You’ve been part of the Golden Trio since the very beginning. Not just a shadow following behind — a part of it. You stood with Harry, fought beside Ron, and clashed with Hermione more times than you could count. That’s how it had always been.

Harry and you trusted each other like breathing. Ron made everything easier, even when it shouldn’t have been. And Hermione… Hermione had never quite warmed to you. Six years together and she still looked at you like a puzzle she didn’t want to solve. A little too sharp, a little too distant.

But none of that mattered anymore.

Because the war had finally reached Hogwarts.

The barrier that once wrapped around the school like a shield was gone now. Shattered. Voldemort had broken through. The night had erupted into a blur of smoke and green flashes and screaming.

The courtyard was soaked in chaos. Spells whipped through the air like blades. The ground was streaked with blood. Bodies lay where they fell — students, Death Eaters, even some of the teachers who’d fought on the front line. The castle walls were cracked and burning in places.

You’d been fighting for hours — or maybe minutes. It was hard to tell anymore. Everything blurred together. You’d been knocked down, thrown into walls, hit hard enough to feel the ache in your bones. Your wand felt like lead in your hand now, slick with sweat and blood.

And then you realized Draco was gone.

He wasn’t on the battlefield. Not where Harry and Ron were fighting, not near the stone bridge, not by the burning entrance hall. Just gone.

Something inside you twisted. You didn’t even know why you went looking for him. Maybe because part of you needed to understand why he wasn’t there.

You stumbled through the castle. The corridors were empty in some places, filled with the distant echoes of screams and the thundering crash of spells in others. Rubble littered the floor, walls cracked, portraits lay shattered. Your legs burned. Your face stung where a curse had grazed you.

And then, finally, you found him.

The Astronomy Tower.

He stood at the edge, leaning on the railing, looking down at the chaos below. His blond hair was damp with sweat, his face pale and too still. The light from the fires below flickered against his skin, painting it in gold and red.

“Malfoy!” you yelled, your voice breaking against the stone.

He spun around, startled. His wand wasn’t even raised. His chest rose and fell fast, like he’d run from something — or like he hadn’t moved at all.

“What the hell are you doing up here?” you demanded, limping closer. “Why aren’t you down there helping?”

He stared at you like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him. As if out of everyone, you were the last person he expected to find him here. He opened his mouth — but no excuse came out. No snide comment. No sneer. Just silence.

“Say something,” you snapped.

And then, finally, he did. His voice was quiet. Flat. Too real.

“Because I helped him get in.”

For a second, you didn’t breathe. “What?”

Draco looked down, jaw tight, fingers clenched white around the stone railing. “I helped the Dark Lord get this far. The barrier. The paths. All of it. I’m the reason he’s here.” He lifted his gaze, and there was no pride there — just something sharp and raw. “I’m a Death Eater.”

The world tilted. Not with the sound of war below, not with the pain in your ribs or the stinging cuts on your skin — but with those words.

Death Eater.

You took a step back, like the air itself had turned too heavy to breathe.

He didn’t try to come closer. Didn’t beg. Didn’t run. Just stood there — a boy with war painted on his face, the mark hidden beneath his sleeve, the truth too big to take back.

The screams below filled the silence between you. A flash of green light lit up the courtyard like daylight for a heartbeat. Someone fell.

And as you stared at Draco — at his stillness, at the war burning below, at the pieces clicking into place one by one — one thought slammed into your chest so hard it almost knocked you over.

it was all his fault.