𝐇𝐄𝐑 | 𝐃.𝐌

084

25th, December 1997

Draco's pov

Zelia has been gone for over a month now. I have no idea where she is. All I know is that she may be with Potter and the others. To say I'm worried is an understatement. I have spent many nights drinking my self to sleep, I don't think I have been sober for a long time.

It's Christmas day and all I can think about is this time last year when I spent Christmas with Zelia. I remember I was happy. Now I'm not even sure what I am. I don't feel anything when she's not around.

I went back to the Malfoy Manor for Christmas. If I had a choice I would have stayed at fucking Hogwarts. But nope. I have been forced to come back and help and attend important death eater meetings. I have been informed about a few of the attempts Potter has made with destroying Horcruxes and what not. Bit there hasn't been anything about Zelia. Not even any mention of someone else being with them. It's killing me not to know where she is or what she is doing. Whether she is safe or hurt, or even alive. Fuck.

Zelia's pov

Ron and I have been running for many weeks, I'm not sure for how long, I have no idea what day it is or what time. I'm hungry, thirsty and so fucking tired. Ron and I have been trying to get back to Hermionie and Harry. But impossible to find out where they are, they could be anywhere. We have been trying every possible way. Following up on news, but it's almost impossible. Nothing useful in coming up.

We come across a small village, snow on the rooftops and the paths. Small cottages and several pedestrians wandering around. One of the first things I notice as we walk in the Christmas lights. A sense of emptiness comes over me. It's Christmas time and I'm on the run, trying to destroy a family heirloom.

"Do you think it's Christmas?" Ron asks me.

"I'm not sure" I respond "it's definitely close"

"How about here?" Ron asks me "it's probably warm in here"

We walking into a small pub. As we walk in there are more people in there, they look as though they are celebrating something. Eating roast dinners with Christmas crackers and paper hats on their heads.

"Merry Christmas" they cheer.

Ron looks back at me.

"Merry Christmas," he says with a small hint of sadness in his tone.

"Merry Christmas, Ron" I smile.

We sat in a corner of the pub, keeping an eye open and aware of our surrounding but also while trying to keep our head down. Every person that walks in and out we look. Every time the bell rings on the door our head lookup. Making sure no snatchers or death eaters walk in.

We seat for a while, we share a meal with the little remaining money that Ron and I have left.

Suddenly a whisper, a faint whisper of a girl.

"Ron," the voice says.

He looks at me confused "did you hear that?"

"Yes..." I reply.

And the voice is heard again.

And again.