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AN: Thank you to my friend and Alpha/bet geekiebeekie for her help with this chapter.

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XXXVIII: The Hanged Man

The top of the Astronomy Tower was eerily still. Draco was accustomed to the howling and whipping crisp air that normally cut across the tower's roof, but on this night, the air remained unmoving. Nothing howled, save for the wolves in the forest. Nothing whipped, save for Draco's head as his eyes darted around as soon as he'd stepped out. Weasley hovered close by, his chattering teeth grating Draco's nerves with each long second.

"Hermione?" Draco said, his voice a low whisper, as if afraid to disturb the static night.

Draco straightened his spine, his wand pointed forward as he took a step. Nagini was nowhere to be seen. Hermione's cries from beyond the door had faded to silence.

Still, he felt drawn forward.

"Why are we here?" Weasley asked, wrapping his arms around his torso.

With the next step Draco took, everything changed. His feet seemed to have taken him past an invisible barrier, and the image that he was met with made every alarm bell ring in his body; instinct urged him to flee.

At the edge of the tower was Nagini, her head tilted to the side as Lord Voldemort stood caressing the snake's scaly form.

"Ah, Draco," Voldemort said, his eyes remained on his pet, "you decided to join us after all. Your companion was growing worried that she'd been forgotten."

At the words, Draco's head snapped around and his blood froze in his body when he saw Hermione. She stood huddled against the wall of a small shed. Her face was bright pink and eyes wide with an unspoken terror.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but every word that passed her lips was silent. Muted. Her hand pressed forward in front of her, stopping against an invisible wall that reminded Draco of the cages he'd seen at Magical Circuses in his youth, where they'd kept the truly dangerous creatures. She was trapped.

"Malfoy? Where are you?" Weasley asked, his voice a pressured whisper as he hastily stumbled into the perimeter.

Weasley's mouth fell open as he discovered the scene. Before another second could tick by, Voldemort flicked his wrist forward, causing a heavy gust of wind to strike Weasley and thrust him backwards. Though the sight of him disappeared as his body was flung from the magical zone, Draco flinched when he heard a loud bang and then a crunch. He stood frozen, too afraid to leave Hermione; too anxious to see what had happened to Ron.

"Go take care of the others, my dear," Voldemort's voice carried like a morbid lullaby across the space, his words almost tender to the snake.

It would have made Draco recoil with terror if every part of him wasn't already so preoccupied by the love of his life trapped, helpless in a glass cage. He swivelled on his heel and lifted his wand, but Hermione's eyes instantly widened at the sight and she shook her head, her panicked words indecipherable in their silence.

"No, you may not eat the boy; he may be of use to me, still. Once you're finished with the Order, he can be your treat."

With another whisper, this time in a language that Draco recognized as Parseltongue, the serpent nuzzled its head against Voldemort's side and slithered forward. She moved with a morbid elegance across the stone floor, her head turning toward Draco with a lingering look he couldn't understand before the serpent disappeared through the barrier.

Draco's heart pounded in his ribs; his chest was strained and tight as his gaze fell back on Hermione. He lifted his wand again and Hermione banged on the glass, her eyes wide and panicked as she mouthed something. No? Go?

"I admire your tenacity, Draco," Voldemort said, "but your girl is safe in her little box. Whatever spell you try to use will only strike her directly, so by all means. Go ahead and try."

Hermione fell to her knees and sobbed, shaking her head helplessly as Draco turned toward the Dark Lord. His muscles tensed as he turned toward the man - thing - the Dark Lord. So that's why she didn't let him try and destroy the barrier. One solid Bombarda to try and shatter the glass would have struck Hermione in the chest. Of course. This was Voldemort.

Draco's blood erupted with rage. His fury only grew as Voldemort's lips lifted in a smile.

"Come," Voldemort said, his hand stretched outward in invitation. "Let's have a look at your powers."

Draco glanced from the Dark Lord to Hermione - her eyes wide and her lips repeating the same words over and over. He couldn't hear it, but he knew what it was.

Run.

Draco, run.

Run.

He wanted to tell her it wasn't an option, but she already knew. She had to already know.

Draco turned, his throat full and heart racing as the anger slowly simmered and determination set in.

He took a step toward Lord Voldemort, whose hand had slipped into his pocket and withdrawn a wand. It wasn't the pale bony wand that he normally used, but the familiar intricate combination of Ivy and Black Walnut.

The Dark Lord brought the long wand up to his face and Draco watched as the narrow slits of his nose widened in their blackness and Voldemort's shoulders heaved with a deep inhale. His narrow snake-like eyes rolled backwards and the lipless crevice that would have been a mouth parted with a relaxed, soothing sigh.

"Delightful," Voldemort whispered.

The sounds - the image - caused every fine hair on Draco's neck to rise on end.

"The elegant intermingling with Bella's unyielding force with the mudblood's stubborn morality. The turmoil of power is potent. Delightful." His thin eyes flew open, red and savage as they found Draco's pale face. "I am truly astounded, Draco. How you managed to kill her, despite her power."

Draco swallowed as Voldemort paced along the edge of the Astronomy Tower. His robes billowed around him despite the lack of wind, like he was a breed of Dementor, floating and sucking all joy from Draco's soul.

"Had I known of your power, I would have - perhaps - reconsidered your fate earlier this year. Don't worry about her -"

Voldemort snapped, catching Draco glance warily behind to check if Hermione was still there. It was unnerving how silent the world around him was.

"I didn't bring her here to kill her; though I have no reservations should I need to. No, I'm here for you, Draco."

"What do you want from me?"

"I asked you to approach me. Do I need to ask again?"

Draco's eyes instinctively flickered down to his hand clutching his wand. Gods, he didn't understand. This was not the same man who was terrorizing him in the Great Hall. Though he was still menacing and equally demanding, his tone was softer; he wasn't quite as forceful in demanding Draco's loyalty.

"You won't need it," Voldemort said, and with a flick the wand flew out of Draco's hand.

Not that magic would have helped him against the Dark Lord's powers, but now he was undoubtedly as helpless as he felt. Though, it hardly mattered; it was futile to fight.

Draco took a step forward, his body and mind preparing for whatever may come.

Voldemort waited for each of Draco's heavy steps until they stood nearly two feet apart. The familiar dark magic lingered around the Dark Lord and floated in the air around Draco like a dense humidity that filled his lungs with muck. It was unnerving. Draco could feel the sweat trickle down his back, his hair sticking to his forehead as a cold sweat washed over him.

"Do not be afraid," Voldemort said, his voice still as the night. "I will not harm a hair on her head if you give me what I want."

"What is it?" The edge in Draco's voice was certain, and apparent as Voldemort's mouth curled upward.

"Show me your powers, Draco," Voldemort tilted his head, his eyes scrutinizing Draco's features. "Show me what you can do. You look nervous; do you need inspiration?"

With another quick whip of Voldemort's hand which gripped Hermione's wand as though it were his own, the sound of screams flooded Draco's ears. Panic filled him as Hermione collapsed onto the floor, her hands pressing up against the top of the invisible box that seemed to be dropping down on her, crushing her helpless form as she screamed against the heavy force.

"STOP!" Draco shouted under an overwhelming sense of fear that everything he cared about was about to be crushed to death.

Voldemort's hairless brow lifted as Hermione's screams morphed into pained whimpers. The force, it seemed, had paused as Draco shook helplessly.

His rage rose like a breath out of each of his pores.

It floated in the air like an aura around him, sucked in through Voldemort's black slits with each greedy breath.

"Your fear - your anger... I can feel it. Like fire on my skin, it burns."

Good, Draco wanted to say. Let it burn.

His sneer deepened and teeth bared as he watched Voldemort's muscles tense and flinch against the jarring loud noise that Draco cast outward. He could hear Hermione whimpering as it filled her head with chaos, an amalgam of deafening noise that seeped from Voldemort's ears into his eyes. The red eyes with black vertical irises grew dull as Draco covered his senses in full, like the grey haze of Hogwarts grounds the day Bellatrix died.

He plucked that memory forward, letting Voldemort see her.

Blood sputtering out of her mouth.

Her laughter dying with her body.

Draco was suddenly thrust back across the tower; he collided hard with the floor and pain shot up his back as he rose. He could see the disdain in Voldemort's face before it quickly faded toward neutrality.

"It was nice to see her, Draco," Voldemort said, his spine straightening as he glanced over the dark horizon. "Even if it was in her final moments..."

Draco rose to his feet and approached the Dark Lord once more. He could have shoved the man off the ledge once and for all. He could have flung himself off if he really wanted to, but what was the purpose. Every move would be countered with effortless ease by the most powerful Dark Wizard in the world.

"Though what is so final about death? When one may be able to return from it..."

He turned his head toward Draco, his red eyes narrowing while Draco's widened.

"You know what I am saying, don't you, Draco?"

"You're lying."

"We have your father's body. You may be able to see him once more."

"He's dead," Draco spat, his eyes suddenly burning despite everything in him wanting nothing more than to scream. Tears were so useless. "You said it yourself, he was killed."

"Yes. He is dead. But we have reanimated a corpse before. I, too, am no stranger to death."

"You..."

It felt like his throat had tightened and words were getting stuck under the lump. He struggled to fight past the emotions that rose in him at the prospect. His father.

"You're saying..."

"We have brought back at least two of my followers, if you doubt me."

"Gibbon..." Draco heard Hermione gasp. His eyes flicked toward the sound as Hermione, wide-eyed and shaking, shouted, "Draco - don't listen to him. They brought him back as an Inferi! A - a half-person, he can't talk or - or think, he ghhrrrlllggggh -"

Draco watched with horror as Hermione rose off the ground and was flown forward, slamming hard against the glass wall. Blood spurted from her face as twin trails of red dripped down her nostrils before she fell to the ground with a thud.

"Hermione!"

Draco ran to her but was unable to reach her. His bare hands banged against the glass. He couldn't do anything. He watched helplessly as Hermione struggled to rise.

"Stop!" Draco pleaded, his fingers white against the invisible glass.

Gods, he needed to do something - he had to help her. Her eyes flew open until he could see all the way around her irises. She stared at him with terror-stricken eyes as her mouth fell open and all that came out was the sound of a gargled gasp. Her hands rose to her throat, desperately attempting to pry off whatever force was holding her.

"Oh God - Hermione!"

He banged on the glass as ice flooded his veins. She was choking. Her legs kicked feebly at nothing as she struggled against the force.

"Please, stop! Please - "

"I had foolishly decided against tearing out her vocal cords," Voldemort said from behind, "now I'm wondering why."

Her lips were growing purple, visible even under the dark blanket of night. Her eyes were growing hazy as she teetered over the edge of consciousness.

"My Lord, please stop - I'll do anything!"

Those words seemed to be the magical phrase he was waiting to hear as Hermione's hands slowly fell away and she sucked in a full gasp of air. Draco was also finally able to breathe.

"Join me," the high, clear voice of Voldemort rang - pointed straight at Draco.

Draco didn't leave her side. He watched as her breathing slowly evened and the haze gradually lifted from her gaze.

"I will spare you both. Draco," Lord Voldemort said. His tone was forceful, commanding, urging Draco to face him.

Slowly, Draco rose. Hermione rose with him, inching toward the glass that still had the streak of her blood slowly trailing down where her face had struck.

"I have no reason to kill her if you join me."

Draco pressed his hand against the glass and she, with a trembling lip, lifted her own hand. The glass separated them, but it was enough for Draco to know what he had to do.

He turned toward the Dark Lord who stood still, his head tilted to the side and his hand outstretched for him.

"I will give you everything you could dream - money, power, a life with the girl."

"Why?" Draco asked, taking slow, gradual steps toward the Lord Voldemort.

None of it made sense. Hours ago, he was ready to kill them both after they'd served their purpose, why did he suddenly want Draco in his ranks?

"You don't know your power, boy."

Draco's wide eyes lingered on the open hand of Voldemort, offered to Draco. An alliance.

"I remember catching glimpses of my own power at your age. Let me guide you."

He wants to use me.

Draco hadn't anticipated that. He hadn't known what to expect beyond certain death, really.

"Join you…" Draco repeated.

"I will show you how to hone your skill and find true power, Draco. It lives in you, waiting to be unleashed."

Voldemort outstretched his hand, his long fingers and sharp nails widening and beckoning him forward.

"Draco nn—" The sound cut off. In his periphery, he could see Hermione banging against the glass wall, silenced once more.

He was thankful for it. He couldn't do what he was about to with his voice ringing in her ear.

It was for her that he was going to do it.

"You'll let her live," Draco said, his eyes careful in their scrutiny of the duplicitous man.

"I swear it, Draco. You may have a life with her, so long as your allegiance and loyalty is to me."

The world shook around them as an enormous bang rattled the foundation of the Astronomy Tower. It was serious enough that Lord Voldemort's lipless mouth curled and Draco caught a glimpse of the row of small reptilian teeth as they bared in a grimace.

Draco glanced over his shoulder toward the sound of the bang. There was no way of knowing whether it was the Death Eaters or the Order. He had no way of knowing his fate either way.

"Now, Draco," Voldemort urged.

"A-alright," Draco said, swallowing his nerves that had suddenly risen to his throat. "I'll do it."

In his periphery, he could see Hermione's arms flailing, probably pleading her lungs out to not go. She could never understand his decision, but so long as she was alive, he could justify it. He didn't need her forgiveness, not even her understanding. He needed her survival.

Draco took a step toward the Dark Lord. His heart pounded so hard in his chest it felt like it might knock him off balance as every step was unsteady. He nearly jumped out of his own skin at the second bang. This time, he could hear the topple of stones as they fell, but he couldn't see it.

"Ron!" Draco heard a man's panicked cry from beyond the magical partition. "Merlin - oh God, he's breathing!"

"Take him, Arthur," a feeble voice said.

If the voice wasn't familiar enough, Voldemort's flaring eyes indicated who had just arrived.

Yes. Yes, finally. Help. Help had arrived for them.

"Hello Tom," he heard the words, his body freezing in place as the Headmaster stepped forward.

Draco's eyes flashed toward the Headmaster, then back to the Dark Lord. His jaw clenched as he saw it - Voldemort's pupils darted toward Hermione. Though not her, but to the side, to a lone broomstick that levitated near the stone wall behind her which Draco, in his panic, had not seen.

So that was his means of escape.

What was he waiting for?

Voldemort's eyes widened, and his spine straightened as his eyes landed on Dumbledore. The man looked awful. His skin had gone grey and half of his body seemed burned to ash like he had experienced the wrath of Pompeii on just one side.

"Dumbledore," the high, clear voice of Voldemort sang. "It seems my informants were correct - you have grown weak."

The Dark Lord was right. Whatever hope Draco had felt swell in his chest was dashed at the sight of the Headmaster, degraded and decrepit.

"Ah, yes, my body has seen better days. Though, I suppose, so has yours," Dumbledore replied, taking a step forward.

The proximity of the man was making Draco increasingly uncomfortable. What good could he do in this state, his hand shrivelled to bone and ash, unable to wield a quill let alone a wand?

"Come, now, Draco," Voldemort called.

"That's alright, Draco, you can return to the castle. Go and help the others."

Draco sneered at the old man. He just stood there, spouting platitudes and pointless reassurances. Didn't he see Hermione trapped? Couldn't he see what they were up against? Draco could have easily fulfilled his order to kill the Headmaster, the man was halfway there already.

There was no relying on him for anything. There was no hope here for him. Whatever needed to be done, Draco would have to do. Alone.

"Step back, old man," Draco barked, moving toward the Dark Lord.

Draco let an air of calm slip off of his body. It drifted upward and outward, soothing himself and everyone around him. It took all of his concentration to not flinch.

Everything is fine.

He took Voldemort's hand. His skin was eerily cold and the darkness living underneath his skin a gruesome force that burned to the touch. He glanced down at their joined hands.

Draco's own hand, soft and pale, contrasted against the unnatural mottled-grey skin of Lord Voldemort.

It was the Dark Mark that made Draco's face grow pale. He could see the grotesque skull peeking through under his folded sleeve. He could see the black eyes staring at him. It seemed happy. It was watching him with victory as the snake danced in and out of that macabre face.

What was he doing? Draco let out a quiet breath. He could see Dumbledore watching - just watching. Surely the old man knew what Draco was doing; surely, he could have stepped in and made an attack. Could the withering man even do magic anymore?

His fingers twitched against Lord Voldemort's and he glanced up to see small teeth and a wicked grin.

The Dark Lord was pleased.

Everything was fine.

Everything is fine.

But Draco knew it wasn't.

"You can't leave, Tom," Dumbledore said. The words were soft, but the way Voldemort's muscles seized against Draco's hand made him feel the impact of the words. "There are wards around the castle, and -"

"I know about your wards, you fool -"

"Would you also happen to know that the broom you are planning to escape on is unable to leave Hogwarts grounds?"

Draco felt the muscles of the thin snake-man twitch as he reached to lift his wand. The narrow slits glanced toward Hermione, toward the broom that he'd planned to use.

Whatever peace Draco had tried to elicit through his Illusionment magic was weak. There was no peace left in him, only panic. And it was contagious.

This wasn't fine.

Nothing was fine.

Draco took one last glance at the Dark Mark on his arm before releasing a heavy breath.

"And are you going to duel me? You, with one foot in Death's door," Voldemort said, his words piercing in Draco's ear.

Voldemort lifted his wrist, his wand pointed to the Headmaster who seemed as absurdly calm as always. Dumbledore gripped his wand as well, though his fingers trembled, weakened from whatever ailment had been eating away at him.

There was no way this would end well for him. There was no way to walk away from this unscathed.

"Death comes for us all, Tom," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling as they landed on Draco. "Though it's hardly the end, for we live on in those that love us."

The Headmaster held Draco's gaze for a moment before turning back to Lord Voldemort.

"Love," Voldemort said with a bitter laugh, taking a step toward the edge, toward Hermione and the broom.

Love.

Draco's eyes lifted to the edge of the tower where Hermione remained, wide-eyed and helpless.

The surge of panic that had risen in him, simmering under his thin-layer of composure, suddenly subsided as he took the sight of her in with her reddened cheeks, messy hair, and her face gleaming with endless tears.

"Yes, love," Dumbledore said, his lips curled in a calm smile. "Though I suppose it'd be difficult for you to understand; it has always been your blind spot."

Hermione's chestnut eyes widened when, in spite of everything, Draco smiled at her. She was all he needed to muster the air of calm that spilt out of him, pooled at his feet and eased the tension on the tower.

Her survival was all he needed.

It was just a moment. Just a shred of happiness that cracked through the screaming panic that plagued him all night. A simple reminder that all he needed in the world was there - in front of his eyes. Hermione.

This was his chance.

Whatever he needed to do, this was his opportunity.

Fuck, he knew it.

Without another thought, without another chance of talking himself out of it, he pressed his weight on the balls of his feet and lunged. One arm knocked the wand out of Voldemort's hand while Draco's other arm wrapped around Voldemort's frail form.

There was no air in his lungs as he rushed forward, flinging himself and the Dark Lord off the Astronomy Tower.

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AN:

Just a reminder, my AN from the previous chapter indicates whether this fic is Happily Ever After or not, so if you prefer to know, please check that. Thanks!

S