Okay, this is KIND of a continuation of my last story, "You Made Your Choice." Except that I said it was just a one-shot. Then I thought of this, and just decided to post it separately because you don't really NEED to read the other one (unless you'd just like to) to get this one. They're set a year apart, and this only makes very brief reference to the other one.
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This was it – the final showdown. This was the last fight between good and evil. Somebody would win, and somebody would lose. And then it would all be over.
Hermione Granger was focused on her battle, but still noticed the scene around her. She was dueling with Bellatrix Lestrange, and was surprisingly holding her own. She was tired, after months of searching for Horcruxes, weeks of hiding from Death Eaters, days of fighting, and hours of this single duel. To her left were Neville Longbottom and Peter "Wormtail" Pettigrew. Hermione was glad Neville was paired with someone he could handle. To her right were Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy. She was very worried about this pairing. They could handle each other easily, and that's what scared her most.
They were the three pairs closest to the edge of the high cliff they were fighting on. It was twilight in summer; the air was hot, but the fierce wind was cool. The shock waves from all the curses flying around them didn't help matters. Hermione saw flashes of light in the distance, and knew that all her other friends and surrogate family were out there somewhere, fighting, including Harry Potter, who was facing Lord Voldemort for the last time. She was worried for them all. Over the last few days, their numbers had been cut nearly in half. They'd fought in so many places; Hermione couldn't even remember where most of them had died. She didn't know where she was now, or how on earth she'd gotten there. It would be nice, she thought, to at least know the name of the battleground where this horrid war ended.
"Ouch!" Hermione was pulled out of her wondering thoughts by a stinging heat on her left hip. She narrowed her eyes when Bellatrix cackled, and put her focus back on the fight. She pissed Bellatrix off pretty well when the next curse knocked her down. Hermione smirked and then, remembering where she picked up that trait, changed to a frown.
Bellatrix stood up, smoothing out her hopeless black hair. Hermione was glad that there was somebody with hair troubles worse than hers.
"Boys," she directed to the four males around them, "does anybody have any last words for the Mudblood?"
"Don't threaten her!"
Hermione silently cursed Ron for taking his focus off his fight.
Bellatrix's high-pitched laugh sounded like the scream of a banshee. Hermione winced and automatically drew back form it.
"Oh look, it's afraid of me."
Hermione didn't respond, but backed away further, nearing the edge of the cliff. She gripped her wand tightly, preparing to defend herself.
"Leave her alone!"
"Ron, shut up and pay attention to Malfoy." She didn't take her eyes of Bellatrix, but she didn't need to, to know that Ron hesitated.
"I don't need to. He's not a worthy opponent, anyhow."
"Is that so, Weasley?"
Hermione could hear the sneer in his familiar voice. She tensed. She wanted so badly to look at them, to see what was going on beyond the extent of her lousy peripheral vision.
As Draco prepared to curse Ron, Bellatrix watched in delight. Hermione saw her chance and threw the strongest curse short of an Unforgivable at the small woman's chest. Bellatrix flew backwards with a look of shock on her strikingly beautiful face. She hit a wall of rock, the force causing it to crumble and bury her in a pile of clay-colored rubble.
Hermione breathed hard. It wasn't her first kill – not even close – but it was the first time she'd killed someone strong. She heard a gasp come from Ron, and if she wasn't mistaken, Draco as well.
"Hermi – "
Hermione's heart sank as Ron's voice came to an abrupt stop. She felt like she was moving in slow motion while turning her body to face his direction. She found what she expected, but dreaded. Ron's limp body lay peacefully some ten feet from the ledge. She ran to him, struck with grief.
"No!"
She heard Draco's voice, but didn't listen. She knelt by Ron's lifeless body, looking so much like his little sister's only two days before. She wanted to cry, but had practiced not crying so much, she couldn't remember how. She pulled her eyes away from his pale face, and looked for the culprit. They flashed accusingly to Draco, who was nearly as shocked as she was. Their eyes met for just a moment, and she knew that it wasn't him.
There was an ugly laugh coming from her far left. She and Draco snapped their heads in the direction at the same time. Peter Pettigrew was grinning at them, wand in his good hand, with Neville Longbottom lying dead at his feet.
Hermione felt another stab of pain, partnered with a little guilt. How could she not notice that Neville had been killed? She closed her eyes and tried again to cry. The grief was just too much this time. All her friends but one had been killed in front of her, and she didn't know Harry's fate yet.
"No, don't!"
Hermione's eyes snapped open at the sound of Draco's terrified voice. She didn't have time to assess the situation. She felt a sharp pain in her back, and felt her body flying unnaturally through the air. She watched the ground below her pass, until it turned to water, hundreds of feet below. She was just over the edge of the cliff when she realized she was falling. Having practiced holding in her screams as well, she couldn't remember how to do that, either.
She knew it was over. She could see death waiting for her at the bottom, where ferocious waves crashed into the side of the cliff, breaking off pieces of jagged rock that stuck up from the shallow part of the sea.
A sharp jerk stopped her fall. She tried to make sense of it, and of the unimaginable pain in her right shoulder. She looked to where the pain was concentrated; it looked unnatural, poking out from her tattered pink tank top. She was pretty sure her bones weren't built that way. Her arm had been jerked out of socket. She followed the bare, bloody arm, surveying the cuts and burns that she didn't know were there. At last, her gaze landed on another hand, one that didn't belong there. She recognized the pale skin. That hand had touched her body in darkness, had cradled her face for private kisses, and had wiped tears from her eyes during hard times. It was the hand that had killed Dean Thomas yesterday, and Luna Lovegood and Professor Flitwick the day before. It was the hand of her enemy, the hand of her lover.
Looking up to the sky, Hermione swore that she'd never seen him look so beautiful. The setting sun cast a brilliant glow over his skin – which displayed a little shadow on his face from days without a proper shave. His cheeks were flushed pink, he had bags under his eyes, and what looked like a smear of blood on his neck. His blond hair was singed and blowing in the wind, sweeping below his brow, shadowing the gray eyes that stared at her with fear.
In spite of herself, she smiled, and then laughed at her own absurdity. Here she was, laughing while hanging off the side of a cliff, being kept alive by the one person who would give his life for her – but who was also the one person who wasn't allowed, no matter how he wished he could. She noticed he didn't smile back, but still stared at her with fear and uncertainty in his eyes. He was making a decision.
Hermione took a deep breath, but regretted it when she felt the accompanying pain. She wondered if this was physical. It could easily have been because she was looking into the eyes of her true love for the last time. She knew what he had to do. She knew that he had his side, and she had hers. They'd come to terms with this long before the war started. A year of stolen glances in the classroom, purposeful detours in the hall, and secret, late-night rendezvous by the lake had brought them joy; but with each kiss, touch, and taste, it made it harder to accept the reality of what was to come.
She found out about Draco's mission early. She tried to change him, but didn't succeed. He carried out his kill orders, and began a war that would seemingly never end. Still, she loved him. She couldn't bring herself not to love him. Of course she tried. Many nights, while standing watch for Harry and Ron to sleep during their search for Horcruxes, she would just cry – cry out all her feelings for Draco. The next day, things would still be as they were. Try as she might, she couldn't get away from it. She had fallen in love, and no amount of separation or betrayal could change that.
She knew that it hurt him, too. She could see it in his eyes when he had to torture her that once in his home – the apology in his face was worth more to Hermione than the words would have been. She wondered how she could ever love someone who hurt her so much. But then she remembered that he couldn't help it. Once he chose his side, there was no going back for him. There was no going back for her. And she knew he hated it, and possibly regretted every decision he'd ever made that tore them apart. But she knew it was necessary.
With a brave breath, she willed her hoarse voice to cooperate with her. "Draco."
His eyes took on a new look of pain and longing when she said his name. He didn't speak, but held on to her tighter, adjusting his body on the ledge to have a better grip.
"Is there a chance?" It hurt to speak, but she had to know.
His face took on a funny expression. It looked like he wanted to cry. He shook his head slowly. "No."
She swallowed, putting on her brave face. "Then do it."
His eyes widened, frozen in shock. "No."
She nodded her head, tears beginning to form. "It's okay."
"No, I won't." He spit the words fiercely through his teeth.
"You have to, Draco."
Again, his eyes softened when she said his name. Perhaps because it had been so long since he'd heard it from her.
"I understand. And if I'm going to die anyway, I'd rather it be this way – with you as the last thing I see." A tear spilled over. She didn't care. At least she could feel them again.
Draco adjusted himself again, and pulled her tighter, bringing her slightly closer to the top. He could probably pull her up. It would take a lot of strength – strength he'd lost over several days of fighting and two years of pretending not to love her; but for her, he would do it. He wouldn't kill her if he could help it. He'd been on the dark side this whole time, but was taking extra care not to bring harm to her. Some things he couldn't help – the torturing, her being captured by and dueling others – but he tried his best to help her out as discreetly as he could.
Hermione knew this. She had noticed that she survived a lot more than she should have, and that Draco was always present for those little miracles. But she knew she wasn't going to survive this. It was truly the end. "Just do it, Draco." She was being pulled closer to him, and saw his face strain with the intense pain he must be feeling. His injuries were just as extensive as hers. And yet, he tried for her. But they both knew she would die the second she was pulled to safety. And he would follow shortly after for betraying his Master.
He stopped, breathing hard, with sweat dripping from his face. Some of the droplets could have been tears for all Hermione knew. She hated seeing him like this – in pain. No matter what happened in the next several seconds would cause him pain. He was going to lose her either way. She might as well convince him to keep himself alive. "Please."
"Hermione," he protested. His voice broke with longing. He couldn't do this. She saw it in his eyes – for this, he wasn't strong enough.
"We both know what's going to happen, Draco. You can't stop it."
"I can. I will. I'll find a way to save you. To save us."
She felt for him. She had been so angry with him when he didn't give up his dark magic for her; but now, after a year of living without him, she couldn't allow herself to be angry anymore. It wasn't an emotion she was capable of feeling for him. All she felt now was love. Extreme, true love that she knew wouldn't die with death. Despite how he may seem on the outside, he was capable of so much love, and the world deserved to experience it like she had. She was going to die today, and he would live on. He would find some other girl, fall madly in love with her, and give her the world – the one thing he hadn't been able to give to her. The one thing he'd taken away. She was jealous of the mystery girl, but also happy for her, because she would get to experience the one thing that kept Hermione fighting all this time. She would experience what kept the good side on top for so long. She would know love.
"Let go, Draco."
"Hermione."
"Let go." She spoke more firmly.
He took a deep breath, trying that decision-making again. He contemplated quickly. He only had seconds before someone would wonder why he'd been hanging over the ledge for more than a minute. Finally, he made his decision. "I could let you fall, Hermione. But I could never let go." He looked into her eyes with determination. He tried to convey in the few moments that she had left how much he loved her. He only hoped she would understand.
He heart swelled with love when he sobbed. She nodded. She understood perfectly. She copied his stare, and smiled sadly. This was the last time she would ever see him. This was the last thing she would ever see. She closed her eyes, just to ensure that her last earthly vision was of Draco, holding on to her for dear life, bathed in the warm pink glow of the setting sun.
She felt her hand slip out of his, her shoulder jerk in pain that she chose to ignore, and the whoosh of wind as she fell to the ocean. The waves got louder and louder as she approached the surface. She listened to their song – one both of sadness and of joy, until she couldn't hear or feel anything at all.
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So I've been on this angsty/tragic kick lately. I'd like to know what you guys think about it. Please review so I can know if I'm doing okay with it or if I'm completely blowing it. =) Thanks, and thanks for reading!