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—TWs; graphic depictions of dead bodies

  "WE'VE BECOME A dying breed, you know." Seamus chucked back the rest of his drink with a grimace, slamming the glass back down upon his desk. "Aint many of us left now."

Draco sighed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "Don't remind me."

Seven chewed her cheek, unable to help but feel left out. She watched as Seamus refilled both his and Draco's glasses with honeysuckle rum and then hesitated, looking up at her through watery blue eyes. She shifted in her seat; uncomfortable beneath the weight of his gaze.

"Want one?"

"No — thank you." She replied dryly.

"Suit yourself." He said strangly, raising an eyebrow at her and then adding with a wry smile, as if testing her reaction. "Still... At least you have each other, not many from Hogwarts can still say that."

It took a moment for his words to settle within Seven, but when they did her face sharpened, "What?"

Draco did not react, instead acting as if the bearded man had not said anything at all. He was doing exactly what he always did — shutting her down as if she were little more than a child. One too young and naive to be worth informing. There was only so much Seven could take, and every time her fuse became shorter and shorter. Eventually she would explode.

She planned on confronting him the next time they were alone. He was hiding something from her, she was certain of it, she just needed to find out what exactly...

Seamus continued, "Even Weasley and Granger couldn't make it through unscathed."
When he frowned his scars contorted, bending and wrinkling amidst one another like some sort of macabre art. Slashes and claw-marks intertwining like vines. His chest heaved with a weighty sigh, "And I'll never forgive them for what they did to his little sister..."

" — Ginny." Draco said gruffly, dragging a callused palm down his face; he looked tormented. "Her name was Ginny."

Seven wondered if he had seen what she had — if the echo of it tortured him the same way it did her.

In an instant a memory flashed through Seven's mind. Entirely unwelcome and entirely unwanted. This was not a memory cast away by magic, this was a memory repressed for the sake of her own sanity; the image of the boy who lived and the girl who had loved him, chained by their throats to the Crawler's chariot. Skin flayed open, eyes cold, bodies more blood than bone. The thought alone made her want to vomit, the bitter taste rising in the back of her throat.

But beneath that image, somewhere buried deep within her there was a flicker of something more. Something impossibly darker, colder, something that cut through the darkness of their demise with a far more sinister chill.

It was only a still frame at first, a single moment forever frozen in time. Frayed and blurred by the magic that had stolen it in the first place, yet still, through the haze she could just about make it out. It began to play out, the image beginning to move, but slowly, jerkily, like a broken record.

Harry Potter was dead. His body torn apart and thrown to the stone before every single person he'd ever loved. Ginny Weasley was running forth in a flurry of scarlet hair and crimson curses, only to be struck down bloody. She collapsed to her knees; broken. In some far off way Seven could still hear her scream echoing.

The Dark Lord towered down upon them, his sick face alight with glee.

Seven had been scared; terrified. Yet somehow found some semblance of reassurance in a familiar touch. — In the warm hand that clutched her own, and the body stood sturdy beside her.

She was not alone.

Her entire being scorched with the memory, and her head felt as if it would burst with the pressure of the spell trying to subdue it and shut her out. The entire scene was horrid, but she told herself that if she could just find out who stood beside her then it might all be worth it. They could be the key to getting her memories back.

She'd never made it this far into her own mind before, despite two years of trying.

But the moment she lifted her head to see — the moment she broke her eyes from the body the memory closed, and she was torn back into the present with a gasp.

Seven wanted to scream, she wanted to cry. She had been so close and yet so far, and now she was all too aware of the two men's eyes on her.

"What the hell was that?"

"Leave it Seamus." Draco growled, his eyes pinned on the girl; head in her hands as she fought back tears. It took everything he had not to go to her.

Everything sounded far off to Seven, as if the world around her had been submerged beneath water. And through the haze of white noise and bitter thoughts she just about made out the sound of a chair squealing in protest as Seamus stood up, demanding. " — No, what was that!"

A cruel hand found her arm, squeezing almost painfully as she was pulled upwards. "Get up, we're leaving."

Seamus tried to follow, but his moments were sloppy and weighed down by liquor. "Is she? — tell me you didn't!"

"Seven, please." The world span around her, and she was unable to free herself from the chains that bound her from consciousness. Even if she could, Seven didn't want to surface. This place was calm, this place was safe. If she didn't think, she didn't have to feel.

"Draco — what did you do!"

She became aware of her feet moving beneath her in a dream like state, and the door flew open, causing all heads in the bar to turn towards them.

"Get back here you fucking coward!"

  At the bar several men came to their feet, one of them reaching out with a bruise-knuckled fist as he grabbed Seven.

  She snapped awake at his touch, as if torn from her dream. In an instant she pulled free her wand, aiming it up and towards the man's throat, but only a second later his head flew back and his hands came free when Draco's fist met his face with a sickening crack.

  And then everyone was still, except for the man on the floor who clutched at his nose, trying to stem the bleeding from that and the split lip.

  Nobody wanted to be the first to move — the first to strike the spark that would no doubt cause an explosion. Seven's grip on her wand did not falter this time. They were out numbered, but for some reason that didn't seem to frighten her.

  Seamus staggered forwards from the crowd, a look Seven couldn't quite decipher present on his scarred mess of features. "Just go." He spat. "Get out of here."

  "Come on." Draco grunted.

  " — Oh and Seven." Seamus cocked his head as she turned back to face him. His eye brows were drawn in as if he were hoping she'd take more from the exchange than just his words. "Remember what they say... A secret worth keeping is a secret worth seeking."

  His words took her back to their encounter with Echo as they tore from the bar and back into the open air. Except, echo had phrased it slightly different.

You said it yourself, a secret worth seeking is a secret worth keeping.