The Girl Who Disappeared

Olivia Montgomery's POV

There I am, staring up at the dark sky, my heart heavy with guilt. Every breath feels like a betrayal. My hands grip the cold stone ledge of the Astronomy Tower as I think about the consequences of my actions. Of everything that's about to happen inside these castle walls—and how I'm to blame for it. Despite Draco's countless pleas, despite the promise I made him, I've left my dorm. I've broken my word. I never do that. But I can't sleep. I can't breathe.

Hermione and Ginny tried talking to me earlier. I couldn't respond. I just kept staring out, past the mountains, trying to make sense of the chaos inside me. Then, suddenly—pop—a flash of light and wind. I turn around and Harry and Dumbledore apparate next to me. Dumbledore's barely standing.

"We need to get you to the hospital wing," Harry says quickly, helping Dumbledore sit. "Madam Pomfrey will heal you."

"Professor? Harry?" I rush beside them, panic in my voice. "W-What happened?" Dumbledore's face is pale, weaker than I've ever seen it. "Severus. Severus is who I need," he says faintly. "Go find him, both of you, quickly—and speak to no one else."

"I—I can help you, sir," I whisper, trying to hold his arm. But he shakes his head.

We're just about to leave when the door creaks open. My body freezes. Harry and I lock eyes. "Hide yourself below, both of you," Dumbledore orders. "Quickly. Do not come up, no matter what."

"Harry," I whisper, shaking my head, "We can't leave him here." But he grabs my wrist, pulling me below the platform. We stand there, breathless, frozen in the shadows.

"Good evening, Draco," Dumbledore says above us, and my heart drops into my stomach. "What brings you here on this fine spring evening?" he asks calmly.

Draco. My Draco. I hear the tension in his voice, the fear. "Who else is here? I heard you talking," he says, panic thinly veiled beneath his words. "I often talk aloud to myself," Dumbledore replies gently. "Find it... quite extraordinary."

Harry moves ahead, peeking upward. I move with him, keeping low. I see Draco standing there, wand raised, trembling. "You are no assassin," Dumbledore says softly. "I can see it in your heart."

"You don't know what I am!" Draco snaps. "I've done things that would shock you." Dumbledore remains calm. "Like cursing Katie Bell? Hoping she'd carry a cursed necklace to me? Replacing a bottle of mead with poison?"

Harry looks at me.

He's looking for a reaction—for some horror, maybe even shame—but my face is blank. My heart is not. I'm breaking, but I don't flinch.

"He trusts me. I was chosen," Draco says, rolling up his sleeve. Harry glances at me again, more disbelief in his eyes now. He sees the Mark. The truth. I say nothing. Just stare. Guilt churns inside me like poison.

"Then I shall make it easy for you," Dumbledore says, and he starts to raise his wand. Draco's faster. He disarms him. Dumbledore's wand clatters away. I hear the door again, and my fingers find my wand instinctively. Death Eaters.

"You're not alone," Dumbledore says, now weaker. "How?" Draco doesn't waver. "The Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement. It has a twin in Borgin & Burkes. I've been mending it."

"Ingenious," Dumbledore whispers. "Draco... I once knew a boy who made all the wrong choices. Please. Let me help you." Draco shakes his head, his voice cracking. "I don't want your help! Don't you understand? I have to do this. If I don't... he'll kill her!"

A cold shiver passes through me just as Bellatrix Lestrange appears, smiling darkly, placing a kiss on his shoulder like she owns him. He flinches away from her touch. "Well done, Draco," she says proudly. "Now do it. Kill him."

Draco's hand shakes. His eyes shift downward—he sees me. He sees that I'm here, and his face turns ghostly pale. I broke my promise. I wasn't supposed to be here. But I can't regret it now. He needs me.

I start to move, to go up, to stop this—when suddenly, Snape steps in front of me. He presses his finger to his lips. Silencing me. I want to scream. Harry lifts his wand toward him. I push his arm down.

I join my hands and beg—please—just help him. Don't let this end like I fear it will.

Snape walks past us, up the stairs. My heart pounds. "No," he says sharply. Draco turns to him, his eyes full of panic. Relief, too. Silence follows. He looks back at me. We're both crying.

"Severus, please," Dumbledore begs.

Why is he pleading?

Snape raises his wand.

"Avada Kedavra."

The green flash blinds me. Dumbledore is gone—his body flies off the tower.

I let out a choked gasp and Harry covers my mouth, holding me in place.

I can't move. I can't breathe. I trusted Snape. I begged him.

Draco looks at me one last time before fleeing, and all I can do is stare at the spot where Dumbledore stood. Harry runs after them. I don't stop him this time.

Instead, I run the other way—down the stairs, through the corridors, toward where Dumbledore fell. A crowd has gathered. I shove through them. "Move!" I shout, tears blinding my vision. They part silently when they see me.

I fall to my knees beside Dumbledore's still body. I lower my forehead to his and sob. One tear falls onto his skin.

"Please," I whisper. "Please wake up."

Nothing.

I try again.

Still nothing.

Hope drains out of me. I lift my head and see Harry arrive. He kneels beside me, looking at Dumbledore—then at me.

He was hoping... he was hoping I could bring him back.

I shake my head.

"No," I whisper, broken.

And that's when Harry breaks too.

The next day, we gather for Dumbledore's funeral. None of us slept last night. We stayed in Harry's dorm, curled into silence and tears. Every one of us is shattered. Hogwarts will never be the same again. Not without him.

He was harsh with me sometimes—about Rose, about Austin—but I know now, he did what he did to protect me. In his own way... he loved me.

He's buried on a small island in the middle of the Black Lake. The sky is grey, and everyone's faces are damp with tears. People take turns speaking, and when Harry steps up, I try to focus, but my eyes wander across the crowd.

And that's when I see him.

That unmistakable white-blond hair, standing out even from this distance. Draco.

He's far away, hidden in the trees, careful to stay unnoticed. My heart leaps to my throat. Every cell in my body wants to run to him—but I don't. I can't. If anyone sees him here, if anyone suspects—he's already in too much danger.

When the ceremony ends, we find ourselves back at the Astronomy Tower. I sit beside Ron, my head resting against his shoulder. I haven't spoken since last night.

"Do you think he would've done it?" Hermione's voice is soft, cautious. "Draco?" she adds, looking right at me. I drop my eyes, guilt churning in my stomach. "No," Harry answers before I can open my mouth. "He was lowering his wand. In the end... it was Snape. It was always him."

I still can't wrap my head around it. I was wrong about Snape.

Dumbledore trusted him.

He threatened Draco—said if anything happened to me, he'd kill him. Not Voldemort. Snape. And yet, I still begged him to help Draco.

And he did.

For me.

He's my godfather. And he hates Voldemort. He said so the day he told me the truth—my mother didn't just die. She was murdered. By him.

Yes, Snape was a Death Eater. Was.

Then why did he do it? Why kill Dumbledore? Why do the very thing we feared?

"Come on, Liv," Ron says gently, pulling me out of my thoughts.

We go back to our dorms and start packing. The holidays have begun, but this year, they don't feel like any kind of break.

Soon, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I will begin searching for Horcruxes. Our real journey is just starting.

Days pass. The Burrow has been repaired, and life starts again... sort of. Members of the Order are scattered about, and Hermione's staying here with us.

I sit alone in my room, turning over Mum's necklace in my fingers. It's rose quartz.

Hermione and I looked it up. It's the stone of universal love. Trust. Healing. Forgiveness.

Love. Unconditional love.

All I can think about right now is Draco.

I haven't seen him since that night. I haven't heard his voice since the hospital wing. My heart aches—physically aches—for him. How much he endured. How much pain he took on for me. The choices he made...

I set the necklace down and open my bag. A few moving photographs fall into my lap.

Pictures of us.

Blaise had taken them. In one, I'm eating while Draco pulls ridiculous faces behind my back. In the next, I've noticed him and smack his shoulder as he laughs, hands raised in surrender. In another, we're just sitting together—smiling, unaware of the future waiting to tear us apart.

I stare at the pictures, and tears finally fall.

A soft knock at the door makes me wipe them quickly. I tuck the photos away, slip the necklace back on. "Come in," I call, my voice rough. It's Fred. He sits beside me without saying a word. "How are you feeling, love?" he asks, rubbing my back.

I try. I really do. I press my lips together, forcing myself to stay calm.

But I've been strong for everyone for too long. Ginny's been terrified for Harry. Mum and Dad have Bill. Hermione and Ron have each other. Fred and George... they only have me.

And I've kept the light burning for all of them.

Until now.

Now, someone asks how I am, and I can't hold it in anymore.

I break.

I cry—loudly, messily, sobbing into Fred's chest like a child. And I don't care who hears. I don't care if the whole damn house hears. Because nothing matters more than the fact that Draco is out there—alone—in that house filled with Death Eaters.

Nothing matters more than the thought that he might be punished. That Voldemort might have already— "I don't know, Freddie," I whisper, my voice shaky as I rest my head on his shoulder.

"I don't know what to feel. I don't even know how to feel. The only thing that stays in my mind is him. My Draco. What he went through. What he might be going through now."

Fred strokes my hair in silence. Then Mum calls from downstairs, "Lunch!" I pull away, wiping my face with trembling hands. Fred cups my cheeks, looks me in the eye. "I know this much, Liv—wherever he is, he misses you more than you miss him."

I try to smile. It barely forms. But I nod, and we go downstairs.

I can't eat a bite.

"I'll be back early today, Mum," I say softly, and she nods without pressing me. I'm still working at Andy's. Dad wasn't thrilled about it—things are too dangerous—but I promised I'd be safe. And home early.

I get dressed, then apparate to the restaurant.

I don't sing today. Just the piano.

What's there to sing about, anyway?

Andy doesn't ask questions. He sees me, sees the state I'm in, and lets me be.

I pack up and head to my house to grab a few things. Most of my clothes are still here—what little I have left. The fire at the Burrow destroyed almost everything I owned. I try not to think about that night. About the screaming. About how fast everything disappeared.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and make my way downstairs. My fingers are just about to twist the doorknob when a voice behind me freezes every nerve in my body.

A voice I never wanted to hear again.

"Hello, my lovely daughter."

I swallow thickly, heart pounding so hard it almost bursts through my ribs. My fingers curl discreetly around my wand as I slowly turn to face him.

"Don't," he says sharply, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Don't even think about it."

He gestures for me to put the wand down.

My breaths come short and shallow. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to escape. I don't know what he wants or what he's going to do to me.

He steps closer, his voice sickly sweet. "I cannot stand being here." He grabs my shoulders—his nails dig in like claws. "Let's go, shall we?"

Before I can respond, before I can scream, before I can run, he apparates us.

And just like that, I disappear.

Two months.

I've been locked in this room inside Malfoy Manor for two months.

No one knows I'm here. Not Draco. Not even Narcissa. The only reason I know where I am is because I hear her shouting at the house elves downstairs. I hear voices from meetings—Death Eaters, probably. Voldemort's little fan club.

I haven't seen a single face in weeks.

This room is nothing. Just empty. No windows. No light. No furniture. No bathroom. Just me, my own body, and this freezing stone floor. I lie here, numb and hollow. I count the hours. I calculate the days. That's how I know it's been two months. That's the only thing I can do.

And he took my wand. Of course, he did. Not that it matters—I've been practicing wandless magic. I could fight. I could escape.

But if I try, he said, everyone I love dies.

That includes Draco. That includes Fred and George and Hermione and Ginny and every single person who has ever dared to care about me.

So I don't try.

Every morning begins with torture. He walks in and greets me with the Cruciatus Curse like it's a bloody handshake. For hours. For being "away" from him. For "betraying" him. For daring to live without his shadow hanging over me.

Sometimes, after, he brings food. Sometimes the house elves do. I eat only what they bring, because I don't trust him not to lace it with something vile. But even then, I eat slowly. Carefully.

He doesn't kill me. Of course he doesn't. I'm more valuable alive.

Because he knows. He knows what I am. What I can do. What I could become. He knows everything.

And he hates it.

Today, he enters without his usual sick grin. No wand raised. Just... parchment and ink in his hands.

"No cruciating today," he says smoothly, conjuring a chair and sinking into it like a king.

He hands me the parchment and quill. "You're going to write," he says. "To Draco. Tell him you ran away. Tell him you're weak. Tell him he should never have loved you. Break him."

My stomach clenches.

"Then you'll write to someone from the Weasley family. Say the same thing. Let them all know they've lost."

He stands. "Oh, and don't bother trying anything clever," he adds with a smirk. "The parchment is charmed. It'll only allow the words I want."

He leaves, locking the door behind him with a flick of his wand.

I stare down at the parchment. My hand trembles as I dip the quill in ink. I try not to cry. But it happens anyway.

I write to Fred first.

Dear Fred Weasley,

You're probably wondering where I've been these past two months. I'm sorry to tell you that I've run away.

I can't face the Dark Lord. He knows about me. There's no beating him. We already lost when we lost Dumbledore.

I won't tell you where I am—because if I do, you'll come find me. And I don't want that.

I will never return.

There's no need to look for me.

Olivia Middleton

It's the best I can do. I want to leave a clue. Something small. Something he might pick up on. But I don't dare put them at more risk. They're already in danger because of me. Still, I slip in one word. Probably. Fred'll know I never say that word unless I'm unsure. Unless I'm scared.

Now Draco.

I clutch the quill harder and my tears fall again.

To Dear Draco,

I shouldn't be writing to you. It's too risky. But you deserve to know... I won't be there when the war ends. Not even if Voldemort wins.

I've run away to the U.S. I'm a coward. I can't face him. He's too powerful. No one can stop him.

Don't come looking for me. You won't find me.

Sometimes I wish I'd never met you. That if I had the chance to do it all over again, I would've walked the other way.

Maybe we found forever at the wrong time. And maybe, if time allows... someday it'll pull us back together.

Maybe.

Olivia Montgomery

I give the letters to the house elves. Then I break. Again.

I cry for hours. I don't sleep. Not that I ever really do anymore.

I miss him. I miss me. I'm tired of the darkness, of the silence, of this feeling that I'm slowly fading into the floor. I just want to see his face. I don't even need to talk. I just want one look at Draco.

Just one.

I whisper, "Alohomora."

The lock clicks.

The door creaks open.

The hallway outside is darker than my prison. No sounds. Just the creaking of floorboards beneath my steps. I tiptoe down the corridor, every second praying I won't be caught. I see the staircase. I'm almost there.

Almost free.

But then—a hand clamps down on my shoulder.

Damn it.