The effluvium of death was all around them. The battlefield had been baptised in blood and sweat, and after a long and bruising battle: the Dark Lord was vanquished. It was a relief, it was a gift. It was a gift that cost so many lives, and they paid; paid in souls and lives and blood and tears.
All the survivors were huddled in the Great Hall, along with the many dead, as if it were some big family reunion. It was, of a sort. Friends met again, even if one was lying on the stone floor, unmoving and silent.
They was a plethora of emotions present: laughing. Crying. Morning. Celebrating.
Search parties were sent out to find any bodies or survivors. In the early hours of the morning, just as the sun had risen, two people stepped over debris and chunks of fallen stone. Ernie Macmillan and Ginny Weasley.
"Hey, look." Ernie nudged the red-haired girl. "What's that?" He pointed at a hidden crevice, half-blocked by debris and normally cloaked by a tapestry, now burned to a few scraps of fabric and cinders on the ground. Two bodies, slumped against each other, their features hidden by shadows.
A stroke of luck that Ernie had seen them at all.
"Come on!" Ginny raced across the hallway, leaping over a banister in her path. Her crimson hair billowed in the smoke-laden wind.
"Are they dead?" Ernie called, following the girl more cautiously.
"No.." Ginny had reached the bodies, "No, no!" She screamed, a heart-wrenching, guttural sound, piercing the deafening silence. She sunk to the ground, bracing on the floor - as if she was throwing up. Reality crushed down on her, nausea hitting her in waves of terrible, rolling grief.
"Ginny! Ginny!" Ernie races to catch up. Taking her shoulders and holding her as she mourned.
He finally inspected the lifeless corpses that lay together. Hermione Granger, and more surprisingly, Draco Malfoy.
Hermione's hair was still as busy and untamed as it was in life. Her face was relaxed, like she was asleep, but she wasn't. Tear tracks cut though the grime on her cheeks, eyelids closed, eyelashes slanted. She was smiling faintly. Her head was resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her. Her skin was pale and clammy.
His hair was dirty, soot-stained and ruffled. It was far from the pristine, practically glowing white it had been. cloying blood ran from a wound on his temple, his face was also relaxed, and a small smile also tugged at his lips. A dark stain spread from his side, soaked into the carpet and so distinguishable it hurt.
Ernie just gaped and gaped, at the girl who had listened to his ideas at the prefect meetings, at the boy who had teased and bullied him relentlessly, yet also with a glimmer in his eyes - like it was just a joke he wasn't in on.
Ginny was still screaming, it had started to attract attention. People crowded around. Harry raced down the corridor, taking Ernie's place at Ginny's side. His eyes wandered up to see why she was so upset... then his face went blank.
"Hermione?" He stuttered, the word was no louder than a whisper. He looked as if he expected her to jump up again, laughing, 'Just a joke Harry!' But that didn't happen. He bowed his head, his vision blurred by the stream of tears slipping down his cheeks.
Reporters crowded around the scene like flies to a rotting carcass. Wands were lit, casting light on the bodies. People murmured and gasped, and whispered, like the low push and pull of the tides.
Molly Weasley jostled through the crowd. She was in a frenzy, her hair sticking from her head and cheeks flushed. She already had to deal with the death of one of her sons, and now practically her adopted daughter. She wailed, head thrown back in a blood curdling shriek, joining her daughter in her grief.
Ron appeared next to her, patting her shoulder and looking concerned for the source of his Mother's grief. His gaze drifted to Ginny and Harry. Then the couple next to them. It took a second to recognise her.
"'Mione?" He yelled, repeating the words again and again. Stumbling past people who parted for him like the Red Sea. He came to a rest next to his sister and best friend. His mouth was open, spine lifeless. He was slumped over, kneeling by both his best friends, even if one was dead. Harry and Ginny didn't acknowledge he was there.
"Malfoy?" He whispered, hopes of a romance between him and the girl sitting before him crushed under a boot.
Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy appeared on the scene, striding through the crowd. Narcissa looked nervous and worried, Lucius locked up behind a mask.
When they finally pushed to the front, Lucius stayed the same, all emotions stored behind his icy facade. Narcissa fell to her knees, a sob tearing through her throat. Luicis strode to his son, Narcissa following meekly, her expression a show of whirling emotion.
Lucius' cold eyes showed no sign of caring for his now-dead son. He stepped forward, past the grieving trio kneeling, and into the tapestry's hidden space. He inspected his son's face, gaze slipping towards the inside pockets of his robes. A stack of muggle photographs were half-tipped out. Some were creased and worn, other shiny and new. Lucius reached forward with a barely shaking hand. The pictures spilled from his pocket easily. Lucius moved out of the nook, and after a moment of consideration, dropping a few of the pictures in the 'Boy-Who-Lived' lap. The rest he shared with Narcissa.
Harry started flipping through the photos.
One, Hermione and Draco at the beach. The waves crashed behind them in a stereotypical beach fantasy of foam and turquoise water, Draco was in board shorts and Hermione was in a one-piece swimming suit he vaguely remembered. She was mid-lick through a dripping ice-cream in a cone. Malfoy was posing in the strong-man position, mock-kissing one of his biceps.
Another was of solely Hermione. She was dancing to a song, mouth open and singing along, with one arm straight and hand pointing straight at the camera, as if inviting them to join in, she was wearing leggings and a cropped t-shirt, her hair a frizzy mess around her head.
The next was of them, looking to be a nightclub somewhere, the lighting was horrible, dim and filled with flashing lights, but you could still see. Hermione was laughing, head thrown back and mouth wide open. She was perched on Malfoy's lap, legs outstretched and one arm slung around the back of his neck to keep steady. He was grinning directly at the camera, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips.
The last was them together again. They were on a cliff edge of some sort. Hermione's arms were thrown out to catch the wind. Malfoy's were wrapped around her middle, holding her to earth. Her hair was splayed out behind her head, and Malfoy's usually slicked-back locks were free, ruffled as well. They looked happy. Normal.
Harry sobbed, shoving the pictures at the Weasley siblings. He stumbled back, nearly colliding with Lucius.
The cold Malfoy took his wand from his pocket, whispering a complicated spell and making intricate movements with flicks of his wrist and elbow. A movie began to play out, like a projection.
Hermione pushed open the still-intact tapestry hiding them, Draco was waiting, holding a cut in his side and staunching the flow of blood with his fingers. Hermione looks ragged and war-torn, with a shallow cut along her cheek and a smear of ash on her forehead. As soon as she entered Draco's eyes fell upon her, drinking her in.
He pushed off the wall where he had been leaning. "Hermione?" He half whispered in the empty space, sounding as if he could not believe it.
"Draco." She smiled tears forming in her eyes.
"You came, you really came." Whispering in disbelief.
She took two, quick, hurried steps to hug him tight. His arms came around her, practically squeezing the life out of him. "Yeah, Yeah, I did." She whispered back, eyes shining with unshed tears.
"Were gonna be okay, alright? Make it out of here and move to..." he trailed off thoughtfully, "the Caribbean!" he said brightly, eyes full of false hope.
She laughed along with him, "Why is this the first I'm hearing about the Caribbean?" she joked, he just squeezed her tighter, one final time, before releasing her. "We're really gonna do it." She said.
"Yeah, we are." Draco said soundly.
They kissed, standing together in the muffled silence. When they broke apart, Draco was smiling, hope in his eyes. Hermione smiling back, tear tracking down her cheeks. His hand went down to his wound, bleeding more than ever.
Her brown crumpled, eyes tracing his bloody side, "Vega is safe?"
"Yes, she's in Madrid." Draco affirmed.
"Madrid?!" Hermione asked, eyebrows reaching towards the ceiling.
He blushed, "I have an old friend," he muttered. "It's fine. No questions asked." She reached out to squeeze his wrist
"She'll have so much fun when she comes here" Hermione said, glancing at the ceiling.
He raised his eyebrows, and half-fell against the wall. "She better not in here." Malfoy's gruff reply.
She pouted at him, "Such a father already. She's barely a few months old." Hermione teased, eyes glinting
"I'm still banking on Slytherin." He ignored her jibe, although a smile tugged at the
corner of his mouth.
"Gryffindor." She laughed. "Your on."
"You bet I am." He leaned forward to kiss her once again.
The image rippled and faded, and shocked silence filled the air. Strangely enough Narcissa was smiling, a dreamy, mistly look in her eyes. She glanced sideways at her husband.
Luicis gritted his teeth, He stared down at the bodies coldly. "Well then," he said directly at Narcissa. "What shall we do?"
She came forwards, fire burning in her eyes.
"Nothing." She hissed. "We grieve, that's all. We grieve like normal parents that have lost their only son."
The man tutted. "There's business to attend to. Who will inherit the Malfoy name, fortune? Why must you always be so emotional?"
She slapped him full on in the face, his head snapped back, pale skin of his cheek already pinking. "Our son is dead! Dead! And you are worried about business?!" She screamed, fury lacing her voice, Lucis merely stood, facade a little strained and cheek red as an apple. The crowd watched eagerly. "The last time I saw him alive was running away from you! You!" she paced back and forth, rage flickering in her eyes.
"'Cissa," he murmured, glancing back and forth at the reporters.
"No! No! You will not silence me." she said defiantly, "You are the reason he's dead, you and your little power problem!" she stabbed a finger into his chest, "and how you decided to follow Voldemort." Her voice broke into a new level of hysteria. Eyes flashing. Her voice was low, and somehow this was just as dangerous. "I'll tell you what: Lucius Malfoy, I'm done, I'm getting a divorce. You can no longer control me, the reason I stayed, all those years ago is gone."
She glanced at her son, sleeping peacefully in a dream he will never wake from. She stalked off, absorbed in the crowd. And slowly, slowly, then all at once Lucius's dam broke, he stumbled backwards, eyes locked on his son, and his secret lover.
"No, No, This isn't happening," He murmured to himself, "All those strange reactions, the...the…" He faltered, "Oh god." His voice cracked.
And he ran, pushing through the throng, down the corridor, past the Great Hall, down into the grounds, past the gate, he kept going. Until he could no longer be seen.
And he never was again.
Draco Malfoy's biggest suppressor only left a stack of his son's biggest rebellion scattered on the floor.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
A girl crossed the Hogwarts courtyard. She was in her 5th year and loving it. She swept her blonde hair out of one eye, brushing the slightly curly hair behind her ear.
"Vega!" She turned, nearly dropping the tall stack of books she was holding.
"Oh hey," she greeted. The boy behind her was in same year, only a few months younger. He caught up to her, smiling in the drizzly weather.
He eyed the heavy-looking tomes in her arms, "Want me to hold some?" he offered.
"Yeah, thanks," she dumped half into the black-haired boy's arms.
They turned, almost simultaneously looking at the memorial next to them. "You know no one knows how they got together. Loads of people were - and still are - trying to find out though." She said, blank voice, blank face.
"Do you know?" The boy asked inquisitively.
"I know some. Not all." Lyra tilted her head at the statue, round face scrunching in thought, and grey eyes narrowing.
The statue was of a young couple, one with bushy hair flying behind her as if there was a strong wind. The other holding her around the waist, laughing at her smiling face and his own hair ruffled.
As a reminder to all: Don't let people stop you, in anything.
Let these lovers be testament.
Follow your heart.
Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. To those who love.
"Hi, Mum, Dad." She said quietly, the boy looked to edge away.
"No, No stay. It's just something I sometimes do." Her cheeks flamed red.
He looked to tame her embarrassment, "Yeah, I get it. You've never spoken to them. And this is one way how."
"Yeah" she said softly. "Thank you, James." James Sirius Potter smiled back.
And she turned, walking back to Ravenclaw tower, her Malfoy hair fluttering behind her.
And somewhere, deep inside the castle, in an empty corridor behind a long-forgotten tapestry, joyful laughter echoed.