Title: The Misfortunes of Virtue
Author: Winter Ashby (rosweldrmr)
Disclaimer: Harry Potter © J.K. Rowling & Misfortunes of Virtue (title only) were written by the Marquis de Sade in 1787 (more notes about the literary allusions in the footnote of the last chapter)
Rating: M (for language and adult themes)
Summary: Draco steals away in the dead of night on orders from the Dark Lord to either kidnap or kill Hermione. But who is he really loyal to?
Timeline: Post 'The Half-Blood Prince' Some incorporated plot of 'Deathly Hallows'
Warning: Major Character Deaths! Inferi!Character, Necromancism: controlling the dead (NOT necrophilia), strong language, violence, blood, gore, & DH spoilers
Authors Note: We get to see some old friends again! Warning: there's a rather long speech in chapter from Harry. Sorry, but it just didn't right to set everyone off to fight without a little inspiration, eh?

Part Nine
Semblance of Trust

He stood at the door of the castle for a while, trying to make his hands stop shaking. And once he'd regained his composure, he walked across the grounds, past the deserted greenhouses towards the forest. He could see her easily, because he was searching or because she stood in the innermost ring, at Potter's right, he wasn't sure.

It was easy to blend into the crowd. He chose a spot off to the side, not too close, but not too far. He turned his back on her and gazed out at the eerily quiet forbidden forest.

"He's out there, somewhere."

A blond girl had appeared to his right, her half-lidded eyes and dreamy voice almost made him think she was a ghost. But one look at her radish earrings and butter-beer-cork necklace, and Draco knew it was Lovegood.

"Who?" he asked fingering his wand in his cloak pocket. He was distracted; his mind kept replaying the image of him and her standing hand in hand, smiling. His cloak still smelled like her.

"Voldemort" the reply came from his left. Unseen to him, Longbottom sidled up beside him, eyes set on a fixed point he couldn't see.

"I suppose so." Draco fished his wand out and checked the time on the Hogwarts tower clock. Ten minutes to go.

"You don't mind if I kill your Aunt, right?" Longbottom asked, conversationally.

"Be my guest." Draco shrugged and, remembering Hermione comment a few weeks earlier about his parents' house he added, "be sure to use cruciatus."

Longbottom nodded fiercely, like that question was supposed to be some kind of test. To his right, Lovegood did the same.

"Almost time." Draco wheeled around at the voice. Potter stood behind him, a lopsided grin on his face.

Draco checked the clock again, and avoided looking at Hermione.

"When he kills me, you'll only have a split second to hit him, so don't hesitate." Potter instructed him. Draco could only bring himself to nod.

"You know," Draco drawled "you don't have to do this." He wasn't sure why he said it, really. It wasn't because he particularly cared one way or the other. But, in the end, it only seemed appropriate that someone said it.

"No, I really do." Behind him, Draco could see other men, braver than he, cringe at the words. "There's no other way." And for his part, Potter smiled. It was horribly depressing, resigned to death, tragic almost, but a smile all the same. He stepped forward and held out his hand. Draco stared at it for a few minutes before grasping it with his own. "Thank you, Draco. For everything you've done for us."

"Sure thing, Potter." Draco looked away and shook his hand.

But Potter didn't let go, instead he leaned in a little closer and lowered his voice. "Do me a favor, take care of her, when I'm gone." Potter nodded over his shoulder where Draco could make out the mass of brown frizzy hair.

He wanted to laugh it off, or remove his hand and punch Potter in the face. But he didn't. Instead, without even having to listen to the burning sensation of not behaving, he just nodded and said, "With my life."

He withdrew his hand and smirked. Potter nodded and backed away a bit. A girl with flaming orange hair appeared out of the crowd and stood at Potter's side.

As the minutes ticked by, the people around them began to form a kind of line. Potter at the center, hands in their robes, holding wands not yet visible. And a creeping silence found its way over the crowd.

Potter stepped up, his scar clearly visible in the moonlight to address his army.

"We've been planning this for a long time. Preparing, researching, training. But tonight, we fight. We're ready. Because tonight, we fight for Albus Dumbledore," here a strong round of grunting and weak clapping punctuated the legacy of the man, "for Cedric Diggory and Ronald Weasley." He paused for a moment, and Draco could hear Hermione's sharp intake of breath. Then Potter scanned the faces in the crowd. "We fight for Xenophilius Lovegood, and Frank and Alice Longbottom." He scanned more faces around them. "For Nymphadora Tonks Lupin, Severus Snape." There was a brief moment of silence as they all remembered what it cost them to get this far. "And everyone else they took from us. Tonight, I fight for my parents, and yours," Potter looked at Longbottom and nodded. "Professor Dumbledore was right about something. We have something they don't. We have a secret weapon Voldemort can't understand, which means that he underestimates us, even now." Potter seemed to straighten out to stand at his full height and looked across the vast-stretching line of his supporters. Some were crying, others weren't. But no one looked away from him, "We have love. We love friends, and family," he held out his hand and the red-headed witch took it and stood by him. "We have something to fight for. We aren't just fighting to kill them; we're fighting to protect everything we love. Remember that, and we'll show them magic they've never seen before."

There was a rushing of cheers and people embracing.

Draco sought her in the crowd. He found her in a sea of orange hair. She wasn't crying. Her face was set and her eyes were resolved. He pushed through the people, his hands trembling and his heart twitching, aching slightly.

"Hermione –"

"I release you."

"What?" There was something in his chest that heaved at her words. But the way her eyes glistened made it impossible to focus on anything but her face.

Not now, not now.

"I want you do behave like Draco Malfoy." immediately, he felt a rush of power flood through his veins, like an imperius curse had been lifted. He pushed her back hard enough to make her stumble. His declaration lost, swallowed up by the possibility that perhaps she wanted him to love her, and the vow bound him to her will.

He shook with fury. Disgusted, he staggered back, mouth open, and his hands itching for his wand. He'd never felt as dangerous as he did then, never closer to losing control, to slapping her, cursing her, destroying everything she was.

He remembered what it felt like to hate her and her dirty, mudblood. He remembered that she was inferior, and he was powerful. He was reminded that she was nothing, nothing compared to him. She wasn't worth the DNA she was made of. Just a silly monkey, too clever for her own good, and yet, he was caught in her web.

She was devious that way.

Dark magic swirled in him, humming, drumming against his opened chest. He'd never come that close to love and the mockery she made of him and it was enough to leave scars deep enough to last a lifetime.

He was dying to kill someone.

"Malfoy" he didn't stop, he couldn't, not now. Not now. He needed to kill something, someone. He needed forbidden, dark magic and blood on his hands. He need maniacal laughter and evil, evil propaganda. Because now that he was himself, he wasn't, because his head was still full of things like the feel of her skin and the way she smelled.

He pushed on, through the crowd, to the front of the line. He was panting and gripping his wand so hard, the grooves and imperfections of it were being fused into the supple skin of his hands. Those same hands that touched her, that felt her skin, that longed, that dreamed, that wished that bloody mirror had been real so her hand could fit perfectly in his.

Tonight, it ends.

What does this mean for Draco now? Does this mean everything he's felt has been only because she wanted him to? How will he fight now? Will he go back to feeling about Hermione the way he did before? Is there any hope at all for them? Next time: The battle begins!