Azkaban

The Prophecy

"I know how you feel Harry."

The boy looks at Dumbledore, playing with the sleeves of his jacket slightly. The headmaster's dark office sickened his stomach further as he recalled the events at the Ministry of Magic. "No you don't," he finally speaks. "It's my fault. Sirius and Amarea are gone because of me."

Dumbledore shakes his head slightly, "No the fault is mine. I knew it was only a matter of time before Voldemort made the connection between you. I thought by distancing myself from you, as I have done all year, that he'd be less tempted, and therefore you might be more protected." The green-eyed boy shakes his head slightly, and Dumbledore continues, "Sirius died protecting you, he died fighting for a cause he believed in. We can only hope to do the same when our time comes."

"But-"

"Amarea may be young," Dumbledore lies, "but she knew what she was getting herself into. Have you ever wondered, Harry, how she knows all she does. How she teaches at Hogwarts while students her age listen? Amarea is an exceptionally bright and intelligent girl, and I know she doesn't regret a single thing. She's strong, Harry; she can take care of herself."

Harry clenches his fists, "Well, she shouldn't have to." He takes in a shaky breath, meeting the headmaster's eyes as they switch back to the pressing topic, "The prophecy said, neither one could live while the other one survives. It means that one of us is going to have to kill the other, in the end."

A silence fills the room as the older man thinks over Harry's words. "Yes," he responds.

---

It was an exceptionally cold day at Malfoy Manor.

Snow fell gently from the sky, casting a fresh coat onto the already-frozen ground. Amarea would have done anything to be inside by the fireplace. Instead, she was babysitting. That's what she called it, anyway. Loud footsteps behind her cause a small smile to grace her face, though it quickly disappears as the wind stings her already-red cheeks. "I'm not deaf," she calls out.

A groan fills the air and seconds later a body falls beside her. "How do you hear me every single time?"

"Draco, it's snowy. You're going to make noise on snow," she replies, raising her eyebrows at the boy. He was laid on his back, eyes looking up into the snow-filled tree. His arms bent at the elbow, gloved hands raising two thermos in the air. "You know, if you wanted to be quiet, you could...I don't know...use magic?"

The blonde-haired boy looks at her with narrowed eyes, "Yeah, yeah, Ms. I Can Use Magic Outside Of School." He hands over the thermos, sniffling slightly.

Amarea gratefully takes his gift, opening the lid. She inhales slowly, the smell of hot chocolate drifting towards her. "Well maybe if you were graduated like me, you would be able to use magic."

"Oh, yeah? Well we can't be all-powerful like you, can we?" Draco watches her smile drop the slightest bit, only being able to catch the action because of the amount of time they had been spending together. Leaning up, he pushes his elbow into the snow further to support his weight. "It's not your fault you know. There was nothing you could have done." His gray eyes seem to stare into her, and she breaks eye contact quickly.

"I could have killed Tom." The boy's eyes widen and he looks around quickly, taking in their surroundings. "Don't worry," Amarea assures him, "You don't think I'm stupid enough to not cast a barrier spell, do you?"

"Pshh," Draco replies, waving her question away, "Definitely not. I was just looking for birds."

Amarea hums, "Sure you were."

They meet each other's eyes again, and a look of worry crosses Draco's face. "So, the prophecy?"

The witch sniffs, her heavy coat moving as she readjusts her shoulders. "I already told you it's not true." Draco gestures his head towards the tree he had started to lean on, and she moves over to sit beside him. "Harry has to die, yes, but it's not as simple as that. Tom can't just be taken down so easily, you'd have to be utterly insane to think that. He hasn't just been doing nothing, sitting around on his ass all year. He's been planning."

"So, how do we kill him?"

She smiles slightly, turning her head to the right to look at him. "Why, are you thinking about finally becoming a double agent?"

He tilts his head down to meet her eyes. "I don't know, that seems like a lot of work." Amarea hits him with her shoulder and Draco smiles, "You know I would, I hate what he's done to my family, and you. I just don't think it's the best idea. It's risky."

The girl hums, leaning her head on his shoulder and taking another sip of her hot chocolate. "Draco, I know you want to protect the people you love, I understand. I would want to do the same thing for my family."

A rough gasp makes her head shoot up, head turning toward Draco in concern. "You don't love me," Draco asks, trying desperately to produce tears.

She clenches her jaw, punching his arm, "Don't gasp like that idiot. You'll make me die of a heart attack one day, thinking something is wrong." The boy laughs slightly. "And no, you're much too ugly to think about like that."

Draco gasps again, "What?"

Amarea lets out a laugh as she's pushed into the snow, her thermos rolling out of her hand and spilling onto the ground. She looks at the blond through half-closed eyes, watching a smile quickly appear on his face. "I can't believe you," she says, shaking her head, grabbing the thermos, and putting the lid back on it. "You spilled like everything in here. What am I supposed to drink now?"

"Me," Draco shouts? "You're the reason it got spilled!"

"Was not. You pushed me," Amarea retorts.

"Yeah, well maybe I wouldn't have pushed you if you'd admit that I'm exactly your type."

"First of all, you're not my type. Second of all, maybe I wouldn't have called you ugly if you weren't an arrogant, prideful, rich, prick."

"Well maybe..." Draco pauses for a second and Amarea hums, encouraging him to go on with a small smile. Furrowing his brow, the boy continues, mind blank of a comeback, "I'm exactly your type."

"Oh yeah," Amarea asks. "What's my type then, Sherlock?"

Draco hands her his thermos, leaning back on the tree and crossing his arms. "Tall, blonde, perfect, rich, smart, beautiful, handsome, funny..."

Amarea waves her hand slightly, stifling a laugh when a bucketful of snow lands on Draco's head. "Snow-covered," she asks?

The blonde pauses for a moment before brushing the snow off of him, mouth open in shock. "You absolute...," he trails off, digging his hands into the snow to form a ball. Amarea tries to get away quickly, but he grabs the small witch, pulling her towards him. She shouts in protest as he continues to pull her, pushing her head down into his lap.

"Draco-"

The boy laughs as he smears snow all over her face, cutting her off. "Yeah," he asks sweetly, finally relenting in his torture. The sorceress doesn't speak, continuing to lay there with narrowed eyes. Another small laugh manages to escape him as he raises his gloved hands, gently swiping the leftover snow off of her face. "Love me now?"

"Draco Malfoy," she speaks, eyes glowing a bright gold. "You're going to wish we never met."