Everyone in the room spun to stare at Neville. Hermione couldn't help but think that he'd looked better. The confident wizard who'd matched Voldemort spell for spell needed to brace himself against the doorframe to stay upright, and even then, his knees buckled out from under him. Draco rushed forward to slide a shoulder under his arms. "Are you okay?" he asked, and as if those words broke a dam, everyone crowded around as he helped Neville to a couch.

"How did you do that?" Astoria wanted to know.

"You've had Voldemort's diary this whole time?" Pansy asked.

"Fuck," Harry said.

"Double fuck," Blaise said.

"That explains a lot, really," Luna said.

"What?" Theo demanded. "How?"

"He's had a very good private tutor," she said.

"An evil one," Harry said. He didn't seem sure whether he wanted to join everyone crowding around Neville or whether he wanted to stay as far away as possible. "Fucking wild, Nev."

"It was," Neville said. His laugh was a little weak, and he started coughing at the end, then couldn't stop himself for a long minute while everyone stood around, not sure what to say. Hermione transfigured a napkin into a handkerchief and gave it to him, and, though he pocketed it with a very quiet thank you when his coughing fit was over, she was fairly sure she saw spots of blood on the white fabric.

"You lived, though," Daphne said into the ensuing awkward silence. "So that's good. And he's dead."

"Also good," Astoria said.

"He is dead, right?" Theo asked.

"I saw him fall," Hermione said, but she wouldn't mind someone confirming this. There was dead and there was dead, and Voldemort had a bad habit of being not quite dead enough.

"He's quite done." Minerva McGonagall said from the doorway. She had blood on her hands which she looked at with obvious distaste before murmuring a charm that cleaned it all up and left her nails painted in soft pink. That was a useful way to adapt a manicure spell, and Hermione made a note to herself to see if Pansy would teach her one.

"But are you sure?" Blaise asked.

"We chopped his body into small pieces and dropped them into the fiendfyre incinerator," Narcissa said briskly from behind Professor McGonagall. Hermione knew she should probably feel horror at that, but instead she felt a fierce wave of satisfaction. They'd done it. She grabbed Draco's hand and squeezed, and he met her eyes and she saw the same ruthless joy. It hadn't been all for nothing.

Then Hermione blinked, and Narcissa bustled over and was setting a hand against Neville's forehead with proprietary care, and everything she thought she'd understood was gone again. Done what? Neville had destroyed the diary, and the three witches coming into the room had destroyed the monster's remains. She and Draco had been mostly ineffectual bystanders, and how could they be anything else? They hadn't even passed their O.W.L.s yet.

"Neville was supposed to stay with the Healer and he came back here," Narcissa Malfoy said. "So we wanted to make sure he was doing well,"

"He looks like he's on the brink of death," Pansy said bluntly. "So, no, I don't think he's doing that great. Since you asked."

"He poured a lot of himself into that diary," Professor McGonagall said. It was clearly supposed to be an explanation, and Hermione followed the logical trail of the thought to its end and shuddered. Neville had become part of the Horcrux, or it had become part of him. Either seemed like a nightmare.

"Was he… by the end… was he himself?" she asked. "All the way?"

Professor McGonagall studied Neville for a long moment, and he seemed to wilt a bit under her gaze. "Yes, though he is lucky to be alive. We are very fortunate Severus had more of the same potion he used for Mr. Potter."

"Who doesn't love Snape?" Harry muttered. Everyone ignored him.

"It was very brave of Neville to destroy the diary," Narcissa said. "I confess myself surprised he did not die in the process."

"It felt like pouring acid over my own hands," Neville admitted.

"Unsurprising," Professor McGonagall said. "Though you carried on with it." Her gaze softened. "Your parents would be proud."

Neville swallowed hard and looked away. How painful that had to be to hear, Hermione thought, and at the same time how marvelous.

Molly Weasley broke the fragile moment by demanding to know "That's all well and good, and I'm sure they would, but hasn't your grandmother told you not to trust something if you can't see where it puts its brain?"

Hermione thought she would have shrunk down under the accusation and fear laced through those words, especially if he'd been so utterly stupid as to have spent years—years!—talking to Voldemort. Neville, however, straightened up and met her gaze without so much as a shiver. He was still pale, and a trickle of blood was running from his nose. He looked half-dead, but he wasn't going to be cowed.

Well, after talking to Voldemort up close and personal for years, Hermione supposed that Ron's mum wouldn't seem that frightening.

"Your son's pet rat was his flunky, and rats live about two years. Instead of coming at me, maybe you should ask yourself why Scabbers lived for over a dozen years and you never once worried something odd might be going on." The words were cool and laced with power. Several people in the room stirred uneasily at them. Was Voldemort really all the way out of Neville's mind, or had some bit of him lingered on?

If Hermione had spoken to a friend of her mother's that way in front of other people, she would have gotten dangerously quiet. She waited for Molly Weasley to do or say something to respond to that. And her mouth did tighten into a long, furious line before she spat out, "I hope that grandmother of yours gets you some help."

"I'm sure she will," Narcissa said smoothly. "And we're all very grateful to Neville."

"But is he gone?" Pansy asked. "Like, all the way gone?"

"Or is he going to erupt from your friend?" Minerva McGonagall asked, giving voice to the worst possible outcome.

"Yeah," Theo said. "That."

"The Horcrux was destroyed, Voldemort is dead," she said. "Mr. Longbottom will surely remember things he learned from the younger Tom Riddle, but the magic will be wielded by Neville, not by a monster."

"Okay," Draco said. "Good."

"Rest," Narcissa told Neville. "We did summon a Healer to look after you, so while you may stay with your friends, please don't over-exert yourself as you do."

"Wouldn't do to have the hero die after all," Blaise said. There was a small sneer on his face, but his voice shook.

"Exactly," Narcissa said. "We prefer our heroes alive and well." Her eyes rested on Draco and Hermione for a moment, then she smiled genially and swept away.

The rest of the party was a bit of a letdown. Aurors interviewed everyone and expressed fury that the body had been disposed of without their permission. "Better safe than sorry," Minerva McGonagall said, and when that wasn't enough, she raised her voice.

Draco decided he was going to live the rest of his life in such a way that she never ever yelled at him. By the awestruck and terrified looks on the faces of the rest of the Hogwarts students at the Easter party, he wasn't the only one coming to this conclusion. Professor McGonagall simply did not yell. Until she did, and apparently being questioned by an 'upstart, inadequate, ignorant fool of a man' regarding how she chose to dispose of Voldemort's body was the limit.

Remus found Harry and reassured himself that he was fine. Harry was, but Remus was less so. A stray curse landed during the battle, and he'd been left with a leg half-turned to smoke until one of the Healers reversed most of the damage. He was still limping and probably would for the rest of his life. "It's just one more scar to add to the collection," he said, though Draco could see him wince whenever he put weight down on the replaced leg.

As soon as people were cleared to leave by the Aurors, they did. Narcissa might have spring lamb and roasted potatoes and jam tarts, but she also had the ashes of a dead monster in her basement. The walls where the battle had taken place were still covered in soot and slime and blood. This wasn't a place to linger.

Harry glanced at Draco before he left, a trace of simmering anger still clouding his expression, though now it was mixed with what might have been guilt. Part of Draco stirred with resentment anyway. Harry had been a git, and it wasn't fair. Part of him didn't care. Harry was alive, and, in the end, that was what mattered. He'd get over it, or he wouldn't.

Part of him cared a lot. This was his brother. Life without him would go on, but a vital piece would always be missing if he and Harry hated each other.

"I'll see you at Hogwarts," Harry said.

"Yeah," Draco said. His heart moved into his throat and wanted to choke him because the part of him that cared about their fight wanted it to be over so badly. But he didn't plan on letting anyone see that, so he just tipped his head toward Harry. Harry rolled his eyes before stepping into the floo and leaving, Remus and Blaise in his wake.

"This was the best party I've ever been to," Astoria told Draco before she left. "Thank you so much for inviting me."

"Come on." Daphne just about dragged her by the arm into the floo. "See you all at school."

Thoros Nott beckoned Theo stiffly. His questioning had gone on longer than most, and his shoulders were tight with anger. "Let's go," he said.

Theo gave him a long glance, before throwing his arms around Hermione and saying loudly, "Don't forget you were going to loan me that book on Muggle history."

"Right," Hermione said when he let her go. "Uh, yeah. That book. I'll make sure to bring it back with me."

Thoros Nott's mouth twisted as if he were in actual pain, but when Narcissa came over and tucked a lock of Hermione's hair back behind her ear, he straightened his face out into a mask of neutrality. "It seems everything is different now," he said.

"The future is an unknown land," Narcissa said. "Best to travel toward it with an open mind."

"You had a hand in this," he said.

"I'm sure we all had a hand in defeating Voldemort," Narcissa said smoothly. "Surely no one could have wanted him back."

"Only that poor, sad Peter Pettigrew," Thoros Nott said. His eyes glittered for a moment. "Pity that werewolf fellow will go to Azkaban for his murder."

Draco tensed because if that were true, it was horrible. Peter had killed Sirius. Harry had been forced to see it, and Peter was helping Voldemort. Before he could say how horrible and unfair that was, his mother laughed. "You must have heard wrong," she said. "They plan to give Remus a medal."

Draco wouldn't have thought it possible, but Thoros' face looked even more pinched and unhappy at that news. "Come, Theo," he snapped.

"Oh, is he not staying with us tonight after all?" Narcissa asked.

Theo looked blank. Draco managed not to stare at his mum.

"Did he forget to ask you?" Narcissa asked, and let out a trilling laugh that didn't even try to be honest. "The boys were planning to spend several hours after the party studying for their O.W.L.s. You don't mind, do you? I know today has hardly been conducive to concentration, but we'll tuck them away in the library after they eat and make sure they spend their time productively before sending them back to school at the end of the holiday."

Thoros muttered that of course that would be fine, and reminded Theo to be polite to his hostess before disappearing.

Theo sagged with relief. "Thank you," he said to Narcissa.

"Think nothing of it," she said. "I'm sure you and Draco will need to spend a lot of time together getting prepared for those tests and then going over the results this summer."

One by one, everyone disappeared until it was just Neville, still lying down and looking like he'd been hit by the Knight Bus, along with Theo, Draco and Hermione. "I can tell your grandmother you're staying here tonight," Narcissa said.

Neville looked alarmed. "Uh," he started to say. "Maybe not?"

Narcissa, for the first time in a day of monsters, Aurors, and house guests, looked off-balance. "Surely, she's worried," she said. "What time did you tell her you'd be home?"

"I sort of didn't," Neville mumbled.

"She's really hard on him," Draco said. It was an excuse of sorts or perhaps an explanation. "It was good he was here, right?" he added when his mother turned to him, her expression far more forbidding than he had expected. "Otherwise the diary…" He trailed off.

"Right," Narcissa said. "Well, we can hardly keep this a secret, so I am afraid you will have to fess up, Neville."

He looked more terrified than he had during the battle with Voldemort. Draco could see his mother softening as she considered how formidable Augusta Longbottom could be. "But, perhaps you can do it with a letter," she said after a short pause, and Neville looked so fervently relieved it was all Draco could do not to snicker.

"Could I interest any of you growing children in dinner?" Narcissa asked.

Theo glanced at Draco and Hermione. "I'd love something," he said. "Thank you."

"Me too." Neville tried to stand up, but he stumbled and staggered and would have fallen over if Theo hadn't hurried to help him.

"Destroying that diary really—"

"Could we not talk about it?" Neville asked. He sounded lost and heartbroken.

Draco was just as happy to forget the whole thing. All of today could disappear into the folds of time, so he nodded and Theo helped Neville out, the two of them hobbling, and Narcissa paused at the door. She studied Draco and Hermione for a moment, then said, "Thank you."

Draco had a weird feeling she wasn't talking to him. Or, not exactly to him, because she wasn't talking to Hermione either. She was saying her goodbye to someone who didn't exist.

Hermione sat down where Neville had been lying, and he sat next to her. "Wow," he said.

"Yeah."

"That was all weird."

"One word for it."

"And awful."

"Did it seem familiar to you?" Hermione asked.

Draco nodded slowly.

"But we've never—"

"Never," he agreed.

"And your mother knows something."

Draco wanted to argue that that was impossible. That there was no way his mother could know about how the whole battle had felt like a weird echo, like he'd been there before. There was no way she could explain how he'd known Harry was dead, and she was too, and Luna and Theo and everyone he knew. But somehow, she did know.

Draco wondered if she'd ever tell him or whether she planned to keep her secrets. He slid his fingers through Hermione's and held on. Her hand was comfortingly solid and real and there. "I love you," he said.

She hesitated, then asked, "Are you still afraid of nothingness?"

Draco opened his mouth to say that yes, of course he was. It had been his worst fear for his whole life, and even last Christmas he'd felt the familiar panic at the vision of going into a darkness that never ended. And that sort of thing didn't go away.

Only it had.

He pictured the same images that had haunted him his whole life and it was fine. He wasn't afraid. His heart didn't start to race. Nothing. "Maybe after really seeing a monster," he began to say, but he knew that wasn't it.

"Maybe," Hermione said, but he knew she didn't mean it.

He leaned against her and rested his head on her shoulder. "Everything is going to be okay now," he said.

She started to agree, then caught her breath, and for a moment fear flooded back through him. She knew something else. Something bad.

"But Draco," she almost wailed. "What if we fail our O.W.L.s?"

. . . . . . . . . .

A/N - Thank you to arleney and frostscribbles for beta reading!