The castle was falling apart around you.

Stone burst from the walls, screams echoed through the corridors, and the sky outside burned red with spell-fire. You ran through the ruined hallway, heart in your throat, searching for cover—until a figure landed in front of you.

A Death Eater.

Your wand snapped up immediately—until your breath caught.

The mask tilted slightly. And through the eye slits… you saw his eyes.

Grey. Shaking. Familiar.

“Draco…” you whispered.

His shoulders stiffened.

Slowly, almost painfully, he lifted his wand and aimed it at your chest. His hand was trembling so badly you could see it even in the low light.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said. His voice was distorted by the mask, but you heard him underneath it. The boy who had once sat beside you in the Great Hall. The boy who had once kissed your knuckles in secret corridors.

“You were tasked with killing Dumbledore,” you said softly. “And now they send you to kill me instead?”

His breath hitched.

“They marked me,” he forced out. “After my father failed. This is my punishment. My proof of loyalty.”

Your chest tightened painfully. “So they’re using me to control you.”

Silence.

Then, barely audible: “You’re the only thing they could threaten me with.”