The Girl Who Lived

Composure

June 1st, 1996.
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"Elena Clairmont and Harry Potter are dead!"

People screamed in horror and he picked apart the screams of people he knew. Professor McGonagall's scream was the loudest out of everyone's.

Draco couldn't breathe. Someone must have ripped away the air from the entire world. The world must have stopped breathing and moving and existing because it wasn't possible-

His eyes wandered up towards the Dark Lord standing before the beaten and bruised fighters in the entrance of Hogwarts. In Hagrid's arms were two bodies. Draco recognized the black hair of Harry Potter and as he forced himself to check if the claims were true, a sparking ring on her finger was shining.

And he knew.

"Harry Potter and Elena Clairmont are dead!" Once again, Lord Voldemort repeated to the scattering army.

"Silencio!" Someone whispered behind him.

Draco fell to his knees and screamed as loud as he could. But no sound came from him, apparently whoever had cast the charm had predicted his actions.

His heart was tearing inside of his chest, his mind was completely blank and his soul was being ripped apart into shreds. Everything was wrong, everything was so wrong that it hurt his entire being.

He screamed and screamed and screamed, the world falling apart around him. He doubled over in a sob, clutching his shattering heart to try and keep it from breaking but there was no amount of time that could heal this wound.

Elena was limp in Hagrid's arms as her scattered tattooed arm hung over the side-

Draco Malfoy awoke in a panic, his hand placed right over his racing heart. Beads of sweat poured down every inch of his shaking body. His sheets must have been drenched with sweat.

Something is wrong. Something is very fucking wrong-

His mind chanted it, he felt it in his bones. The rings on his fingers burned violently, surely leaving a faint mark.

Everything was wrong and empty. Elena should be fine, shouldn't she? She was in London with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin and Harry Potter- nothing could happen to her while she was there.

The three men were the only ones who didn't see Elena as replaceable or expendable. Draco had known she was more than the child who should be sacrificed, he knew it from the beginning. 

He had always seen it, the way she had cowered in Harry's shadow before anyone knew who she really was and even after, the way she held that thick realization in her stance when she walked.

She had to be okay. She had to be. Because if she wasn't...

I'll find her. I'll come for her.

Draco got dressed for the day in his usual black and fastened his tie around his neck. He slicked back his hair with a wet comb, grabbed his bag and left the Slytherin dorms alone.

As he entered the Great Hall, Draco unconsciously searched the room subtly for a tall witch with long brown hair and a certain grace as she walked, but he forced himself to remember that Elena wasn't here. She was in London, safe and happy.

Fucking witch.

People passed him, gossiping about whatever happened a few nights ago in the Astronomy Tower (something about Fred Weasley and Katie Bell).