𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙥 | DRACO MALFOY

ash and fire

Harper Malfoy

The air cracked like a whip, and the world spun violently around me. One second I was at the manor, and the next, I was gasping for breath in the thick, smoky air of Hogwarts. Screams echoed down the stone corridors and spells sparked like fireworks all around us. The castle—our home—was burning from within.

Draco's hand tightened around mine as we landed unevenly just beyond the Grand Staircase. Rubble was scattered across the floor, and the scent of scorched stone clung to everything.

"Stay close," he murmured, his voice clipped, urgent. "We go straight to the Room."

I nodded, my heart thudding so hard I could feel it in my throat. My hand instinctively grazed my stomach—not enough to draw attention, just enough to feel the grounding weight of what I was carrying. Voldemort's orders were clear: assist in securing the Diadem. But I had another purpose which was to survive, no matter what. For them. For us.

We moved quickly through the shadows. Every turn of the hallway looked familiar, but it was all twisted now as it was haunted by smoke and screams and memories. A younger me once strolled these halls freely. That version of Harper Potter was long gone.

"Over here," Draco whispered, tugging me toward a side corridor just as a jet of red light shot down the main passage.

"Did you see who that was?" I asked.

"No. Just keep moving."

But I couldn't help glancing back.

All around us, Death Eaters clashed with members of the Order. Students fought alongside professors. Giants were roaring somewhere in the distance, and something cracked like thunder overhead. But we kept running with our destination locked in our minds.

We rounded a corner and nearly ran straight into Goyle.

"Finally," he spat. "You're late."

Draco let go of my hand, stepping between us. "We're not late. We're here now. Let's get it done."

The stretch of wall across from us was already shifting. I focused on the thought—the place to hide something. The place to hide something. The wall trembled, then began to open.

"After you," Draco muttered, casting a glance back at me. His voice was steady, but I could see the tension in his shoulders.

Inside the Room of Requirement, the sheer mass of forgotten objects towered around us. It was a graveyard of secrets. I could almost feel the lingering whispers of those who had come here before us.

"We find the diadem," I said, trying to ignore the weight in my belly, the ache in my chest. "We do what he asked."

And then, we find a way out.

Draco caught my eye. For a moment, the war fell away. He saw through me—through the cold exterior I wore like armor.

"We get through this," he said quietly, "and then we run. You hear me, Harper? We run."

I nodded once.

We had already defied fate in one way. We could do it again.

Suddenly we were all running.

At least, it felt that way. Running through this war, through the choking smoke of a world collapsing around us.

The Room of Requirement was a roaring furnace now. The kind of heat that melted your bones from the inside out. I clutched Draco's arm tighter, trying not to lose him in the chaos, though every instinct screamed at me to get out for me, for the child. But I couldn't. I wouldn't leave him.