Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
A/N: This is a re-working of my original post. It was supposed to be a multi-chapter fic, but it really was just not working, and instead of leaving people hanging and never updating, I thought it would work better as a one-shot. My little experiment was not as successful as I hoped, but I really appreciate those who reviewed the chapters I originally posted and I apologize to anyone who is disappointed in this. I really felt like this was the best choice, though. Happy Deathly Hallows!
"I hate leaving Ron and Draco alone together," Hermione said to Harry. They were standing beside the lake, the rumoured Death Eater entrance into Hogwarts. Harry and Hermione were the leaders in this effort to protect the school. Hogwarts was empty for the summer, but held valuable information for Voldemort; if he got inside now, all was lost, and the school would be his new headquarters. Draco and Ron had been sent to the potions room to gather all the healing ingredients that they could. They were planning to catch the Death Eaters by surprise and were hoping for few casualties, but were prepared nonetheless. Draco and Ron were not a pairing that Hermione encouraged, but Draco's superior potions skills and Ron's extensive knowledge of healing spells was a combination that could not be wasted.
"We've been over this, Hermione. They're fine," Harry said, keeping his eyes on the water. Hermione's back was to him as she looked for cracks in their defense. "They're professionals. They've made great strides in their relationship, and there's no way they would risk our mission for pettiness."
"They barely tolerate each other, Harry," Hermione said. "I just don't like it. And I wish our backup would get here. We've been out here long enough."
"I don't know," Harry said, turning toward her with a grin. "We're a pretty formidable pair."
"We are at that," Hermione agreed with a nod. "Still, even Dumbledore needed help once in awhile. Aren't Lupin and the aurors supposed to be here?"
"They will be," Harry assured her. "Calm down, sweetie. We can take whatever they throw our way. We always have."
That was before, Hermione thought miserably. Before I fell in love with an ex-Death Eater. Before I found out I was carrying his baby. Before everything. She touched her stomach lightly and immediately conjured the baby in her head, the image that had seared in her brain the moment she discovered she was pregnant. He (she knew it was a he) would have thick, unruly hair like hers, but platinum blond like Draco's. He would have her chocolate brown eyes, and Draco's pale, flawless skin. Her curiosity and his father's cunning. Hermione knew these facts about her baby the way she knew her own name. The way she knew his name: Alexander. Alexander Huntley (her mother's maiden name) Malfoy. She knew this boy already. He was a comfort to her.
"I know," she simply said to Harry. "Nerves, I guess."
A whistle sounded from the Forbidden Forrest. Harry whistled back.
"See?" he said to Hermione. "I told you they'd be here."
Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt and George Weasley materialized in front of the pair.
"Anything yet?" Lupin asked.
"Not a thing," said Harry. "Death Eaters aren't known for their promptness, though. I've no doubt they'll be here soon; hopefully Ron and Malfoy will be back by then. Is this all of you? Where's Fred?"
"Rounding up some stragglers," his twin answered. "He's getting a few D.A. members to come, and Krum, too I think. Bill and Charlie are in the second wave with Dad, awaiting our signal."
"Ginny?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice casual.
"Ginny finally agreed to stay with Mom and Fleur," said George. "You can imagine how thrilled she is about it."
Hermione smiled in spite of herself. Ginny soon-to-be-Potter did not like being left out of the action. For the first time ever, though, Hermione envied her. She wished she was home safe, too. She unconsciously touched her belly again. She had to get through this fight alive.
XXX
"Hurry up, Weasel," Draco barked at the annoying redhead. "We don't want to miss all of the action." His patience was wearing thin. How much more time did he have to spend with this guy before he could kill him? Every second seemed like hours. He knew his orders: take out Weasley to hurt Potter's resistance. The Dark Lord was sure that once Potter learned of his little boyfriend's death, he would be effectively neutralized, and the Death Eaters would have their run of Hogwarts. Potter himself was off limits, of course; he belonged to the Dark Lord. Hermione was Draco's and he was free to do with her as he wished. Draco was undecided on her fate. He was in no real hurry to kill her. Perhaps if he could continue their relationship a little longer it would benefit the Dark Lord. Yes. That was the only reason he wanted to continue with her, he told himself. No other. The plan was to kill Weasley in the potions room and blame it on Death Eaters. Antonin Dolohov had been killed by the Dark Lord; his dead body had already been smuggled into Hogwarts. Draco would kill Weasley, point the finger at Dolohov and further ingratiate himself to Potter by claiming responsibility for Dolohov's death. It was brilliant and near fool-proof, and Draco was counting the seconds until he could destroy Weasley. His wand hand itched with anticipation.
"I've got everything, Malfoy," Weasley answered in a biting tone, closing a cupboard and throwing a few bottles into his bag. "Let's get back to the lake."
"Let's. Hermione will no doubt be wringing her hands until I get back." Weasley narrowed his eyes at Draco, who smirked inwardly. Besides actually shagging Granger, which was way better than Draco would admit, even to himself, the best part of this mission was definitely screwing with Weasley. It gave him infinite pleasure to know that he got what Weasley wanted more than anything: Hermione Granger. And the fact that it was all a lie made it just that much better.
"Fine, then, are we going?"
"Just a second, Weasel," Draco said, calmly pointing his wand at the redhead. "We have one more thing to take care of."
XXX
"Harry, let me go to them," Hermione said. "I have a bad feeling... Our backup's here, and more is on the way. I'll just go collect Draco and Ron."
"Hermione, they'll be back soon," Harry said impatiently. "We need you up here." He turned to look at her, to remind her again that everything would be fine and stopped short when he saw her face. She was pale, shaking and looked like she was going to throw up. Harry had never seen Hermione look so scared before. Never. "Hermione, are you okay? You look terrible."
"I'm fine, Harry," she said. "I just want them with us, I'll feel better if you let me go to them. Please."
"Okay," he relented. "But hurry."
XXX
"What the hell are you doing?" Ron asked. He took a step back from Malfoy, who was still pointing his wand at him. Ron had thrown his own wand on a table when they entered the room. He watched in horror as Malfoy casually knocked it into a corner, even farther out of Ron's reach. A small smile played around his mouth, and his grey eyes glittered. This was Malfoy, Ron realized, the real Malfoy who had been hiding behind that lovesick glamour all these months. Ron felt vindicated that he had been right all along. Too bad he wasn't going to enjoy the feeling for very long.
"I think you know the answer to that, Weaselbee," said Draco. His wand hand did not waver as he mentally flipped through ways to kill Weasley. "My acting days are over, at least as far as you're concerned. Don't worry, I'll still take good care of Hermione for you. She'll think you died nobly."
XXX
Hermione raced through Hogwarts, stumbling as she followed the stone steps down to the dungeons. She didn't know why she was so panicked all of a sudden. Perhaps her new found mother's intuition was kicking in. She was getting close to Snape's old classroom; she thought she could hear Ron shouting.
XXX
"Sectumsempra!" Draco shouted. He was practically on top of Weasley when he cast the curse; blood splattered on him as Weasley cried out hoarsely and collapsed. Weasley grit his teeth and glared up at Draco, and he knew he couldn't expect Weasley to beg. He was too much of a Gryffindor for that. Oh well. Time was limited anyway.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Hermione stared at horror at the scene in front of her. She stood frozen in the doorway, her wand outstretched and pointed reflexively at her love. Draco seemed to sense her presence and turned around slowly. His eyes went wide with shock and dismay, then slipped into calm indifference.
"Well, shit," he said. "Most inconvenient timing, Granger. What do we do now?"
Hermione stepped into the room, trembling, and stared at Draco. Her Draco. The man she had risked everything to be with, the man that had almost cost her her most valuable friendships. It had taken her months to convince Harry and Ron that he had changed, that he really loved her and was on their side. He was looking back at her in amusement, as if she were merely a trifle, not the woman he had pledged his love to just that morning. Her vision began to swim and she forced herself to keep from passing out. Her life, the one minutes ago she was so anxious to protect was now over. She saw in his eyes the truth, that it had all been a lie and with that knowledge her resolve strengthened. Ron, her best, most important friend, was on the floor, dead, and the man responsible, the father of her unborn baby, stood before her as if he hadn't a care in the world. Well, his world was about to end. She would make sure of that.
"What are you going to do with that wand, little girl?" he asked her in a mocking tone.
Without speaking, she flicked her wand at him and his own went sailing into her hand. She threw it on the ground and stomped on it, grinding the pieces beneath her foot. He smirked.
"Ooo, that hurt. Very dramatic. But you wouldn't you fight an unarmed man, would you Granger? Not very sporting of you."
"You're not a man, Malfoy," she answered coldly.
"Now, now, Granger. Don't get so sore. Surely you're not resorting to name-calling now. Besides, you have intimate knowledge of how much of a man I am." Despite the wand trained on him, Draco took a step toward Hermione and was gratified when she unconsciously stepped back. "Be honest, little girl. You've known this day would come. In your heart, you've always known. You can lie to everyone else, but you can't lie to yourself. Or me."
Hermione glared at him, hatred and rage burning in her eyes, but she did not speak. She was fighting the urge to hex him, to curse him, to kill him. Killing him now would be sweet, but not good enough. She needed to wait. She would get her revenge, if only she could hold on a little longer. Just a little longer…
"Come now, Hermione," he continued. He made her name sound filthy, and she flinched. "You didn't really think you reformed me, did you? Be honest. Did you think all it would take was the love of a good mudblood? Are you really surprised? I don't think you are. I think you were just looking for an excuse to break that co-dependent little triangle you had with Weasley and Potter. I think I was just a way out for you. Were they holding you back, Hermione? Was I a convenient escape? I don't think you really loved me at all. Maybe I should be the one screaming betrayal."
She continued to stare at him silently. His words could not penetrate her; Ron's death had already destroyed her. Nothing he said, none of his ugly taunts, could really effect her now. Her heart was gone and her soul was on the way out. She could feel herself turning black on the inside and again fought the urge to kill him. She wondered if her news, the same information she was bursting to tell him just yesterday, would affect him now. Would it wipe that disgusting smirk off his face? Or would it only please him further, prove just how much he had deceived her?
"Silly little Granger," Draco said. "Am I giving you too much credit? Maybe you really are the deluded, lovesick fool you seem." He saw her struggling with herself and knew she would likely kill him. It didn't matter. All that mattered now was hurting her as much as he could before the end came. "To think that my brave little lioness could fall so easily. I never believed you'd be such easy prey. Bit disappointing, really. Who would have thought love would do that to you, Granger? Maybe I had you pegged wrong all along. I guess you did believe in me. You're a little pussy cat after all, aren't you?"
Hermione swallowed a scream. Perhaps his words could hurt her after all. His eyes, those pale silver eyes that had so enchanted her, had turned a dark, stormy grey. They were jeering at her; the adoration she used to see replaced with scorn. How could they have changed so? His clothes were splattered with blood. Ron's blood. With something nearing madness, she stared at a drying streak on his face. It was turning an ugly brown, nothing like the brilliant red that still seeped from Ron's body. It didn't even look like blood. Perhaps it was fake, perhaps this whole scene wasn't really happening. Her eyes flicked around the room, looking for anything that might tell her it was all a lie. They steadily ignored Ron's body - that was too real - and settled back on the stain on his cheek. It looked obscene against his pale skin.
"What are you looking at, Hermione?" Her eyes snapped back to his. He smirked again, that lewd, cruel smile she'd thought was gone forever. "Very satisfying, killing the Weasel. I don't think Potter himself could have felt so good. Maybe you would feel better. Hard to say. Once you've screwed someone, I guess killing them is the next best thing. What do you think, Granger? You going to come when you kill me? Will it feel as good as I did inside you?"
She refused to speak. If she talked to him again, all would be lost. Harry would be there soon. She just had to wait for Harry.
"He won't get here before you break," Draco said. He had an uncanny ability to read her sometimes. Their intimacy, paired with his skillful Legilimancy, gave him an unwelcome insight into her. At the moment, it seemed very dangerous. If he pried any further, she would give everything away.
"Granger, surely you don't think Scarhead's going to burst in and save you from yourself," he taunted. "Do you think he won't know what you did? You let the enemy right into your fold. This is your fault, all of it, and he'll know that. If anything, he'll kill you himself. I'd like to see it, actually. It would be worth all the time I had to spend with you, all the times I had to choke down my disgust and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. The Dark Lord sure knows how to punish his followers. I think Cruciatus would have been preferable to loving you. Yes, I'd certainly like to see Potter take you out. I think I'll go first, though. Shame, really." He wasn't sure if he even believed what he was saying anymore, but it was clear she did. Did he hate her? Maybe. She'd come very close to destroying his mission, very close to making him forget what he had to do. He hated that against all odds, she'd gotten under his skin, made him question everything. It was such a cliche. Her chocolate eyes had an unexpected affect on him. They had confused him, muddled his head and made the words of love he spoke to her almost sincere. In the end, though, he had won. He had battled his feelings and come out triumphant. All she represented now was his own strength and cunning and her vulnerability. He saw a shell standing before him and was glad. He was no longer weak, no longer bewitched. When she killed him, he would die knowing he was the real victor.