A MALFOY'S GAMBIT

Aurelia Malfoy is tired. Not the kind of tired that sleep can fix but a bone-deep weariness that has settled in her soul, draining her of everything she once was. She's lived through too much, seen too many faces disappear, and carried too many memories that feel like weights chained to her chest. Every moment of her life feels like a cruel game, one she's no longer willing to play.

There's no fight left in her, only the haunting echoes of what she's lost-Hermione's laughter, Ron's resilience, Harry's love. Each death has chipped away at her until she's nothing but a hollow shell, barely holding herself together. And now, as she walks down the aisle toward a future she never chose, toward a man who represents everything she hates, Aurelia feels the final threads of her will unravel.

To everyone watching, she's the radiant bride, tears glistening in her eyes. But they don't see the truth. They don't feel the quiet suffocation, the cracks in her façade, or the poison running through her veins. They can't hear the whispered screams in her mind or the desperate plea for release.

And when she collapses, it isn't a shock to her-it's a relief.

But death doesn't come. Instead, Aurelia wakes up gasping, disoriented and confused, in a place that feels achingly familiar yet impossibly distant. Her room. Her childhood room. Everything is pink and soft, untouched by the chaos of the life she remembers. Her hands are smaller, unmarked by the scars she had grown used to. Her skin is smooth, her body light, free from the heaviness that had consumed her for years.

But this is no dream. The gods-or perhaps fate-have given her a second chance. A chance to rewrite her story, to fight for something better.

Or maybe it's another cruel trick. Another burden to bear.

The only thing Aurelia knows for sure is that she's alive. And this time, she won't waste a second of it.