𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙥 | DRACO MALFOY

i know the end

i know the end
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Phoebe Bridgers

Harper Audrey Malfoy

The night was heavy with smoke and the stench of burning stone.

Every breath scraped my lungs raw as I stumbled out of the boathouse, the cold air hitting me like a slap. Behind me, the door creaked shut, sealing away the sound of Snape's last breath.

The vial was still in my hand. Warm from my skin. Slick with blood that wasn't mine.

I should've thrown it into the lake. I should've obeyed. But instead, I slipped it into the inner pocket of my cloak and pressed it against my chest, as if hiding it could make it disappear.

"Harper!"

Draco's voice cut through the dark like a lifeline. I turned sharply, heart pounding. He was running toward me from the path, his robes torn, face streaked with soot and ash. When he reached me, his hands came up instinctively to my shoulders, steadying me.

"Where were you?" he demanded, his voice hoarse from shouting. "I've been looking everywhere—your father's furious, Harper, you can't just leave like that. Not tonig—"

He stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing when he saw my face. "What happened?"

I couldn't speak at first. My throat felt raw. I just shook my head, the words trapped somewhere between guilt and terror.
"Draco," I whispered finally. "He killed him."

Draco's brow furrowed. "Who?"

"Snape."

The word cracked in my mouth like glass.

Draco stared at me for a long second, as if trying to make sense of it. "You're sure?"

I nodded. "I saw it. He—he said the wand didn't work for him. That it must answer to Snape because he killed Dumbledore. And then..." My voice failed me.

Draco's hands dropped away. He turned, pacing once in disbelief, then back again.

"Merlin... Harper, if your father did that, then he's—he's losing it."

I swallowed hard. "He's winning."

But the words didn't sound right anymore. Not even to me.

Draco's eyes softened, searching mine. "No. You don't believe that. Not after what you saw."

I wanted to argue and tell him he was wrong, that this was what power looked like, that this was necessary. But all I could see was Snape's face, pale and still, and the faint red smear of his blood on my hands.

"I don't know what I believe anymore," I whispered.

Draco stepped closer. "Then believe me. Please. Let's get out of here. We can't stay, Harper. He's—he's not going to stop. Not until everyone's dead or kneeling."

"Draco..." I hesitated, glancing back toward the boathouse, where the lake shimmered faintly in the dark. "We weren't serious when we talked about this."

"Harper one day it could be you, or me, or our child," Draco said flatly. "And I'm not letting that happen."

He grabbed my hand, his fingers cold but grounding. For the first time that night, I felt something solid to hold onto.

"We have to go back to the castle," I said quietly. "He'll be there soon. He wants Potter dead. He'll—"

"Potter," Draco muttered bitterly. "Always Potter."

But I couldn't shake Snape's last words.
'Give it to Potter. He must know.'

They echoed in my head like a curse.