cw: more gore below.
Songs (another four-fer) - Dragula (Si Non Oscillas, Noli Tintinnare Remix) by Rob Zombie, Natural Blues by Moby, Numb/Encore by JAY-Z and Linkin Park, and you should see me in a crown by Billie Eilish
I honestly think this is my weirdest song grouping of the entire story, so uhh… enjoy(?)
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Destiny
Casting had never been this easy, this natural. She certainly had never felt as comfortable in a battle as she did now, and the feeling was almost unsettling. Everything was suddenly so simple, so intuitive.
Dodge.
Attack.
Shield.
Attack harder.
The ease at which she was holding off the Aescling both surprised and intrigued her. She had always attributed her proficiency with magic to dedicated practice and tireless repetition, but this – the way she was dancing around the meadow casting spells she had neither heard of nor thought possible – couldn't be attributed to anything even remotely familiar. It seemed that her gift had granted her with more than just power; it had also given her a kind of confidence that she rarely felt away from her books and research. And it was invigorating.
Was this how it had been for Harry?
Probably, Runa replied, having read her thoughts. But I doubt it was ever this easy, even for him.
Hermione ducked gracefully, sending another set of flames across the meadow.
Someone laughed. Thyra. She's definitely a natural, she noted, speaking to the others as Hermione lashed out again with a particularly strong stunning spell. I doubt we could have picked someone better suited for the gift.
And imagine what she'll be able to do with a bit of training, Halvor added, projecting an image of Hermione catching lightning in the palms of her hands.
Now that, Hermione began, smirking as she blocked another one of the Aescling's spells, looks like way too much fun.
There was a strange sort of calm that came with her newfound confidence, accompanied by an unfamiliar vigor. Where once, she might have hesitated trying to think of the right spell or the next move on the theoretical chessboard, now she only paused her attacks to heed a warning from one of the voices in her head or to throw up a shield when her feet weren't quick enough to pull her out of harm's way.
She fucking knew what she was doing. And he wasn't going to stop her.
Shield.
Attack.
Attack again, quickly.
Shield.
Yes, you certainly do, Thyra noted, amused. And no, he won't.
Each step Hermione took was methodical, a well-planned ruse to lure the Aescling away from the house – away from the two men inside. Since she had taken the curse to the chest, he hadn't managed to catch her off guard, but he was still putting on an impressive show, retaliating each of her attacks with one of his own, and she was growing a bit tired of the game.
"You'd save us both a lot of time if you'd just give up now," Hermione shouted, her words purposely provocative.
A bright blue curse flew at her in response, which she redirected easily and safely to the side. His outburst might have been annoying if it hadn't been exactly what she had been hoping for. He was weakening, she could feel it in his spells, could taste it in the air, and the more energy he wasted angrily retaliating, the better.
"Cat got your tongue, Eirick?" she goaded, waving a hand to shove another strong burst of wind in his direction.
The Aescling managed to shield himself against the powerful vortex, and Hermione growled angrily, her frustration bubbling over.
"Can't you just die already," she muttered under her breath.
Oh, she's so much more fun like this, Halvor mused as she threw up another shield to keep a curse from colliding with her chest.
Even despite their near constant rambling, and in Halvor's case, intentional inciting, having the ancestors there with her was comforting. They filled in the gaps in her knowledge when needed and cheered her on when one of her spells met its target. They whispered spells and pointed out his weaknesses in between her attacks. They even warned her when she missed something, saving her more than once from what likely would have been a very painful and untimely injury. She was powerful, yes, but she also knew that she wouldn't have gotten this far without them.
Try svíða, Halvor offered suddenly, chuckling quietly to himself. It's one of my favorites.
Do I want to know what that does? Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.
Of course you do, Halvor replied, the mischief radiating outward from his form. But it'll be so much more satisfactory if you just cast it and see what happens.
Hermione resisted the urge to laugh at Halvor's eagerness and conjured the spell silently, cocking her head to the side as the spell burned straight through the Aescling's shield and hit his arm, causing him to cry out in pain. For a moment, she thought that was it, that his shield had managed to dull the effects of the spell, but then his arm burst into flames, and the corner of her mouth bent into a wicked smile.
Oh, she observed, conjuring the spell again before he could put out the fire. That was more than satisfactory, she said, watching as the Aescling's other arm caught on fire. Thank you.
Halvor's booming chuckles echoed out in her head as she began another attack, each spell in the series building off the one that came before it. When the first one hit the Aescling, he stumbled backward, his surprise visible even from her position across the field. The second one collided with him almost instantly, and Hermione resisted the urge to cry out in triumph as she saw the blood seeping out of his chest. The third, well that one was particularly nasty, and the snap of a bone – his fucking femur she hoped – rang out in the air.
The Aescling managed to block the fourth spell, which was rather disappointing considering its intended effect, but the fifth, knocked him completely off his feet, his head slamming into the ground so roughly that she could hear the chattering of his teeth above the buzz of magic in her ears. She continued the heavy bombardment, most of the curses hitting her target, until the broken and bloodied man scrambled for cover behind a tree, dragging his left leg awkwardly behind him.
It would almost be too easy.
She lifted her hand, preparing to rip the tree out of the way, eager to end it all.
Wait! Thyra cried out, her voice staying Hermione's hand. He's coming – something's not right.
He? Hermione asked, absentmindedly dropping her hand to her side.
But she didn't need to wait long for an answer. She had blocked out Draco's thoughts since he and Harry had snuck into the house, instead focusing all of her attention on the madmen across the field, but she could suddenly feel the edges of her husband's consciousness barreling across the bridge at the back of her mind, and shiver ran down her spine.
"Fuck," she whispered, throwing up a shield at the same moment he slipped the rest of the way into her mind.
"What do you mean 'not dead'?" Harry asked, lifting his head, his face white as he looked over at Draco.
Get him off that wall, Frode instructed harshly. Quickly! There's no time.
"Draco," Harry repeated, his voice more frantic this time as he took a step toward him. "What do–"
"I can't focus when you're both talking to me," Draco snapped, his hands shaking as he lifted his wand to remove the shackle around Theo's hand. "Just– just fucking help me get him away from the wall."
Harry blinked, his body frozen as his eyes flickered between Theo's mangled body and Draco's pleading glare, before nodding and moving to help.
Draco quickly cast a stasis spell around Theo's body, hoping it was enough to slow the loss of whatever blood remained inside him and to keep his injuries from worsening, and then cast another spell to transform the wooden table on the other side of the room into a small bed. When he was ready, he gave Harry a quick nod and the two men carefully lifted Theo's limp body and carried him to the other side of the room, neither of them quite able to ignore the sickening metallic tang in the air nor the amount of blood that was beginning to seep through their clothes as they moved.
We're going to have to borrow some of your wife's magic, Frode explained as Draco and Harry gently placed Theo on the bed. You're not powerful enough to do this on your own.
She's a little busy with her magic at the moment, Draco replied tersely, kneeling beside the bed and lifting his wand over his friend. Harry and I will have to be enough.
You won't be, Frode told him, a hint of sadness in his voice. The spell would kill you both.
What? Draco asked frantically. Are you sure?
Very, Frode assured him.
"Fuck," Draco muttered quietly, dropping his wand. Harry looked at him questioningly, but Draco pointed his head, gesturing that he needed a moment.
There's really no other way? he asked Frode, his worry torn equally between his need to protect his wife and his need to save his oldest friend.
My dear boy, do you want him to live or not? Frode replied impatiently.
Draco groaned, more terrified to make the impossible decision than he was irritated with having to make it at all. "Fuck!" he shouted, swallowing heavily as his eyes landed again on the bloodied body beneath him. "Fuck. Fuck."
"What is it?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing in concern as Draco hunched over next to the bed, his hands clinging to the edge of the lumpy mattress.
"We need Hermione's magic to heal him," Draco told him, his heartbeat rising sharply as the words left his mouth.
"Why can't we–" But Draco was already shaking his head.
"We're not powerful enough," Draco explained, resisting the urge to turn around and punch the wall. "Frode says it will kill us if we try."
Harry was quiet for a moment, his chest heaving with what Draco could only assume was the same combination of adrenaline and fear that was flooding his own veins.
"Will she still be able to fight if we have to use her magic?" Harry asked quietly, his voice shaking slightly. "Will this put her in more danger than she's already in?"
It will drain her but not entirely, Frode answered. She will still be able to fight, but yes, there is a danger in borrowing her power. It will weaken her significantly.
Harry frowned as Draco relayed the message. "Do you need me here for the spell?" Harry asked quickly.
No, he doesn't need to be here for it, Frode told Draco, answering Harry's question. Because of the bond, you're the only one who can borrow her magic. You will have to be the one to cast the spell.
"No," Draco explained, looking at Harry hopefully as he pushed himself onto his feet. "Just me."
"Then I'll go," Harry replied, not needing Draco to ask what he wanted to ask. He was already clutching his wand tightly, his entire body ready to bolt as soon as necessary. "You take care of Theo, and I'll make sure she's okay."
"Thank you," Draco said, his voice almost a whisper as he locked eyes with Harry. He wished he could do both. He wished he could save Theo without putting Hermione at risk, but...
It's settled, Frode interjected. You're just wasting time, he repeated urgently. We need to do this now!
Draco nodded one final time at Harry, silently communicating his gratitude, before closing his eyes. Alright, he thought knowing Frode could hear him. He was already reaching for the bond at the back of his mind, but paused just outside its entrance. I'm not doing this without her okay, he emphasized resolutely. He didn't wait for Frode to answer; instead, he pushed through the barrier quickly, and sighed a small breath of relief when his consciousness flowed seamlessly into his wife's.
Draco! Hermione called, her shock evident in her thoughts. Is everything alright? Is Theo–?
Being with her this way, their fears and desires entangled perfectly together, had become a comfort of sorts since their bond had first appeared, and he was tempted to just toss everything aside and stay for a while, burying himself in her thoughts. But a nudge from somewhere in the back of his skull brought him back to reality, and he swallowed heavily.
They needed to save Theo.
He's alive, but he won't be for much longer if I can't heal him, Draco told her, choking back a sob as he flashed an image in her mind. He heard her short intake of breath and felt her shiver as she processed what he had shown her, so he waited a moment before continuing. He needs–But he stopped, not sure how to ask her for what he needed, how to tell her that he needed to take from her to keep their friend alive.
Theo needs to be healed with your magic, Frode, who had followed Draco across the bridge, finished for him. I do wish we had more time for introductions and explanations, but it's imperative that we do this quickly. He won't survive much longer.
Draco felt the hum of magic as Hermione casted a few spells, momentarily pulling away from their conversation to focus on fending off an attack. The hum was curious, intoxicating almost, and if it weren't for the sudden appearance of another unfamiliar voice, he would have continued to be drawn towards it, entranced by the way it interacted with his wife.
How much and how long? the voice asked as Hermione conjured a powerful electrical charge, the buzz of the current vibrating against the edges of Draco's own consciousness.
As much as she can give and hopefully no more five minutes, Frode replied quickly, the uncertainty obvious in his voice.
She'll be unprotected, another voice argued. We can't–
Done, Hermione replied, cutting the voice off. You can take everything the power has given me. I can take Eirick without it. He's weak, I can feel it. He doesn't have much fight left in him.
I really don't relish the idea of stealing your magic away while you're in the middle of a battle, Draco noted somewhat angrily. He didn't really have the heart to argue with her, he knew she would do anything to help, but he wasn't going to left it unsaid. Theo wouldn't either, he added more quietly.
Draco, Hermione began after muttering another spell. I can do this.
Draco didn't respond right away. He didn't know what to say, what to do. She was so confident, so sure that everything was going to be alright, but he wasn't. And he couldn't lose her.
But he couldn't lose Theo either, and his friend needed them both – Hermione's power and Draco's ability to wield it – to survive.
Okay, he said finally, but I'm sending Harry out to help you.
No, she told him firmly. I can do this. Tell him to stay with you unless I call for him.
Hermione–
We don't have time for this, my boy, Frode inserted. She's made her choice, and we must move forward. The others will help her. They will tell us if she needs help.
Draco was quiet for a moment, trying to decide if the point was worth arguing, if it was worth wasting anymore time. I love you, he said finally as he reluctantly retreated back toward the bridge.
And I you, Hermione replied. Now, go save Theo.
Draco hesitated for only the briefest of moments before pulling himself the rest of the way back into his own head. It was only when he came back to himself, the connections of his nervous system snapping back into focus, that he realized his hands were shaking nervously at his sides. He opened his eyes and looked over at Harry, who was still standing at attention, ready to leap out of the room as soon as Draco said the words.
"Stay," Draco told him quietly, his voice cracking. "But if I tell you to go, you fucking go."
Harry looked like he might protest and opened his mouth, his eyes searching Draco's face as if he was looking for an explanation, before shutting it quickly and nodding. They had been friends for long enough that Harry didn't need to ask what the determined look on Draco's face meant.
The risk, at least in this precise moment, didn't matter. Draco was doing what he thought was right.
Okay, he said, returning his attention to Frode. Tell me what I need to do.
How long will it take Eirick to notice that I don't have the power? Hermione asked once she was sure Draco could no longer hear her.
Hard to say, Halvor replied. He's tired, but I doubt the sudden change in your casting will go unnoticed.
Well, I suppose there's not much I can do about that, she said, inhaling deeply in an attempt to steady her nerves. And you'll still be able to help me?
Of course, dear, Thyra assured her. We're not going anywhere.
Hermione conjured one last set of sparking globes and sent them careening toward the Aescling in hopes it would keep him distracted long enough for the transfer to take place.
I'm ready, she said, moving her hand into her pocket to grasp her wand. You can tell them that I'm ready.
She felt Runa sweep to the bridge and shout something across the bridge. Everything was quiet for a moment, the voices seemingly holding their collective breath in anticipation of what was coming, and then, quite suddenly, she was overcome with a sharp pain, the force of which sucked the air right out of her lungs.
Shield! Halvor shouted, and Hermione cast a protego a mere second before a bright green light came hurdling toward her.
"Fuck," she breathed, almost collapsing under the force of the collision.
This was going to be harder than she thought.
You will need to focus on her power, whatever you can sense coming through your bond. When it's time, the words you will need to speak are 'taka við.' Frode explained quickly once he was sure Draco was ready. This will initiate the transfer of her power to you.
Understood, Draco replied, trying to keep his breathing steady and his thoughts calm.
I must warn you, the transfer will not be pleasant, Frode continued, the worry obvious in his voice. In fact, it might be best if you– But he was cut off by a shout that rang across the bridge into Draco's mind.
It took Draco a moment to pin-point the exact words, but when he did, his body stiffened. Do it, now!
Now, my boy, Frode instructed, not bothering to finish his previous thought. Quickly!
"Taka við," Draco repeated without hesitation, his voice quiet but steady as he honed in on the power emanating from the other side of his and Hermione's bond.
For a moment, nothing happened, and as the silence settled around him, he began to wonder if he had done something wrong, if there was some sort of wand movement Frode had forgotten to tell him to do. But then, before he could ask what was happening, he was hit with a shock so powerful that he felt like his lungs might collapse.
Steady, Frode cautioned, his voice the only calm among the sea of Draco's own frightened thoughts. Breathe.
Draco's vision narrowed dangerously as he struggled to breathe. He reached out and placed the palm of his hand on the wall in a weak attempt to keep himself upright while his other hand flew to his chest, clutching uselessly at his heart. His lungs were frozen, almost as if the spell had succeeded not only in giving him power but also cutting off his ability to breathe, and he began to panic, barely registering the voice in his head or the hand that had moved to his back.
Breathe, he tried to tell himself, his eyes blinking furiously. Fucking breathe.
The word, as simple as it was, seemed to trigger a physical change, and almost immediately, he felt the pressure in his chest lessen. He inhaled sharply, sputtering and cried out involuntarily as oxygen began flowing through his body again.
"Draco?" Harry prompted quietly, his hand still on his friend's back.
"I'm fine," Draco assured him, his voice a rough whisper as he waved him away. "I'm fine," he repeated, this time more for himself.
The transfer normally knocks a man out cold, Frode told him, his voice calmer than it had been a moment ago. It seems your wife isn't the only one with a strange predisposition for controlling this kind of power.
Draco didn't reply right away. The room was spinning slightly around him, and he had to fight back the wave of nausea threatening to send him toppling to the ground. He could feel Harry's eyes on him, but he refused to look over at him, instead mulling over the statement Frode had made in hopes that it would be distraction enough.
What do you mean? Draco asked finally, confused, breathing heavily as he pushed himself off the wall.
A story for later, Frode replied quickly, realizing his mistake. Curious or not, this wasn't the time or place to dive into the specifics. Are you alright? Can you focus?
Yes, Draco told him, still blinking as he tried to steady his equilibrium. Yes, I'm fine.
The spell you're about to cast may sound simple, but it will drain energy from both you and the power now coursing through your veins, Frode explained, talking fast but still slow enough that Draco could follow. Theo's injuries are extensive, too extensive to heal in one go, so I will have you release the spell once he is stable. You will still need to get him to a hospital as soon as possible.
Draco nodded in understanding. What's the spell? he asked, looking down at the broken body below him for the first time since the transfer.
Leita sér lífs, Frode told him. You won't need your wand – just your hands, he added, watching through Draco's eyes as he lifted his wand.
Despite knowing that the power had allowed Hermione to perform incredible magic without her wand, and despite being relatively proficient in wandless magic himself, Draco still hesitated, unsure if he would be able to heal the kind of injuries littered across Theo's body without the assistance of a wand. But another look at the body below him was the only encouragement he needed to follow orders, and he sheathed his wand and held out his hands, instinctually hovering them over Theo's body.
Like this? he asked, nervously.
That's perfect, Frode confirmed. Whenever you're ready.
Letting his eyes close, Draco took a deep breath, holding the air in for a moment before releasing it harshly through slightly parted lips.
"Leita sér lífs," he muttered, opening his eyes just in time to see tendrils of bright white light pouring out of his fingers.
Fighting without the power was entirely different. It was harder, less intuitive, and certainly more dangerous, but Hermione knew she could do it.
And she was.
It had only taken her a moment to recover after having the magic ripped from her body, and only a moment longer for her hands to finally stop shaking enough for her to destroy the tree that the Aescling was hiding behind with a simple bombarda. He had retaliated with a series of spells she didn't recognize, but her protection spell had been enough to divert them away.
Careful, Runa warned her as the last of the sparks flew to the side. The damage from those curses is terribly difficult to reverse.
Hermione didn't wait to go back on the offensive; she attacked quickly with a curse of her own, the sparks from her wand darting across the field and slamming into the Aescling before he had a chance to react.
Don't stop! Halvor exclaimed excitedly.
But she didn't need his encouragement. She was already running across the field, curses flying out of her wand almost as quickly as she had managed with the power before it had been taken away.
The only sound she heard as she ran was the pounding of her own heart, its deep and steady thump echoing in her ears. She could see the man crouched near the ground, clutching his heart as blood rain down his face, and she ran faster, hoping to reach him before he recovered.
She raised her wand, the words of a binding charm perched on the edge of her tongue, but she was hit suddenly with a curse that she didn't see coming.
Hermione! she heard someone scream, but she wasn't sure who. The only thing she could focus on was the pain suddenly radiating down her spine.
A second curse hit her hard, and her body flew backward, tumbling in the air until it collided roughly with the ground. She heard the snap of her neck as it bent back awkwardly before she felt it, but when it finally hit her, she cried out, unable to muzzle the agony in her bones.
Time slowed as she trembled on the ground, her thoughts as scattered and broken as her belief that she could defeat him.
Move, Hermione! Halvor shouted, his words finally making it through the haze in her brain. You need to move!
Groaning, she rolled on to her side, her vision blurred by a steady stream of blood falling down her face, and it was then that she realized she didn't have her wand. She froze. Her brain was screaming at her body to get up, but her limbs suddenly refused to do anything but flop awkwardly at her sides.
There was no way she could win now. It was over, and she had lost.
Move! Halvor pleaded again, terrified. You can't give up.
Call for the other one, she heard Thyra say, her voice as scared as Halvor's.
She didn't even have the strength to protest, to tell them that it wouldn't matter, that it was too late. She had been stupid to think she could do this on her own, that killing the Aescling would be an easy task even without her power.
At least Theo will survive, she thought as a tear escaped down her face. Draco, I'm so sorry. I love you.
The voices were talking to her, telling her to get up, telling her to fight, but she ignored them. They couldn't help her anymore. She had gambled and lost, and there was nothing they could do.
She heard the Aescling before she saw him, his feet dragging awkwardly against the ground and his breathing loud and heavy, triumphant almost. And finally, she mustered the courage to look up, gritting her teeth against the pain in her spine as she tilted her head. Blood was pouring out of his mouth, but he smiled as he hovered over her, his wand pointed directly at her head.
At least she knew how it would end.
"How fitting," the Aescling said, pausing to lick his lips as he studied her, "you'll die just as powerless as the day you were born."
So, he had figured it out then, and she didn't even bother wondering how.
When she didn't respond, he took another step forward and kicked her, his heavy boot crashing into her ribs with a loud crack, and she crumbled into a ball, coughing up blood as her lungs struggled to move against the force of the blow.
The voices in her head were screaming but the pain muted them, trapping them in the darkest recess of her brain. Another kick and snap of bone locked them further away, and then the only thoughts she could hear were own.
You failed. You failed them all.
She repeated the words over and over in her head, ignoring her own strangled cries as he kicked her a few more times. When he finally stopped, she was gasping for air, her fingers curling around the grass beneath her as stars danced in her eyes. She hoped that he would end it quickly, that his impatience would at least keep him from dragging it out any further, and she braced herself, no longer caring about the blood she was coughing up or the pain in her spine. She just wanted it to be done.
But then something strange happened – a shock of sorts, and her body jolted back to attention. Her breath returned, and the pain eased. And slowly the voices returned, their words growing louder with each ragged breath she took.
Get up, Hermione! Halvor was shouting.
You can't give up! Runa was saying.
Hermione, you can do this, Thyra was assuring her.
And then suddenly, something in her brain clicked, and her thoughts shifted quickly from defeat to defiance. She couldn't go down like this; she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.
The power chose you, she told herself. It chose you for a reason.
It was the first time she had repeated the words herself. Dumbledore had said them first, in the letter; the ancestors had said it after, when she had found them in the temple. She had even felt the sentiment in Draco's own thoughts, but she had never, until this very moment, believed they were actually true. And with her belief, came a strength she didn't know she had.
"Destiny," she muttered under her breath, almost laughing as she finally pushed herself off the ground.
She could feel the Aescling's eyes on her, his wand still pointed at her head as she swayed awkwardly on her feet, and then she met his piercing gaze with her own.
"Killing me won't bring back what you've lost," she said, wiping the blood from the side of her mouth.
"Perhaps not," he replied, studying her with dark eyes. "But watching the life drain out of your body will be reward enough."
Hermione shrugged in response, and then, without knowing why, she raised her hands into the air.
The Aescling threw his head back and laughed. "And what are you going to do with those?" he taunted. "Accio your wand? I'm afraid you'll be dead before it even gets to you."
A tingling suddenly extended outward from Hermione's core, quickly settling itself all the way to her fingertips. The feeling was familiar, and she knew, without needing an explanation, that the power had never really left her, not even as Draco was using it to save someone else, not even when she had convinced herself that she couldn't survive. The choice had been made long before she knew it had been, long before anyone had any sense of what she would become, of what she would one day have to face, and there was no going back. The power wasn't going to simply stand by and let her die.
Emboldened, she turned her palms upward, her eyes fixed on the Aescling as clouds began to swirl above them. She could feel the electricity in the air, and her fingers twitched in anticipation.
"It's not… possible," he muttered, dropping his wand to his side as looked upward. "How?" he asked, his voice quiet as he turned back to face her.
"Does it matter?" she said.
And then two bolts of lightning descended from the sky.
Hermione didn't hesitate, she didn't jump in surprise; instead, she caught the strings of light in the palms of her hand and smiled. The Aescling shrank back, his entire body trembling with fear as sparks shot outwards, heating the surrounding air and igniting a circle of grass around them, trapping them both inside.
"No," she heard him say, the light reflecting off his dark eyes as he stared at her in disbelief.
But her eyes weren't focused on the current now running from the sky to her hands, nor were they focused on the fire surrounding them; they were focused on the man in front of her, boring into his very soul. He was a shell of what he had been moments ago, the color drained from his face, his shoulders hunched in defeat, and she knew that she had him.
"It's over Eirick," Hermione said, her body shaking slightly from the exertion of controlling the lightning as she spoke.
"Please," he begged, but his words didn't matter. He wasn't worth saving.
With an ear-piercing scream, the electricity exploded outward from Hermione's hands, and the current charged into the Aescling, lifting his body off the ground, his limbs extended outward and his head thrown back in pain. His own scream mixed with her own, and she fell to her knees, watching as his body shook violently, until every inch of him erupted in flames. She watched as the screaming stopped, until his body stilled and fell roughly to the ground, charred and unmoving. She watched as the lightning retreated back into the sky, sucking the heat and static out of the air. With a mix of horror and relief, she watched until the body in front of her crumbled apart on the ground.
And then she cried.
It was over. It was finally fucking over.
The voices were cheering in her head, but she couldn't make out the words; she couldn't focus on anything but the relief flooding her veins.
It was done.
She was still crying, her eyes closed and her body folded over her knees where she had crumbled to the ground, when a strong pair of arms wrapped around her and lifted her onto her feet.
"Hermione," a familiar voice said. And then she was being pulled into something warm, something familiar and safe.
"Draco," she whispered, not needing to open her eyes to confirm who it was.
"It's alright," he said, pulling her closer, his breath tickling the top of her head.
"He's gone," she mumbled, burying her head against his chest. "He's finally gone."
And then she collapsed into his arms, her body shaking as her sobs grew louder.
"Shhh," Draco said, moving one hand to her back, his fingers moving in small circles, while he buried his other hand in her tangled curls. "It's okay," he assured her, his lips brushing against her forehead. "I'm here."
His touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she gasped, struggling to control the torrent of emotions swirling in her head.
Draco held her as she cried, whispering softly in her ear as she came down slowly from the cliff she had been dangling from.
"Theo?" she asked when she had calmed enough to speak, lifting her head to look at her husband with swollen eyes.
"He's alive. Harry's with him," he replied, smiling at her weakly as he brushed away her tears with the pad of his thumb. "I don't know how, but he fucking survived."
Even though she had just managed to calm herself down, Hermione couldn't stop the tears from coming back, and she choked out a garbled laugh as she exhaled in relief. It had all been worth it. Theo had survived. They all had.
"Alive," she whispered.
"Yes," Draco assured her. "Which reminds me," he continued, before she had a chance to say anything else. "I have something of yours."
"We don't have to do that now," she replied, wiping the new tears from the side of her face. "It can wait."
"Honestly, it's a bit unnerving," Draco told her, tucking a rogue curl behind her ear. "The power doesn't belong to me," he added as he brushed a finger across her bottom lip. "And it's itching to return to you."
Hermione closed her eyes and nodded. "Okay," she said softly, taking a deep breath. "I'm ready," she added after a moment.
"Létta," she heard Draco say.
She felt him tighten his hold on her as their bodies shuddered in mutual discomfort, refusing to let go even despite the pain she knew he was suffering through, and she smiled through the shock of the transfer.
When it was over, when the shaking in her body had stopped, she opened her eyes to look at him and immediately lost herself in his gaze, unable to look away.
"Oh," she said, speaking first as she brought a hand to the side of Draco's face, her fingers moving softly against his pale skin.
"Oh, indeed," he said, smiling at her before leaning forward and crashing his lips against her own.
a/n: So sorry for the delay - I got super sick last weekend, and my brain took forever to recover, so this took way longer than it should have. Anyways, I do hope this chapter was as fulfilling for everyone to read as it was to write!
The next chapter will be the last (cries under my big puffy blanket), but there will also likely be a separate epilogue, although it won't be super lengthy if I do go that route. A huge thank you to everyone who has followed this story over the past few months - it really has been a pleasure writing this for all of you!
Oh, and for those that are interested, I'll also be posting a short excerpt from the next story that I've been working on. I likely won't start posting again until the new year, but keep your eyes peeled in case I decide to surprise you all (and myself) by posting earlier.
Translations:
svíða (Old Norse) - burn, singe, cause pain
taka við (Old Norse) - accept, take in
leita sér lífs (Old Norse) - seek to save one's life
létta (Old Norse) - stop
