It appeared to Hermione Jean Granger as though the world were ending. The giant 'apocalypse' muggle Christians spoke of. Fire billowed up from her second home, a thousand memories up in smoke, literally. A thousand memories falling from her eyes in the form of agonized tears. Screams and menacing laughter haunted her, echoing in her ears. It was eerily quiet now, with all the rebels dead or captured, and all the surviving Death Eaters or those who swore allegiance to Voldemort going about the aftermath of the battle joyfully for the former, mechanically for the latter. Hermione didn't blame those who surrendered. In the end, hope had been extinguished. It happened the moment her best friend, Harry Potter, died.
Maybe in another life, Ron would have chosen to rebel against his best friend sooner. The outcome maybe would have been different, but that's not how he got through a night's sleep without nightmares. Without the ever-present guilt. He told himself it was inevitable, as he lead yet another rebel, bound magically at wandpoint, into the Apparation clearing in the Forbidden Forest, and passed them off to a surprised Death Eater.
"Weasley? Ronald Weasley? Well well, I suppose the mudblood wasn't such a good bed companion. And such loyalty to your best friend. Great tip off in the Forest of Dean you know. Couldn't have pulled this off without you!" Some random Death Eater he didn't know the name of mocked him openly. He knew he was a joke amongst them, a failure among failures, just a tool. It was a steep price to pay for his family's safety, even though he knew they'd never forgive him. He had done what had to be done. Harry Potter had never given a second thought to them, nor to Hermione's family either, just dragging them all along on this impossible journey to vanquish an immortal Dark wizard some forty years their senior, and with a disarming spell of all things.
Ron clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, but turned wordlessly and walked back to the holding clearing to bring another of his former classmates to their fate. He stopped, filled with dread, when he saw next in line was Luna Lovegood. He wanted to avoid her eyes, but she'd already ensnared him, and her face showed no sympathy, but also no hatred. Merely acceptance. Serene as always, she coolly regarded him as he grabbed her elbow gingerly and steered her to the Apparation clearing.
He knew she couldn't speak, even if she wanted to, given all the prisoners were under a strong silencing spell, but he sensed she had no words for this situation regardless. As he passed her off to a Death Eater, her eyes suddenly flashed at him and, before he could walk away, she kicked his shin soundly and spat on the ground at his feet. As the Death Eater sniggered at him, Ron looked up in surprise, never knowing Luna to be anything but an air headed pacifist. She was glaring at him and mouthed "for Harry and Hermione" at him. Rubbing his shin, he left the clearing again, defeated. He blew out a breath of air and surveyed the holding clearing. If Luna Lovegood had enough animosity towards him to do that, he dreaded what other classmates would do. It was going to be a long day.
Voldemort surveyed the grounds before him with his cold eyes, stroking his pet snake, Nagini. Victory had been obtained, despite not having the Deathly Hallows, and he was quite pleased with himself. He had sent that annoying twit Bellatrix off to play with the prisoners given the harshest sentencing, just to get her out of his metaphorical hair. A small movement to his left captured his attention, and he chuckled.
"Now now Minerva, fret not. I'll be taking very good care of your wards. Of course, disobedience demands punishing first, but there's no reason for me to kill them all." He paused, meaningfully stressing the last word. He grinned widely at her distressed expression. "Ah, the future looks bright indeed, doesn't it? Mine, that is. Not yours. We'll be needing a headmaster or mistress for the new school we need to build, to educate the young in the ways of... strength. Power. Leadership. I don't suppose you'd be interested?" He laughed soullessly at her expression, dread mingled with hate. "I'll take that as a no. Very well then. Fenrir... A chew toy for you."
The werewolf bounded up to Voldemort's side excitedly as McGonagall fidgeted nervously, trying unsuccessfully to fight her magic bonds.
"Truly, my Lord? For me? I am deeply grateful." Greyback approached McGonagall and Voldemort's cold smile widened.
"Oh and Fenrir?" Greyback paused in his advance and looked at him. "Make it slow. Finite incantatum." He wandlessly removed the silencio on her. "I want to hear her screams." Greyback grinned maliciously and pounced on McGonagall, who, despite her best effort, began a blood curdling scream as the werewolf tore into her skin with claws and teeth alike.
He should have been happy. His side had won, his parents were safe, for now, and the war was over. But Draco knew deep down his situation wouldn't be improving at all. The bone-deep exhaustion that had plagued him since sixth year only grew deeper, and he wished, not for the first time, that he hadn't been born a Malfoy. A pure blood. A child of the Sacred Eight. He wished for siblings to help him through this, like Weasley had. For friends who would know just what to do in any situation, like Granger. He wished Potter had succeeded. He glanced around quickly, suddenly remembering where he was. No skilled legilimens appeared to be around him, thank Merlin. He'd have to be more careful.
"Oy, Malfoy!" He jumped, then recognized the voice as that of Theodore Nott. He hadn't been especially close with him, a son of another Death Eater, but also similar build and intelligence as himself. Draco had needed brawns when choosing his friends, thus resulting in Crabbe and Goyle. However, at this dark time, a little extra intelligence and je ne sais quoi couldn't hurt. He schooled his expression to one of somewhat bored and superior.
"Nott?" He acknowledged Theodore. The other boy gave him a once over and glanced around shiftily. He cast a muffling charm and Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "A need for privacy? During our great celebration? How quaint."
"Now is not the time, Malfoy. Listen to me and take these words to heart; we have not won. Despite how it may appear, we will not all be going home tonight to the comfort and safety of a nice warm bed. HE -" and by the inflection in Nott's voice, Draco had no doubt he meant Voldemort, "has plans and betrayal that only begins with the outermost of his circle of followers. He literally just fed McGonnagal to the wolves. We have to find Granger-" Draco hissed in a soft breath.
"FIND Granger? You think we need to find the best friend and the brains behind the rebel operation led by Potter? And do what exactly? Ask politely for a moment of her time?" Draco demanded snidely, shaking his head in disbelief. Perhaps he'd overestimated Nott's skills.
"Listen to me-"
"No, you listen to ME." He huffed frustratedly and pushed his hair back from his forehead. He was silent a moment in thought, and glanced at the other boy, concentrating. He seemed to come to a silent conclusion on his character, and continued. "Yes, we may need to find and speak with Granger. But we can't do it right now. She's a very valuable resource. I'm sure HE will want to question her, possibly toy with her, break her, etcetera. He'll keep her under lock and key and heavy surveillance. We need to bide our time. I don't know what you expect her to tell any of us, but if you want to talk with her, you've got to wait." The other boy took a deep breath and slowly let it out, nodding.
"You're right. But what if he... Well, you know..." He trailed off. Draco's heart hammered and he felt sickened. He'd known many of his classmates hadn't survived the battle, but to think of anyone specifically and imagine them dying... Well, he certainly was still haunted by a certain old man with twinkling blue eyes nearly every night.
"If she is... killed... we'll need to immerse ourselves enough to remain below suspicion. Keep to ourselves as much as we can. Hope for some new hope to replace Potter. I don't know enough about the situation to do anything more. I don't think anyone knows but her now." Draco lowered his eyes to the ground. They were standing on a hill overlooking the Hogwarts grounds, in clear view not only of the wreckage that was once a magnificent castle, but also of the carnage, and the people, moving like ants, Death Eaters herding prisoners to a clearing in the Forbidden Forest.
Out there, somewhere, was Hermione Granger. Out there, somewhere, was their new hope. He felt a drop of rain on his nose and turned his eyes skyward to the grey clouds gathering. Perhaps the rain would cleanse the guilt from his soul for the role he'd played in all this. A clap of thunder sounded, and he imagined it was the gods denying him reprieve. He supposed he deserved it. He cancelled the muffling charm and walked away, leaving a dejected-looking Theodore Nott to wrestle his own demons. He had a muggle born to find.