Bound by Love

Chapter 17: The Final Days

Harriet's POV

The air in Hogwarts felt heavy, like the school itself was holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable. The tension between Draco and me had settled somewhat, but the weight of what was coming—both our escape and the war—loomed over us like a shadow. It wasn't just about us anymore. The reality of Voldemort, of the battle we had been anticipating for so long, was closing in.

I had known this wasn't going to be easy, but every time I let myself imagine walking away from it all, a small voice tugged at the back of my mind, reminding me of the world I was leaving behind. As much as I loved Draco, the weight of what I was walking away from kept tugging at me. Hogwarts had been my battleground for so long. It felt wrong to turn my back on it when Voldemort was rising, when my friends would stay and fight. But Draco needed me. And maybe... maybe I needed to step away from it all to finally live a life that wasn't dictated by prophecies and destinies laid out for me by others. I just wasn't sure which burden was heavier—the responsibility to save the world or to save myself.

The conflict simmered beneath the surface as I searched for Hermione. I knew I couldn't keep this from her any longer. If I didn't tell her now, I might not get the chance. And despite everything, she deserved to know.

I found her in the library, her usual spot by the window where the light filtered through the dusty panes. She was bent over a thick book, scribbling notes in the margins as her brow furrowed in concentration. For a moment, I hesitated, wondering how to begin. But there was no time for hesitation anymore.

"Hermione," I said softly, stepping up to the table.

She looked up, her eyes immediately searching my face. "Harry. What's going on? You've been acting strange lately."

I took a deep breath, pulling out the chair across from her and sitting down. "I need to tell you something."

Her expression shifted from concern to curiosity, but she didn't interrupt. I could see the questions forming in her mind, but she waited for me to speak.

"Draco and I... we're leaving," I said quietly, the words hanging between us like a fragile thread.

Hermione blinked, taken aback. "Leaving? What do you mean?"

I glanced around, making sure no one was nearby, then leaned closer. "We're not safe here, Hermione. Voldemort is coming—he's going to attack Hogwarts, and when he does... we can't be here. Draco's family is tied to him, and we're targets. We've found a place to go, somewhere no one can find us."

Her eyes widened, and I could see the shock and confusion warring on her face. "You're leaving before the war? Harry, you can't just run!"

"I'm not running," I said quickly, trying to make her understand. "This isn't just about me. It's about keeping Draco and me safe. We've made our choice, Hermione. We don't want to be part of the war, not like this."

Hermione was silent for a long moment, her eyes searching mine. "But... the fight is coming, Harry. You've always been the one to stand up to him. How can you just walk away now?"

I felt a sharp pang of guilt, but I pushed it aside. "I've given everything to this war, Hermione. But I can't keep sacrificing myself. I need to make my own future, and Draco... he needs to escape his family's legacy. This is the only way."

Hermione looked down at the table, her hands gripping the edges of her book. "I don't understand," she whispered. "But I trust you. If this is what you need to do, then... I won't stop you."

Relief flooded through me, and I reached out to squeeze her hand. "Thank you, Hermione. I knew you'd understand."

She didn't smile, but she gave me a small nod. "Be careful, Harry. Voldemort won't let you go so easily."

Draco's POV

The day felt heavy with anticipation, like the calm before a storm. I had told Snape about our plans, but I knew his warning about the Dark Lord was only the beginning. Voldemort was coming. It wasn't just a matter of if—it was a matter of when. And even though Harriet and I were ready to leave, I could feel the war closing in on us with every passing hour.

That night, the air was thick with an eerie stillness. I stood near the window in the Slytherin common room, staring out into the darkness. Something was coming—I could feel it in my bones.

The inheritance I claimed from my family wasn't just gold. It was power. Ancient wards protected the property I had secured—a place far beyond the reach of Voldemort, beyond even the Ministry's detection. The Malfoy name was useful for some things, at least. But I knew it was only a temporary sanctuary. Eventually, they would come for us. I just hoped we would have enough time to disappear before that day arrived.

But I couldn't shake the guilt. As I watched Snape's cloak disappear into the shadows, my thoughts drifted to my mother. Narcissa was still bound to the Malfoy name, still tethered to my father's side. I had failed her as much as I was breaking away from my family's expectations. How could I protect her when I was running away? The weight of that guilt pressed down on me, but I pushed it aside. I had chosen Harriet. I had chosen us. And I prayed to whatever forces still cared about us that I wasn't sentencing my mother to a fate I couldn't escape.