Chapter Text
“Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?” her whisper is barely audible even with her lips barely an inch from his ear. Her hair is over his face so the onlookers won’t be able to see him reply.
“It’s — too — dangerous — !” Ron yells, but Harry turns back, he has to try. His glasses give his eyes some small protection from the smoke, as he rakes the firestorm below, seeking a sign of life, a limb or a face that was not yet charred like wood…
And he sees them: Malfoy with his arms around the unconscious Goyle, the pair of them perched on a fragile tower of charred desks, and Harry dives. Malfoy sees him coming and raises one arm, but even as Harry grasps it he knows that it’s no good: Goyle is just too heavy and Malfoy’s hand, covered in sweat, slides instantly out of Harry’s —
“HARRY COME ON!” yells Ron, and Harry blinks the smoke out of his eyes furiously, trying to figure out what he can do, reaching again for Malfoy’s hand.
And then the tower of desks collapses, one moment the hand in his pulls, nearly pulling him off his broom, Malfoy’s eyes wide in terror, staring at him, pleading, and his hand slips from Harry’s.
Harry watches as Malfoy falls screaming into the inferno below, watches a fiery Chimaera swoop down into the spot where Malfoy and Goyle vanished. Harry watches a moment longer, then turns around.
“Is Draco alive?” she whispers, and Harry Potter breathes back, “Yes.”