𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙥 | DRACO MALFOY

the prisoners

Harper Malfoy

The silence in the drawing room was stifling. My fingers twisted my wedding ring as it sat on my finger—a nervous habit I'd picked up ever since I found out I was pregnant.

I couldn't afford to look weak. Not here. Not now. The Dark Lord had left hours ago, and though he didn't say when he'd return, the weight of his absence still choked the air in the manor like thick fog.

I stood by the window, eyes flickering between the moonlit gardens and the reflection of Draco sitting stiffly behind me on the chaise.

He hadn't spoken much since the last mission. Not to me. Not to anyone. Something had cracked in him, and I wasn't sure I could fix it at least not when I was still trying to hold myself together.

Then came the bang as the front doors slammed open.

Draco stood immediately, his jaw clenched.

"They're back," he said quietly.

My heart dropped. "Do you think it's truly them?"

He didn't answer. We already knew. The Snatchers had been chasing Potter for weeks. Someone was bound to catch him eventually.

Footsteps echoed down the marble hallway. I moved toward the door as Narcissa entered, pale but composed.

"They've brought prisoners," she said. "They think one of them is Harry Potter."

"Draco. Harper," Lucius called, urgency in his voice. "Come here."

Draco pushed open the door beside me. His eyes flicked toward mine before he moved past me, wordlessly. Tension wrapped around us like a noose.

I followed him, trailing a few steps behind. Narcissa's heels echoed on the marble floor as she followed behind us.

As we stepped into the foyer, I saw three figures being dragged inside. Bloodied. Dirty. One of them looked up, and my breath caught.

Harry Potter.

Even with his face swollen and bruised, I recognized him instantly. He used to be my brother after all. My stomach twisted.

The Snatchers shoved the prisoners forward, and my stomach dropped the moment I saw Harry. Ron. And Hermione, blood running down the side of her face, barely standing.

"Are you sure it's him?" Bellatrix demanded, stepping into the room like a shadow with teeth.

The Snatchers hesitated. "Looks like him, but his face... it's all swollen. He's been hit with a Stinging Hex."

Lucius turned to Draco, who stood still at the edge of the room. "Both of you," he said tightly. "Come here. We need you to identify them."

Draco glanced at me. I could see the panic in his eyes—the last thing either of us wanted was to be the one who sealed someone's fate. But there was no backing out.

"I can't tell," Draco said, barely looking.

I stepped forward, pretending to examine the captives as though I were curious—not terrified.

"Why are they even here?" I asked coolly. "If you don't know who they are, you've brought us a mess, not a prize."

Bellatrix turned toward me, her dark eyes gleaming with suspicion. "You'd better remember your place, girl."

I forced myself to smirk. "My place is next to your Dark Lord, auntie," I said, using the title like poison. "Unless you'd like to explain to him why you let Potter slip through your fingers again."