Luna Lovegood. No one ever suspected it would be Luna Lovegood, but that was the beauty of it. She was as pure as fresh fallen snow even amidst the horrors of death and war. She loved with a fierceness that nearly rivalled the loyalty of any Hufflepuff. She was brilliant and unique, and it was she who dispatched the last horcrux of one enraged Tom Riddle.
While the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix surrounded Hermione Granger with whispers of awe, Luna smiled to herself. It wasn't the least bit difficult for her to decipher the cryptic words of Hermione Granger for to her, they weren't nearly cryptic enough. It wasn't in her nature to be disparaging of others, yet she couldn't help a huff of annoyance. It was so easy, terribly easy really and what could it hurt to try?
She had whispered to Blaise Zabini amidst the commotion and while he was thoroughly confused, she knew he would meet her. They were similar in some ways, of that Luna was certain. His curiosity would get the best of him in the end.
Luna slipped away to the Burrow and pushed her sodden blonde hair from her eyes as she approached Arthur's shed. The chill in the air didn't permeate her heavy psychedelic cloak and she was grateful for the protections as she pushed open the heavy door. Her nose crinkled in delight as Tom Riddle's prize horcrux hovered in stasis.
"You poor dear," Luna sighed. "I suppose you didn't imagine your life would be spent like this, did you?"
Luna clasped her hands behind her back and slowly walked around the snake with a critical eye. Nagini's black eyes stared at the blonde, not that there was a choice in the matter. Luna captivated her singular audience and the remnant of Voldemort's soul shrunk away from her as much as it was capable in such close quarters.
"You're quite a large girl, aren't you? Hmm, well I suppose there's no point in delaying the inevitable. I do hope it doesn't cause you to much pain," Luna reached into her cloak and struggled with the weight of the object. "This wasn't supposed to be my task. I should be far away from here, diligently searching for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, and yet here I am. This was supposed to be Neville's moment, but your master stole it from him."
Luna Lovegood dropped a burlap sack at her feet and smiled encouragingly at Nagini. For a moment, she almost wished she could speak Parseltongue. She imagined the stories Nagini would be able to share with her and sighed.
She glanced down at the sword of Gryffindor with a determined glint in her cornflower blue eyes. She knew she could do this, though she had to admit it was Fleur who had suggested it. Luna smiled as she recalled her friend.
Fleur was kind to her when everyone was just a touch too dark and jaded. Luna didn't subscribe to the notion of allowing dark times to interfere with an optimistic outlook. It was part of the reason she had left for the coast in the first place. There was something about the water that had always calmed her and it allowed her to escape, at least for a little while.
As she asked Nagini to lower her head, Luna came to a realisation. This was her first true act of war. She wasn't sure how she felt about it, but she also didn't allow such things to keep from completing her mission.
"Well, that was much messier than expected," Luna shrugged her shoulders and dropped the sword.
She waited until Nagini's head rolled into the leg of a workbench and nodded. Her nose crinkled at the stains of blood on her hands and wiped them on her skirt. She shoved the decapitated head into her burlap sack and spelt it to contain the mess.
Luna looked at the body as she flung the sack over her shoulder. She watched it twitch and wondered if she should bury the body. She didn't. She wanted someone to see what had been done and report it to Harry. With a simple flick of her wand, Luna's Patronus burst into the sky and was off with a simple message.
"I don't want to stay here," Hermione Granger whispered into Blaise Zabini's welcoming chest.
He groaned, but he didn't attempt to dislodge her. Why she had latched onto him as someone she considered safe was anyone's guess. It wasn't that he minded tending to her, he didn't. It was the furtive glances laced with distrust that was nearly his undoing.
What more did the Order want from him? He had traipsed through miles upon miles of tunnels and brought them their princess. You'd think that would afford him some pleasantries, but alas, they were constantly seeking to uncover his hidden agenda.
"I don't either, but there isn't a choice in the matter," Blaise absently rubbed her back as he watched the twins whisper in the corner. "Unless they'd be willing to allow me to procure a flat. Gods, I'd love to go home and that's saying something since I don't have a fucking home anymore, but that doesn't matter to this lot does it?"
Blaise freely admitted he shrieked like a young child when an eager hare bounded into the small sitting room and sat at his feet. He had never seen such magic before, not in all his days. It was the epitome of Light and he wasn't fortunate enough to have been exposed to any of it.
"Now," The hare's mouth opened and Lovegood's lilting voice sprung free and it was only then that the rapid beat of his heart calmed.
"What was that about?" The twins looked over at Blaise with minimal interest yet without malice.
"Here, look after Granger. I-I told Lovegood I'd meet her." Blaise practically shoved Hermione into their unwilling arms and bolted for the front door.
He heard the concerned shouts behind him, but he simply moved faster. He flung open the front door and immediately Disapparated. The door swung in the light breeze and clicked shut.
He couldn't Apparate directly to the Thames. There were entirely too many Muggles about, but Blaise was well versed in Muggle London. One of his favourite pastimes had been sneaking away from the Wizarding World. He sought solace. He sought acceptance and the irony of finding such things amongst Muggles was not lost on him.
Blaise was giddy with the excitement of freedom and he hurried on his way. He hoped this wasn't some sort of elaborate trick. He just wanted to be free of it all and somehow Blaise honestly believed Luna Lovegood could lend aid.
"There you are," Luna skipped with her blonde hair flowing out behind her and a heavy burlap sack over her shoulder.
Considering they were not friends, to say Blaise was surprised by her exuberance was an understatement. His first inclination was to tear his arm from her grasp, but she smiled so sweetly, he didn't see the point in it. Therefore, Blaise Zabini allowed Luna Lovegood to lead him along the Thames with her damp rainbow skirt blowing in the light breeze.
"I'm really glad you came. I wasn't sure you would, but you didn't disappoint," Luna scrunched her shoulders in outright happiness, and her joy was catching.
"I don't know why I'm here, but I must admit I was curious," said Blaise.
"Of course you were," Luna waited until the Muggles dispersed before she set her sack on the ground with a low grunt. "Are you ready then? Somehow I feel it's fitting that you're the one to dispose of her."
"Dispose of…Lovegood, have you…is that…it's not a body is it?" Blaise stepped backwards with a grimace.
"Don't be silly. An entire body wouldn't fit in here, it's just a head. Would you like to see it?" Luna opened the bag as though she were presenting a gift and Blaise gagged at the stench.
"What the fuck have you done?" Blaise scoured the immediate area for prying eyes and came up empty.
"It wasn't that difficult. I really thought it would be harder and looked forward to the challenge, but all I had to do was slice her head off. Can you believe it? The sword did most of the work really, but even so," Luna shrugged as she shoved an errant blonde strand behind her ear. "Would you be so kind as to toss this abomination into the river?"
Blaise took the burlap sack that was shoved into his hands with a grunt of malcontent. He didn't want to know, but yet he so desperately did. He was also just the slightest bit afraid of the slight witch, not that he would admit to such things aloud. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils and immediately regretted it as the coppery scent of blood assailed him.
"Am I going to get sent to Azkaban for this?" Blaise hissed as he took a few unhurried steps toward the river.
"I should hope not. I rather like to believe the Wizarding World would be ever so thankful to the wizard that tossed Nagini's head into the River Thames."
Blaise yelped and hurled the sack away from him. His dark eyes widened in horror as the sack toppled into the river with a great plop. He watched the bubbles pop on the surface and then it was gone. It sunk slowly and Blaise choked on the saliva that filled his mouth.
"Y-you killed it?" He stared at Luna with fresh eyes, filled with respect and awe.
"I was fairly certain that was obvious," Luna patted his arm with a small giggle that made his stomach turn. "We're almost there. Now, if you could return to Grimmauld Place and give Harry a message for me, that would be lovely."
"Why would he listen to me? I'm nobody. I'm just the unwilling Death Eater that brought back their Golden Girl. Have you seen the way they look at me?" Blaise Zabini's words were biting, but Luna was capable of seeing through his mask of rage and uncover the hurt.
"Give them time," Luna squeezed his bicep and he tried not to recoil away from the bloodstains on her fingers. "They'll see your worth."
"They'd sooner see me in Azkaban." Blaise scoffed.
"After you deliver my message to Harry, bring him to the Burrow. He'll have to lead the way, but tell him to venture to the shed. He'll be pleased to see the surprise I've left for him." Luna stretched onto her toes and gently kissed the startled wizard's cheek.
"You're a bit barmy."
"Thank you." Luna turned on her heel and quickly disappeared into a sea of Muggles.
"This is stupid," Ron Weasley grumbled in complaint as he kicked the undergrowth.
"Shut up, Ron." Harry strode beside his mate with his eyes firmly trained on the ground.
He didn't want to explain to Ron his inherent need to find the stone. It was the last connection he had to his parents and he wanted them with him when he faced Voldemort. It had been empowering during the prior battle to know they loved and supported him. Harry desperately needed to know they were with him.
It embarrassed him slightly when it was Luna that pointed out such things to him. When Blaise Zabini had dragged him into the garden he had bristled against it. He didn't mistrust the man, but he didn't exactly trust him either. Of course, with the first mention of Luna, Harry offered his undivided attention and hence that was the reason he was scouring the Forbidden Forest for the Resurrection Stone.
"We're never going to find it," Ron groaned and clutched his stomach.
Ron was hungry. Ron was tired. Ron had spent half the night trying to speak to Hermione, but she refused to do anything more than blink at him. It had been that way for weeks on end and Ron had highly considered jinxing her.
"Do you ever stop complaining?" Harry knelt and brushed aside a few broken twigs and branches only to uncover absolutely nothing.
"Yes, I do, Harry, thank you so much for asking. I didn't complain when you offered Zabini a bedchamber. I didn't complain when Narcissa suggested she take Hermione with her to the Burrow and you agreed. You agreed, Harry! I didn't complain when you dragged me along on yet another adventure, but now I'm tired. I'm cold. I'm fucking starving, I swear I could eat a Hippogriff and we're looking for the world's smallest garden gnome in a sea of shrubbery." Ron refused to take another step and slumped against a fallen tree.
"I knew I should have gone immediately," Harry sat across from his friend and crossed his arms angrily. "I should have listened to Luna, but I'm Harry Potter. I don't have to take anyone's advice and now here I am, weeks after she first suggested it and," Harry tossed his hands into the air and let loose a great shout of fury.
"Well, first you had to process the fact that it was your nutty girlfriend that lopped off that bloody snake's head." Ron shuddered and his revulsion was obvious. "Then you had to hem and haw about even going to the Burrow."
"I wasn't hemming and hawing! I was looking at the situation logically and attempting to deduce if it was some sort of elaborate trap." Harry slapped the hard ground with his palm and immediately regretted it as his hand stung.
"Nah, that's a Hermione sort of thing. You're Harry Potter. You heard Voldemort in your head and rushed about without thinking all the time," Ron chuckled. "I'm glad you went though. I'm not glad I went with you. I could have done without seeing that rotting corpse in my dad's shed."
"I had to go. There wasn't a choice in the matter," grumbled Harry.
"Yeah, but only because we all heard Luna shouting at you. That was fantastic," Ron scrunched his features and cleared his throat. "Harry Potter, you go right now or I'll sit on your cock again!" He clutched his stomach as his laughter erupted. "I thought dad was going to die of embarrassment."
"Shut up, Ron!"
"I overheard Zabini talking to Hermione the other day," Ron studied the small hole in his dark green slacks and pretended Harry wasn't the least bit irritated. "I still find it hard to believe she loves Malfoy," Ron spat the name as though it left a foul taste in his mouth. "He wasn't very nice to us when we were kids, but I suppose I really thought he hated her."
"It's nearly impossible to hate Hermione. I mean, even when you really want to hate her because she bloody well knows everything, you just can't. She's entirely too nice," said Harry as he closed his eyes.
"She's not though. Hermione is mean. Do you not remember those birds she conjured and set on me?" Ron's incredulous expression caused Harry to chortle at his mate's expense.
"You can't say you didn't deserve it." Harry wiggled his eyebrows and spun his wand between his fingers.
"Shut up, Harry!" Ron's stomach grumbled loudly, as though they had forgotten it existed and it wished to make its presence known. "Maybe we should just…try Summoning it?" Ron cringed and locked his arms firmly around his midriff.
"Oh ya, sure Ron," Harry scoffed. "I'll just…shout a nice Accio Resurrection Stone and…" Harry flinched as the stone hurtled into his raised hand and nearly dropped it in shock.
"Holy shit." Ron gasped.
Narcissa Malfoy stared at the missive in her shaking hands and willed the tears to still. She recognised the elegant scrawl of her son. She was tempted to break the seal and scour the words, yet she refrained. Her upbringing wouldn't allow her to commit such atrocities.
Instead, she approached Harry Potter after yet another pointless Order gathering. She tired of their ridiculous banter and while she knew strides were being made to end the war, it simply wasn't fast enough for her tastes. She wanted to see her son, yet such things could not occur until the Dark Lord was vanquished.
"What is it Cissa?" Harry propped his head on his hand and drummed his fingers on the table.
"You've an owl. It arrived while you were ensconced with Minister Shacklebolt. It's…it's from my Draco." Narcissa struggled to set it by his elbow and held it against her chest for a moment.
Harry tore the delicate parchment in his haste and Narcissa scrutinised his eyes scour the letter. She held her breath when he pushed it toward her. She didn't read it immediately. She needed more than her son's words. She desperately ached for the tiniest sliver of good news, but Harry's eyes were filled with sadness.
"Hermione will want to see this," Harry looked away from the forlorn mother and wiped the tear from the corner of his green eyes.
"Is there no hope then?" Narcissa's voice quavered yet her chin jutted forward in aristocratic fortitude.
"I-I don't know," Harry exhaled. "There's always hope I suppose. We wouldn't have come this far without it. Whoever would have thought Hermione would return with Zabini and pregnant no less? Whoever would have thought Luna Lovegood would dispatch the last horcrux?" Harry lowered his gaze and brushed his fingertips along Narcissa's entwined hands. "Whoever would have thought Draco Malfoy would be willing to sacrifice himself for us?"
Narcissa's strangled sob plucked at his heartstrings, but Harry knew it wasn't the time wallow in misery. There would be plenty of time later to reflect upon the sacrifices made. Now was the time to rise and do what must be done.
As for Narcissa Malfoy, she stalked from the kitchen of Grimmauld Place with her chin held high. She didn't brush away the tears streaking down her cheeks. She stepped into the Floo with her bright blue eyes closed against the inquisitive glances.
"The Burrow," her clear voice shook and she was gone in a cloud of bright green flames.
She stepped in the great room and covered her trembling lips with a shaky palm. For the first time in her life, Narcissa didn't brush the soot from her sombre grey robes. She felt the streaks of black were currently fitting to the heaviness of her heart.
She was thankful the Burrow was relatively quiet. As she peeked through the back door, she spied Luna gaily laughing as she chased James. She ached with memories of her only son doing the same when he was small. She wondered if she would see his child grow but quickly pushed such thoughts away.
"Cissa?" Arthur approached her warily.
"Not now, Arthur."
She shook her head and dislodged the shimmering diamond clasp. Her blonde hair fell down her back as the clasp clattered to the floor and she did not retrieve it. Instead, she took a long, deep breath and ascended the steps that would lead her to Hermione Granger.
The door to the bedchamber was closed and Narcissa did not knock. She twisted the handle and stepped into the darkened room. The affection she felt toward the Muggleborn had only increased tenfold when the girl had returned.
They had spent hours upon hours dissecting every word, every action, every breath Draco had shared with Hermione. Narcissa knew there was much they hadn't discussed by only by the blatant blush upon the girl's cheeks. She was thankful for the scraps of information and held them close.
"Hermione?"
Hermione mumbled in her sleep and drew the afghan over her head. She wasn't ready to face the day, let alone visitors. She hadn't conversed much upon her return, but it hadn't stopped Harry or Ron from peppering her with questions she never answered.
"Go 'way," she grunted.
"I haven't come to tempt you with freshly baked morsels or bore you with idle conversation. Draco managed to send a letter to Harry Potter. Mr Potter insisted it was shared with you." Narcissa sat primly on the red and gold plaid armchair set at Hermione's bedside and pursed her lips.
Hermione nearly leapt from the bed in her haste to rid herself of the excess blankets. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright for the first time in ages. She blinked quickly and her left hand dropped to the obvious bulge beneath her nightdress.
"Y-you're serious?" Hermione shoved her riotous curls from her face and twisted them into a misshapen bun.
Narcissa simply placed the parchment in Hermione's lap. She didn't trust her voice to convey the words properly without being reduced to pathetic sobs. She folded her hands in her lap and waited.
Hermione paused as her child tumbled about and winced from the force of it. She was a slight witch and while she had been steadily gaining weight since her release from captivity, it wasn't nearly enough. Her fingertips gently touched Draco's scrawl and suddenly, she was afraid.
"Would you…like me to read it to you?" Narcissa's kind smile didn't reach her eyes, nevertheless, the gesture was appreciated.
Hermione's Gryffindor courage would not allow her to baulk. She knew it might very well be the last time she received a word from Draco. Her fingers wrenched open the parchment and she was forced to pause due to the gathering of tears in her eyes that blurred the words.
'Potter. I never thought I'd be writing to you under these circumstances. I never thought these circumstances would exist and yet, here we are. I've done something incredibly stupid, but I'd bet my last galleon your lot would call it ridiculously brave.
'If you're reading this, good old Riddle is residing within me. I've offered myself up, Potter. If I'm correct concerning my assumptions, he's trapped in me. This is your chance. Don't muck it up this time, all right? I can't do anything more. I'm hoping against hope this owl finds you. If it doesn't, it's all for nought and that is unacceptable.
'I'm removing the wards from the Manor. It'll take me a bit. It's centuries worth of enchantments, I'm sure you understand. You have better killed that fucking snake, Potter. It all rests on you now and I can't begin to tell you how much I hate that. Be the fucking Chosen One and end this, you ponce. Fuck off now. I've got things to say to Granger.'
Hermione laughed and cried as she read his words and Narcissa was alarmed. Personally, she felt her son was crass, but it seemed the Muggleborn witch's opinion differed.
'I should have told you, Granger. I'm not going to apologise. I'm not sorry, I just wish you knew. I wish you could hear me utter the words rather than just read them. I really did you a disservice, didn't I?
Don't cry for me. Don't lie and say you're not crying, I know you are. Fuck, you've just left and it's taking everything in me to remain still. I nearly regret remaining behind, nearly.
'I felt it, at least there's that much. I'm not a brave man, Granger, but I can pretend. For you, I can pretend. You're the reason I'm doing this. I was content to waste away to nothing, but you fucking changed everything.
I don't expect I'll see you again and I hate it. I hate that I won't be there to see our child be born, to watch him grow up. Just promise me this much, don't…don't name him after me. Yes, I'm positive the child will be a boy. It's tradition. Don't saddle him with my legacy. Don't allow my mother to interfere. Promise me.
'Gods, you're going to be a wonderful mother. I wish I could see it. Remember me sometimes, not all the time. I don't want you to be sad forever, I'm not quite that selfish. Sometimes, when the morning breaks and the sun is gently kissing the horizon, remember me then. Be happy.
I love you, Granger. You were right. We could have had an amazing life, but something's got to give to end this blasted War. Tell my mother I'm sorry.'
"I promise. I promise. I promise," Hermione whispered until the words jumbled together into nothingness.
Hermione clutched the dampened parchment to her chest with one hand as she gripped Narcissa's hand with the other. Arthur found them hours later with dried tears on their cheeks. He settled an afghan over them and let them be. It was the least he could do.
"Are you certain, Mr Potter?" Kingsley Shacklebolt was exceedingly weary and the toll of the ongoing War showed in the creases in his dark face.
"This is it. Everyone is always telling me I've got to trust those around me…" Harry shrugged.
"Yes, but…are you certain Mr Malfoy would…" Kingsley gestured toward the gathering of Order members and Harry followed his gaze.
It wasn't the largest group he'd ever seen, but he'd gone into battle with less. They had lost many, but they had also gained. There was something inherently pleasing to see the smattering of Slytherin amongst the ranks. It seemed they were just as desperate to end the darkness as everyone else.
"If you had asked me that question seven years ago, the answer would be very different. You've heard Hannah's testimony. You've eavesdropped as Hermione waxed poetic and she's not the sort of witch who is easily fooled. He loves her. He might hate us, but he loves her and that's why we're going."
Kingsley Shacklebolt considered Harry's words carefully. He hadn't an argument. There was nothing left for them to lose. Every single member of The Order of the Phoenix was willing to lay down their lives to defeat the darkest wizard they had ever encountered. It was out of his hands and he willing passed the honour to Harry Potter.
"As you wish." Kingsley bowed and turned toward the nervous group of witches and wizards.
"Wands at the ready!" Harry shouted and waited until the first group Apparated before he followed.
Harry Potter walked through the iron gates of Malfoy Manor with his wand tightly held in a clenched fist. His teeth grit together in determination and he didn't spare a glance to the few Order members by his side. He gulped noisily and marched toward the Manor in the distance.
"We're with you, Harry." Ron Weasley's voice made Harry cringe.
He hadn't wanted them to come, not any of them. He wanted to walk into this alone, but he had been overruled. He understood their dedication and their need to see it finished, but he didn't want anyone else to die.
Luna had called him a chauvinistic pig when he had stashed her wand. Narcissa hadn't put up much of a fight and vowed to stay with Hermione. It wasn't much, but it was something. At least Harry knew the mother of his child and his proverbial sister was safe.
Harry wondered if Bill regretted asking Fleur to remain behind. The barrage of angry French was enough to keep Harry from asking. There were moments when Fleur reminded him of Molly, but he kept such thoughts to himself. He didn't imagine either of them being particularly happy about the similarities, but he liked to imagine Molly was proud of all of them as they walked into death.
"Death Eaters!"
Harry flinched at the shout, but all he could see were Weasleys. He took a moment to shake his head before he returned to the task at hand. With Arthur and Bill charging into the fray, Harry knew they'd be safe.
Harry ascended the steps leading to the impressively tall door of the Manor with his blood pulsing in his ears. Absently, he stuck his hand into his pocket and fingered the stone. It was uncustomary of him to put such faith in anyone other than Hermione, but his choices were limited. He hoped to Merlin it worked. If it didn't, well, he didn't wish to be the wizard that was forced to deliver the news to Hermione Granger.
The door creaked open before he could lay hands upon it. He thrust his shoulders back and pretended he could feel the presence of his parents. Such things had comforted him once and he wasn't against utilising them again.
The Manor was eerily silent and the dark hairs on the back of his neck stood. Harry crept through the foyer on alert for the slightest motion. He barely remembered the way to the drawing room but felt it was fitting to begin his search there.
"Harry Potter," The ominous voice hissed, yet it sounded empty. It didn't have near enough muted rage to have much of an effect on Harry.
"Tom, it's good to see you." Harry Potter's confidence was always extraordinary and this time it was no different.
"Still an insolent child." The wizard smirked and Harry found it off-putting.
"Perhaps, but at least I can say I'm standing here of my own volition. You can't say that really. I mean, could you stand without stealing someone else's body, or would you just sort of hover like all the other ghosts?" Harry crossed his arms as he winked at his adversary.
"Power is power, Potter. Have you come to bore me with endless diatribes concerning the power of love? While I am quite fond of Dumbledore's favourite solution, I like to believe we've moved passed things." Voldemort lazily waved Draco Malfoy's hand in the air, facetiously asking Harry to continue.
"There are no more horcruxes, Tom. It's just you and me now."
Harry watched as Voldemort's face contorted in what could only be described as excruciating pain. His wand wavered and Harry surged forward, prepared for anything. He paused as a pale palm rose.
"Get on with it, Potter." Draco Malfoy pushed through the oozing darkness littering his soul to communicate.
"I hate it when he does that!" Lord Voldemort roared and Harry slowly backed away. "I'm aware of the Prophecy just as you are, Harry. Neither can live while the other survives and all that nonsense. Have you come to end me once more? It didn't work quite so well for you last time, did it?" The Dark Lord snickered and held his wand on Harry Potter.
Harry's eyes narrowed in silent concentration. He could hear the spells being fired on the grounds. He had faith that the Order could corral the remaining strangling Death Eaters. He focused on the internal battle being fought within Draco Malfoy and with a last breath, he withdrew the stone from his pocket.
Tom Riddle's gaze broke from Harry's as the Resurrection Stone sailed toward his head. It was instinct to catch it and he stared at it in wonder. He had been ever so close to it once before, yet it was Harry fucking Potter who had stolen it from him.
"A gift, Potter?" The low timbre of Tom's voice was disconcerting, as was the façade of happiness in the red-rimmed eyes.
Harry decided he wasn't fond of Draco Malfoy's lips stretching into a sinister smile and shrugged. "It isn't for you."
Draco struggled up to the surface for a moment, and Harry could see the clarity in the resigned grey eyes. Harry nodded in relief when Draco shoved the stone into the pocket of his slacks.
"Do it, Potter." Draco's voice hissed between clenched teeth as he struggled for control.
He shuddered and pretended he didn't feel the presence behind him. Draco observed Harry do absolutely nothing and it was infuriating. He didn't know how much longer he was capable of keeping Voldemort suppressed but he didn't imagine he could last more than a few moments. He stroked the stone in his pocket and wished he could see her one last time.
"She'll hate me forever." Harry shook his head slowly and looked as though he was lowering his wand.
"Son," Lucius Malfoy's voice whispered in Draco's ear. "I'm with you."
Draco was absolutely positive his mind was playing tricks on him. It was entirely possible. He had spent weeks at the mercy of a madman. It didn't much matter that this particular madman spent most of his time painting trees and cursing them. Draco had been privy to Voldemort's innermost thoughts and that was enough to drive anyone mad.
"Maybe, but she'll live," Draco's head dropped with the realisation he would never see Hermione again.
He could feel Lord Voldemort internally slashing at his bonds. He flinched away from the tremendous groundswell of love that coursed through his borrowed body. The undeniable fact it was love for filth only exacerbated the situation and his determination to regain control reared its ugly head, but it was too late.
Harry wrestled internally. The fire within him to finally end Voldemort had been snuffed out. He had seen more than a person his age should ever have to see. He had watched his friends and loved ones fall, and yet nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to knowingly ending the innocent, for the sake of the greater good. Harry Potter, the Chosen One, nodded and raised his wand, while Draco Malfoy closed his eyes, content to know the end had finally come, and his love was safe.
"Avada Kedavra."
The silence in the Wizarding World was deafening after the final defeat of Tom Riddle. In their eyes, he no longer required the title of Lord Voldemort, and they refused to refer to him as such. It was a breath of fresh air, really, but the grief within the community held strong.
There weren't shouts of jubilation. There weren't celebratory parties. There were funerals. A seemingly endless parade of funerals, amidst a sea of black.
Harry Potter forced one foot in front of the other. His heart was near to bursting with regret. He knew there wasn't a choice in the matter. He knew he did exactly what he was supposed to do, and yet for the first time in his life, he hated himself.
He swallowed hard as he ascended the creaking steps that led to Hermione Granger's bedchamber. The tears pricked the corners of his eyes and his hands shook as he turned the door handle. He hadn't the words and Harry didn't know how he was going to tell her.
He pushed open the door and held his breath. Hermione was propped on a seemingly endless pile of feather pillows and Narcissa sat at her side. They looked to him with hopeful eyes and he choked on the bile lodged in his throat.
"No," Hermione whispered and Harry cursed his expressive face.
She had always known him best and it was the first time he regretted their closeness. Harry was incapable of lying to her. He stepped into the room and hated the sun for shining so brightly.
"Hermione," Harry's voice cracked and Narcissa clamped both hands over her mouth.
"No, don't say it," Hermione shook her head so fiercely he was certain it must hurt.
Harry Potter stared at the ground and shuffled toward her bedside. He didn't touch her. He couldn't. His hands were no longer clean. He had murdered and hadn't the right to mar her as well. His logic was flawed, but it didn't stop his eyes from envisioning splatters of blood splashed across his palms.
He tuned out the shaking shoulders of Draco Malfoy's mother and concentrated on breathing. Breathing was easy, Harry could do that much. There was so much he wanted to tell her, but he knew it would have to wait. The pain was too fresh and it would only cause her more distress.
Harry shoved his hand into the interior pocket of his torn blazer and removed a small black box. He didn't tell Hermione that he had discovered it in the front pocket of Draco's slacks. He didn't tell her that he had crawled over to his former enemy and sobbed over his body. He didn't tell her that he had opened the box and knew exactly what it contained. In fact, Harry Potter said nothing. He laid the box beside her open hand and walked away.
As he closed the door behind him and took a shaky breath, he closed his eyes. It was then he heard the heart-wrenching sobs of a broken witch, and he hated himself just a touch more. He didn't cringe away from the sounds of her howls and he did not comfort her.
Harry Potter wasn't nearly the hero he was proclaimed to be. He was simply a man who was forced into an impossible position. He was the man who was instrumental in bringing a madman to his knees, but there was no comfort in it. He had raised his wand against the one wizard who had given his life for a cause that had never accepted him. He had watched the light in his eyes go out. He had watched his body fall to the ground in an elegant heap.
Harry Potter had taken the life of the one man who had given all…for love.