A/N: As you can see, we've skipped right ahead to the Battle of Hogwarts (not really any spoilers there). Usually in my stories if I go by canon for the final battle, I use the books, but this time I tried to pick a mixture of books, movie, and even the original movie script (if any of it looks familiar to you) as well as my own (obvious) changes. I hope you all enjoy!


Chapter Seven
Pax


May 1998

Hermione Granger would be his damnation.

Draco was certain of it.

He should have been certain of it seven years ago when he'd first met the little know-it-all on the Hogwarts Express—then again, it hadn't been raining Fiendfyre at the time.

"Bloody hell, Vince! What were you thinking?!"

Draco had known what his friend had been thinking, at least slightly. The very sight of Hermione Granger, even with black hair and grey eyes—something he had yet to question as there was a battle going on—had set something loose in Vince's brain that shouted brainlessly, "Mudblood. Must kill." When the Killing Curse sent her way hadn't worked—much to everyone's relief except, naturally, Crabbe—the idiot had set loose a Fiendfyre Curse that trapped them all inside the Room of Hidden Things, which turned into a bloody oven.

He ripped Vince's wand out of his hand since he clearly could no longer be trusted with it. Draco's mother's wand had been lost beneath a pile of things a good thirty feet back and his original wand—his wand—was in Potter's hands. The blond Slytherin made a mental note to fetch it back as soon as possible—as soon as a flaming chimaera wasn't barrelling toward him. "Run!" he shouted at Vince who was paling as he stared at the fiery beasts he'd created.

He could hear Granger screaming Potter's name beyond the fire and the sound of it grated on his nerves to a point where, had he not been running away from Fiendfyre at the time, he would have turned around and Silenced her for it. When they'd reached an impasse in the room, encircled in the flames, he winced and looked around for a way out, dragging Greg who was still Stunned. "Fuck! Rennervate!" he shouted, finally reviving his friend.

Greg's eyes opened and he screamed at the sight of the rising inferno.

"Shut up!" Draco bellowed, dragging Greg to his feet. "Look for a way out! Where's Potter?" he demanded to know, looking through the smoke.

"Forget Potter!" Vince yelled and turned to make a dash for what looked like an exit.

Draco turned to call him an idiot; it wasn't as though he were looking to save the Boy Who Lived. It was, however, common knowledge by this point, that the Gryffindor had a penchant for escaping death; if there was ever a time to stick close to the Boy Wonder and his Weasel sidekick, now would be it. However, when he tried to tell that to Vince, he watched as a giant fiery dragon crashed down upon his friend, snapping jaws of flames around him and swallowing him whole.

Greg was crying. "Fuck, fuck, fuck . . ."

"Vince!" Draco screamed.

"Malfoy!" a voice called from above them, as the flaming dragon turned its head in their direction. His silver eyes swept upward to spot Potter flying overhead on one broom and Weasel and Granger on another; he felt immense relief at the sight. Potter swooped down, trying to grab his hand, which Draco thought slightly amusing considering seven years ago the boy couldn't be bothered to do so.

"Me first!" Greg shouted and grabbed Potter's outstretched arm, shoving Draco to the side in a sprint for survival. Later, if they lived through this day, he would likely tell Greg that he understood; self-preservation was the Slytherin way, after all. But right now, Greg was nothing but an arsehole who just stole Draco's ride, forcing him to look to Weasel and Granger for help.

He looked up, desperate for help when he caught sight of the arm being extended to him. He winced at the sight of the scar on the skin spelling out Mudblood. Despite everything he'd been through—everything they'd been through—his initial reaction at the sight of the word on her flesh caused him to recoil.

"You want to stay here?" Weasley yelled.

He'd been five years old when his mother caught him trying to convince the house-elves to bring him pudding before dinner one night. He was scolded and then told, "Don't touch the pudding until you've had your supper."

He was nine when his father caught him staring covetously at the wand enclosed within the serpent-headed cane. When he attempted to reach for it, he'd been disciplined and then told, "You may not touch a wand until you receive your own in two years' time."

When he received his Hogwarts letter it had apparently been time for "the talk". His father sat him down and explained—in great detail—the problem with Mudbloods, also called Muggle-borns, and how they were magically inferior and a plague on their society. "Do not befriend them, do not mingle with them, and do not touch them," his father had insisted firmly and Draco waited for the usual "until" that generally followed a "do not". It never came.

Do not befriend, mingle with, or touch Mudbloods. The point was very clear.

So when Draco stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express at eleven-years-old and first met Hermione Granger, who excitedly attempted to tell him the entire history of Hogwarts, he assumed she had been pureblood and was, therefore, acceptable company in the eyes of his parents. She'd jabbered on and on about the castle, its enchantments, and Draco grinned at the way her eyes lit up when she told him about how the magic first felt when she had gone to Ollivander's to get her wand. He understood the excitement and thrill of owning his very own wand.

While he waited for Greg and Vince to track him down, having been told by his father that his childhood friends were to remain with him as often as possible because it was wise to travel in numbers, he enjoyed the company of the girl beside him who asked him at least fifty questions about his life, his family, and his anticipations for school.

"Slytherin," he answered when she asked what House he thought he'd be sorted into. The girl made a contemplative face when he'd replied and then began listing the benefits of each House, making an audible note that a Muggle-born hadn't sorted into Slytherin in recorded history.

Draco laughed. "Well, no," he said. "They wouldn't would they? Slytherin's a House for true witches and wizards, not filthy—" he stopped at the look of horror on her face. "What?" he asked, confused by the way his new friend looked like she was about to cry. Then it hit him.

Granger leant further, stretching her arm out for him. "Malfoy! Take my hand!" she pleaded, her gaze desperate as grey met silver.

He took her hand, ignoring the voice of his father in the back of his head, after all, it wouldn't have been the first time. Draco swung his leg up and over the broom, gripping onto her waist for dear life and burying his nose in her hair. Fuck . . . how was it that even through the smoke she smelled like cinnamon?

When they burst through a wall of smoke to greet clean air on the other side, the brooms and all five riders crashed to the ground, sounds of battle echoing in the nearby corridors. Draco fell to the side and lay face down, coughing, gasping, and retching as he tried to expel the smoke from his lungs.

"Anapneo," a familiar voice whispered nearby and Draco felt his airway clear, fresh oxygen flooding him instantly. He turned, blurry-eyed, to find Granger looking down at him with a worried expression. "Are you all ri—" she began to say.

"C-Crabbe . . ." Greg was muttering, his body shaking as he stared at the blank wall that hid the Room of Requirement. "C-Crabbe . . ."

"He's dead," Weasley said harshly.

Draco turned and glared at the redhead.

"Ronald!" Granger snapped.

There was silence for a brief moment and then a loud bang in another part of the castle. Potter was quick on his feet and Granger and Weasley behind him. "Granger!" Draco managed to shout. "Don't!"

She looked back at him, shaking her head before she turned and ran after the others.

Fucking Gryffindors.


She was shaking as she helped to support Snape who was deathly pale and barely surviving. The antivenom they'd kept on hand after Nagini had attacked Mr Weasley just a couple years earlier had come in quite handy when the trio found their former Potions Master in the Shrieking Shack, bleeding out from the neck. Plenty of potions and some quick wand work that Hermione had learned during her unbearably boring recovery at Grimmauld Place under Snape's tutelage had the recently retired Headmaster of Hogwarts temporarily patched up.

"You could have died!" Hermione yelled at him.

Snape glowered at her. "That is not your concern, you stupid girl! Now be useful for once and grab the potion in my left pocket."

She and Madam Pomfrey each insisted that he stay down, resting, but when Voldemort loudly declared the death of Harry Potter, Snape stood to see it with his own eyes.

She helped the man make his way to the opening of the castle to stand beside fellow Order members, Dumbledore's Army, and students who elected to stay behind and fight. They passed by George Weasley who was kneeling at the side of Fred, handing over a Pain Potion to help his twin with the broken leg he'd sustained when a wall crashed down on them. Sirius was moving quickly with everyone else, flanked by Remus and Tonks until he caught sight of Hermione and rushed to embrace her, quietly thanking the gods that she'd made it.

He and Snape shared a curt nod before their eyes were drawn forward at the sound of screaming.

Ginny rushed toward the Death Eaters, but Mr Weasley held her back. Hermione inwardly cringed at the sight of her friend in pain, wishing that the redhead could have been let in on the plan. But they needed real grief to sell it. She imagined that—if it all worked according to plan—Ginny would have a few things to say, loudly, to Harry.

When she caught sight of Harry's body in Hagrid's arms, instinctively Hermione moved forward only to be held back by her uncle. "It'll be okay," Sirius said quietly. "It'll be okay," he repeated, likely to remind himself.

The massive procession of Death Eaters came to a halt in front of the castle, Voldemort himself leading them.

Ginny was screaming in her father's arms. "No! Harry!"

"Stupid girl!" Voldemort hissed. "You cry for that?" he asked, gesturing to Harry's body with a flick of his wand. The Elder Wand, Hermione noted. "Where was Harry Potter as you all collected your dead this past hour? While you all washed blood of loved ones from your hands and offered up prayers to your gods . . . while you fought bravely in the name of Harry Potter, he had already been dead! Nothing but a boy who relied on the sacrifice of others. And now . . . a dead boy."

"He's alive," Hermione whispered quietly. "He's alive. He's alive," she said over and over again until the felt Snape's hand squeezing her shoulder in support. She could feel Ron's hesitant hand in her own as well, and she let out a sigh of relief.

"Now is the time to declare yourself!" Voldemort shouted over the large crowd. "From this day forward, you put your faith in me! Give me your obedience, or suffer the consequences!"

No one moved.

Voldemort's red eyes scanned the crowd. "You," he said, pointing a finger toward Snape, "are supposed to be dead."

Snape sneered at the Dark wizard. "Sorry to disappoint you, my Lord."

"Perhaps," Voldemort began. "I will not offer clemency to . . . everyone," he said, his focus still on Snape.

Bellatrix giggled beside him until her eyes fell on Hermione and she hissed. "My Lord." She turned, her manic stare was pleading and she prostrated herself at Voldemort's feet. "Give me Potter's Mudblood," she begged.

The Dark Lord smiled in amusement at the sight of the witch on her knees before him; his most loyal follower, and by far his most psychotic. "Are you certain, Bella?" he asked. "It appears as though the girl has quite a blockade of brave wizards guarding her," he said, mocking the sight of Snape, Sirius, and Ron standing in front of Hermione. "Very well. I offer my hand to any who will take it, save for a few. Who seeks my mercy?"

"Draco!" Lucius Malfoy hissed, spotting a head of white-blond hair standing beside Greg Goyle among a scattering of shivering Slytherins that had broken out of the dungeons after being locked inside thanks to an unfortunate outburst from Pansy.

Hermione turned to look at Draco, her breath catching in her chest when he turned and made eye contact with her. She shook her head, silently begging him not to move. "Don't . . ." she whispered words he couldn't hear, echoing his own plea that he'd given her hours earlier outside the Room of Requirement.

"Draco, don't be stupid!" Lucius snarled at his son.

Hermione glowered at the man and his wife, the woman who might have married Regulus once upon a lifetime ago, as they beckoned their only child to join them on their side; the wrong side.


"Draco," Narcissa said, finally reaching out for her son.

He looked up at the woman pleading for him to come to her. He hesitated still, his eyes turning to look once more at Granger who was shaking between Sirius Black and Snape, his own godfather who was clearly on the opposing side of the war. When had that happened? And why the hell didn't he get me out of this? Draco wondered, looking down at the Dark Mark upon his forearm.

Broken under the words of his mother, Draco moved forward with lead feet as he crossed the barrier between sides, stopping when the Dark Lord reached out for him, flinching in response. "Well done, Draco."

Draco nodded once and hurried to his mother, falling into her arms and holding onto her tight, wondering how they were going to get away from all of this. How the hell was he going to save the people he loved? He could feel his father's hand on his shoulder and Draco bitterly shook it off before turning to face the crowd opposite the Death Eaters, his eyes catching Granger's immediately. Draco didn't move, not even when his mother slipped a wand into his hand. He didn't need to look, he knew what it was. His wand that she'd clearly taken from Potter's body when the boy had finally fallen at the hands of the Dark Lord.

"Now don't be shy," the Dark Lord was saying. "Who's next?"

Draco's eyes widened when Longbottom stepped forward. Go back, you moron! he wanted to snap at the idiot who looked like he could barely stand, let alone fight. And if the boy thought he was going to take the Dark Mark, he would be sorely mistaken that he could survive the ordeal in the shape he was currently in. Draco had barely made it through the process himself.

The Dark Lord laughed, a high pitched sound that echoed in the grounds. "Well, I must say I had hoped for better," he said and the Death Eaters around him, save for Draco and his parents, shared in the laughter. "Who might you be, young man?"

"Neville Longbottom."

"Welcome, welcome, Neville Longbottom. I'm sure we can find a place for you."

Bellatrix giggled. "Someone has to do the washing."

The Death Eaters roared with laughter.

"Now, now, Bellatrix. Let's not underestimate our young friend. By stepping forward, he lives to see another day and—"

"I'd like to say something," Longbottom interrupted the Dark Lord. "It doesn't matter that Harry's dead. This war wasn't about Harry. It was about something much more. He's not the first to die and likely won't be the last. You'll die," he said, pointing at the Dark Lord with a shaking hand, the other holding nothing but a tattered old hat. "It's not over," he said, reaching into the hat and withdrawing a massive sword.

Draco's eyes widened at the same time as the Dark Lord raised his wand, something similar to hope building in his chest. The Dark Lord aimed a curse at Longbottom, who dove out of the way, carrying the blade in his hands high as it came down upon the head of the giant snake.

"No!" the Dark Lord screamed.

Many things happened at once.

Longbottom threw his hands over his head as the Dark Lord aimed his wand at the boy. In the corner of his eyes, Draco watched as Harry Potter's lifeless body sprung up out of Hagrid's arms and he rushed toward Longbottom. Draco looked up to see Bellatrix rushing forward; Granger on the opposite side, moving quickly, unaware of the impending danger coming right for her.

Draco broke free of his mother's hold and ran for it. "Potter!" he shouted, and when the black-haired wizard turned, Draco threw the hawthorn wand to him, watching as he caught it and threw a shield up around Longbottom, deflecting the Dark Lord's curse.

"Draco!" Narcissa screamed after her son and ran, Lucius on her heels as they chased after the young blond toward the castle where battle had once again broken out.

"Granger!"

He looked up to see Bellatrix descend upon the girl, flinging curse after curse at her as easily as breathing. Granger, for all her strength, was fighting like mad just to keep up. Draco raised his wand—the wand he'd taken from Vincent in the Room of Requirement—and aimed as best he could while running and shouting, "Avada Kedavra!"

He missed.

He missed and his Aunt Bella's glare turned and fixated on him.

"Come to save the Mudblood again?" she said and cackled at him. "I knew you were lying when you said you couldn't tell who they were! Go on then, stand where you belong, Draco! Next to filth!" She gestured with her wand, her dark grey eyes manic as she followed him while he moved next to the witch.

Narcissa reached her sister and cried out, "Bella!"

"No!" Bellatrix snarled. "He's chosen his side! Expelliarmus!" she cried loudly and both Draco and Hermione's wands shot into her hand. The crazed witch giggled insanely as though she hadn't expected that to work.

"Shite," Draco whispered.

Bellatrix aimed her wand at the pair and, with a gleam in her eye, cried, "Crucio!"

In a move that no one suspected and everyone was shocked to see, Hermione and Draco turned and clung to one another as the curse hit, each trying in vain to save the other. Draco, physically stronger, screamed as he turned his body to take the curse in the back. Instantly his muscles constricted, tightening around the witch in his arms and they both fell to the ground.

Pain burned through his body worse than the Fiendfyre had felt. He'd been under the Cruciatus Curse before, even at his aunt's hands; clearly, Bellatrix had been holding back at the time. It was damn near close to the pain he'd felt when he'd taken the Dark Mark, only everywhere instead of just a central spot on his arm that burned outward. Hot needles stabbed through every pore, along each nerve in his body, and he tried to focus on anything to keep him from blacking out. Granger's voice was it as she cried out for him, "Draco! Draco, hang on!"

Someone shouted, "Stupefy!" and the Crucio ended. However, the Stunning Spell had apparently missed its target. Thankfully, though, Bella had turned her attention on whoever it was that had rescued them.

"Narcissa," Snape's voice was low and angry, "would you care to step away from your sister so you're not accidentally cursed? Since she's just tortured your son, I'd like to think you're smart enough to know what side of this battle you truly belong?"

Narcissa was quick to move, though when she stepped toward Draco and Hermione, Bellatrix shot a hex at her, burning her hand. The blonde looked up into the eyes of her crazed sister who was grinning while tutting her. "Naughty, Cissa." Bellatrix smirked. "If you'd like to take the little blood-traitor, by all means," she said, standing back to allow Narcissa and Lucius to reach for Draco should they were so inclined. "But you will leave the Mudblood."

"Do not use that word," Snape said with a velvety growl.

Bellatrix cackled. "Still strung up about Muggle-borns?" she asked. "You were never one of us."

Snape sneered at her. "Unfortunately, I was," he admitted. "But that girl is not only not a Muggle-born, she's my goddaughter and you will not touch her."

All eyes widened, Hermione's included.

"What?" Bella grimaced. "Who on earth, besides my idiot sister, would be stupid enough to make you the godfather of a child?" She laughed.

Snape smirked. "Regulus Black."

Bella's eyes widened and she turned to glare down at Hermione, understanding clicking into place inside of her Dementor-addled mind. "No!" she screamed and raised her wand again but whatever curse was meant for Hermione, died on her lips as Snape shouted, "Sectumsempra!" and opened Bellatrix's chest.

"Malfoy, are you all right?" Hermione whispered, looking up at the boy who was twitching every so often, still hovering above her; a human shield.

His breath was heavy and his eyes wide as he stared down at her. "Black?" he whispered the name, shocked by the declaration that had come from his—no, their?—godfather. Neither said another word as Draco was pulled from her by his father, leaving Hermione laying on the ground looking up at them all with grey eyes.

"Is it true?" Narcissa said through a broken voice as she looked down at Hermione, tears in her own eyes. She reached a tender hand out only to be cut off by Snape who moved to stand protectively between the Malfoys and the little witch.

"Severus?" Lucius stared at the man, his gaze narrowed.

At the sight of Bella's body bleeding out on the ground, Rodolphus Lestrange screamed in grief and anger and violently rose his wand in Snape's direction. "Avada Ked—"

"Stupefy!" shouted another voice. "Ha!" Sirius said, grin on his face as he joined his family—and Snape—looking at the Potions Master with a smug expression. "You owe me a life debt!"

"Avada Kedavra!" Snape yelled, aiming his wand over Sirius's left shoulder.

The Animagus turned and stared as the frozen body of Rabastan Lestrange, wand still in hand and aimed at Sirius, fell to the ground, dead. "Fuck," Sirius said in disappointment over the fact that Snape had saved his life as well.

"If we're done here," Snape said and turned to reach for Hermione's hand to pull her to her feet.

"Where's Harry?" she immediately asked.

"It's not possible," Lucius was muttering under his breath, his eyes fixed on the little witch. He took a step forward only to find Sirius's wand jammed under his jaw, all laughter gone from the man's face.

"Come near my niece, Malfoy," Sirius threatened, "and I'll happily make my cousin a widow."

Lucius slowly raised his hands, sneering at Sirius as the black-haired wizards took the little witch by the shoulders and led her away from the Slytherin family. "It's not possible," he said again, ignoring the shocked looks on both his wife and son's faces.


The trio marched into the Great Hall where more fighting was taking place, each man on either side of Hermione as they moved. She turned, looking back at the Malfoys only once, surprised over their shock and desperate to end this war so she could return to Grimmauld Place and feast upon the diaries of her father to find out perhaps exactly why Draco's parents were so gobsmacked over the sight of her. It couldn't just be the familial relation, could it?

"Good on ya, Moony!" Sirius shouted and Hermione turned to watch as her former Defence Professor snapped the neck of Fenrir Greyback. A feeling of relief and pride moved through her at the sight considering the rotten werewolf had pawed her during her very brief stay at Malfoy Manor, groping her body and licking his lips. The sight of his dead body at the feet of a man he'd long ago infected brought her actual joy. At the realisation of her thoughts, she inwardly blamed the Black blood running through her veins for feeling delight over a man's death, even if it was that particular man.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled and pulled the witch into a hug. The pair of friends sighed in relief over the safety of one another. "Did I see Malfoy take a curse for you?" he asked, dumbfounded. "And Snape killed Bellatrix?"

"Where's Harry?" Sirius and Hermione asked simultaneously.

Ron shook his head.

"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" Harry's voice echoed in the Great Hall and everyone turned to see the Boy Who Lived face off against Voldemort. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was disarmed? Because if it does . . . I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

Hermione and Ron clutched at one another at the sight of their best friend, and she watched from the corners of her eyes as Sirius and Remus both moved forward at the same time toward the duelling pair as though to offer Harry backup.

The Malfoys moved into the Great Hall, Draco faster than his parents, muscles still involuntarily twitching every few minutes as he stood just behind Hermione and Snape, staring with anxious hope at the sight of Harry Potter fighting the Dark Lord, Draco's own hawthorn wand in the boy's hand.

Voldemort snarled and Potter raised the wand defiantly and each cried out spells simultaneously.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Draco and Hermione both closed their eyes and prayed.

Please, no more war.