Understanding

Part 3

Things weren't all bad with us. Our little disputes were a distraction from our lives outside each other. And besides, I can recall several times during the war that we helped each other in ways no one else could or would.

The snatchers are not being gentle with us, not that I expected anything less. Hermione hit me with some sort of spell that has made my face feel all bubbly and fat. I can see my chins when I look down. Malfoy Manor looms in the distance. A dark air has taken hold of the place. I can't imagine anyone living here. Especially not with the death eaters guarding the door. The snatchers speak with the death eaters in a hushed tone before we are sent into the main living area. Lucius Malfoy looks pleased until he spots me, then an eyebrow raises.

"Draco?" The boy comes forward. Lucius, Bellatrix, and Narcissa, as well as other death eaters, look pleased. Draco, however, looks scared and hollow. His cheeks have sunken in and his eyes appear to just be holes in his skull. Lifeless. "Is this him?" Lucius looks like a kid in a candy store, ready to clap with glee. Draco seems disgusted. This is it. The cover is about to be blown. I can feel my heartbeat hammering against my ribs as the boy looks me in the eye. I cast my eyes to the floor defeated.

"I... I-"

"Yes, my dear boy?" Lucius urges his son.

"I can't be sure." Draco finally says and my eyes snap up to his. I know he knows it's me, but he turns away and walks back to where his mother stands. Lucius's face falls. I can't imagine what that will cost Draco. His father was hoping this would help him get closer to Voldemort. I can't fathom what Lucius will do to Draco now. It seems he fears the same thing as his long arms wrap protectively around his small body and his lip quivers. I don't know why he did that, but he has bought me some time and for that, I am forever grateful.

The next time our relationship isn't so hateful is in the room of requirements. We are fighting. All of us. Me, Hermione, Ron, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. Things have gotten out of hand as the room catches fire. Slowly, the flames wrap around the room and it licks at the books and furniture. Draco looks toward the cause of the fire and Crabbe shakes with fear. This isn't the first deadly thing he has done tonight. He has shot the killing curse at all of us and used cruciatus curse to try and cover his misses. Not that Draco and Goyle have been particularly nice, but Crabbe has taken the more aggressive stance in this battle. They all look so defeated, just like the rest of us. We take off in opposite directions trying to escape the fiendfyre. Across the room, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle are climbing the furniture to escape the burning floor. Hermione is screaming and Ron is clinging to her as they try to escape. The exit is too far away but our brooms arrive just on time. I mount mine and fly up above the flames. Smoke is filling my lungs and gagging me. The taste is awful and the pain in my chest is brutal, but I can't leave. I can't let them die. Hermione and Ron want to leave but I stop them. As I circle the fire, I spot the others climbing rapidly up the stack of furniture. Ron swoops in and takes Goyle out of the fire. I see Draco struggling to hold on and my broom drops to his level.

"Get on!" I demand and he jumps to the broom. Just as he gets off, a piece of rubble falls from the top of the stack and in an attempt to dodge it, Crabbe tries to move and his hands slip off. Draco screams after his friend and Hermione tries to go after him, but Crabbe is swallowed by the flames and I race out of the room before it comes after us next. Once we are safely away, I land and we fall to the ground. My chest rises and falls rapidly trying to calm down. 

"Crabbe?" Goyle looks over to Draco who is shaking. His robes were caught in the fire and had to be discarded. He shakes his head with guilt and Goyle tugs at his hair in grief.

"We have to go." Draco says suddenly, pulling Goyle up. Draco turns back to us one more time before taking off with Goyle. This makes us even, at least. But I would have saved him even if it didn't. I won't lose him. Not after what happened in the bathroom. The others try to question me about it but I can't get them to understand that I want to save every life possible, good and bad. Voldemort is the only exception.

I then recall when Narcissa asked me if Draco was alive, and she told the others I was dead. They carried me to where everyone stood in fear or victory. My friends stood with most of the Hogwarts population, but Draco stood with the Death Eaters. Voldemort called Draco over and hugged the shaking boy. Draco's mouth showed a grimace. I shot up from my position, shocking everyone who was told I was dead. With Draco's wand, I aim fire at Voldemort. It feels different in my palm compared to mine. This one feels stronger and more powerful, perhaps because it holds both good and evil traits from its original owner. Still, out of the corner of my eye, I see Draco approach hesitantly. He has my wand in his hand and he is offering it to me, but I have a feeling this one will be more helpful. When shots begin to fire, he steps back and Lucius looks at his son with anger and disappointment. But Draco, this time, doesn't join his father. He walks to the other Hogwarts students and professor McGonagall doesn't stop to think before welcoming the boy into her protection.

I was right about Draco's wand. It recognizes me as a second owner and helps me through the battle. Death Eater or not, Draco is good or the wand wouldn't help me, because as Olivander says "we don't choose the wand. The wand chooses us." This wand may not have been the one I took home all those years ago but this wand is as much mine as it is Draco's. And I have a feeling that my wand has taken to  Draco just as well. It almost makes me curious. Can a wand have more than one owner at a time? Especially ones that are so different. 

Thoughts of the battle make me clutch my head. I can smell the burning flesh again and the iron and sulfur in the air. I can hear the screams and crying of my classmates as they give their lives to this cause. It almost isn't worth all of the lives we lost. I can taste the smoke on my tongue and the bitter taste of dark magic from Voldemort. Soon, I'll be able to see the pile of bodies again. I'll be able to walk around it naming every one of the people in the pile as classmates. We lost so many that day. Too many. Lupin, Tonks, Fred, Lavender, Crabbe, Collin, and so many others that will never be able to be replaced. Even before the war started it had already caused casualties. Dumbledore, Snape, Sirius, Dobby, Cedric, Hedwig, and far too many others. And for what? I can feel the blood on my hands and the magic of the elder wand flitting through my fingers. It's all too much. I need a minute.