Apparently, the worst that could happen was already happening.
Hermione was standing with her back agains the wall, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath before turning a corner. Her wand was threatening to drop to the stone floor from between her sweaty fingers, causing her to grip it so tightly her nails began digging into her palm.
"Where are they all coming from?" Ron yelled to her despite being at her side; the sounds of destruction around them overpowering anything noise less than a scream.
"I-" Hermione attempted to say that she didn't know, but the words wouldn't pass her lips. She licked them in an effort to hide her hesitation, tasting the luck potion they'd just downed moments before. The Felix Felicis didn't stop them from being attacked, but the spells aimed at them seemed to just miss them every time they came too close to hitting their target. But given how little they'd each managed to swallow, they couldn't know how long their luck would last.
Shaking her head, she thrust her free hand into her pocket. The Galleon was still resting in it, cool as glass as her fingers slid around it. She'd tried to signal Draco, to illicit some sort of response that would reassure her that this wasn't her fault, but there was nothing coming from the other end. Nothing to fill the deepening pit in her stomach.
"It doesn't matter. They're here and Dumbledore isn't so we have to try our best to do what we can… to survive." Her words came out much stronger than she felt, but Ron seemed to take comfort in them as his own chest swelled. With that, he rounded the corner before her, wand extended, and took in the scene ahead of them. Hermione followed in a similar stance, coming to a stop beside him.
The Great Hall was in the worst state they'd ever seen it in. Deflected spells brought chunks of rock crashing down to the polished floor, covering the shiny surface in a layer of dust that was coming up in a clouds as witches and wizards seemed to dance through it. There was nothing artful about their actions, however, as their arms whipped back in frantic patterns to cast spell after spell, curse after curse.
The Order seemed to have arrived quickly after the attack began, but the ground was still littered with bodies, dead or unconscious, that people had to jump over as they fought. It was almost a blessing in some cases, as Hermione watched Tonks trip and fall over another fallen witch, narrowly missing a flash of green that had just been hurled her way.
Hermione allowed herself to take in the scene for only a moment before jumping into the main action, trying to immobilize anyone she didn't recognize from the school or the Order. This time Ron followed her, watching her back and yelling out any curses he could remember. The teenage drama that had drove a wedge between them recently took a backseat as they fought for their lives and the lives of their friends.
Friends like Lavender Brown, who appeared to be one of the bodies on the floor though her chest still moved. Or Neville, who was obviously trying to be brave as he weeded his way through the people around him, wand clutched tightly against his chest. And friends like Harry, who still wasn't back but desperately needed to be there.
"How in the bloody hell did these bastards get in?" Tonks had regained her footing and was at Hermione's side, face shining as lips curled back into a snarl.
"No idea." Hermione's teeth clenched together after letting the words out, still trying not to let her worst fears take form in her mind. "How did you get in? Could they have gotten in the same way?"
"Nope. We came through the front door, the Apparition block is still holding strong and they were already here. They must have found a way to get straight into the castle."
"Oh," Hermione couldn't give any more of a response as she was distracted trying to block some manner of curse that was headed towards the pair of them from an unknown source. That was the most difficult part, defending yourself against someone you can't see or discern from anyone else. Especially when the one who had had her back, Ron, seemed to have disappeared into the dust.
"Where the hell is Dumbledore?" Tonks didn't seem to find Hermione's lack of proper reaction troubling as she herself was struggling to find a way to keep her surroundings in order.
"On some kind of mission thing with Harry. Super secretive." She threw out an Immobulus charm.
"Could it have anything to do with this attack?" Tonks blocked a bright blue hex.
She thought for a moment, using only half her attention as she kept an eye out for a wayward curse. If this had to do with Draco, if there was more to his plan than he'd let on, then she may have just led him straight to the perfect ending. After Harry had left, she'd changed the coin so all numbers read '0', meaning a cancellation. And he'd known that she was meeting Harry. That preoccupation might've been exactly what the Death Eaters needed in order to attack.
It was too much.
Turning, without a word to Tonks, she left the Great Hall and headed down the corridor. Her feet smacked against the stone but this time she couldn't hear the thwacking resounding through the hall. Dodging curses and ducking between people she made it up the stairs. One set, two sets, three sets; up and up until she was on the seventh floor.
The door to the Room of Requirement was wide open, the tapestry across from it hanging off of one side of the pole like someone had tried to rip it down. Hermione could feel any colour that was left in her face drain away, as she approached the door.
The Room was empty, whomever had been here was long gone. But as she stepped inside, everything came together to form the harsh reality. The Vanishing Cabinet stood with it's doors wide open. The dove she and Draco had watched float around the room earlier that day was dead on the floor in front of it, trampled to death.
It was her fault. She'd been blinded by the story of the lonely boy and had directly caused the all the hurt and pain been ravaged downstairs. She could feel the tears starting to form in her eyes but made no effort to do anything about them.
Instead, she picked up the closest thing her hands could find; a broomstick leaning up against the bookshelf. Holding it by it's staff, she ran forward until she was in front of the Cabinet and used all of the force she could muster to strike it with the stick. The already splintered wood started to fracture as she hit it again and again. The tears spilt over onto her now red cheeks but she didn't care. All that mattered was the destruction of this horrible, horrible thing.
Stepping back, Hermione dropped the broomstick to the floor and admired her handiwork. All that research, the concentration and effort it took to repair the Vanishing Cabinet, had culminated to what was now a pile of useless wood. It would never transfer another living soul again, she was sure of it.
"Bloody 'ell," a deep voice echoed incredulously from behind her.
Ron came up beside her, evidently surprised and confused by the scene in front of him. She stared back at him and his dishevelled appearance. His cheek was bleeding, as if hit by a stray piece of rubble. The potion must have started to wear off.
"What did you do that for?" He finally asked, keeping his space as he continued to take in the view, this time roving from the wetness of her face and the broomstick on the floor at her feet.
"It's how they got in." She replied grimly.
"Wait, what?" Ron closed the space between them, looking down at her incredulously. "How would you know that?"
Hermione refused to meet his eyes and instead fell to the floor, letting her hands knot themselves in her hair as she brought her knees up to her face. After taking a few shaky breaths, she made a decision.
"I have something I need to tell you."
…
He could feel the Galleon warming in his pocket more and more frequently as more screams and crashes filled the air of the castle. He wanted so desperately to take it out and respond, but knew that it was just a matter of time before she figured out what he'd done. And then his pocket would be as cold as he felt inside; that haunting coolness chilled him to the bones as he climbed the steps of the Astronomy Tower. Everything felt wrong, even his own wand felt foreign in his fingers having just cast the Dark Mark merely moments ago. Every instinct of his was screaming at him to turn back, to run and never look back.
It was too late now. Draco had a mission to complete. He couldn't stop here, he had to finish the job or else the Malfoy line was going to end with him.
It was the thought of his mother that pushed that of Hermione, and a life away from all of this, out of his mind now. It didn't take too much of his imagination to picture what the Dark Lord would do to her if he failed. He couldn't let that happen. There was too much at stake, too much to loose. And so he started to run up the final few steps, creating enough force to burst open the door and iron rung with a single push.
"Expelliarmus!" He yelled, his wand already ahead of him as he saw the white haired figure leaning against the ramparts. Dumbledore's wand hit the ground with a clatter.
"Good evening, Draco." The old wizard spoke in a calm voice. It was infuriating. Of course the old man had to make this so much harder.
"Who else is here?" Draco's eyes spotted two broomsticks on the floor between them.
"A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?"
Draco brought his eyes back up to meet Dumbledore's. It was unnerving just how ancient he looked in the greenish glare of the Dark Mark. Then again, that might make what he had to do just a little bit easier.
"No. I've got back-up. There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight."
"Well, well," Dumbledore said in what had to be the most condescending voice Draco thought he'd ever heard. "Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?"
"Yeah," He felt his breath quickening as he kept up his bravado. "Right under your nose and you never realized!"
"Ingenious. Yet…forgive me… where are they now? You seem unsupported."
"They met some of your guard. They're having a fight down below. They won't be long… I came on ahead. I-I've got a job to do."
"Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy." Dumbledore said softly.
Draco couldn't respond. If there was anything he was expecting from this night that he'd dreamed of for so long, had long to get over with, this wasn't it. He could do nothing but stare at his Headmaster. The man in front of him, who knew what Draco was supposed to do, simply smiled.
"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer."
"How do you know?" He replied quickly. He could feel his cheeks flush as he realized how childish he'd just sounded. He just couldn't let this man get the best of him; he wasn't strong enough for this. But he had to be. So he spoke more slowly, more forcefully this time. "You don't know what I'm capable of. You don't know what I've done!"
"Oh, yes, I do." Dumbledore said mildly. Draco couldn't believe his ears.
And so it went. Dumbledore knew about Katie and Ron, how Draco had almost killed them in his own misguided and frankly lazy attempts to get at the Headmaster. He knew that Voldemort had given him an impossible mission, and had done nothing to stop it. The only thing he couldn't figure out, it seemed, was how Draco had smuggled the Death Eaters into the castle. A detail that Draco would never divulge, at least not wholly, and so he stayed silent as the Headmaster tried to entice him back into conversation. Maybe if the old man kept talking, there would be time for the others to join him. That was, until Dumbledore suggested that he couldn't kill him.
"I'm not afraid!" Draco snarled, though he stayed where he was. "It's you who should be scared."
"But why? I don't think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe… so tell me, while we wait for your friends… how did you smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it."
Draco felt like he was going to be sick. He tried taking a few deep breaths but nothing helped. Keeping his eyes on Dumbledore, he raised his wand higher and pointed it directly at the old man's heart. Apparently he wasn't going to drop the subject, so Draco had to fictionalize the truth to protect someone who was sure to hate him by now. It was the least he could do.
"I had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one's used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year."
"Aaaaah." Dumbledore sighed, as if he should have known. "That was clever… there is a pair, I take it?"
Draco retold the story as much as he could, leaving one very important detail out. If he kept talking, if the other Death Eaters could just join him already, this could end in some other way. Maybe.
Then Dumbledore seemed to praise him for being so clever, almost like he knew it wasn't all Draco's plan. But there was no way he could suspect who the real help had been, so Draco didn't care. He just felt strengthened by the fact that he was buying into the whole thing.
The young boy then told him all about how he controlled Rosmerta, and how Snape and just wanted all the glory in the eyes of the Dark Lord. Dumbledore tried to insist that the Potions Master was really on his side, but what did he know? Snape was as evil as they came. Draco spoke of how Rosmerta had warned them that Dumbledore had left, using enchanted Galleons like the one he had in his pocket right then. And that the Dark Mark wasn't totally a lie.
"Someone's dead." Draco could feel his voice rising as he recalled his way to the Tower. "One of your people… I don't know who it was, it was dark.. I stepped over the body… I was supposed to be waiting up here when you got back, only your Phoenix lot got in the way…"
"Yes, they do that."
There were more noises coming from down the stairs now, closer than ever before. The Death Eaters were coming.
"There is little time, one way or another. So, let us discuss your options, Draco."
"My options?" Draco said loudly, incredulous at the man's behaviour this entire night. "I'm standing here with a wand… I'm about to kill you!"
"My dear boy, let us have no more pretence about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first Disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means."
"I haven't got any options!" Draco cried out, feeling himself become white as a sheet. He couldn't take it any more, the pressure and everything. "I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!"
"I appreciate the difficulty of your position. Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized I suspected you."
Draco winced, unable to fully comprehend the care in the man's voice.
"I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you were entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you. But now at last we can speak plainly to each other… no harm has been done, you have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that your unintentional victims survived. I can help you, Draco."
"No, you can't." Draco could feel his hand and wand shaking, but couldn't put them down. Dumbledore may be the only person the Dark Lord ever feared but now he's sickly and old and could no longer stand a chance. His mom was depending on him now, his father too. He had to make them proud. "Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice."
"Come over to the right side, Draco, we can protect you and your family. You are not a killer."
"But I got this far, didn't I?" He said slowly. He had to reassert himself, as tempting as the offer was. "They thought I'd die in the attempt, but I'm here… and you're in my power… I'm the one with the wand… you're at my mercy."
"No, Draco," Dumbledore spoke softly, "It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now."
He couldn't speak. His mouth was gaping open and his wand was starting to lower. This was too much, he couldn't handle it, he just couldn't do this anymore. He needed out but there was no way out. He needed help but the only one who could make a difference was going to want him dead.
But, as it turned out, he didn't need to make a decision. The door behind him burst open with a bang and he was shoved to the side as four people in black robes pushed him to the side to get at the old wizard.
He couldn't pay attention as his fellow Death Eaters jeered at Dumbledore, leering and making odd conversation. Even Fenrir was there, which only made matters worse as the werewolf starting prodding him, reminding him of his orders.
He was saved again as Snape burst onto the scene, having taken down some of the Order quite loudly on his way up the stairs. Words were spoken, words that Draco couldn't quite catch but he thought he just heard the old man say "Severus", before a green flash of light filled the entire room.
Dumbledore toppled over and out the window. He was dead. And Draco hadn't killed him.
"Out of here, quickly." Snape grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, pulling him out the door and down the stairs. Draco almost tripped over all the robes that were trying to make it out of the Astronomy Tower at once, but he didn't care. He couldn't believe it.
It was over. He was safe.
For now.
…
A blood curdling scream echoed through every hall of the castle. Feet were pounding against stone as silence followed; the fighting having ceased and everyone was running towards the noise.
Hermione shot up, wrenching her hands from out of her hair and drawing her wand from her pocket. Without a second thought she started to run out of the room to follow the crowd. Whatever this was, it couldn't be good.
"Wait! Hermione! What did you want to tell me?" Ron was trying to catch up to her and was breathless, whether it was due to the running or just utter mental exhaustion, she couldn't tell.
She didn't bother looking back at him. They made it down the stairs in no time, finding the crowd in the courtyard beneath the Astronomy Tower.
"Move… get out of the way…" Hermione pushed herself to the front of the crowd.
There was a body lying on the ground, and she recognized the figure leaning over it. Harry was holding something in his hand as he started to cry, staring down at the broken man.
It was Dumbledore. He was dead.
And it was all her fault.