2 more chapters.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Draco couldn't stop staring at the corpse of Severus Snape.
His skin was white – porcelain and breakable. His eyes were frozen in time, staring at Potter's as his last image of this world.
A parting gift as he moved into the beyond.
"Malfoy," Potter whispered. "We… he's gone. I'm… I'm sorry."
Draco couldn't help the scoff that left his lips.
"Don't pretend you care, Potter."
"But you do. And so, I'm sorry."
Draco refused to let any emotion enter his voice as he glanced at the vial in Potter's hand.
"It must be important. We… we better go."
Sparing one last look for Snape, the two men stood up.
"I'll… I'll come back for you," Draco whispered. "I'll… I'll bury you."
He would not let Snape rot away in the Shack.
He owed the man that much.
He owed him so much more.
However, before the two men could reach the passageway, a high, cold voice filled the room, reverberating across the walls and floor.
Draco realized that this voice was not for them alone. Voldemort was speaking to all of Hogwarts – to everyone on the grounds, dead or alive. However, regardless of where they stood, they would hear the voice as clear as if he was standing directly behind them.
"You have fought," said the Dark Lord. "Valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery."
"Yet, you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste."
Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat, immediately."
Potter's jaw dropped.
"You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."
Draco's eyes shifted to Snape once more.
But the voice was not done.
"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up; then the battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."
Draco couldn't help but shake his head frantically as he watched Potter pale.
"Don't… don't listen to him. No one's died for you. This is much bigger than you."
Green eyes met his, and Draco was momentarily stilled by the sheer agony in them.
"But haven't they, Malfoy?"
Blaise in the fire.
"Come on," Draco said gruffly, pushing the Chosen One towards the passageway. "We should get back. Regroup."
His eyes glanced at the vial clenched tightly in Potter's hand.
"Get the rest of the story."
"Draco!" Hermione screeched as he and Potter emerged from the passageway. His witch flung herself in his arms, causing him to stumble backwards as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
"I'm here," he whispered, closing his eyes and burying his face in her hair. Gods, she smelled perfect – vanilla and raspberry and bloody firewhiskey. "I'm here, love."
"What happened?" she murmured into his chest. "We… we heard the message!"
"Snape's dead," Potter replied curtly, as he clapped Weasel on the back. "Voldemort killed him. He has the Elder Wand."
"The Elder Wand?" Hermione asked, glancing over at Harry.
"Deathly Hallows. Long story. I'll catch you up if we live."
"You can't seriously be considering going, Harry," Hermione whispered, clutching at the front of Draco's shirt. "You can't."
He shook his head and raised the vial. "I have something much more important to do."
"Are those… memories?" Hermione asked quietly, recognizing the silvery substance.
Harry nodded. "From Snape. He… it was the last thing he did."
The image of Severus's hand falling to the ground flashed through Draco's mind once more.
"We need to get up to the castle."
The tired group made it to the Entrance Hall, as Potter left them on his way to McGonagall's office, planning on using the Pensieve there. Something in Draco's gut told him this was a moment of privacy, so he guided Hermione away from the Chosen One, into the Great Hall.
He regretted it immediately.
The once magical room had been transformed by circumstance into a morgue and a make-shift hospital. They were surrounded by bodies, and those still alive seemed to be in no better state.
In his arms, he felt Hermione still. In his chest, he felt agony.
Dreading it, he followed her line of sight just as Weasel let out a scream from beside him.
At the opposite end of the hall was what Draco imagined to be the entire Weasley family.
All except one.
Because at their feet, lay the body of a man he had grown accustomed to. A man who had even made him laugh before.
A man he knew it would kill Hermione to lose.
"Fred," she whispered.
He let her go, as he watched her and Weasley race forward, falling to the floor next to the corpse, screaming, cursing at the world.
It wasn't fair.
Draco glanced around the Great Hall, searching for a body he knew he would never find.
Ashes alone remained.
No, it certainly wasn't fair.
"Draco," he felt a voice whisper from behind him. He turned to meet the tear-stained eyes of Theo.
"Draco," his friend repeated. "Where's… where's Blaise?"
He could not say it. He would not say it aloud. Because that would mean it was true, that it was irreversible.
That he was condemned for an eternity without Blaise Zabini.
So he didn't say it. Instead, he pursed his lips, and with a feeling of finality he knew the gesture would indicate, he shook his head.
Theo's face lost all its remaining blood, as one of his oldest friends collapsed into his arms, clutching at him, as if needing confirmation that he was still there, that he had survived so far, that they hadn't lost everyone.
Yet.
"Theo," Draco whispered, allowing a tear to escape his eye. For Blaise. "Where's… where's Daphne?"
"Stable," Theo whispered, still crying into Draco's chest. "For now. It's… it's going to be close, either way. Pomfrey did the best she did, but the wounds are cursed. It's… she doesn't have the magic to fix it."
Draco's heart clenched as he held his friend tighter. Damn these curses. Damn this magic that would take and take and take, destroying everything he held dear…
The sapphire burned on his chest.
Suddenly, he pulled back from Theo to find Hermione had returned to his side. Her cheeks were flushed and tear streaked. She had her arms wrapped around her small frame; holding herself together.
Draco reached out, pulling her flush against his body.
That was his job now.
"Theo," Hermione murmured. "I… how's Daphne?"
Theo shuddered, pushing brown hair out of his face. "I… I don't know, Hermione. The magic was too deep. Pomfrey doesn't know what could possibly fix it."
Hermione stilled in his arms, and he knew the same thought that had occurred to her was now racing through her mind.
"Give me the sapphire, Draco," she whispered.
He didn't hesitate before reaching over his head and returning it to its proper owner.
Hermione turned to Theo. "Where is she?"
Theo's eyes had popped open, staring at the jewel stone on Hermione's chest. "You… you got it. You… how did you do it?"
"Doesn't matter now," Hermione answered. "Where is she?"
And as Theo had known the mythology of the Le Fays, he knew what she wanted to do.
He led the group to a separate corner of the Great Hall, where Daphne was lying. Draco flinched at the sight. She was so pale – so deathly pale.
"This can't work," he whispered, as they all crouched next to her feebly stirring form. "She's too far gone."
Hermione shook her head and spoke with a ferocity that destroyed any doubt in his mind.
"Do not tell me who I can't save."
She lifted her left arm over Daphne's body, and Draco watched in wonder as the willow tree mark glowed sapphire blue, matching the light on her chest. Hermione remained focused, her eyes on the gashes Draco could see on Daph's skin.
"Original magic," Theo whispered, his voice still. "You have original magic."
"And now," Hermione answered, her eyebrows scrunched in concentration. "So does Daphne."
The blood pooling into her shirt disintegrated slowly as the cuts stitched themselves up. Colour returned to her cheeks, as Draco watched her take a shallow breathe.
Breathing in resurrection.
"Daphne?" Theo whispered, the hope in his voice too painful for Draco to stand.
But it was not in vain, because he had not placed his hope in something as trivial as healing spells or the strength of the body.
No – he had placed his faith in Hermione.
Daphne's eyes flickered open, revealing the soft blue that Draco so loved. She looked around quickly, taking them all in, until her eyes finally landed on Theo, who was now weeping openly, reaching for her.
"Theo?" she whispered.
He cried out. "Yes, love, I'm here, I'm always going to be here…" he reached forward and pulled her up into his arms, declarations of forever etching into her skin.
Hermione sat back, her tired eyes turning to Draco.
"Thank you," he said quietly, as Daphne and Theo clung to each other.
Hermione took a shuddering breath.
"I… you deserve not to lose everyone."
Draco did not know how long they had been in the hall. After breaking the news of Blaise's death to Daphne, he had to take a moment, unable to bear the desolation on her face as she realized the news.
Hermione was making her way around the hall, doing the best she could with the sapphire to heal the injured. Draco stood back and watched her. No one had questioned his presence so far, especially not when he was in the presence of Hermione, but he could not take another questioning stare.
So, he stood in the door, watching from a distance as they tried to regroup.
His eyes remained on the Weasleys, sobbing into each other's arms.
That was family.
"Malfoy," a voice called out to him.
He tore his gaze away from the injured, looking over his shoulder at a very pale Harry Potter, standing in the Entrance Hall.
"Yes, Potter?" he asked, turning fully, trying to gauge the look on the Chosen One's face.
Potter pursed his lips, and Draco understood.
Because Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were not as dissimilar as he had initially thought. Opposite upbringings, both put into situations that felt all-consuming. Both with so many choices and none at all.
Both understanding sacrifice, and who they would sacrifice everything for.
"You're going, aren't you?" Draco asked, his voice low.
Potter nodded.
He had not needed the confirmation.
"I'm… it's me," Potter stuttered, looking beyond Draco's shoulder to the Great Hall. "I'm the final Horcrux. When Voldemort tried to kill me as a child, a portion of his soul split off and attached itself to me. It's why I can see his thoughts, why I can speak Parseltongue."
Draco couldn't help his mouth falling open.
"So, this isn't some martyr bullshit. You… you must die. Otherwise we'll never win."
Potter nodded.
"You seem to have accepted this quite easily, Potter."
"I never thought I would survive," he answered, his voice stronger than Draco felt. "Not really. How could I? I've been given too many chances. Somehow, I'm not surprised that this is how it ends."
Draco crossed his arms, appraising the man he had hated since age eleven.
And all he felt was overwhelming gratitude.
"You can still win," Potter said. "If you kill the snake, then Voldemort, it's over. You… you have to make sure it's done."
Draco nodded without hesitation.
"I will."
Potter took a deep sigh, then reached out his hand. Draco took it, clasping the hand of his once enemy – of his saviour.
"You're a good man, Draco Malfoy," Potter said. "I… you've proven yourself."
"I never wanted to prove myself to you, Potter."
"I know. But you did prove yourself to her."
Draco flinched.
Potter glanced at the Great Hall once again. "Tell… tell them I love them. Tell them I'll always love them. And please, Malfoy… take care of her. Protect her."
He felt a lump appear in his throat.
"Until my dying breath, Potter. You can count on that."
Potter nodded and let go of his hand.
"Then this is it, Malfoy."
He nodded. "'Sppose so. I… we've reached your close, haven't we?"
As the words exited his mouth, something occurred to Draco, something he had hardly ever had before.
Another option.
Potter's eyes snapped up, and Draco saw understanding in them.
"Master of death," he whispered.
Draco's heart was pounding in his chest. Potter frowned.
"But, Snape's dead…"
"It's not about killing, Potter. It's about taking."
Draco watched as the Chosen One understood his words with piercing, startling clarity.
"It's not over until it's bloody well over, Potter."
He returned to the Great Hall, trying to keep his face neutral. He walked by more bodies until he saw one that he recognized.
"I think you are misguided. I think you are coerced and living within a world of bigotry. I think you were raised and groomed to be the perfect Death Eater. But, the look on your face when you said the girl died anyway was very telling. No one can fake guilt like that."
The man who had given him a chance when he certainly did not deserve one.
But he had needed it more than air.
Draco was still standing above the body of Remus Lupin when Hermione found him. She glanced down at the corpse and choked back a sob.
"I'm sorry," Draco whispered, wrapping her into his arms.
"He… he was going to be a father."
"He still will be," he replied, taking calming breaths. He heartbeat had increased again. "Just in memory. That doesn't mean it's not real."
He held her as she sobbed.
They stood there for who knew how long, and Draco understood that the hour was up. He understood that the war was about to start again. That they could win now. That the announcement would come any moment.
"Hermione," he whispered, his lips in her hair. "I… I need to tell you something."
Startled green eyes looked up at him. "What?"
He swallowed back his cowardice.
Potter had chosen to die for them.
The least he could do was tell the truth.
"Hermione, it's about Pot… it's about Harry."
She turned to ice in his embrace.
"Draco, what about Harr…"
However, she was cut off by a resounding scream filling the air, reverberating off the walls.
And Draco knew the time had come.
"Harry Potter is dead," announced a cold, high voice that Draco would never forget for the rest of his life. "He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone."
Hermione's eyes filled with tears, but she did not pull her gaze away from Draco, even as shouts filled the hall.
"He… he went?"
The voice carried on. "The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle, now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live, and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."
Hermione was shaking his arms, sobs wracking through her chest.
"He… went? And you knew?"
"It's not over yet," he whispered into her hair, as those still able to move began rushing around them, out into the courtyard to see the truth – to see that the Boy Who Lived was indeed, finished.
"What are you talking about, Draco?" Hermione screamed as she began to thrash.
He grabbed her face in his hands, kissing the fear out of her for a moment before pulling back.
"Do you trust me?"
"What?"
"I asked," he repeated, as he heard screams reverberate from the Entrance Courtyard. "Do you trust me?"
She was still crying.
"More than anything."
"Then, get ready for the fight of your life," he said quietly, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the door.
"It's not over yet."
Though he had been expecting it, seeing Potter's seemingly broken body in Hagrid's arms was startling. He looked so miniscule – nothing like the brave man who had laid down his life for them all mere moments ago.
Just a child, who had lost everything in a war.
Voldemort was standing victorious in front of him, Nagini at his side, stroking her head with a single white finger. Draco could hear shouting and screaming around him, but he couldn't focus on anything else but the final barrier.
Kill the snake. He had to kill the snake.
"SILENCE!" Voldemort roared, followed by a bang and a flash of bright light, as silence was forced upon them. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"
Draco almost rolled his eyes at the dramatics.
Merlin, Potter, he thought. Please wake up so that we can be spared this.
"You see?" said Voldemort, striding back and forth beside the apparent corpse of the Chosen One. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"
"He beat you!" cried the ravaged voice of Ron Weasley, as the silencing spell broke and shouts overtook the Courtyard until a powerful bang extinguished the uproar.
"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," said Voldemort, his voice relishing in the lie. "Killed while trying to save himself…"
Before the Dark Lord could continue, Draco heard a scuffle and a shout, followed by a bang and a grunt. Someone had broken free of the crowd and charged at Voldemort. Disarmed, Voldemort threw the challenger's wand aside.
Draco couldn't help but groan.
"And who is this?" Voldemort asked, in his soft snake's hiss. "Is this not…"
Theo stood up from the ground, standing up to his full height. "Exactly, you piece of shit."
Draco watched as Nott Sr took steps forward out of the Death Eaters' side, away from Lucius and Narcissa, who both looked terrified.
He flinched.
"You insolent boy," Theo's father hissed at his disowned son. "How dare you stand against the Dark Lord! Against your own flesh and blood."
Theo rolled his eyes, glancing over his shoulder at Hermione and Draco.
"I am standing with them."
Voldemort followed Theo's gaze, his mouth turning up into a horrible smile.
"Mr. Malfoy! Miss Le Fay," he hissed. "What a pleasure."
"You son of a bitch!" Hermione shouted, breaking forward out of the pack, Draco following her without thought. "You coward, you utter, fucking coward!"
He raised a snakelike eyebrow. "Such force, Miss Le Fay."
Hermione's was staring at Potter on the ground, and Draco suddenly found himself looking straight into snake-like eyes.
"Mr. Malfoy," Voldemort whispered. "Look at you. All grown up."
He stared back unflinchingly.
"Was it worth it?" the Dark Lord asked quietly. "To turn your back on your upbringing, on your parents, on your destiny, all for some woman? For love?"
There was no hesitation in his answer.
"I would do it a thousand times over if I could."
He saw his mother flinch.
Voldemort appraised them both, his gaze falling on the sapphire on Hermione's chest. Draco watched as pure, unadulterated greed appeared in his eyes.
"There is still time," he said. "You are both of pure stock, and valiant. Bravery. There is always space in the ranks of Lord Voldemort for those who have earned it."
Narcissa closed her eyes.
Draco opened his mouth to retort, but before he did so, a terrible smirk appeared on Hermione's face.
Even Voldemort seemed to flinch in its presence.
"And help will always be given at Hogwarts for those who ask for it."
And then several things happened, all at once.
Hermione raised her wand and shouted "Accio!" From seemingly thin air, Draco watched as a ragged cap fell from the sky.
The Sorting Hat.
Hermione reached into it, and without hesitation, pulled out the glittering sword of Godric Gryffindor.
Before she could charge Voldemort, she turned slightly, and threw the item, the item that was embedded with Basilisk venom, through the air, where it was caught easily by the out-stretched hand of Theodore Nott.
A terrible scream filled the air as Theo spun on his axis, slashing the blade through Nagini's scales, the snake exploding into a thousand pieces.
And they descended into war once again.
Voldemort let out a scream of fury at the destruction of his final Horcrux, and chaos overtook them.
Curses erupted on all sides, as Draco spun around, forcing Hermione behind him. The Death Eaters started towards them, as he threw spell after spell from his wand. He heard Hermione screech from behind him, as Theo scampered backwards, and with cold fury in his eyes, he sent a jet of green light forward.
Theodore Nott Sr fell to the ground with a resounding thud.
The crowd moved back into the castle, as Draco lost sight of Hermione. He was engulfed in bodies, pushing him back until he could not longer sense her beating heart, could not distinguish between enemy and ally.
Come on, Potter.
He sprinted back into the Entrance Hall as the battle grew. It was not over; it could not be over yet.
"Not my daughter, you bitch!" He heard someone scream, as he spun.
Bellatrix Lestrange exploded into black smoke.
Voldemort was gliding through the chaos towards the centre of the hall, and he couldn't find Hermione. He couldn't protect Hermione. Where was she? For the love of Morganna, where was she?"
"DRACO!"
And then she was there, small hands, and wild hair and arms holding onto him as if she could never bare to let go. He grabbed at her, looking over her shoulder and making eye contact with his nightmares.
Voldemort raised his wand, and Draco shifted his body, shielding her body from the oncoming curse. And in the final moments of his life, it was Seamus Finnigan's voice in his mind.
"Seems a bit extreme to me," Draco said, his foot tapping on the ground. "You don't have to die every time you love someone. That's why marriages exist."
"It's that you would," Finnigan replied, leaning back in his chair. "It's that if it came down to it, you would give yourself up to save her. And to be quite frank, Malfoy, I don't think you have it in you to do it."
He hoped Finnigan was watching from wherever he was and knew that Draco had it in him.
If it were the last thing he did on this earth, he would protect Hermione.
But before the curse could reach its intended target, Draco heard someone roar.
"PROTEGO!"
The shield charm expanded across Draco and Hermione, as she stilled in his arms.
She knew that voice as he did.
And then, like the annoying saviour he was, Potter ripped off the invisibility cloak.
Took you long enough, Draco thought.
The yell of shock, the cheers, the screams on every side of "Harry!" "He's alive!" filled the air. But Draco couldn't hear him.
All he could hear was Hermione whispering quietly in his arm.
"You knew. How… how did you know?"
"I don't want anyone else to try to help," Potter said loudly, his voice like a trumpet call. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."
Voldemort hissed, as the hall parting to reveal a large space amid the crowd, where the two prophesied enemies were circling each other.
"Potter doesn't mean that," Voldemort said, his red eyes wide. "That isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?"
"Nobody," said Potter simply. "There are no more Horcruxes. It's just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good…"
"One of us?" Jeered Voldemort. "You think it will be you, do you, the boy who has survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?"
Draco watched as Potter and the Dark Lord taunted each other, but he could barely hear them. He heard the words love and magic, and the only thing he could focus on was the shaking woman in his arms.
"You think you know more magic than I do?" the Dark Lord screamed. "Than I, than Lord Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore himself never dreamed of?"
"Oh, he dreamed of it," said Harry. "But he knew more than you, knew enough not to do what you've done."
"I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!"
"You thought you did," Potter said. "But you were wrong."
Draco felt shell-shocked as he drew in breath.
Where are you going with this, Potter?
"Dumbledore is dead!" Voldemort screamed.
"Yes," Potter admitted. "But you didn't have him killed. He arranged the whole thing with the man you thought belonged to you."
"What is this?" Voldemort hissed.
Potter stopped circling him, and for a moment his eyes flicked to Draco.
"Severus Snape wasn't yours," the Chosen One announced as Draco stilled. "Snape was Dumbledore's. He was Dumbledore's from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the one thing you can't understand."
Like puzzle pieces falling into place.
"Snape loved my mother for nearly all his life," Potter said, his voice echoing in the silence of the hall. "He loved her for nearly all his life, from the time they were children. And you could never touch that. Never change that. Never be more important than her, always and forever her."
Draco thought of his godfather, looking at the sapphire right before he died.
"Draco… you… you made the… right choice."
"It matters not!" Voldemort exploded. "Dumbledore is dead, and so is Severus Snape! Dumbledore was trying to keep the Elder Wand from me! He intended that Snape should be the true master of the wand! But I got there ahead of you, Potter – I reached the wand before you got your hands on it. I killed Severus Snape. The Wand of Destiny is mine!"
Potter snorted, and Draco's breath hitched.
Like puzzle pieces falling into place.
"It isn't, though," Potter said. "Because the wand never belonged to Snape. He never beat Dumbledore. His death was planned between them."
"Then the wand is mine!" Voldemort roared. "I took it from the tomb!"
"You fucking moron," Potter shouted back. "Do you not remember anything? The wand chooses the wizard, Tom Riddle. Long before you ever touched that bloody Elder Wand, it already had a new master. But you never even considered it because it's all murder to you! You don't understand. The wand was already won."
Hermione froze in his arms, and her eyes shifted up to Draco's face, in sheer wonder.
"When Draco Malfoy disarmed Dumbledore the night of his death," Potter announced as Draco felt hundreds of eyes turn to him. "He became the master of the Elder Wand."
Blank shock appeared on Voldemort's face for a moment before disappearing.
"It doesn't matter," he whispered. "Once I attend to you, Potter, I can finish my business with the young Mr. Malfoy…"
"Not tonight, Riddle," Potter snapped. "Because I beat you to it. Because I will always beat you."
Hermione's eyes were huge.
"You bastards."
Draco couldn't help but smile.
Because Potter had bested him.
An innocuous action, that's all it had seemed at the time. But like all the greatest moments in life, it changed everything before he had even realized it had happened.
It had been the night Potter and Weasley had returned to Grimmauld Place, what felt like eons ago.
"Ron, I told you to think," the So Called Chosen One burst out, panting. He looked at the scene around him, blinking Blaise and Draco in. When his eyes landed on the latter, they narrowed, and his wand arm twitched.
Draco, despite himself, gulped.
Without warning, Potter lunged towards him. Before he even had a chance to react, Potter had ripped his wand out of his hands.
"Hey!" he shouted, indignant. "What are you on, Potter?"
The dark-haired man ignored him, turning back to Weasley. "You're not going to duel him, Ron. He's not worth it."
Potter's wand twitched in his hand.
"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" whispered Harry. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does… I am the true master of the Elder Wand."
Now or never, Potter.
Potter raised his wand and screamed to the heavens, as Voldemort did the same.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus"
This bang was like cannon-fire as the wand strands connected. Draco watched in agonized worry as Voldemort's wand flew out of his hand and threw the air, spinning through the sky until Potter reached up and grabbed it – seeker reflexes.
Frozen in time for all eternity, Voldemort's body stilled, and Draco remembered Rookwood's body hitting the ground at the Malfoy Summer Home. Killed by his own hand due to a rebounding curse.
Voldemort swayed for a moment, before toppling, his corpse hitting the earth with a resounding thud.
It was over.
The hall stood in shivering silence for a moment, before exploding into deafening cheers. Draco felt himself yanked forward by Hermione towards the ultimate victor, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived.
She jumped into his arms, Potter laughing as he caught her, before setting her down and clapping his hand on Draco's back.
"We did it," he shouted over the dazzling shouts.
Draco turned to Hermione, a radiant smile on her face.
"We did it."
Hogwarts descended into celebration, and as they were hugged from all around, as Draco found himself in the arms of everyone from a sobbing Theodore Nott, screaming "I killed the snake!" to a soft Luna Lovegood, telling him he had proven himself.
But he only had eyes for one person.
A beautiful woman with green eyes, with magic in her vein and eternity in her heart.
And all Draco could think of was his godfather.
Always and forever her.
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