𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙥 | DRACO MALFOY

shadows in the boathouse

Harper Malfoy

I stood just inside the boathouse, shadows curling around me like a shroud. The faint smell of damp wood and cold water filled the air, but my senses were focused on the voices that carried through the stillness.

Voldemort's chilling words echoed, low and commanding. "Stop looking at her. She smells your fear. It agitates her. Be grateful she's just eaten."

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat and shifted closer, careful not to betray myself.

Lucius's voice wavered. "Forgive me, my Lord, but wouldn't it be more prudent to call off this battle and seek the boy yourself?"

I clenched my fists, furious that Lucius dared to question him, but careful to stay silent. Voldemort's response was sharp, almost a hiss.

"I do not need to seek the boy! Before the night is out, he will come to me! Do you understand?"

I held my breath, the weight of those words pressing on me like a physical force.

Lucius stammered, "Of c-course, my Lord."

The silence that followed felt suffocating.

Then Voldemort's voice dropped to a cold sneer. "How do you live with yourself, Lucius?"

I watched as Lucius trembled, the fear in his eyes unmistakable.

"Go. Find Severus. Tell him I need to see him immediately."

Lucius moved quickly toward the exit, and Voldemort's gaze returned to the Elder Wand clutched in his pale hand. Nagini coiled at his feet, her hiss like a dark promise.

I stepped back, heart pounding in my chest.

This is it, I thought. The night we all feared.

The wood creaked with every breath, the sound of distant battle faint beneath it like the world itself was breaking apart above us.

I really shouldn't have been here. But I had to see what came next—what his victory looked like.

And I was supposed to believe in it.

Voldemort stood at the far end of the boathouse, pale and still as carved ice. The Elder Wand glimmered faintly in his grip, its tip reflecting the dim light off the water. Nagini shifted restlessly at his feet, the rasp of her scales echoing in the silence.

Then came the sound of soft, measured footsteps.

Snape.

He entered with that same cold composure he always had—the kind that made you wonder if he was made of smoke instead of flesh.

He bowed, careful and low. "My Lord."

"Yes, Severus." Father's tone was calm, almost cordial. "You have served me well. But there is a matter we must settle."

Snape straightened, his expression unreadable. "The wand," he said quietly.

Voldemort's eyes glowed faintly red. "It does not work for me as it should."

I knew this. I'd heard him whisper it to himself in the dark—the frustration that the wand, the Deathstick, refused to bend fully to his will.

Snape hesitated. "Perhaps... it needs time."

"Perhaps," Voldemort cut in, voice like a blade sliding from its sheath, "it needs a new master."

Something inside me tensed.

"You killed Dumbledore," Voldemort continued softly. "The wand's allegiance is yours."

Snape froze. "No—my Lord, you misunderstand. I killed him on your orders. Always your—"

"It cannot be helped," Father said. His voice didn't rise, didn't waver. It was colder than the lake outside. "Nagini."

The word was a command.

The snake stirred, gliding forward in her enchanted prison.

My stomach twisted. "Father—"

He didn't look at me. Didn't even acknowledge I was there.

"Kill."

The sound that followed wasn't human. The thud, the wet gasp, the rush of scales retreating all blurred into one sickening instant.

I bit down hard on my lip until I tasted blood. I couldn't cry. Not here. Not in front of him.

When Voldemort turned back, Snape was on the floor, his body trembling, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"You have been loyal," Father said softly. "But the wand must answer to its true master."

He turned, cloak trailing like a shadow, and walked out. Nagini followed, silent and sinuous.

And then it was just me.

I waited until I was sure he was gone before stepping forward. The boards were slick beneath my boots. Snape was still alive — barely. His breathing came in harsh, shallow gasps.

His gaze met mine. There was no hate in it. Only understanding.

"You..." he rasped, blood bubbling at his lips. "You shouldn't have stayed."

"I had to," I whispered. "You served him. You did everything he asked, and he still—" My voice broke. "He still killed you."

Snape coughed weakly, shaking his head. "He kills... what he doesn't understand." His hand fumbled for something—a small vial. "Take it. Potter... must know. The truth."

"Why should I help him?" I demanded, voice shaking. "He's the reason for all of this."

"No," Snape breathed, eyes unfocused now. "He's the reason it ends."

His hand went slack.

The vial rolled across the boards and stopped against my shoe. I stared at it, my pulse roaring in my ears.

I should have destroyed it. I should have crushed it beneath my heel.

But I didn't.

Instead, I knelt and picked it up, holding it close like something fragile.

Above, the night shook with thunder. Screams. Explosions. Hogwarts was falling apart.

And for the first time in my life, I wasn't sure which side I wanted to see win.

I looked toward the open door where Voldemort had gone, his silhouette still burned into my mind.

My father. My master.

And yet, all I could see was the blood on the floor.