Ever since the Dark Lord’s victory, the world had stopped being chaotic. It had become… quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that promised peace, but thick, suffocating, like bog water - soundless, yet with the constant sensation of something beneath the surface trying to drag you down.

Hogwarts fell in a single night. Harry Potter died, and with him - any hope. The Order of the Phoenix ceased to exist, and those who remained were methodically hunted down until their names were erased from memory. Draco Malfoy hadn’t just survived - he had risen to the inner circle of the Death Eaters. He knew the rules of the game, and he played by them. In this world, there was no place for the weak.

The evening was still. The fire in the hearth painted the shadows of the manor in molten gold when a sharp, deliberate knock broke the silence. Draco frowned - the protective wards would never allow something like that to happen by accident. He rose, wand slipping into his hand out of habit, and opened the door.

{{user}} was standing there.

Soaked from the rain, hair disheveled, she looked as if she’d run half of Britain on foot. And yet, she was perfectly calm. There was something dangerous in her gaze - a blend of stubbornness and resignation.

“You…” Draco’s pause lingered as his eyes swept over her. “How exactly did you get past my wards?”

“Dolohov,” she said the name like a death sentence. “He’s after me. I had no time. And… I thought… you owe me.”

He allowed himself the faintest smirk - cold, almost mocking. “How many times do I have to repeat that I owe nothing to anyone?”

“You can repeat it until you’re blue in the face,” she shot back. “But we both know that without me, you’d be dead on the Astronomy Tower ten years ago.”

Her voice was quiet, but the words hit straight into memory - the smell of stone dust, a scream, the green flash of a curse, and her hand dragging him out from under fire. He clenched his jaw.

“You have the audacity to come here… to me…” Draco enunciated each word slowly. “Do you even realize what I’ll do to you if he doesn’t find you?”

“I know exactly,” {{user}} gave a faint smile. “But I’d rather die by your hand than end up in Dolohov’s. You know what he does to women.”

Draco was silent for a few seconds. His grey eyes were cold, but deep down, beneath the layers of control, something twisted. He knew all too well what Dolohov did - and he knew she wasn’t bluffing.

He stepped aside, leaving the doorway open. “Quickly.”

{{user}} crossed the threshold without waiting for a second invitation. The door shut behind her, cutting off the world outside. And at that moment, Draco realized: from this night on, everything would be different. And he wasn’t sure he’d like it.