In which the battle resumes, and I see Hinkypunks and the sun.
In years to come, if there were years to come, I knew I would look back to this night and wonder how I'd noticed so many things my normally unobservant, slow mind couldn't take in, not in such a short time.
Things flashed out at me as I walked to that hall, into the place where I had sat and eaten for seven years of my life. That hall had been where I'd laughed and eaten until I'd felt physically sick. There, I'd laughed as Peeves dropped eggs on people's heads at breakfast; I'd sat and looked at those twelve Christmas trees glittering, adorned with lights and tinsel; I'd felt peaceful and complete.
Now everything had shattered. Someone had hastily erected some small, flimsy looking camp beds; their occupants groaning, and with a plunge of fear, I saw some weren't moving at all. It was eerie how quiet the hall had gone; as if the hundreds of people crammed inside it weren't really here. Low murmurings filled the air, and my heart lurched as I heard sobbing. My hands shook as I crossed the hall; taking in people's tired, weary faces; the blood that matted hair, skin and clothes as it swam before me. I almost felt like I could smell it; iron amongst the faint smell of burning.
I knew why my hands were shaking. I'd never been more afraid in my life. Looking at those camp beds, seeing who was lying in them, and feeling my heart stutter every time I saw blond, dark, or sandy hair. It was selfish, looking for people I knew, but right then I realised what my greatest fear was; that in the third year when that Boggart had shown me a rampaging Hinkypunk I had been shockingly ignorant.
What could be worse? I decided, than seeing everyone you loved lying on these beds? With their eyes shut, and their skin pale? I was suddenly finding it hard to put one foot in front of the other.
Walking through that hall, I heard the sound of hurried feet on floorboards. The last thing I saw was a flash of white blond hair, before a pair of arms closed tightly around me, pulling me close against him.
"Malfoy," I whispered, my legs almost giving out in relief. One person alive.
"Last names still?" I could almost see him smirking weakly, "Ouch."
It felt inexplicably weird to stand there with him, and I felt bad for the feeling of relief, and bittersweet happiness that stole over me. How could I be happy when I could still hear that crying?
I drew away just as another figure hurtled into me, and that relief flooded through me again; tears stinging my eyes as I realised just how lost I would be without these people.
"Merlin's beard, Meg," The dark haired figure was stammering, "I turned around and you were gone, and how was I supposed to-"
"Terry," I grinned weakly, "I'm fine, really. Where's Antony?"
"With Padma. She broke her arm. And Jade's over there with some of her friends, so don't worry-"
He was cut off as a cry broke across the hall, a woman's sobbing causing the hush to grow even more muted.
"Oh my God." I breathed, my eyes following the sound.
The Weasleys' were crowded round one of beds, and my breath stuck in my throat as I looked at them.
Lying on one of those beds that I had decided I hated more than anything was Fred Weasley; my heart lurching and plummeting along with any happiness I could possibly have mustered. It couldn't be right, I decided, I was tired. How could this have all happened so fast? It couldn't have been more than two hours since I'd been sat in the Room of Requirement, bored and wondering. Now, people had died, snapped away so quickly it didn't seem real.
"Let's move away." Terry said in a muted voice, his jaw tightening as he looked over at the Weasley's, beginning to step away from them, because what else could you do when you were an intruder on a tragic scene like that?
I tripped and stumbled over scattered debris as I allowed him to lead me mindlessly across the hall, away from the stretch of beds that I couldn't take my eyes off. How many people lay there? How many families who would never see them again? I felt sick as I crossed that hall, that hall that couldn't be the same as the one I had known and loved. It was like I had slipped into some parallel world; a world filled with the dark things of nightmares. How could all these people be dead?
"-Meg,"
I realised Terry was saying my name, and I blinked, running a hand through my hair; my fingers pressing at the sudden headache pounding at my skull.
"Huh?"
"I said, McGonagall has gone to try and salvage some of the statues to fight for us. We might as well see if we can help."
I nodded, pressing my fingertips against my eyelids. I couldn't shake that image though. Fred's lifeless face.
"I'm guessing we're still fighting?"
That voice made me gasp in relief; spinning round and pouncing on the speaker, Antony; who had come up behind us; his face streaked with ash from what had probably been a near miss from a spell.
"Wow, I'm ok." He said, a faint glint of a weary smile on his lips, "Neville's just said a few of them are going out into the grounds. You know, for the people still out there..." He trailed off, but none of us needed any indication as to exactly what people he meant. More people for the camp beds.
"We're still fighting." Terry finally murmured after the uncertain flicker of grim silence. It wasn't really a question; the light in his dark eyes not anywhere near one of surrender. He looked angry, I realised. Not that it was any wonder. Not with that crying family behind us.
"Of course," I said quietly, my voice breaking slightly, "I don't trust anyone who speaks about themselves in third person through thin air."
"Um." Said Antony, and looking back at him, I saw his eyes were fixed on Malfoy. And not with a particularly friendly look. "What is he doing here?"
For some reason, my mind was hurled back to that broom cupboard; five of us crammed against crates of Mrs. Scower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover.
"That's right," Terry put in, looking more concerned than confrontational, "Last time we saw you, you were running off on some unfulfilled mission."
"I'm guessing it stayed unfulfilled?" I shot the question at Draco, who met my gaze. He looked pale; traces of soot and ash still marring his skin and hair.
"Yeah." He said in a hoarse voice.
"And where are your buddies?" I asked, casting a quick look round the hall, which was probably stupid. They weren't on this side. And Malfoy, well, with Malfoy I normally didn't have any idea as to which side he was on.
"Goyle...I don't know where he is." Malfoy's voice was wavering, and I flicked my gaze back to him curiously. "But Crabbe...Crabbe's dead."
I paused for a moment, wondering how exactly to feel about this,
"Well," I finally said, "It couldn't have happened to a nicer person." And with that, whether it was shock catching up to me, or because I'd momentarily taken leave or my senses, I began to snort uncontrollably.
Malfoy's lips flickered; the cold look in his eyes faltering as he took in my expression.
"Someone has just died." Terry said weakly, taking in the pair of us.
It was terrible, I knew; it was just a little hard to regain control of myself. It felt like some heavy fist had just crushed down on me, and like a balloon, I felt like I was deflating. Balloons were probably a little more sophisticated about it though.
"Are you hysterical?" Terry asked blankly, evidently clueless as to what to do.
I put my face in my heads, a little startled to find my eyelashes were a bit wet. Yes, I suppose I was a little hysterical. Despite from my stomach feeling like jelly, I felt a little better though.
Neville pushed past us; his nose streaming freely with blood; his cardigan torn and his face bruised.
"Antony, Terry," He said, then started slightly as he recognised Draco. He evidently decided it was best to ignore him, for he carried on as if he wasn't there. Beside me, Malfoy stiffened, "Do you want to help go outside?"
"We have forty minutes," Terry said in the same quiet voice he had been using; glancing down at his watch, "And I guess we can't really do much here-"
"Meg, can I talk to you?"
Malfoy cut across the conversation, causing us all to look across at him.
"Now?" I asked stupidly. Malfoy walked away before he could give an answer, heading out into the hall; making his way through scattered debris; clouds of dust swirling up around him.
"Um." I muttered, awkwardly taking in Neville's, Terry's and Antony's somewhat baffled expressions, "Be right back."
The hall behind me felt like the sun as I walked away from it; pulling me back into its orbit even as I turned away. Despite my breaking down slightly, it was still there; the tragedy it housed still as present and blaring as ever. But I felt strangely empty right now, as if my body had held all the emotion it could, and now I was stumbling around in a dream; my eyes expressionless to what they were seeing.
Until Malfoy's grey eyes fixed on mine. He said only a few words, but the way he said them made me feel like I had just woken up; having fallen out of bed; now blind and confused.
"I'm sorry." His tone was measured, but it broke slightly as he looked directly at me, his jaw set determinedly, "I'm so sorry for everything."
I didn't say anything to that, because, really, I had absolutely nothing to say. Not because those words didn't merit any acknowledgement, but because my brain was thudding dully and blankly; in the kind of way it used to when a teacher had demanded an answer from me and I hadn't been paying attention. My eyes moved across the scene around us; around the broken castle with its empty portraits and shattered statues. This couldn't be the same place I had walked through on my first night here; eleven years old; nervous and so much smaller than I was now.
And I found out I did have things to say.
"Look, I get it. I do. These two years have been a nightmare for you." I sucked on my cheeks as I contemplated the expression on his face. It had turned to a blank masked again; only his eyes were watching me fixatedly. "And not because of that stupid mission, but because you had to choose between your family and what was right. Why should a seventeen year old have to choose that?" I kicked at the stone by my foot. It hurt. "It's just unfair, isn't it? This whole thing is so, so unfair."
"I messed up." Malfoy's tone was harsh, brittle as he spoke across me, "Not just once either. I've let you down, so many times."
I had a retort for that, as I normally did, but something in his eyes made me falter.
"What?" I asked, confused. I didn't know what he was getting at, and suddenly, I felt a little scared.
"Look at everything I've put you though," He said, his forehead creasing as his lips flickered humourlessly, "I left you in that corridor last year; I couldn't even move, and, sure, I hated myself for it- I hate myself for it- but that didn't change the fact I didn't do anything at Easter either. And tonight, of all nights, I left you on that staircase."
"So?" The word came out a little ruder than I had intended it to, but it was worth it for the look of surprise that crossed his face, "What are you getting at?"
"I really think," He let out a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say, "That in no world, or any time, will I ever deserve you."
Wow.
A thousand thoughts shot through my head at that. Thrilled, upset, angry, confused all flooded through my head; pumping like blood before my eyes.
I latched onto the nearest one.
"Now?" I asked weakly, "You want to do this now?"
"I can't just not say this-"
But I was already onto the next thought that had been flung through my pounding head,
"Ok, here's the deal, you useless lump of person." I said, my choice of words causing his eyebrows to shoot upwards in surprise, "You go on about how you beat yourself up for leaving me all those times, and your solution is to leave?"
"Well no, that's not what I-"
"Do I look remotely finished?" I believe the description for my tone now was something Terry would have described as hysterical. "Surely me, who has apparently been used and abandoned so many times, deserves some sort of say in this whole deal? Do you agree?"
"Um." Sheepish was definitely the word for Malfoy's expression, "Yes. But-"
"Well then, I say I'm your girlfriend. Moron."
"Meg," And with that I knew, with that small surrendered use of my name, I was finally getting to hear what was really hurting him; the thing that was stabbing into his chest and crippling him with guilt. He looked at me, and either I was hallucinating, or his eyes were swimming. He's crying, I realised dully.
"I caused this though." He said.
I had to say, that was not an angle I had fully considered him saying. Sure, when angry I'd blamed him a hundred times in my head for how things that had panned out this year, and sometimes I was pretty sure he had too. After all, to some extent, it was his fault. But this? He was blaming himself for Fred, for the countless others who lay scattered in the grounds and on those beds?
"You believe that?" I whispered, my voice hoarse, "That's what you think?"
He nodded.
That broke my heart; to see him standing there, so wracked with self-hate and guilt. I'd felt guilt too, for knowing what he was doing, what he'd done last year, and not telling anyone. It ate you up; it crushed you.
I'd stepped forwards and wrapped my arms around him before I could speak again.
"The only person whose fault this is," I said firmly, my face warm as I rested it against his chest, "Is someone who is barely even human. And Harry is going to kill him."
I could feel his heart beating, the strong rhythm of his chest oddly soothing to my tired, aching brain. His arms wound arm me in reply, warm and gentle. I wasn't sure if anything I had said had made a dent in that massive shield of remorse he had cased himself in, but hopefully I hadn't made it worse.
"My parents are out there, Meg," He said quietly, almost a whisper as his breath stirred my hair, "In the forest."
"Well," I replied softly, "It's time they chose between their son and what's safe."
I don't know how long we stood there, neither of us speaking, encased in our own thoughts and fears; my eyes stinging as my arms stayed tightly wrapped around him, as if he were a lifeline in this storm.
And then, that voice. Cold, making my skin erupt with shivers. And it was triumphant.
"Harry Potter is dead."
And just like that my heart seemed to freeze, somehow stuttering to a halt as I heard those four words; so certain I had misheard, but so desolately sure I hadn't.
"He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you and The Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live, and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."
The silence left behind crushed down on my eardrums. The distant muttering that had been discernable from the hall was gone; any sound or movement eclipsed by what we had all just heard.
Then, just one voice,
"Outside, quickly,"
Footsteps came hurried on flagstones, and a moment later Professor McGonagall came running out of the hall, towards the doors to the grounds that had one stood so proud and now lay battered and ajar.
I broke away from Malfoy, glancing at him for a split second, meeting his eye before tearing myself away, and running after her.
I wasn't the only one. The flood of students and people who had fought for Harry came sprinting out the hall; surging as one towards the doors. It was as crowded and impossible to move freely as the evacuation had been, but not one face was smiling anymore. No laughing, smiling. Just pain, sadness and fear. And defeat.
My breathing sounded harsh as the cold, waning night air met it; sharp and bitter. Far above the trees to the Forbidden Forest the stars were moving on; the moon shifting through the sky; a faint line of dawn already blurring the horizon. I had lost track of time; stuck in this perpetual, nightmare limbo.
They came from the shadows of the trees; hooded, dark figures, so numerous it was a wonder we had all managed to withstand them at all. Giants, lumbering and huge railed after Death Eaters; all coming up the grounds towards our castle, and squinting through the faint light, I saw one taller figure in the centre of the group; moving in great, shuffling steps. I felt sick when I recognised Hagrid; his shoulders shaking as he moved.
And then I recognised the figure he was holding.
"NO!" Mcgonagall's cry split the air, harsh and making me jump. Laughter met her exclamation, from one of the Death Eaters, and beside me, a small girl began to cry. Completely unaware of doing so, I put a hand on her shoulder.
"Harry!" The voice made me flinch, people calling out Harry's name, his friends who had fought for him. The cries grew louder, but I couldn't bring myself to speak; not with my eyes focused on Harry's still face, lifeless and blank. It was almost like I was praying for his eyelashes to flutter, for his mouth to twitch, for him to give some sign of life.
"Silence!"
A voice called for quiet; a voice I had only ever heard magnified into the empty air. So, I thought, that's what he looked like. Lord Voldemort. Tall and pale; he looked more like some skeletal ghost than a man. Or perhaps he looked more like a snake; with his slitted nostrils and narrowed eyes. Either way, I found out what it felt like to be ridiculously afraid. I jumped as a flash of bright light shot over us; a wand exploding, casting quiet over the watchers.
"It is over!" Lord Voldemort continued; his voice rasping as he shouted, "Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"
I was jostled aside as people tried to look at the figure Hagrid placed at the ground, trying to see if it really was all over. Blink, Harry, my mind thudded dully, please be alive.
"Harry Potter is dead. From this day forth, you put your faith in me. Harry Potter is dead!" His last words were drowned with a cry of triumph from the Death Eaters; the sharp, dead silence from the watching crowd clashing against it.
"And now," Voldemort continued, "Is the time to declare yourself. Come forward and join us, or die."
He was met with still, silent figures. Nobody moved, breathing around me shallow.
"Draco," The voice came wavering across the space between the two lines of people. Lucius Malfoy was looking at the figure standing next to me, his hand outstretched towards his son. "Draco."
Malfoy froze beside me as eyes turned to him. Unconsciously, I felt his gaze flicker towards me. I stared ahead, my brain raging.
"Draco, come." It wasn't his father this time, but Narcissa Malfoy.
And there, meeting her wide-eyed, panicked gaze, I knew he would go to her. Not for a second did I doubt it.
But it wasn't because he was choosing Voldemort. He was choosing his family. Or, moreover, looking into Narcissa's expression, his family was choosing him. My fingers found his hand, and I squeezed it. Go, I wanted to say, it's ok. At least one of us might be getting out of this alive. But how much could anyone say with one simple gesture?
He left my side, leaving me oddly cold, working his way through the crowd, out into the gap between the two sides. I dropped my gaze. Even though his reason fro going over there was not constructed of cowardice, I didn't want to see this.
When I looked back up, Voldemort was speaking again,
"-Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"
"He beat you!" Ron's voice broke through the crowd; and the spell that had shot out over us seemed to lift; for shouts filled the air again. The light hit us again; silence snapping out the cries of protest,
"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds! Killed while trying to save himself-"
He broke off as a tall figure broke from the crowd and raced towards Voldemort. Even the Carrows couldn't have mistaken him for someone eagerly joining the Death Eaters. A flash of light met his efforts and he flew backwards; colliding with the unforgiving ground.
Neville Longbottom staggered to his feet, now wandless and alone in the stretch of land between us and them.
"And who is this?" Voldemort hissed, "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"
The woman who had laughed earlier stepped forwards, and the first thing I really noted about her was the state of her hair. Definitely not one of my neighbours either.
"It is Neville Longbottom my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"
I felt, in between the fear and worry pounding though my brain, a sudden surge of pride that our actions had been deemed worthy of telling to the Death Eaters and Lord Volemort himself. Perhaps, after all that hopelessness, we had made a difference. Not that is mattered now.
"Ah, yes I remember." Voldemort was saying, his voice turning quieter, more like a snakes hiss as he looked down at Neville, "But you are a pure-blood, aren't you, my brave boy?"
"So what if I am?" Neville retorted, his voice carrying easily over to where I stood. My gaze flickered over to where Malfoy now stood; his shoulders hunched, his arms stiff by his side. He was watching me, his gaze fixed on mine.
"You show spirit, and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need you kind, Neville Longbottom."
"I'll join you when hell freezes over!" Neville shouted, turning to face the watching crowd at the steps to the castle, "Dumbledore's Army!" He was met with an answering cheer, that made me feel a small flicker of hope. These people were all still ready to fight, I realised. Then hell, so was I.
"Very well," Voldemort said, the snake's hiss more dangerous than ever, "If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head, be it."
A window above us shattered; and something plummeted from the sky; dropping into Voldemort's outstretched fingers. I recognised it instantly, with a twinge of confusion. It was the Sorting Hat.
Voldemort was speaking again, but his voice was so quiet I couldn't make out the words. All I saw was Neville looking at him, his hands clenched furiously by his side, and Harry still lying there; crumpled on the floor. Suddenly, Voldemort forced the hat over Neville's head. A few watching people shuffled, bewildered but tensed. They were met with the wands that raised in unison from across the no-man's-land.
"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," Voldemort announced, and with that, he flicked his wand. And the hat burst into flames.
The growing, pale light meant that he looked like a beacon; the flames licking at Neville like he was tied to a pyre; unable to move as his body set alight.
I had moved long before I lost track of everything.
My wand was drawn, my feet racing down the steps, in between the surging crowds, when the massive shout split the air, a thousand times louder than a normal pair of lungs could have managed,
"HAGGER!"
The giant rounded the side of the castle spanning out towards the Quidditch Pitch; great footsteps causing the ground to shake. The cry was met with a dozen more, as the giants that had trailed behind the Death Eaters began to move; hurtling towards the smaller giant; their footsteps pounding the earth, almost causing my feet to lift upwards at the vibrations. The quaking earth hummed with the sound of moving feet; and hooves thundered over the earth; the sound of bows strumming as arrows shot through the air. Having no idea which direction they were headed in, I fell to my knees; my skin grazing.
"Harry!" The cry split the air, "HARRY- Where's Harry?"
I couldn't even look at the speaker, or where Harry had stood; staying low as feathers now beat at the air; the flash of steely talons glinting menacingly in the gathering dawn.
"Get inside!" A hoarse voice shouted.
I couldn't have agreed more. I barely had time to glance at what was causing the earth to pound, thrum and quake; or the air to whistle with the sound of impact. My arms up around my head, I sprinted back into the Entrance Hall; stumbling and colliding with the surge of bodies.
I ran, heedless of where I was going, and coming to my senses long enough to fire a spell at the nearest Death Eater.
A flash of red blurred before me; and I realised dully that I was unlikely to dodge the spell that hurtled towards me. I screwed my eyes shut, waiting for the impact.
But then nothing. I darted forwards again, my gaze just catching the dissolving, blurred lines of what had been a Shield Charm. And not one that I had cast either.
But that mystery was swallowed forever as I was jostled towards the Great Hall; stampeding hooves and hoarse shouts and flashing spells totally disorientating me.
"Where is he?"
The shout I ignored, until hands clasped around my arms, spinning me round to face the almost senseless look on Narcissa Malfoy's face,
"What?" I shouted, as the wall up above me exploded; showering dust over the pair of us,
"Where is my son?" I looked into her panic-stricken eyes, at the shadows that laced the skin underneath them, and I realised that she never had chosen anything else over the safety of her son.
"I-" I didn't know, and the spell that collided with the wall next to us caused her to release her grip on me. A Death Eater lumbered across my path, and by the time I had ducked his spell and sent a Stunning Spell randomly in his direction, Narcissa Malfoy had been swallowed up into the surging mess sprawling before me. The Great Hall was pounding with movement; glass shattering and walls exploding as people shouted and screamed hoarsely.
I stumbled into the Hall, hovering at the entrance as I gasped for air, just as with a force like a gunshot, the woman with the mad hair, who had laughed like someone possessed, literally exploded.
"Protego!"
The shout came from none of the people that I could see; as an invisible shield sprung over the watching crowd.
And then, a figure stepped forwards, seemingly appearing from nowhere. Someone with a shock of black hair, that if it was pushed back from his head, would reveal a lightning-shaped scar.
"HE'S ALIVE!"
The silence that had been smothering the crowd outside descended once more; I felt myself back sharply away, feeling too close to Harry and Voldemort; who had begun to circle one another.
"I don't want anyone else to try to help." Harry said, his voice clear and collected. And so very much alive. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."
Voldemort was about to reply, his narrowed eyes watching Harry's as they both stepped around the circle they had created, wands poised for the moment when they would be raised. My heart was thudding in my chest; my palms slippery; my heart beating so loud I didn't see the Death Eater behind me.
A hand closed around my throat and pulled me backwards, the small scuffle we created going virtually unnoticed in the almost silent room. Out in the Entrance Hall; flickers of movement were still there; the centaur's hooves striking the ground as they moved towards the hall; a few figures still duelling.
My legs thrashed wildly as I tried to free myself from the strong grip, my fingers scrabbling at the hand around my throat as my legs kicked and struggled. But it was no use. They were too strong.
The ground hit me with such force small stars erupted before my eyes; stinging my mind as I scrabbled upwards, swaying dangerously.
My attacker was unfamiliar to me, just a random Death Eater; a random person who had decided to kill a random student.
I allowed myself to be mildly annoyed that I was about to be killed by a complete stranger.
I stumbled backwards, reaching for my wand.
"Expelliarmus."
I'm useless, I thought angrily, a baby could do better than I'm doing right now. In fact, a baby already had. I spun round to face the hall; to face Harry, the Boy Who Lived. He was still circling with Voldemort as the school watched on, unaware of the people that were out here; unaware I was probably about to die. My voice was caught in my throat and I couldn't shout, but my gaze fixed on someone on the other side of the hall; someone whose eyes would be a calm grey if I could just make them out. Malfoy seemed to sense my gaze, and looked across at me; over the heads of the people there; across all that space, all the rubble of the school I had once loved and the hurting, desperate students it held. I saw his lips form a single word.
Meg.
That's nice, my mind said quietly, sensing the Death Eater moving behind me, that's a nice last thing to think about.
It all happened rather quickly. There was a scuffle, and a loud bang. And I didn't really take much notice of what came after that.
With a rushing glimpse of sight, I became fully convinced I was in my Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson in the third year. After all, that bright light could only be from the lantern of a Hinkypunk, and you weren't supposed to follow them. I moved my fingers, to take notes perhaps, and realised that hurt.
"Ow."
"Meg?"
"I'm paying attention," I moaned to the shadowy figure next to the bright light blurred and reeled out of focus, "I promise."
"Meg!"
"Ok, I'm sorry, I won't throw rude sketches at Malfoy again,"
"That was you?"
"I think she's concussed."
"You're concussed." I muttered back, wondering why my teacher was being so rude.
"Meg! Open your eyes!"
I had thought my eyes were open; but now, my eyelids felt so heavy perhaps I had just been peering through half closed lids; my lashes blurring my vision. Why did I always have to fall asleep in classes?
But that bright light wasn't looking as bright as it had before, and it wasn't the right shape for a lantern. My fingers reached up for it, and I found it was soft. It was hair.
"Oh," I told Draco Malfoy, "I thought you were a Hinkypunk."
"Is she ok?"
"Let's take her into the Hall, Madame Pomfrey is there looking at everyone."
"Harry and Voldemort are in there," I muttered, wincing as hands pulled me upwards, the weight of the ground digging into me vanishing, "We can't go in."
Nobody answered me, which I thought was rather rude. I lost track of the proceedings, but by the time something soft was laid under me, my eyes were focused once more; allowing me time to appreciate that the side of my head was throbbing.
"Ow." I said again.
"You're ok, Meg," Malfoy's voice, soft and hoarse, perhaps from shouting, "Just stay still,"
"What's going on? What happened?"
"Well," Malfoy was in my line of sight again, leaning over me; his hair glinting as sunlight streamed in through the broken window of the hall, "I didn't really see, I mean, I saw you, but your attacker must've have missed, or been taken down before he could hex you. Either way, when I got to you, you were both unconscious-"
"No, I mean what happened here? Where's Harry?"
I half expected Malfoy's eyes to darken, for him to glance uncomfortably around before telling me that Harry wasn't around. But he didn't.
"Over there."
I didn't even follow his gesturing hand, but lay staring at Malfoy, the implications of what he said thundering through my mind.
"So...so, Voldemort-?"
Peeves was floating around overhead, and of the song he was singing, I caught the lyrics 'Voldy's gone mouldy.'
Malfoy met my eye and gave a shrug, as if the poltergeist had said all that needed to be said.
"Meg!"
Antony's voice broke across us, loud and making my ears throb; my mind was still on confused overdrive.
"Where's Terry?" I said instantly, shifting as I looked around, "And Jade? And Padma? Where are they? What happened?"
"Voldemort exploded, Meg!" Antony said, his face hovering over mine alight with happiness. "Literally! It was the coolest thing ever! Harry is a hero!"
"Where's-" I tried again, but was interrupted by a figure hurtling into me,
"You stupid sister!" Jade screeched, causing half the hall to fall silent, "You are literally the most stupid human on this planet!"
"Nice to see you too," I muttered, working hard to fight my grin.
"Voldemort exploded, and I turned round," Jade was babbling, "And then I saw him-" She jabbed Malfoy in the chest, who looked momentarily like his third year self. Completely affronted. "And he was running over to the idiot that is you-"
"Wait," I said with sudden ferocity, shifting my weight so I was more upright. My head protested valiantly, "You are kidding? The most evil wizard of the whole freaking world just exploded, and I was unconscious?"
"Told you she'd be mad." Said a familiar voice.
The new sight of Terry, emerging next to Antony, Malfoy and Jade made every ounce of dread my heart had unconsciously been saving up over the past few hours to burst forth. My eyes were threatening to start stinging as I looked at them all.
"Urm, Meg?" Antony said, his voice sounding baffled, "Are you crying?"
Fortunately for me, Madame Pomfrey came over not long after that. She announced to everyone that I did indeed have concussion, to which I gave a very sarcastic 'oh my goodness really? So I wasn't just in Defence Against the Dark Arts?' which made her remember me, and to which I'm sure amounted to her giving me a very brief look-over, and a glass of something that tasted like liquidized rat brains.
I staggered determinedly out of the camp bed after she bustled away, muttering to herself, my head still reeling but my stubbornness to enter into this confusing scene winning out. I felt like I might as well have been unconscious for a hundred years, the things that had happened whilst I had been lying on the Entrance Hall floor.
I lurched towards the large window that spanned out over the end of the hall, that now lay broken and shattered; the small walled ledge that ran outside the hall open for feet to tread on.
And suddenly I didn't want to know what had happened anymore. Not yet, anyway. I wanted to see the sun, to feel the morning air that I never thought I would feel again; and to wonder what came next. Because what on earth could come next?
The stone wall was cold under my palms as I slid out onto the ledge, shattered glass crunching under my feet as I moved round, out of sight from the crowd in the hall; the chattering, shouting and laughing muting as I turned the corner; new sounds meeting my ears. The calls of the birds away in the trees of the Forbidden Forest; leaves rustling in the cool wind; the soft lapping of the lake on the shore far below me.
The sigh I let out felt like one I had been holding for ages; for a year; one that had been pent up with suffering, fear and worry. And what happened now? It was gone, lifted from my chest; like some huge pressure that had been crushing me now vanished. I felt light, and free, muscles that had been tensed relaxing, and a smile blossoming over my face.
"Do you need filling in?"
Malfoy's voice made me smile further, and I gave him a small glance as he came to stand next to me, his hands resting a few centimetres from mine.
"Not yet," I answered quietly, "I quite like being here at the moment."
I hadn't meant it literally, not where I was standing, but I think Malfoy understood. He stood silently next to me, as I looked out over the grounds, across at Hagrid's Hut where I had once tried burying my sister's Pygmy Puff, out towards the Forbidden Forest where I had had that detention, and where we had had numerously disastrous Care of Magical Creatures lessons. Just visible were the tall stands of the Quidditch Pitch, now burned and blackened, but where I had broken my arm, and secretly had the time of my life. There lay the greenhouses, just out of sight, the glass roof of one glinting orange in the dawning light. There was the path where I had made that Patronus, thinking of the very person who now stood next to me; just in front of the hall where so many happy memories had been born. Christmas, feasts and the Yule Ball. I would keep them separate, I decided. Keep them separate from tonight.
Over in the east, beyond the mountains, the sun had risen; slowly climbing tentatively into the sky to greet the new day. It was beautiful, I realised. This whole place was.
"I know we have a lot to work through, Forester." Malfoy said quietly, his gaze following mine as we watched the sun. "And I know I've made bad choices. That's what Dumbledore said to me once, you know." His voice had grown so quiet I could barely hear him, "I made all the wrong choices."
"Well, Draco," I said with a small smile, glancing back at him, blinking against the sun that had been seared against my eyes. "You had better start making the right ones then."
He stood frozen for a few seconds, the look in his eyes almost hesitant. Then his lips flickered, the sunlight making him almost a blur as he stepped closer to me, his fingers gently wound in my hair as he pulled me towards him.
And I would have definitely classed his kissing me as the right choice.
Sure, I thought, as his lips pressed against mine, a short kiss that was warm and comforting, flooding through me warmer than any flame, perhaps it wasn't perfect. Here we stood, in the aftermath of a battlefield; shattered glass at our feet and broken walls at our side. But out there over the snowless mountains the sun was climbing, and turning things into warm orange beauty. And if the sun could make something like this shattered castle a whole, beautiful thing once again, then really, where Malfoy and I were concerned, there was very little in our shattered lives that couldn't be made entire once more.
Because at the end of the day, he was here with me; his skin beneath my fingers as I traced the curve of his face. After everything, all that we had been through we had made it out the other side. Side by side.
And, I realised, if that wasn't perfect, I didn't know what was.
TA DAAAAH!
Sidenote: I'm going to write a teeny weeny little epilogue type thing, just to round this all up. You'll all probably find it dead cheesy(ier) so you can all avoid it like the plague if you like...but I'm gonna upload it anyway so mooohaahaaa. But first I must write it :B
