Ch. 18 - At All Costs

It was the silence that awoke him.

He wasn't quite sure why. It would have made far more sense for a loud noise to have been what jolted him back to consciousness, but it wasn't. Draco Malfoy opened his eyes because everything had stopped. It was the first thing he registered, the first thing that he consciously understood. There were no screams, no crackling flames, no explosions. Just a deafening, oppressive silence.

For a second, Draco was in the Forest of Dean, lying on the packed earth, feeling the cold air against his skin. Shaking the memory from his head, he tried to turn himself to figure out where he was. It took longer than he initially expected for the memories to return. There was too much pain in too many places. The familiar soreness had been replaced with a consistent agony.

Stay alive. You promised.

He tried to sit up and immediately paid the price for it. He had put his weight on his broken arm, and crumpled back down onto the floor the instant he tried to move. His mouth was dry and his face and hair were streaked with ash. He was also surrounded by sweets, which was the only part of his situation that he couldn't understand for a bit. His first guess was that he was dead, but he doubted that dead people experienced this much pain, so he was most likely alive. He was in Honeydukes, near Hogwarts.

Hogwarts.

Hermione.

Putting his weight on his good arm this time, Draco pushed himself up and limped towards the door. Unlocking it, he stepped out onto the street and took in the sight before him.

The street had been scorched black, the stones taking on an oddly darkened look and the sediment near the road converted to black glass. The scorch mark extended all the way up the road towards the gate to Hogwarts, but the trees and buildings on all sides of the path were remarkably intact. A couple storefronts had been marred by the heat, but there was no significant damage. Draco breathed a faint, desperate sigh of relief. He noted that some of the stones were still smoking, so he couldn't have been out for too long.

The castle in the distance was totally dark, and utterly devoid of noise. There was no indication as to what had happened. Draco felt as though he may have stepped into a nightmare. Running through the options in his head, Draco determined that if he apparated away, his broken bones would likely shatter beyond repair due to the pressure. Besides, if the Dark Lord had won, Draco reasoned that his life wasn't likely to continue much further. He might as well head to the castle.

Each step was slow and agonizing as Draco plodded his way down the path. His wand was held loosely, and he felt as though he might pass out again at any second. There was no telling what he would find.

He passed the main gates after what felt like an eternity, and began to climb towards the castle. There was nobody around him, but he could hear the noises of fires burning in the distance. Blaise, Hannah, Ginny, Hermione. He repeated their names in his head like a mantra. Draco knew that he would always be grateful to Theo for getting out when he did. Blaise, Hannah, Ginny, Hermione.

"Malfoy?" a voice called. Draco turned, and found himself face to face with Harry Potter. The boy was white, his eyes hollow. Draco felt a wave of relief wash over him. They hadn't lost.

"Potter, you're alive. Thank Godric."

"Holy shit," Harry breathed. "Malfoy, the fire… everyone thinks you're dead."

"I should be," Draco responded. "What are you doing out here, Potter? Where is everyone?"

Harry looked at Draco, his gaze searching. "They're in the Great Hall. Hermione is okay."

Draco buried his face in his hands, breathing deeply for a second. Okay. Alive. The desperation that he'd felt when he had awoken was gone, replaced with an entirely new form. He needed to find her, to see her with his own eyes, to make sure that she was really alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. He looked back up at Harry, preparing to thank him, and then stopped.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

"Nothing," Harry shook his head.

Draco stared at him, feeling as though he was missing something extremely obvious. He had seen the look on Potter's face before. Suddenly, he realized why it was so familiar. It was the same expression that Theo had worn when he had seen his father. A look of hollow acceptance and understanding.

"You're going to die." Draco said hoarsely. "He's going to kill you."

Harry blinked, and Draco saw his facade crumble. His face was scared, but his eyes were strangely resolute.

"I have to."

"Potter, I swear to everything that I hold dear, if you tell me one more time about how you have to do anything-!"

"It's true this time." Harry's voice was flat. "I'm a Horcrux, Draco."

And Draco understood. He tried to move forward but gave a low grunt at the pain which throbbed near his ankle. The two boys looked at each other, neither moving an inch.

"After you," Draco said, "what's left? How many more are there?"

"The snake," Harry replied. "That's it. Then it's only him, and he'll be weak. I told Neville about the snake, and Ron and Hermione know that "

"Do they know about this plan?"

"No," Harry confessed, "and I don't want you to tell them."

"Dammit, Potter." Draco gritted his teeth. He chewed on his words, Harry watching him silently.

"This is a noble thing you're doing," Draco said finally. "I wish it didn't have to be this way."

"So do I."

"I promise you that I'll finish him off." Draco's voice was fiery, surprising even himself. Harry blinked, and then gave a nod and a smile. Walking forward, Harry extended his hand.

"Until we meet again."

Draco reached out and shook his hand, his eyes locked on Harry's.

"Until then, Potter."

Harry took a few steps back, and before Draco could really process it, he had vanished into thin air. Draco blinked once, twice, three times, and then turned back towards the castle. As he made his way towards the Great Hall, he felt his heart become leaden within his chest. This was the price that had to be paid. It occurred to him that Harry must have known this was going to happen. His mind traveled back to the conversation that they'd had together after the Manor.

"I just think that you should stop trying to convince yourself that this war only ends with you dead. There's no reason for you to think that."

Maybe there had been a reason. Draco was feeling more oblivious by the second.

The tiles of the Entrance Hall were cracked and spattered with blood. The soaring columns had crumbled, and Draco's heart hurt for the school. He faced the doors of the Great Hall and knew that he wasn't going to be ready for what he found on the other side of this door. His vision had begun to grow fuzzy again. Keep it together.

With a great effort, Draco pushed open the doors and walked into the inferno.

No words could accurately describe the scene on the other side of the door. It was an image that would be burned into his mind forever. Small fires burned throughout the hall, the popping noises mixing in with the sobs and awful noises emanating from all corners. The ceiling was dark, and in front of Draco, a line of bodies extended as far as he could see. Groups of people were huddled all around the hall, standing over bodies or simply grouped together, trying to block out their senses. The smell was brutal. It reminded Draco of a hospital, but worse - antiseptic, mixed with smoke, mixed with the ever present smell of blood. He could see that the hall had essentially been divided in half, one half turned into a hospital where less injured fighters treated their more severely injured friends, and the other half turned into a funeral home.

Draco moved forward, stumbling silently into the hall. Nobody noticed him, all of them so caught up in their work that he simply slipped through the cracks. All of this was so impossible to process, so difficult to wrap his head around. His eyes traveled the room, searching for her, desperately hoping that Harry had been right and that he wasn't going to find her on the floor.

"Draco?"

He heard her before he saw her. The voice was disbelieving, terrified beyond measure. She was standing at the far end of the hall, with the only group of people Draco could identify on sight based on their hair color alone. Her hair was far frizzier than normal, her clothes singed and torn. Her eyes were extremely red, and Draco could see that she had been crying. Her wand was sticking out of her pocket almost offhandedly.

The locket was hanging around her neck.

Ron and Ginny stood on either side of her. They had both been crying. Draco's eyes moved to the floor near them for an instant, saw a boy with red hair, and moved back up. Hermione's hands had moved to her mouth, and she was visibly shaking. Draco surged forward just as she broke away from Ron and Ginny. The two met in the middle, her arms wrapping around him as he collapsed, breathing her in, feeling her pulse and knowing that she was there.

"You're alive," she whispered. Draco suspected it was more for her benefit than for his. He gave a small smile against her neck.

"I've got priorities," he replied.

"I thought you were dead."

"You know me. Full of surprises."

She pulled herself away, her eyes filling with tears again, both supporting him and holding him at a distance. "I thought I'd lost you. Ginny said-!"

"I said what I thought was going to happen. Evidently, I was wrong," Draco mumbled.

"You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you,"

She looked at him, and then walked forward and kissed him. It was a kiss of relief, and Draco could feel it. He felt himself swaying slightly, her holding him up instead of the other way around. It reminded him a great deal of the first kiss they'd shared. She pulled back, her nose pressed to his, and gave a small smile.

"Thank you."

"This?" Draco gestured to himself. "This is all you, Granger." He leaned in and kissed her forehead.

He heard footsteps from behind Hermione. Looking up, he saw Ron approaching.

"Malfoy, I heard you stunned my sister."

"I'd do it again."

"No, you misunderstand," Ron shook his head. "Thank you. We… We lost my older brother tonight. I don't think I could have handled losing her as well."

Draco's defensive attitude softened. "You're welcome, Weasley. Least I could do." He turned to Hermione. "Do you all have water and Skele-Gro? Honestly, I'd settle for water at this point."

Hermione's eyes widened. "You need Skele-Gro? Are you hurt? Where?"

"Everywhere."

"Specifically, Draco."

"Arm and ankle." Draco grunted as she lowered him to the ground and conjured a cup, filling it with water and giving it to him. She looked him over with an almost professional efficiency, checking for injuries. He could see her face turn almost gray when she reached his arm.

"This has been broken for several hours, Draco. Even with Skele-Gro and healing spells, I'm not sure how much we'll be able to do."

Draco shrugged. "Is it fatal?"

"Why?"

"Because then it might matter," he said, trying for a smile and failing miserably. She gave a soft snort and stood.

"I'm going to go look for Skele-Gro."

"Okay."

"Don't run off."

"Okay."

"I mean it."

"I know you do," Draco murmured. His head was throbbing. The water had made him more alert to his own pain once again. "You and Blaise really need to-"

Blaise.

Draco's eyes flew open, and he looked up at Hermione. She wasn't meeting his eyes.

"Where's Blaise?"

"Draco, I don't think-!"

"Where is he? Where's Hannah?"

"Draco-!"

"Hermione, WHERE IS HE?"

"He's… he's alive." Her voice was shaking. "He's going to live, it's- it's alright, but Hannah…"

"What?"

"She's dead, Draco." Her voice was nothing, a single whisper that cut through the ringing in Draco's ears. "They couldn't save her."

Draco was falling into a cavern. He couldn't see his own hands, the darkness around him impenetrable even to the darkest light. Hermione kept talking, but he couldn't understand what she was saying. Hannah wasn't dead, she couldn't be, Blaise would never have let it-!

And then, for an instant, the cavern was gone, and Draco could see with perfect clarity. He had lost a friend, he was upset, but it was nothing to what Blaise must feel at that instant. He stared at Hermione, tracing her with his eyes, trying to burn her silhouette into his memory.

"I need to see Blaise."

"He's not awake, Draco."

Draco paused, thinking this over for an instant, and then stood. He turned and began to walk down the line of bodies, not looking down, desperately trying to shut out all thoughts of Hannah. He heard Hermione call his name, but didn't look back. Corpse after corpse after corpse, but Draco couldn't find where he was. There was no sign, no indication that Blaise was even in the Hall.

Then, Draco almost tripped over him.

He was lying on the ground, unconscious, his face and body covered in bandages. Blood had started to seep through, and Draco noticed the telltale marks of gigantic bites and scratch wounds. Greyback. Blaise's eyes were closed peacefully, despite the dried blood in his hair. For an instant, Draco didn't understand. It would have been easy for an onlooker to think that he was dead. The only sign of life was the tranquil rise and fall of his chest. Draco couldn't explain why he was here. His eyes moved over his friend, past the outstretched, bandaged arm, and to the girl whose hand Blaise was still holding, even in death.

Hannah Abbott was ghostly pale in death, her skin almost translucent. Except for her exceptionally spectral palate, the girl looked perfectly intact, just like the two bodies to her right.

Draco felt his breathing stutter and his heart fail. No.

Graham Montague and Daphne Greengrass lay still next to Hannah, the pieces of their broken wands lying in between them. Their eyes were closed, their mouths set, and Draco could still see the traces of a smile that had been frozen on Graham's face. He felt a sudden, violent urge to vomit, and turned, stumbling back down the line of bodies. The world around him was blurring and spinning because his friends had died, and there was no saving them, not now, not ever again. It was his fault, he should have been there, he could have been there. He had failed.

"Draco."

Her voice cut through the storm. Just like it always did and, Draco suspected, just like it always would.

"Draco, come back to me."

She came into focus again, her eyes wide and terrified as he steadied himself against her shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her towards him, burying his face in her shoulder. She responded instantly, bringing her hands up to the small of his back and pushing her face into his chest.

"I'm sorry, Draco," she said. "I'm so, so sorry."

Then, and only then, did Draco Malfoy cry. He cried for Hannah, Daphne and Graham. He cried for what Blaise had lost, and the guilt that Theo would feel, the same guilt that Draco felt already. No words or explanation could describe the agony that Draco felt in that moment, the terrible, unfamiliar void that seemed to have appeared in his stomach. He knew then that he would never forget this, never forget seeing their bodies lined up like so many unfeeling statues.

The next half an hour was a blur for Draco, who didn't feel capable of coherent thought. He was vaguely aware that there were healers working on him, that his ankle felt much better and his arm was at least sort of on the mend, and that Hermione was by his side the entire time. She explained what she, Harry, and Ron had done to him softly, so that nobody else could hear. She told him about the Room of Requirement, how they had met Crabbe and Goyle, and that the room had burned. She told him about the Diadem, about Snape, and about the memories.

More than once, people who he didn't recognize approached Hermione asking about the whereabouts of the Boy Who Lived. Each time, she brushed them off, telling them that they had to trust Harry if they were going to win. He was their best hope, she said.

Draco didn't tell her about Harry, and hated himself for it. He hated himself for promising Harry that he would take the secret to the grave, for becoming compliant in Harry's plan for martyrdom. If Hermione found out, Draco knew that she would run straight to where the Dark Lord hid and try to retrieve Harry, and he couldn't risk that. It was the only thing he could remind himself when someone brought up Harry. He made this choice. All I can do is hope. He had no idea where Potter was now, what he was doing, when the Dark Lord would announce his triumph for the world. The only thing that Draco could be sure of was that it was coming.

He watched, unable to speak or think coherently, as Hermione made her way around the Hall, always spending more time with him than was necessary. She was stronger than him, that much Draco had always known. Even now, as the fighters had taken a heavy blow, Hermione Granger was here to fight. She was a beacon of bravery in the Great Hall, healing as many as she could and spending time with the injured and grieving. When she was with him, Draco felt more than a little selfish, as though he was stealing away something precious from the others.

"You don't have to worry about me," he said repeatedly. "I'm okay now. Go help the others."

She'd given him a sad smile. "I always worry about you, Draco."

Not wanting to add undue stress, Draco forced himself to look better after this. Even if he was still uncertain what was happening, her explanation combined with the growing anticipation of the Dark Lord's next move made acting natural one of the most difficult challenges he had encountered. The snake. That's it. Draco's thoughts were filled with images of the snake, thinking over the best way to hit it with Fiendfyre. The Dark Lord wasn't going to be easy to kill either way, but if Harry was right and the snake was really the last Horcrux, then Draco suspected that the Dark Lord would fall. If not today, then very, very soon.

Draco thought of Harry, thought of the effect his death would have on Hermione, and hoped desperately that the Dark Lord would die by his hand.

"You alright, Draco?"

He looked up and found the dirty, war battered face of Neville Longbottom staring down at him with concern. Neville. The snake. Draco pushed himself to his feet, staring at Neville. Draco wasn't entirely sure what Harry had been thinking when he had told Neville about the snake - there was no way he would be able to get his hands on something powerful enough to destroy a Horcrux in time. At the same time, Draco was long past the point of ruling out any possibilities Harry may have considered. It was becoming more and more obvious nobody had any idea what Harry was doing, except for Harry himself.

"Longbottom," Draco said, marshalling his train of thought and returning to his plans about the snake. "Potter-!"

"Harry!" Neville exclaimed, his eyes widening. "Have you seen him? I've been looking everywhere."

Draco swallowed the anger and kept his eyes impassive. "Focus, Longbottom. He found me and told me to kill the snake."

"He said the same thing to me," Neville nodded.

"How do you suggest we go about doing that?"

"You're asking me for advice?" Neville looked extraordinarily taken aback. "Godric, Hermione really has done a number on you."

More than you know, Draco thought ruefully. He opened his mouth, fully prepared to explain his half formed plan to Neville.

"Harry Potter is dead."

Draco flinched as the voice echoed through the hall. Fuck. This was ten times worse than he'd expected.

"He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring his body as proof that your hero is gone."

The Great Hall seemed to have lost all the life that remained in it. Draco could hear people beginning to scream, and saw Neville's face turn a ghastly shade of purple. Forcing himself to not process the voice, Draco grabbed Neville by the shoulders and shook him slightly.

"The snake, Longbottom, the snake. We need to kill it."

"Harry…" Neville trembled.

"Dammit, Longbottom, STAY WITH ME!" Draco roared as the voice continued to thunder down from around them.

"-Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared -"

"NEVILLE! PLEASE!" Draco begged. "WE DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME!"

For a second, his words seemed to register with Neville. Draco could see the agony of grief clear from his friend's face, a dark expression replacing it. It was a look of fury and determination that Draco Malfoy had been certain he would never see on the face of someone as gentle as the boy before him. The screams and tremendous exodus out of the Great Hall seemed to fade into the background as the two stared at each other, each thinking hard.

"Can you burn it?"

"Burn the snake?" Draco thought, for an instant, about refusing. About saying no, grabbing Hermione, and getting as far as fucking possible away from all of this.

"Yes," he said finally. "I can. It won't be easy, but… whatever it takes."

"I'll distract him." Neville said.

"You will die. Fuck. We will die."

"Doesn't matter now, does it?" Neville asked, his voice breaking. "I trust you, Draco. More than I trust myself."

Draco gave a half smile. "Longbottom, everyone in this school feels the opposite. I can't do this without you."

Neville didn't respond, turning towards the wide open doors leading to the Entrance Hall. "I'm not ready to die."

"Don't count yourself out yet," Draco growled. Together, the two pulled out their wands, and ran towards the front of the school. Neither could bring themselves to look back.

A/N: And then there was one real chapter left (potential for an Epilogue, of course). Big chapter next time! Thanks to all who have read, review and follow. According to my dashboard, we passed 200 follow on this. While I'm a first time fic writer and have no metric by which to gauge this, thinking about it makes me really goddamn emotional. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I am shocked that more than zero people read my stuff. The fact that you guys have stuck with me over this wild journey means more than I can express. I hope to see you for the next one.

Speaking of the next one...

I'm shooting to release the first chapter of The North Star at some point in the next seven days. It's only about fifteen hundred words because it serves as a prologue, so I'll release the second (much, much longer) chapter the next day.

You guys rock. Thanks for motivating me to be a better, more engaged writer.

Stay frosty,

secondchoice