TWO YEARS PRIOR,

"HARRY POTTER IS DEAD!" The cackle carried through the courtyard and he felt his heart collapse.

"No — No!" Screamed his lover, running forwards only to be struck down by a bolt of scarlet light. She fell to her knees, blood running from a wicked gash in her forehead but still alive as she was dragged back into the crowd by her friends.

"Silence!" The Dark Lord roared, and then he stopped, taking a moment to scan his snake-like eyes over the thinning crowd of rebels. They were bloodied, beaten, and now — defeated. A sickening smirk crept onto his lips at the sight of his victory. "Harry Potter is dead!"

The reaffirmation cut far deeper than the first, striking Draco down and tearing him apart from the inside out. There was no hope. His knees grew weak but he stayed strong for her — giving her hand a small squeeze as she huddled closer to his side; eyes wide and afraid.

Through his reflection in her eyes he saw a glimpse of the world as it would become, ravaged by greed and segregated by blood. Everything they'd fought for, it had all been for nothing.

The Dark Lord continued, teeth bared to the wind. "From this day forth, you put your faith in me!"

Ginny Weasley's sobs cut through the crowd. Her legs had given out, and she sat slumped in a heap on the floor in the arms of her glassy-eyed brother. Hermione Granger stood stoic and tall, though the slight tremble in her chin gave her otherwise-perfect facade away.
  She clenched her fists as the Dark Lord cried out once more, "Harry Potter is dead!"

  The Death Eaters fell about themselves in raucous laughter, " — And now is the time to declare yourself! Come forward and join us... Or die."

Draco swallowed hard; trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. Beside him his lover stilled, breath hitching in her throat as the Dark Lord's predatory gaze fell on them. He could feel his parents eyes amongst the crowed of thick black cloaks opposite them, silently pleading for him to do as he must — to join them.

He held tightly to his love, frozen and uncertain. He held her as if she were the last thing anchoring him to this earth, and in many ways she was.

"Draco." His mother pleaded, and then her face appeared from the gormless crowd alongside his father. His parents looked pale, tired, empty. Thick black bags lining his father's eyes and a red glow had found his mother's cheek where a fresh bruise was beginning to form.

His mother held out a hand. Cherry-red grazes lined her palm. " — Draco, please..."

He felt weightless, worthless. Unable to move. Unable to speak.

No one from the other side called out for his lover, not even her own father. Instead he stood there, as motionless and austere as the rest of them.

Then he looked to the Dark Lord, who eyed him expectantly but said nothing. This was a test.
  He could be great — if he accepted and stepped forwards the Dark Lord could've given him everything he'd ever wanted.

  If he were to refuse, the name his ancestors had build for themselves over hundreds of years would be mudded, his family would be dishonoured, but worst of all his parents would be punished for the insolence of their son.

  But he would've risked it all for her.

  For her he would've burned his own name from the family tree and damned those who raised him to a place beyond the grave. Yet in a strange turn of events it was the thought of losing her that propelled him to step forwards.

  They had to go. The war had already been lost, if they stayed with the losing side they would certainly be killed alongside the few remaining rebels. There was no escape.

  This was there only chance of survival. Draco didn't have a crystal ball but he didn't need to be able to see the future to tell that after this night things would change. Harry Potter was dead, Voldemort had won.

  "Mara." Draco whispered urgently. And she stared up at him through shockingly green eyes. "Come with me — we have to go." He was pleading, and uncertain of what he would do if she refused. He would drag her kicking and screaming across the border between good and evil if he could, but he knew he couldn't. The Dark Lord had to believe her faithful.

  He didn't have to elaborate, she knew what he meant. She knew what would happen after this once everyone who wanted to had stepped forwards. A slaughter, and not one he'd ever risk getting her caught up in.

  He took a step forwards and felt her hand slip from his. Draco stopped at once, turning back to see her staring at him, mouth slightly open to allow for the shaking exhale.

  She didn't speak. She didn't need to. For her face spoke all the words her heart couldn't bear to. Her lower lip quivered, and her fingers clenched by her sides, flexing with the warmth she'd now lost from his absence.

  I'm sorry, I can't. But also — I love you.

It was too late. Draco had already stepped forwards. The Dark Lord opened his arms wide, cloak torn and like some horrid raven feigning flight. "Ah, Draco."

He stared at Mara for one final time and his heart hurt. He felt sick. Like a beast was raging inside of him, taking its claws across his eyes and throat and leaving them stinging. An acrid feeling curled in the pit of his stomach, climbing to wrap around his lungs like a snake to constrict his breathing and scorching the back of his throat with the absence of air.

I'll find you. He whispered, and she mouthed back, I know.

And then he turned his back on her and walked into the Dark Lord's embrace.

After that everything had been a blur. He'd joined the Death Eater's crowd, unable to tear his eyes from the terrified girl who stood across the courtyard from him.

They had brought out the lifeless corpse of the Boy Who Lived, dragging him out by his throat, only now his eyes were hollow and his lips without breath. Draco had held back bile at the sight of the boy he'd once known.

He didn't even look human anymore. They strung him up from the rafters of the Great Hall alongside the bodies of the other rebels and forced his loved ones to kneel before him.

Weeks later, when his skin had turned grey and began to sag from the bone they cut him down, tying his noose to a chariot which then set sail on a tour throughout the districts. They dragged his rotting corpse for miles, until no flesh remained and his bones broke apart, scattering themselves at the feet of the people who'd once worshiped the Boy Who Lived.

Draco had seen it, watched it. And now, he couldn't forget it.

However on the day of the battle, once they'd brought out Harry's body chaos has erupted and many of the rebels had scattered, allowing many to escape into the Forbidden Forest — Mara being one of them.

And just like he had promised, in the weeks following he had found her. He wished he hadn't. He begged to go back, and forget her entirely.
  He cried his agony to the stars, screaming endlessly into the night and praying to turn back time.

  Maybe if he hadn't she'd still be here.

  Draco clenched his eyes tightly shut, trying to shut out that image of her face, one final time, before he'd torn them apart irreparably.

  But it didn't take long for his grief to turn to hatred, directed towards the one who'd forced his hand to commit such an unforgivable act.

  The beast who had declared it a test of Draco's loyalty to the Dark Side, for nothing should stand in the way of his dedication to their cause. Mara Williams had to die.