dear draco,

thirty-seven

Do you remember when we walked together into the final battle? I was terrified; my only solace the grip of your hand. But it never occurred to me that we might not both make it out.

-

I S O B E L ' S P. O. V.

~

Shaking.

He's shaking me, hard. I groan and sit up, shielding my eyes against the light. "What is it?"

Once my eyes focus, my heart drops a little. I have seen Draco panicked, but never like this. "We have to go," he mumbles, pulling on my hand. His voice echoes in my mind from all the times this has happened before. We have to go. You have to get out of here. How many more times will he need to say that? How much longer until it's over?

"Why?" I ask. "What's happening?"

"I'm sorry, I should have woken you sooner-"

"Draco," I say quickly. "What is it? Where are we going?"

"It's Potter," he says, his voice croaky. "The Dark Lord knows where he is, and he wants everyone to help find him. He- he won't stop at anything to get him, Belly."

I stare at him, slowly understanding what he's trying to say. "They're going to fight, aren't they? This is war."

"Yeah. Promise me you'll be safe, Belly."

I drop his hand to pull on a jumper. "You know I'll have to leave you, right? I can't stay with you, Draco. We'll be fighting against each other."

Draco ignores this. "Keep your wand on you at all times," he instructs. "You can't forget it, or leave it somewhere like you always do, okay? And when we get to Hogwarts-"

"Hogwarts?" I cry out. "That's where we're going? That's where the Death Eaters are going?"

"I - yeah-"

"I have to tell Neville," I say frantically, trying to get past him. "How could you not mention that this is all happening in Hogwarts-"

"Belly, wait," he says roughly, stepping in front of me. "We have to go downstairs first so that no one gets suspicious. You don't want to be a target."

"I don't care about being a target, I have to warn everyone-"

"Once we get there," Draco interrupts, "you can sneak away and warn your friends. That'll be soon, Belly. People are leaving now. We just have to leave with them."

I hesitate. "Alright," I say breathlessly. "Alright."

But once we get downstairs, I understand why he is so unnerved. The Death Eaters have driven Malfoy Manor into a state of chaos; people are running in and out of rooms, shouting about their Marks hurting, shouting about battle. Saying, "finally".

Draco stops in the doorway of the drawing room, his body stiff. I lean into him. "We'll be fine," I say in his ear. Even the smell of him is comforting; soft, familiar. I think of my mother; of how upset she was when I disappeared for a week; how broken she was when my father died that I thought she might never be fixed. She'd be furious if she knew what I was doing right now. "We're going to be just fine."

As we edge forward, I don't feel just fine. Every person here is dressed entirely in black, and most have their Death Eater masks on already. This is the enemy. I am standing in a room full of people I'm soon going to be fighting against, and they don't even know it. If they did...

Draco grips my hand. I can feel his tremble; can see the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. This is it.

I turn his face to mine, smiling firmly. Have hope, Draco. We'll be fine.

"Remember the cottage," I say, softly enough so only he can hear. "An entire beach all to ourselves, wooden floors and soft blankets. No one is ever going to tell us what to do again."

He holds my gaze, but his expression is only a reflection of what I am feeling: terror, panic, uncertainty... Blonde hair hangs in his nervous eyes; the soft skin of his face is pale with anxiety. He looks... Young. That's what it is, I think wildly, as a shout sounds from another room and my heart begins to thud in my chest. We are too young.

"It's time!" I hear Bellatrix yell, her voice clearer now, echoing through the house. "Go! Disapparate! It is time!"

Sharp cracks ring loudly around us as people twist, disappearing into spirals of black cloak, and Draco is still looking at me;

"Draco, go!"

His mother, maybe his aunt. I can't tell. He is tucking a strand of hair behind my ears, and I am desperately trying to tell him we will be okay-

"I love you," he says. "These people - they don't matter. None of this matters. But I love you, and-"

"Draco!"

Before I can answer, before I can say I love him too, I love him more; we are twisting, his hand is entwined so tightly in mine that it feels like a part of me, and we are Disapparating.