays them no mind. He places a firm hand on my back, guiding me toward the edge of the tower where Snape already stands, wand at the ready.

“Let’s go,” Lucius murmurs. “Take down the wards.”

I do as I’m told, not bothering with my wand. My magic is stronger when I don’t use it, anyway.

As I dismantle the wards around Hogwarts piece by piece, my mind falls to the group just below the floor boards. They can’t be seen through the cracks in the floor—courtesy of some well done concealment charms.

I wonder how they feel about the sight above them. Their classmate, shoulder to shoulder with Death Eaters, dismantling the protection around Hogwarts with no more than her hands. Their best friend’s father, guiding her and baring the same mark as serial killers.

And then, my mind falls to Draco.

I know it’s killing him not to run up here and pull me out of this mess. For his friends to see his father in his truest form—a figure shrouded in darkness. I wonder if they know how kind Lucius can really be. I wonder if Draco knows.

Then I wonder if it really matters.

One last flick of my wrist completely destroys the wards—not that it was hard. They mostly fell when Dumbledore’s heart stopped beating.

When Albus’ heart stopped beating.

“Done,” I say, keeping a cold mask on my face. My voice comes out much more even than I feel, and I sense the finality in the space around me.

Lucius nods, holding a hand out to me. It’s almost comforting—an act of mercy. An offer of guidance. With one last glance at the place where Dumbledore fell, I take a deep breath and grasp Lucius’ arm.

A heartbeat later, the world vanishes in a blur of darkness as we Disapparate to Malfoy Manor.