Draco had been watching Eleanor read a book, admiring how serene she looked, lost in a world far from the nightmare they were living. The peace was shattered when Narcissa entered the room, her smile strained and her eyes giving away the tension she tried to hide.

"There you are," Narcissa said, her voice tight. "Bellatrix has requested the both of you, immediately."

Draco frowned, confusion darkening his features. "What for?" he asked, his voice edged with worry. But Eleanor didn't ask questions anymore; she already knew that in this place, choices were an illusion. Without a word, she closed her book and rose from the chair.

Narcissa's lips pressed into a thin line as Eleanor met her by the door. Draco followed, sighing as he took Eleanor's hand in his. The connection between them, that silent understanding, was the only thing holding him together.

When they reached the foyer, nothing could have prepared them for what they saw.

Ron. Harry. Hermione. Bound, beaten, and bloodied. The sight hit Eleanor like a punch to the chest. Ron, her brother, looked up, his face swollen and bruised—but unmistakable. She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry, as shame clawed its way up her throat.

Bellatrix's shrill voice sliced through the silence, snapping both Eleanor and Draco out of their shock. "Ah, Draco, Eleanor," she sang, her lips curling into a sadistic smile. "Come here, darlings."

Draco tensed beside Eleanor, but she let go of his hand, her fingers slipping away like a ghost. Guilt burned her from the inside as her brother's wide, horrified eyes bore into her. She looked nothing like the Eleanor they once knew. The dark circles under her eyes, her hollow cheeks, and her skeletal frame told the story of someone who hadn't been eating or sleeping—someone barely surviving.

Bellatrix smirked, relishing the tension in the room. "Our friends here claim they've got Harry Potter," she drawled, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Seeing as he's an old school chum of yours, I thought one of you might confirm it for us."

Eleanor kept her face emotionless, staring at Harry, willing herself not to react. She knew it was him. Of course she did. But she would rather die than reveal anything to these monsters.

Draco's voice broke the silence. "I can't... I can't be sure," he muttered, his uncertainty masking his true feelings. He knew it was Harry, but he wasn't about to give him up. He could no longer envision a future under Voldemort's rule, and betraying Harry would cement that grim fate.

Lucius staggered forward, his wine glass trembling in his grip. "Look closer, Draco, Eleanor," he urged, desperation seeping into his voice. "If we're the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiven."

"Now, we won't forget who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?" Scabior sneered from the shadows.

"Of course not," Bellatrix replied, dismissive. "Narcissa, tend to your husband."

Lucius stumbled back toward Narcissa, but all eyes remained fixed on Draco and Eleanor.

Bellatrix pushed them closer to Harry. "Don't be shy, sweetheart. Get up nice and close," she whispered venomously.

Eleanor's eyes shifted to Ron. His expression was unreadable, but the hurt was clear in his gaze. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest, her throat tightening as she realized how far from her brother she had fallen.

But before either of them could react, chaos erupted.

Hermione had found the sword of Gryffindor, sending Bellatrix into a spiral of rage, convinced it had been stolen from her vault at Gringotts.

"Wormtail, put these two in the cellar," Bellatrix ordered, her eyes narrowing with wicked intent as they landed on Hermione. "I want to have a little chat with this one. Girl to girl."

Harry and Ron were dragged away, and as Bellatrix turned her attention to Hermione, Eleanor saw her chance. While everyone else was focused on the interrogation, Eleanor slipped away, her heart pounding in her chest.

Down in the cellar, she found Wormtail guarding the entrance. Without hesitation, she muttered a sleeping jinx, watching as the traitor crumpled to the floor. The heavy door creaked open, and all eyes turned toward her as she stepped inside.

"Ron," she whispered, her voice cracking as tears filled her eyes. She rushed toward her brother, but he recoiled from her touch.

"Murderer!" Ron spat, his voice like a dagger plunging into her chest. Eleanor froze, his accusation piercing her like a blade. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked at him, her heart breaking into a million pieces.

"Ron, we went over this," Harry interjected softly, trying to calm him.

"I didn't have a choice, Ron," Eleanor pleaded, her voice shaking with desperation. "It was Dumbledore or me. Call me selfish, but Dumbledore was over a hundred years old. I'm still a teenager. Don't you think I deserve to live too?"

"There could have been another way," Ron said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Would you have risked it?" she shot back, her eyes locking onto his. "If it was your life on the line? Be honest with yourself."

Ron didn't answer. His silence spoke volumes. Slowly, he stepped toward her this time, and when she moved closer, he didn't flinch. Instead, he pulled her into a tight embrace, his tears mingling with hers.

"I didn't know if you were alive," Ron cried, his voice thick with emotion.

"I've been playing along," Eleanor sobbed into his shoulder. "It's the only thing that's kept me alive."

"Playing along?" Harry asked cautiously.

Eleanor stepped back and pulled up her sleeve, revealing the mark etched into her skin. "They branded me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "He said if I didn't comply, he'd kill everyone I loved. I had no choice."

Harry and Ron both stared at the jagged scars on her wrist—the self-inflicted marks where she had tried to claw the Dark Mark from her flesh.

"It's okay," Ron sniffed, pulling her back into his arms. "We'll figure this out. You're safe now."

"I can't stay here any longer," Eleanor said, looking over Ron's shoulder to Harry. "Please, let me come with you."

Ron glanced at Harry, his eyes pleading. Harry hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Of course," he said, his voice firm. "We're not leaving you behind."

"Thank you," she whispered, hugging Harry tightly. "Let's go get Hermione and get the hell out of here."

They sprinted up the stairs, but just as Eleanor reached the top, a hand seized her wrist. She turned to find Draco staring at her, his eyes wide with panic.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice cracking. "You're going to get yourself killed."

"I'm going with them," Eleanor replied, her voice breaking as she fought back the tears.

"No," Draco whispered, shaking his head. "I can't protect you if you leave."

Eleanor cupped his face in her hands, her fingers trembling. "I'm not safe here either, Draco. You know that. Please... let me go. Let me fight for something bigger than this. For us."

Draco's tears spilled down his cheeks as he struggled with the decision, but deep down, he knew he couldn't hold her back.

"Okay," he choked out, his voice breaking.

Eleanor pressed her lips to his in a passionate, desperate kiss. "We'll meet again," she whispered against his lips. "And when we do, we'll be free. We'll be happy."

Draco nodded, barely holding it together. "I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered, pulling away.

Draco stood frozen for a moment, wondering if that was the last time he would ever hear her say those words.

Draco and Eleanor slipped back into the drawing room just in time, their hearts pounding as the chaos continued to unfold around them. They had only been gone for minutes, but it felt like hours. The wands that Harry and Ron had lay on the ground by Draco's feet.

"Pick them up, Draco," Bellatrix ordered, her voice dripping with venom. Draco hesitated, his eyes flickering toward Eleanor, uncertainty flashing in his gaze.

"Now!" Bellatrix shrieked, her voice cutting through the tension like a whip. Eleanor, quicker than Draco, bent down and snatched the wands off the ground, her movements swift and calculated.

Bellatrix's lips curled into a maniacal grin, her eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Well, look what we have here," she purred, her knife tracing the delicate curve of Hermione's neck. "Harry Potter. All bright, shiny, and new again. Just in time for the Dark Lord."

Eleanor's stomach twisted in knots as she watched the scene unfold, Fear gripped her heart. This could be it. The end.

"Call him, Draco," Bellatrix demanded, pressing the blade deeper into Hermione's throat. A thin line of blood beaded against the steel, Hermione's whimper barely audible.

Draco froze, caught between loyalty and love. His eyes darted to Eleanor, silently begging for her to do something. Anything.

Lucius, however, was quicker. Without hesitation, he yanked up his sleeve, his finger hovering over the Dark Mark etched into his arm. He pressed it, and instantly Harry grimaced, feeling the invisible ripple of Voldemort's call through his scar.

Bellatrix cackled, her laughter echoing off the walls as Hermione's blood dripped onto the blade. The room seemed to tremble with the weight of Voldemort's impending arrival.

But then, a sound broke through the chaos. A low, grinding noise. Eleanor looked up just in time to see the chandelier overhead begin to tremble, its massive frame shaking violently.

The chandelier broke free from its moorings, crashing down from the ceiling with a deafening roar. Shards of glass exploded into the room, razor-sharp slivers spraying in all directions. Eleanor reacted instinctively, shielding her face with her arms as she bolted toward Harry and Ron, handing each of them a wand.

"Stupefy!" Harry shouted, his wand aimed directly at Lucius. The spell hit him square in the chest, sending him flying across the room before crumpling in a heap on the floor.

Bellatrix's eyes went wild with fury as she whipped around to face the source of the destruction. "You dirty little monkey!" she screeched at Dobby, the house elf standing defiantly in the corner. "You could have killed me!"

"Dobby meant only to maim or seriously injure, not kill," the elf replied, his voice calm and unbothered despite the danger around him.

Eleanor couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. For the first time in months, she felt the faint flicker of hope, the weight on her chest lifting just a fraction.

Harry grabbed Hermione's bag from the floor, his movements hurried as he glanced toward Ron and Eleanor. Ron, not wasting a second, reached out and grabbed his sister's wrist, pulling her close. Eleanor stood there, her heart racing, her body trembling with adrenaline, but her eyes were locked on Draco.

Bellatrix's shrill voice cut through the air again, her rage now directed fully at Eleanor. "I knew it! I knew you were nothing but a cowardly little rat!" she snarled, her face twisting into a mask of hatred. But Eleanor didn't flinch. For the first time, she felt nothing but defiance.

"Give the Dark Lord our regards," Eleanor spat back, her voice cold, but with a satisfaction that sent a ripple of power through her.

Before Bellatrix could respond, Harry's hand closed around Dobby's, and the world around them began to spin. The room blurred, Bellatrix's furious face distorting as the magic of the house-elf's Apparition took hold.

But in the final moment, just before they vanished, Eleanor's eyes snapped back to Draco. His face was the last thing she saw—the storm of emotions swirling in his silver eyes. He wanted her to be free, wanted her to escape the hell that had swallowed them both. But there was fear there too. Fear that he would never see her again.

Eleanor gave him one last look, a silent promise hanging between them. They would meet again. They had to.

And then, with a crack, she was gone.