A/N: Happy Tuesday! This is the chapter I'm most nervous/proud of, so... be gentle, please? (more notes at the end)
Chapter 42 – Queen of Swords
The battle raged around them, but Hermione was focused entirely on the Dark Lord.
Standing beneath the repaired chandelier, his shadow diminutive before him, he was a husk of the wizard he'd tried to make himself into. Without his horcruxes, he was mortal—and the fear that knowledge instilled in him showed in the lines of his ruined face.
"What have you done?" he whispered, gnarled fingers tightening on his wand. "What have you done?!"
The voracity of his shout was enough to still the wandfire for just a moment, Death Eaters and Order members alike turning to face him, but Hermione advanced, Elder Wand held aloft before her.
"Power is corrupting, Riddle." Slashing her wand in a low arc, she threw a hex at his shin, testing his reflexes.
He was slow to respond, barely blocking the attack through the haze of his shock. "It's impossible."
Another flash of wandfire, this time aimed at his shoulder. "Not impossible. You grew lax, too proud and too confident in the power that you thought was owed you." She snarled another hex, clipping his shield and watching it crack with a bright shimmer. "You should have killed me when you had the chance."
A dangerous glint in his eyes illustrated his agreement, and he advanced, careless arcs of his wand raining curses around her.
For every curse, she parried with a defensive spell, learning the way he threw himself into the attack.
He was careless and sloppy, having spent too much time astride a throne and not enough on the battlefield practicing the intricacies of dueling. He relied too much on the furor of the battle, his eyes darting carelessly around her as he attacked.
Each slash of her own wand brought their fight closer, sparks erupting with each clash of wandfire.
Several paces from her, Luna and Theo fought back to back, protecting each other's flanks as Death Eaters swarmed. From the corner of her eye, flashes reverberated around them, Theo's face grimly determined as he beat them back a spell at a time.
Voldemort circled her, a macabre dance that brought them toward the centre of the room and into the middle of the fight.
A bedazzling hex cracked between them, the flash of it blinding her, and Hermione dove, turning through the movement to tuck into a roll. The space she'd occupied moments before lit up with the emerald light of the killing curse, and, dark spots still dancing in her vision, Hermione rocketed upright.
Voldemort was gone.
He no longer circled around her with a predatory stalk. A quick glance to either side didn't yield his position.
Instinct screaming, Hermione threw herself into Apparition.
She materialised on the other side of the drawing room, stumbling to a stop between the pillars Voldemort had suspended Narcissa between, her eyes scanning the room in time to see Voldemort climb the dais, snarl working up his bloodless face, wand held aloft before him.
And then Hermione saw him.
Draco, pushing past a Death Eater with his wand clenched tightly in his hand as Lucius turned to fight off Luna.
Draco, who the Dark Lord was aiming his wand at with a triumphant smile.
Draco.
Throwing her arm out, a wave of her magic roared out of her, hurtling across the room to wrap around Draco in a protective shroud just as Voldemort's curse crashed into it.
And then Hermione was running.
Bounding across the floor, leaping over fallen bodies, hurling hexes and curses at Voldemort as he swept down the stairs toward her, his robes billowing outward.
Past Luna, dueling with Lucius Malfoy, backing him into a corner.
Theo, disemboweling Yaxley with a sharp twist of his wrist, crying out sharply as a Flagrante clipped his hip, and he pivoted to fire another curse at his assailant.
Past Kingsley, fighting two masked Death Eaters in elegant arcs.
Spellfire nearly grazing her, Hermione allowed her attention to slip for just a moment, eyes catching on Ron's form as he sent curse after curse at Death Eaters surrounding them.
Ron fought with the Order, his Vehme robes discarded at his feet.
Throwing everything she could into the spells, Hermione charged forward, her magic rippling outward as she went. Rubble shifted, debris rising up in a wave around her as she went, and even Voldemort paused, eyes widening in a mixture of terror and awe as he snarled a Crucio at her.
Hermione revelled in the power he'd fostered in her, snapping the Elder Wand outward in an arc of debris, the bulk of it rising in a whirlwind around her.
Voldemort launched into another volley of magic. In response, Hermione released her shield with a shout of fury, the bulk of it lashing outward and upward. Rubble exploded in an arc, colliding with the paintings dotting the walls, the thick curtains covering the windows, and the chandelier above her swung dangerously.
As if in slow motion, the shadows cast from the intricate glasswork swung back and forth, creating a patchwork on the floor. Then, with a low, grating shriek, it fell from the ceiling in a whirling mote of dust.
Pitching herself to the side, Hermione rolled over shattered stone from the pillars, the bite of it in her skin forcing a harsh hiss from her mouth. She didn't pause—couldn't pause—as she launched upright, casting a hasty shielding spell around her.
Spellwork erupted against the dome of her shield, throwing her wand hand back at its strength. And Voldemort bore down on her, his smile manic.
Around them, the fighting ceased, all attention turned to the crash of the chandelier and then to duel in the center of the room.
Sinking her teeth into her lip, Hermione rose, the Elder Wand hot in her grasp as she channeled her magic down the length of it. Voldemort blanched, taking a quick step back as his wand lowered incrementally, and Hermione pressed the advantage.
Hermione launched an entrail-expelling curse wide left, and Voldemort feinted to the right. A grim smile working across her lips, she delivered the next curse right into his path, clipping his shoulder.
Immediately, blood flowed freely from the wound, shocked gasps echoing around the room.
Proof. That Tom Riddle was human.
Hermione didn't allow the high of the sight to slow her. Slash after slash, spell after spell, she clashed with Voldemort, their magic meeting a fury of sparks as they bounced off each other.
And yet Hermione felt no fatigue. Her magic was a bottomless well inside her, and the deeper she reached, the stronger it became.
Each movement illuminated his weaknesses. Open right flank whenever he cast a curse, always lowering his wand just as the bolt ripped from its tip. He looked away often, gaze begging the crowd around them for someone to step in.
But they wouldn't. Whether they were transfixed by fear or awe, no one moved a muscle.
And when his gaze caught on Draco, bloodied and battered but still strong, pushing himself up from the floor, he miscalculated his step.
He recovered quickly, but not fast enough to block her attack.
Surging forwards, Hermione slashed her wand in quick succession. Once, an Impedimenta to his right leg, sending him crashing to his knees. Next, an Incarcerous locked his limbs together. Finally, a Septumsempra opened wounds all over his body.
Harsh exhales blowing past her lips, Hermione stared the Dark Lord down as he bled, watching the life fade out of him.
"Why?" The word bubbled out on a mouth full of saliva, blood running from the side of his mouth as she approached, her wand still held at the ready.
She paused just metres before him, feeling the gazes of those around her boring into her back. Already, a couple distant pops of Apparition had sounded in the room. "Because, Tom, no one lives forever. The wizarding world will never forget the terror your wrought on it, but you will die." Stepping forwards, she cradled his chin in a mockery of a lover's embrace, so like he'd done to her, as she whispered her final words to him. "But you know what they'll remember more?"
Cold fury bloomed in the depths of his flat, snake-like eyes, but Hermione allowed a victorious smile to unfurl on her lips. "They'll remember that a Mudblood was the one to kill you."
A furious snarl tried to work its way from his mouth as he flexed his hand feebly for his wand, but another bubble of blood blocked his airway.
And then Hermione uttered the spell she'd promised herself she never would again.
"Avada Kedavra."
A bright, emerald flash poured from the tip of her wand, colliding in a brilliant flare with Voldemort's chest.
It was almost anticlimactic, the way he stayed upright, eyes blanking immediately. But then, as though his body was a puppet that had finally been freed of its duty, he collapsed forward, body thudding to the tile of the drawing room floor with a reverberating thud.
Tom Riddle was dead.
Voldemort was no more.
And then the battle resumed around her.
Their leader's death spurring them onwards, the Death Eaters renewed their fighting with a panicked vigour, throwing spells haphazardly at the witches and wizards who remained to fight against them.
Like it was their last hope, their last stand.
And then Bellatrix was before her, angrily spitting curse after curse.
Hermione countered with a shield charm, allowing it to bubble over her as the woman hissed at her, so snake-like in her appearance that Hermione wondered whether it was she who Voldemort had imbued with his horcrux. But a second look at the dead wizard confirmed that he was dead, and Bellatrix was simply human.
Advancing on her, Bellatrix fired another spell into her shield, the dome of it flickering dangerously under the weight of the witch's ire. "Fight me, Mudblood!" she shrieked, spittle raining through the air.
Wand hand trembling, Hermione cancelled her shield, falling into a defensive crouch to block the volley of curses that Bellatrix threw her way, but when she shifted to fight back, a spell hit the woman dead in the chest and suddenly…
She froze, glaring over Hermione's shoulder in disbelief, before she shattered, pieces of her raining over the floor.
Before the last piece landed on the floor, Hermione was turning, searching for the person whose spell had saved her life.
The first thing she saw was the fiery red hair and smattering of freckles. Her heart leapt into her throat, instinct jumping to Ron, but then she took in the high cheekbones, the saviour's grimly set mouth, and awkward gait as they rushed at her.
When Ginny Weasley collided into her arms, a sob tore from Hermione's throat.
Their embrace was fierce, the sounds of the battle slowing around them as the Death Eaters were caught, killed, or Apparated away. But Hermione couldn't focus around the emotion that lodged in her throat, the disbelief that crowded her brain.
Ginny was alive.
Pulling back, Hermione searched the girl's face, trying to find an answer in her whisky-coloured eyes. "How?"
Ginny cracked a small smile, a ghost of everything she had seen flitting over her face before she looked away, gesturing toward Draco, who stood embracing Luna fiercely. "Malfoy. And his mother." She turned to Hermione, worrying her lip before she asked, "Did she make it? Narcissa, I mean."
A pang of sorrow shot through her as Hermione looked away, scanning the room for any remaining Death Eaters. "No… at least, I'm almost certain she didn't." Nothing catching her eyes, Hermione looked back at Ginny. "She was injured and returned to the castle with Theo and Luna to get the remaining horcruxes. I was here and…" She sniffed, staring down at the floor. "I'm not certain, but I think she used the last of her magic to bring the wards down."
"And Ron?" Ginny asked, her gaze flickering uncertainly.
Hermione's lips flattened as she looked around the room for his signature red hair. Dust still hung in the air, and Death Eaters and Vehme alike were lying dead on the floor or bound together by magic as Order members collected themselves. "I don't know, Gin. He's— well, he helped us tonight, but—"
She saw him.
On the floor, just on the other side of the chandelier, covered in debris and barely discernible, his red hair stuck out of the rubble. She'd recognize those messy locks of hair anywhere, and before she could stop herself, she was hurtling across the floor.
A thousand thoughts flew through her mind. That this could be a trap. All the memories, the sting, of his betrayal. The way he'd tortured her, one of his oldest friends, without second thought. Scrambling through shattered marble and slipping in the dust that covered the expensive tile flooring, Hermione hurried to his side.
Whether it was driven by their past friendship or the need to see him in death, Hermione wasn't sure, but when she skidded to a halt before him, her stomach turned.
He looked peaceful, his eyelashes resting against his cheek in a soft red fan. His skin was pale beneath the bright red freckles, and a blooming bruise along his forehead stood out in harsh relief. But then he stirred, blinking rapidly up at her. "Hermione?"
She reeled backwards, colliding with a strong, warm body as her breath rushed out of her in a harsh gasp.
Draco. Beside him, Luna and Theo watched on, both of their faces masks of anger, surprise, and—at least on Luna's—pity.
Ron shifted, pain lancing over his features. "Hermione, I'm—" He swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry."
Suddenly, Draco's hand wrapped around hers, his fingers slotting between her own, and she found her strength again, quietly anchoring herself to his strong, steady presence. "Ron, I can't—"
"I forgive you." Luna's voice was high and clear, the melodic tone of it so at odds with the destruction around them that Hermione started.
Even Theo's brows pinched together, his fury with the redhead momentarily suspended. "Luna, you don't have to—"
"But I do," she responded, shrugging his hand off her shoulder delicately. "We're all a little misguided sometimes." She fell quiet, tears rising in her red-rimmed eyes, gesturing to the remains of the chandelier his body was crushed beneath. "He saved me."
Ron flinched, disgust clear in the sharp tilt of his frown. "I betrayed everyone." He inhaled again, a sickening hitch in his gasp. "Everyone. He said—" Ron flinched. "He said to prove my loyalty, I had to kill Dumbledore." Tears carved a path through the grime on his cheeks as shudders wracked his body.
Hermione wouldn't provide him absolution—not after everything he'd done. But his eyes were fluttering shut, pain lancing over his features as they peered down at him. Heart stuttering painfully, Hermione glanced away before she returned her gaze to his. "It's over now, Ron. You can rest."
Spasming, Ron shuddered another gasp, a squelching sound accompanying it as he struggled for breath. Ginny shot forward, cradling his hand in hers as tears poured down her face. "I'm here," she whispered, her voice breaking.
Gaze darting around them, Ron stared into their faces, finally landing on Luna's serene expression, her pain locked away behind her eyes but still evident in the rigidness of her stance. "I'm sorry, Luna. More than I can—" he erupted in a fit of coughing, his body folding in on itself. "More than you can ever know."
A hiccuping sob escaped Ginny's throat, Hermione's stomach roiling with emotion that she couldn't allow herself to fall into.
Whirling her head around, Ginny locked her gaze on Hermione's. Her plaintive plea to save him fell between them, the request moot as he coughed again, and Ginny abandoned her begging, whispering her forgiveness to her brother.
Luna slipped her hand into Theo's squeezing it tightly, but she bowed her head, accepting his words without commentary.
Eyes fluttering shut, Ron's breathing slowed, chest stilling as he seemed to deflate, sinking into the floor.
Hermione stared, her breath caught in her throat as the life went out of one of her oldest friends.
She thought she should feel guilt that relief washed over her at his passing. Maybe she ought to have felt sorrow at the sight, that in his last moments he felt a grief so profound for his actions that he'd sacrificed himself to save Luna.
Instead, a deep chasm seemed to open in her stomach and she couldn't look away from his slack mouth, the paling skin.
It was almost as if he'd shake himself any moment now, his familiar grin lighting up his face to tell them that it had all been a prank—every last, horrible minute of it had been another of his ploys for attention.
But he didn't move, the colour continuing to drain out of his face, and Ginny released his hand with a sob, lifting his broken body into her lap and lowering her face to his neck, sobs wracking her body.
Her mind screamed at her to turn away, to afford her friend an illusion of privacy to mourn her brother amongst the dead, but she couldn't tear her eyes away until Draco gripped her hand, pulling her into his chest.
It was only when Hermione turned her face into the safety of his dirt-caked collar that she realised tears of her own soaked through the fabric.
A/N: A quick note for you all. I know this is a scary time with the coronavirus worldwide. My heart is with each and every one of you as we all weather this storm together. The wonderful thing about fanfiction is that we are a community—we're never alone when something terrible happens. It's heartbreaking; the impact it has had on us is stark, but please know that we're all in this together. If you need a friend, feel free to add me on Facebook under Ravens Light. We can talk to each other to pass the days, help each other feel a little less alone. It's a big world out there, but our fandom community makes it so much smaller. Be the light in the world; love each other relentlessly and lead with compassion. I'm so grateful to have you all here with me and send you my love. Be strong, my friends.
