The Girl Who Lived (Draco Malfoy x OC)

The Breath

February 5th 1998

The tears didn't stop as Harper climbed to the Headmaster's office with Draco. She'd hesitantly left Hermione and Ron with Snape after Draco convinced her they couldn't linger.

"He's not here anymore, Harp, he's gone."

She didn't believe him, she refused too, but Hermione was doing her best. Hopefully he'd soon be in the care of the mediwitches. Nevertheless, the fear hadn't subsided. It was like she was drowning in it and couldn't see beyond the distorted surface. The concept of survival felt so shallow when she was surrounded by so much ruin.

Her shoes were slippery from blood, she'd walked through a pool of it on the sprint up the Great Staircase and now she was falling at almost every second step. Her toes skidded backwards forcefully and she would have clipped her chin on the next step had Draco not caught her in time. He held her for a lengthy second after, making sure she was okay to continue.

She wasn't, but she went on anyway.

Blood was everywhere. Her white tee spattered in varying shades of it. The baggy denim jacket was now a dark crimson on the cuffs and pockets. Her hands were mostly red, it'd even managed to get up to her elbows. Some of it was Snapes, some of it was Freds, some of it was hers. She looked back to Draco who was somehow unspoiled from the cardinal colour. It didn't mean he wasn't sullied by all the dust and wreckage of the castle. His usually indefectible skin was whittled and scratched. Blonde hair blown back by the relentless running and soot marred his suit.

"Watch your head, love," Draco said as the castle shook and spare debris fell from the ceiling.

Harper didn't care if it hit her anymore. All she cared about was getting to the pensieve. Her hand shook, but she never relaxed her hold on the crystal flask of Snape's last thoughts. Though clueless, Harper knew whatever these memories were, were important. Snape wouldn't have given them to her otherwise. She owed it to her mentor's last moments to view them.

Finally, they reached the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office.

"Password?" The stone gargoyle groaned and Harper bitterly wondered what he had to be upset about. He hadn't been subjected to the horror curtain-raiser outside.

"Do you know?" Draco asked.

"Dumbledore," she answered softly, having known Snape would honour the late Headmaster despite his allegiance.

The gargoyle slid aside allowing them up the spiral staircase. Draco pushed the heavy oak doors open and Harper was near-shocked at how different the office appeared. It hadn't crossed her mind that it would change after Dumbledore was gone. She'd spent so many days and nights in this office, but as she entered it was as if she'd never been there before.

The portraits that hung around the walls were empty. Not a single headmaster or headmistress remained. It seemed the entire lineage of headmasters were charging through the paintings that lined the castle to have a clearer view of the war. Harper's sight fixed itself on Dumbledore's empty frame, as if staring at it would will him back into the office so she could speak to him, yell at him, scream. But he never appeared and instead the only light came from the rune-marked basin hidden in its cabinet. With the help of Draco, she heaved it onto the desk.

She eyed the shallow stone with a sense of desperation, to escape into someone else's head would be a blessed relief. Snape's memory glittered in the flask in her fingers, so alluring and pretty, yet she knew she wouldn't find a string of happy memories. Before pouring it into the basin, she looked to Draco. He looked hollow and defeated, tired from the onslaught he'd been forced through because he'd fallen in love with her.