Harry Potter Imagines

bravery in the face of fear - Draco Malfoy

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summary; you're not letting him do this. you know he'll regret it later.

warnings; no warnings

wc; 1k

notes; READER IS GRYFFINDOR. this is another version of a different imagine i've written below.

this is a spin on 'together or not at all'.

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"Harry Potter is dead!"

The words ring out through the cobblestone courtyard, quickly interrupted by the sounds of Ginny Weasley's screams. She lurches forward, hand reaching out, as if she's drawn to him at that moment. Arthur, her father, barely catches up with her, pulling her back and away from the group on the other side.

You grip onto your wand tighter, eyes glued to Harry's body, waiting for any signs of his chest moving. That it's an act on his part, and he's actually alive. There is no movement.

"This can't be happening." You whisper, lips trembling. You take half a step back, eyes watering. "This is fake."

"Silence!" Voldemort demands, referring to Ginny. He's smug, too, "Stupid girl. Harry Potter is dead. From this day forth, you put your faith—" he places a hand on his chest, "in me."

You swallow thickly. You studied with Harry, Ron and Hermione in the library when you were failing. You sat with them at the gryffindor table. Harry was the first real friend you made when you got here. If he's dead...

Voldemort laughs, turning around to face his army, arms outstretched, "Harry Potter is dead." There's a chorus of teasing laughter that follows the statement. You grit your teeth, hands balling into fists. He turns to face you all, "And now is the time to declare yourself. Come forward and join us."

Harry's the reason why you got a date to the yule ball at all. You're the one that gave him advice when it came to dancing, because he couldn't fathom the idea of ever stepping on that dance floor. If it weren't for you, he'd been more embarrassed than he already was. And when Ron and Harry's dates left them, you were there to keep them company.

Your stomach churns. He can't think that anyone on this side would go and join him, does he? After everything he's done to you, to this school. The chaos he created for children, in a place they were supposed to be safe. You wouldn't go, not for any reason.

"Or die." Voldemort says, following the same line of thought.

There's a long moment of silence, still air, in which no one moves. It allows those words to sink in. Join him, be seen as a traitor to the people around you, but potentially save your life. Or fight, give it your all, for a cause that's not even guaranteed a win. It's not fair, being suffocated by two walls. You know you're making the right choice, though.

Death seems to taste so sweet now.

"Draco." A voice urges.

Some turn to face him, you don't bother to look. He's right next to you, just as petrified as you are. You wouldn't be surprised if he were shaking. And now that the spotlight is on him, you can only imagine the pressure building in his chest, how uncomfortable he must be getting by now.

On the other side of Voldermort, stands both of his parents, slytherin purebloods, eager to take him in.

Lucius Malfoy takes a step forward, hand outstretched in his conflicted son's way, maybe trying to be comforting. There's a stern look on his face, it's a demand, "Draco."

"Stay." You murmur, not moving from where you stand.

You can hear his breathing become jagged and uneven, trying to keep calm. A sob breaks through, causing you to look over. You watch his mouth turn into a deep frown, tears brink his eyes.

You can almost feel it yourself, as if you're in his shoes. The pressure to fulfill his parent's expectations. He's been called out by them, and there's nothing warmer than a parent's embrace. Especially during hard times like this.

"Draco." A woman says, you assume it's his mother. She's got dark hair, nearly hiding the blonde underneath.

"Don't." You say to him.

"Come." His mother says, motioning.

"I have to." Draco's words to you are barely audible.

He takes the first step into the walkway, prepared to take the walk alone. You move swiftly, though, stepping around him and planting your feet right in his path. You square your shoulders, ready to fight him if it's necessary. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment.

"I won't let you." You tell him.

You know Draco, almost as well as you know your gryffindor friends. He'd never admit it to the people around him, but you talk frequently. He's always felt like he could be honest with you, because you don't judge, and you certainly don't spread rumors. You want to survive Hogwarts, not get eaten alive.

If he does this, he'll never be able to live with himself. It'll keep him up at night, reliving the moment where he met Voldemort in front of his peers. If he could do it all again, he would. He's already done so much these past couple of years, things that he had a hard time admitting to you. For Merlin's sake, he turned blue in the face trying to tell you about the dark mark on his forearm.

Draco clenches his jaw, nodding. You wait for him to back up to stand where he was before, you squeeze in next to him, ready to block him again if he makes a run for it. To make him stay, you hold out your hand, palm-up. His eyes flicker, deciding whether or not he needs it. He does though, hand slipping into yours, squeezing tightly.

"Draco Malfoy." Lucius hisses, the warmth suddenly gone.

You lift your head, watching the different emotions run through his parents. The anger, the disbelief, the embarrassment. You think you see another one, brief in his mum's eyes—relief.

"Thank you." Draco whispers.

"I'm not leaving you."