Disclaimer: No, I'm not selling this. The plot is simply what I think should happen at the end of the 7th book. It's probably not going to. I haven't stolen some top-secret information from some journalist who raided Jo's files or something. -shifty eyes-
Summary: One-shot. A little twist to the Final Battle. What I think the ultimate end will look like. It's not really a war-fic, though. The fighting's pretty much kept to a minimum. Pairings?? I'd ruin it if I told you.
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A Trick of the Light
"Harry?" she called into the darkness. "Harry, where are you…?"
She was deathly afraid. Whispers carried by the wind surrounded her at every turn, and the shadows of the trees created menacing shapes that danced around her…but what scared her most was that it was too eerily quiet in the Grindelwald Forest.
It was the Last Battle. There should have been explosions, yells, fireworks of blood and dynamite lighting up the air, along with the Dark Mark. But there wasn't.
The silence of being alone in a place inhabited by unfriendly creatures haunted her, and she felt, in a moment of loss, that everybody had left her all alone to fend for herself in what was destined to be the greatest battle of wizard kind.
She drew in a great shuddering breath that could have passed for a gasping sob and returned to her search for her boyfriend, pushing aside the branches that snagged her cloak as the leaves made crunching noises under her feet.
Without warning, someone spoke from behind her, and she let out an ear piercing scream before freezing, as if staying still would protect her from the speaker.
No such luck.
"Scared, Weasley?" a voice so achingly familiar reached her ears, and for a moment she thought she was actually hallucinating, that she had finally lost her mind to the insanity of these woods.
But as she turned, taking in the cold silver eyes, the perfect blond hair, and the icy demeanor that she alone knew was a mask, her heart filled with dread and anticipation all at once. She knew she wasn't dreaming.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" she whispered hoarsely, trying to sound defiant.
He chuckled, a low, mirthless chuckle that seemed to carry with it all the devils of the world. A breeze blew by, though she had no idea how it had wormed its way through the thick canopy of the trees. She shivered, groping for her wand. It wasn't there.
His face had suddenly dropped into an expression of hard hatred, and he spat, "We're in a war, Weasley. You're on that side, and I'm on this side. Or have you forgotten what you said when you left me for Saint Potter? You told me I would lose, and that the Dark Lord didn't stand a chance against your beloved Harry. You took me down in front of the school – in front of the old crackpot, Dumbledore. And I swore to myself that day that I would prove you wrong. What else could I want?"
She had been captivated by his words, awed despite herself by all the hate he was directing at her, but she soon realized her mistake as, lightning-quick, he snarled a "Crucio," that sent her tumbling into the depths of that deep, dark cavern filled with pain. She screamed, but it wasn't just a scream from the pain of the knives cutting into every part of her flesh, but a cry to save her life.
"STOP!" she yelled. And surprisingly, he did.
She stood, drawing another shuddering breath, thinking, her mind a whirl of colors and emotions. Carefully, she said, "You're wrong. I'm not on his side."
Malfoy arched one eyebrow up, the shadows of a smirk sliding onto his face. "Is that so?" he murmured, looking straight at her with his piercing eyes that usually saw right through her soul. Only this time, he didn't see everything.
He beckoned her over, and once she was near enough, tilted her head sideways and whispered, "Prove it," his breath gently tickling her ear.
He turned her mouth, drawing his finger up her face, and pressed a kiss upon her lips, and she felt the fire, the hot passion she had always felt when he kissed her like this – like he owned her and there was nothing she could do. But it wasn't the same.
All she thought of was him. She thought of him, as she kissed Malfoy back, and determined that this would be her contribution to him – to the war.
Malfoy drew her away, insinuating that the Dark Lord had a job for her to do.
She didn't let it show that she was positively trembling with fright. She walked on, and all she thought of was him.
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"Ginny!" Harry yelled once in desperation, running through the forest, tripping over roots, paying no heed to the expensive cloak that Dumbledore had insisted on him wearing.
"Ginny!" the trees and forest echoed back at him. He knew there was something wrong, something horribly wrong. Dark as the forest may be, one's enemies and allies did not all just melt away in one moment, leaving almost no living soul behind in the murky shadows. There was nobody but himself to stare hopelessly around into the surrounding undergrowth. If the ploy had been to get him alone, it had admirably succeeded.
Suddenly, he heard a scream.
"Harry!" Ginny's voice began calling, and he followed the insistent plea, never once thinking the situation was faulty, never once considering WHY she was being so damned loud, giving away her position to the enemy as well as him.
He arrived in a grassy clearing. The stars glittered overhead, but everything felt wrong and out of place…he was open to attack from all sides.
A movement to the right caught his eye, and he dove to the front as a curse whizzed behind him.
He turned and scrambled up, shielding himself with a quick "Protego" as yet another spell was fired. Straining to see into the darkness of the trees, he saw not Voldemort, but Malfoy.
"What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?" Harry spat out, standing in duel position.
His adversary's trademark smirk grew wider as he replied, "I'm doing the Dark Lord a little favor, prepping you for the real thing," before firing off another shot.
Harry barely dodged that one, but he still kept enough presence of mind to bite out viciously, "Where's Ginny?"
Shockingly, Malfoy grinned and stopped his attacks. Wary, Harry didn't move to the offensive, too noble to keep fighting when the other wasn't. It was obvious Malfoy knew this.
Malfoy beckoned to someone behind him, and a figure clad in sheer black robes, her red locks tumbling around her shoulders, emerged from the cover of the trees.
"Ginny!" Harry gasped, but her face was a cold mask – just as cold as the blonde's who was standing with his arm wrapped around her slim waist. He was confused. What was she doing with him? Why didn't she run?
She stared straight at him, and he thought he saw a spark of regret and sadness in her eyes, but a minute later, he was sure it had just been a trick of the light as she leaned up and kissed Draco Malfoy.
Anger built up inside his chest, enveloping him in a rage he never knew he possessed. He couldn't think. Ginny, his friend – heck, his girlfriend, was kissing Malfoy during the Final Battle. She had been a traitor all along.
His rage refused to listen to reason. It never occurred to him that she was under Imperious, or that she had been forced into this. And in a sense, he was right, because she wasn't under Imperious, and she hadn't been forced into this. It was all of her own free will.
He had let down his guard. In the swish of a cloak, Voldemort was suddenly on the scene, wand trained on Harry as a Crucio shot out and hit the Boy-Who-Lived.
The three watched as he struggled helplessly on the ground, but he never uttered a sound. Being stupidly brave, he refused to let them see his weakness. Suddenly, he was up again, aiming a Stunning Spell, but Voldemort had already vanished and reappeared behind him.
They fought the next few minutes …or was it an hour? Harry couldn't tell – he just knew that he had to go on, for neither could live while the other survived. Then, in the heat of the battle, when both were up to their highest standards, Voldemort made a fatal mistake – he stumbled. All at once, Harry had uttered the two words so infamous for killing so many wizards, wiping last bit of Voldemort's soul off the face of the earth forever.
He collapsed to the ground, exhausted, drained, and wishing for just a little bit of peace. There was a rustle of clothes behind him, alerting him to the fact that Malfoy and Ginny were still present. He struggled to sit up, but it was too late.
A flash of green light lit the air for a second time, and Harry Potter fell to the ground, dead. Draco Malfoy stood over him, having taken advantage of his weakness and his position.
The last thing Harry saw before he died was Ginny, standing not five feet away, and he had time to notice the tears spilling down her face as she watched him die.
The last thoughts he had were, Why, Gin? Why'd you leave me? Why him?
It never occurred to him that she had let herself be captured for his sake, that she was the one who had quietly fired a small Jelly Legs Jinx at Voldemort by stealing Malfoy's wand, giving Harry the chance he needed.
It never occurred to him that after he died, Malfoy killed her as well, leaving their two lost souls in an enchanted forest, left to soar together into the skies and heavens beyond.
It never occurred to him that she was the source of his power of love, the power the Dark Lord knew not.
It never occurred to him that it was all because she loved him.
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A/N: Haha, sorry if you are an avid believer in the fact that Harry should live because he's been "through so much."
Please review, even though it's just a one-shot. That was my first fic, so it'd be nice.
Flames…well, there's really constructive criticism in there. You just have to look hard for it.