Sagitta means 'arrow' in Latin, and is the third smallest constellation in the sky. Located North of Aquila, it refers to the weapon Hercules used to kill the eagle.

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Draco had watched as Bellatrix struck Hermione again and again with the Cruciatus curse. It would have been horrid of him to say that he was used to it, that her screams didn't sound any different from the dozens that came before her, but it was the ugly truth that he had grown desensitised to the atrocities of the Manor.

Hermione now lay spread-eagled on the floor, punished for the same sin Grace Dawson had died for. Blood dripped from the word carved into her arm; a word his tongue had rolled out many times, never understanding the true weight of hurt it brought until he had met Angel.

Bellatrix was interrogating Griphook, screaming at the goblin to identify the sword's authenticity. Draco couldn't care less. All he could think about was what was to become of Angel at the end of this.

"Consider yourself lucky, goblin. The same can't be said for this one." Bellatrix had shifted her attention back to Hermione. Once the words left her mouth, two figures sprang from the shadows.

"Expelliarmus!" Ron shouted at Bellatrix, and Harry shot a stunning spell at his father.

Narcissa leapt forward, wielding her wand, but the duo defended themselves, gaining the upper hand. A jinx flew from Ron's wand, straight towards Draco, and he parried it at the last second.

They were advancing towards him and his mother now, and he had no choice but to defend himself from the spells that were being incessantly slung at them. Ron was particularly merciless, his wand occasionally emitting flashes of green. Wait, he wanted to say. It's not me, it's them.

"STOP!" Bellatrix's voice echoed his thoughts out loud. Her knife gleamed against Hermoine's throat. "Drop your wands. I SAID DROP THEM!"

They obeyed. When he dove to retrieve them, he noticed Harry's face morphing back to normal. "Well, well, well," Bellatrix sighed. "It's Harry Potter, all bright and shiny and new, just in time for the Dark Lord. Call him."

Everyone turned to look at Draco, but he had already made up his mind. If they were to summon the Dark Lord, he damn well wouldn't be the one to do it.

His father stepped forward and tugged his sleeve, but just as he was about to touch the mark, a sharp squeaking came from above them.

Dobby sat on the chandelier, fiddling with a screw. At the sight of his childhood friend, a wave of nostalgia washed over him and he temporarily forgot where he was.

Then the lights came down, shattering against the marble floor with an almighty crash.

His cheek glowed as he felt the sting of glass against his flesh. Before he could touch the wound, Harry was upon him, trying to jostle his wand away. For a brief moment, he held on to it. They locked eyes, trading unspoken words.

Is she safe? Did you help her?

Yes.

He let go.

"Stupid elf!" shouted Bellatrix from across the hall. "You could have killed me!"

"Dobby never meant to kill," the house elf protested as the friends gathered around him. "Dobby only meant to maim, or seriously injure." With a snap, he disarmed his mother, who had been about to attack him.

"How dare you take a witch's wand!" Bellatrix shouted. "How dare you defy your masters!"

Dobby's face hardened. "Dobby has no master," he announced. "Dobby is a free elf. And Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!"

They were leaving, and he wanted so very desperately to go with them, to beg them to take him with. He remained where he was.

Before they Disapparated, Harry gave him a nod so slight it almost undetectable.

Thank you.

As they went, Draco felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders. But even he couldn't stop Bellatrix from hurling her knife into the twisting flash of light.