"See not the face, but only the eyes of the poker face." –Toba Beta

*

     Until now, Draco has never truly seen Darcy duel, but now that he has, he can see why people can be afraid to approach her. She's absolutely ruthless, casting the harsher (but not illegal) spells against opponents instead of a simple stupefy or expelliarmus. She shoots out impedimenta or incarcerous for more efficiency.

     They only have to fight their way downstairs before Voldemort's cold voice sounds over the grounds, warning everyone that they have one hour to deliver Harry Potter to him in the Forbidden Forest before everyone is slaughtered. Death Eaters are ordered to retreat. Draco takes that as an invitation to talk with Darcy. He hasn't seen her since that night in his room.

     "Where have you been hiding?" he asks.

     "There's a little motel in Scotland I found," she says, skipping rocks into the Black Lake. Draco thought this would be a safe place to talk, away from the madness that's still occurring at the castle despite the retreat order. "It's cute and off the grid. It's done just fine."

     Draco watches her skip the rocks and thinks of another question. His father told him he can't perform a Patronus charm—can Darcy? He doubts it, but it's worth an ask.

     "Well," she starts to reply, "I haven't tried since I first learned the spell, way back after I'd only been to Azkaban once or twice. Back then, I could do it."

     "What form did it take?"

     Darcy smirks at him. "Take a guess."

     Draco racks his brain, thinking it must be obvious since she won't tell him. After a few minutes, he has nothing. "Give me a hint."

     "They're big, often found in Romania, the personification of anger," she pauses to kiss his cheek, "and your name is the Latin of it."

     Draco grins, feeling a slight chuckle escape. "Dragon. I should've known."

     "But ever since those few times, I haven't tried," she continues. "I'm gonna try now." Draco moves behind her to give her some room. After a moment of concentration, she mutters the incantation. "Expecto Patronum." Silver comes out of her wand, slowly at first, but then with more vigor. It transforms into a huge dragon with flapping wings before disappearing above the lake.

     "You did it!" Draco exclaims, ecstatic that Azkaban hadn't squeezed all the happiness out of her.

     Darcy herself is grinning. Upon closer inspection, it appears that her eyes have tears in them. "Do you know what this means? Azkaban didn't destroy me. I'm whole; I'm capable of happiness."

     Draco wraps an arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple. "You deserve to be."

     "You try," she says, gazing up at him eagerly. "I know you said you couldn't, but you should give it a go."

     Draco looks across the lake, feeling uncertain. "I guess I could try. But I don't think it'll work."

     "Just think of the happiest you've ever been."

     "What did you think of?"

     Darcy averts her gaze. "A normal life. With you."

     Draco takes out his mother's wand, still unhappy with how it sits in his hand. "This might be even harder given that this isn't my wand. But we'll see." Draco closes his eyes and thinks about all the happy memories he can. Most of them involve Darcy. "Expecto Patronum."

     Nothing happens. Draco frowns, as does Darcy.

     "It's just because of the wand," she assure him. "We'll get your wand back and try again. I know you can do it."

     "You said you're most dangerous when you're angry?" Draco questions, thinking of what she said about dragons and anger and something she said a long time ago.

     "I don't think I ever said that, but you're probably right. Why?"

     "Because I am, too." Draco thinks back to the time he saw Darcy out of the Room of Requirement without his permission. He'd been so angry, he almost hexed her. But he held it in and cooled off because he knew it wouldn't be worth it, that he'd regret it. He wonders why anger is such a driving emotion. Perhaps because anger brings out the worst in people, and the bolt of energy it delivers is a release. He supposes if he was full of more hope and less anger, he'd be able to cast the Patronus Charm.

     "We'd better get back up to the castle. I think it's been an hour."

*

     When the two arrive in the courtyard, fighting has resumed, but Voldemort and Harry are nowhere to be seen. Draco wonders if Harry sacrificed himself like the brave bastard would and whether Voldemort will win now that Harry is dead.

     Draco spots Death Eaters gaining on Order members inside the castle and runs inside to help. He recognizes Dolohov, one he's always hated, and stupefies him while he has the chance. Some of the Order members seem surprised but say nothing, as there's no time to. He casts a shielding spell over himself and the others as they continue to fight the remaining Death Eaters.

     At a moment of tension, he sees Darcy fly up the stairs, taking them two at a time, seemingly chasing someone. Draco, assured that the Order members can take on two Death Eaters, runs after her. He finds her on one of the side balconies. She's fighting MacNair, who by the looks of it gave her a nasty cut across her chest. Draco joins in, helping her the best he can.

     "Stupefy!" Draco's spell hits him right in the chest, and MacNair goes flying back and into a pile of rubble, unconscious.

     "Nice," Darcy says, then freezes, her smile fading. Scabior has made an appearance, turning the corner with his wand pointed at both of them.

     "You two are like the dynamic duo," he says lightly. "You both use hooks when you punch."

     Draco grips Darcy's wrist and mutters, "Now might be a great time to get angry."

     "Way ahead of you. Stay out of this." Darcy starts throwing spell after spell Scabior's way, not even pausing in between, just jet after jet of light until Scabior has trouble keeping up. Scabior gets a few hits in, too, but Draco holds his ground like she told him to, not joining in. This is her fight.

     Soon enough, Darcy is close enough to Scabior to grip his throat and hold her wand there. Scabior's wand has been shot off the ledge, long forgotten.

     "Going to kill me?" he taunts her. "I thought you liked what I gave you."

     "I am going to kill you," Darcy snarls, "but not mercifully. You're going to feel every minute of it." She steps back, allowing him to stand straight and hold his arms out as if he's going to reason his way out of this. He can only manage one word.

     "Darling—"

     "Diffindo." 

     Draco looks away.

*

     Darcy finds Draco in the courtyard after Scabior's breath stops. Something is happening—everyone is circled around two people. It's Voldemort and Harry; everything freezes as they both scramble to stand, and when two jets of light burst out of their wands, Darcy holds her breath and feels Draco's grip tighten on her hand.

     It's the moment of truth.