Together

Draco glanced at the woman standing by his side, gripping her hand tightly. "You ready?" he asked, a small desperate smile on his face. The woman returned the smile. "Yes."

As they charged out Draco couldn't help but wonder if he would see his lover again. The night before, holed up in the Room of Requirement, hiding from those who had mocked them, they had known that this day, the day of the Final Battle, could be their last. Glimpsing silver headed cane cutting opponents down he grimaced and tightened his grip on his wand…and he would probably be killed by this own father. But would she be all right?

Back to back, they fought; ignoring the jeers flung their way by the Death Eaters, focusing instead on the deadly and effective curses. Draco glimpsed over his shoulder and saw The Weasel helping Luna delay one of the giants until Hagrid could bring it down, "Ligo!" Luna cried her dreamy voice strong. He and Ron had become good friends now, united by their love of Quidditch and loathing of the Ministery. Luna also had approved Draco, nodding dreamily and wriggling closer to Ron- her fiancée- when she had been told the news he now worked for the Light Side. Not many had been as accepting.

"Son." Draco heard a snarl from his left and he whirled to look. There stood Lucius Malfoy. His father. A Death Eater. And the murderer of Draco's mother. There were no more words or banter as the two purebloods moved into the duelling position. No sounds could be heard apart from other duels and they threw spells at each other both experts, trained from birth in the way a Lord Muggle is taught to ride or fence.

Crucio! Truncaro! Sectumsempra! Protego! Diffindo! Crucio! Incendio! Reducto!

Hermione smiled a smile of bliss only slightly tainted with sorrow. 50 years later, she was going to be with him. Him, her war hero who had given his life shielding her from his father. Draco had won the duel but he had held back not wanting to take his fathers life. But his father had had no such reserves and had tried to kill Hermione with one fatal curse. Avada Kedavra. And Draco was gone. The taunts, mockery and mutters that she had received when she was Draco had stopped but it felt like her heart had too. Ron and Harry had both tried to help her while going through fatalities of their own (Ron his father and Harry Hagrid) but for a year, she had grieved. But then she had done Draco what she'd promised to do. Moved on. Become the Head of the Department of Mysteries. Been happy in many ways. But not completely.
She could see a bright light. "What a cliché," she murmured but Harry and Ron, old men themselves, sitting by her bed couldn't hear her. And she could see Draco.