A/N: *Deep sigh of relief* Boy am I glad to have this chapter over and done with. It seemed to not want to come out right, but I think I got it.

Thanks to Lightest'Ink, Hartwi1, Leanora, Amortentiaa, LauraFlowi, Lycoris Brightwater, PsychoticAviatrix, Mandadancer94, KatenHaanrath, Ceylon, and Loriann for reviewing!

PsychoticAviatrix: I am sorry you feel that way, and as you have noticed, articles aren't exactly my strong point. I don't read a lot of them ;) That is how I chose to update the reader on what was going on though, and as I am a very lazy person, I think I'll just keep them the way they are. I am glad you at least like the fic though, and hope you still do! :)

KatenHaanrath: I know, I love Snape! Well, I didn't exactly love him until A Prince's Tale, but at least he grew on me at one point :) But I just felt he had to die, and that it made sense. Sorry!

Loriann: Wow, that's an incredible compliment! And yes, Deathly Hallows made me sob as well. But since I have no idea where you are in the story, I'm not going to spoil anything and say what made me sob the worst. :'(

Chapter 22: The Dawn Will Break

Hermione felt as if she was having an out of body experience as she watched Bellatrix go insane, her black eyes lit with fury as she sent spell after spell into the crowd. She watched as a purple colored spell hid Draco in the chest, watched his eyes widen, and watched him fall. Her breath caught and she watched Ron and Harry take down Bellatrix simultaneously.

She watched as the still standing Death Aurors and witches and wizards took down the remaining Death Eaters and either had them apprehended or killed. She watched as Harry and Ron kneeled next to Ginny, watched as Harry pushed some of her red hair out of her face and began to mutter spells over her body. She watched as Remus Lupin stooped over Tonks' dead body, his face hidden in shadows, as two people she did not know cried over Zacharias Smith's body, most likely his parents. She watched as Percy sobbed over the body of Penelope Clearwater, as Dennis Creevey held onto the body of his older brother, Colin, as Parvati Patil clutched her twin sister's still body. She saw Snape, Elphias Doge, Hestia Jones, and Sturgis Podmore all lying dead.

She watched as Kingsley Shacklebolt tended to a horrible gaping wound in Dean's shoulder that she had seen Greyback give him, watched as Seamus embraced his parents, sobbing freely, reunited, watched as Luna consoled Dean, who was refusing to look into her eyes, watched as Neville assisted an Auror in dragging the dead bodies of the Death Eaters into a pile, and it was all so much to handle, too much to handle and she did not even remember walking to Draco's side but she was there, kneeling next to him. His breaths were coming in short pants and she wanted to cry but was having trouble producing the tears, which made her feel like a terrible person.

There was nothing she could do but sit here and watch him die. There was nothing she could do but sit by his side and hold his hand and whisper pointless nothings to him because he was dying and she had been such a failure at curing him. She, Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of their age, had been unable to find a simple cure. So she kneeled next to him, took his hand, and whispered, "Shh," even though she knew he could not hear her. His body was twitching erratically and he was moaning. She pressed her cold, wet hands against his face and it was burning hot; he flinched away from her touch but she held him close, pressing her hands against his cheeks and wondering when they had gone from hating each other to her feeling so lost and helpless as he lay dying in her arms.

In Hogwarts she had hated him so much, so very much -

Hogwarts.

The place of their beginning, the place where it started, the place that had once held all the answers and could, quite possibly, still provide the same. Hermione was up and by Harry's side in a dash. "How is she?" She asked hurriedly, and Harry did not look up at her as he answered.

"She'll be fine, but there will be scarring."

"I'm going to Hogwarts." She needed to go, now.

"What?" Both Harry and Ron said simultaneously, turning to angrily glare at her. "Hermione, you need to stay here. There's a lot of recovering we need to do and we need all the able hands we can get." Ron said, his voice betraying his annoyance at her rashness.

She wanted to tell them her reasoning but did not want to get her own hopes up by voicing her thoughts. "I'm going. Just make sure that you keep Draco alive as long as possible, just watch over him."

And she ignored the questioning of their voices, ignored them as they asked why she wanted to go to Hogwarts, and watched Mad-Eye finish breaking the wards on the prison. The old Auror had somehow broken a few wards on Azkaban prior to their arrival and was now taking the rest down. The moment he finished she turned and Disapparated.

The sun was just peaking over the tops of the mountains when her feet touched the ground. She recognized where she was immediately and was hit with overwhelming wave of nostalgia, but she ignored it, sprinting in the direction of the castle. She ran through the woods, ran the worn path made from the carriages, and ran all the way to the doors of Hogwarts that were swinging freely on their hinges.

It was eerily silent and Hermione had to constantly remind herself that Hogwarts had been abandoned for years and that no Death Eater would be hiding out here. But still, the silence was choking and the darkness did nothing to help her apprehension. Harry and Ron were supposed to be by her side, or at least the bustle of students trying to hurry to their classes before they were late.

Hermione had the path to the library memorized, but for some reason, she took a wrong turn and her feet took her in another direction. She sprinted up a few staircases and before she knew it she was standing in front of the Room of Requirement. Hermione did not know when she had made the conscience decision to look for the cure in the Room, but she wasted no time in pacing back and forth in front of the wall three times, thinking fiercely, I need to find a cure to the Curse currently placed on Draco Malfoy.

And a door appeared.

Her heart leapt so high in her chest that she felt she might throw up. Hermione sprinted to the door and slammed it open, practically diving into the room. It was empty save a lone bookshelf, pressed against the far side of the wall, with at least twenty books lining the shelves, each with the same plain black cover and gold writing on the spine. She grabbed a book and was dismayed to find it in a language that she did not understand.

She was supposed to know this, was supposed to know exactly what language it was and know the exact spell that could translate it into English, but no matter how much she wracked her brain, she could not think of the spell and realized that whatever she may have once known was gone.

So, Hermione Granger did the thing she did best.

She went to the library.

She cast a quick spell to have the books trailing behind her in midair and sprinted off in the direction she knew so well. She finally arrived out of breath and her feet took her straight to the spells section out of memory. Hermione ran her hand along the spines, immediately finding a book about languages. It only took her a moment to locate the correct spell, cast it, and flip through the first book.

It was pointless ramblings about a man named Aristaclein Zethiarus and his discoveries for the Wizarding World and his adventures. Hermione, herself, had never heard of him, but pushed on to the next book and flipped through it with the speed she had acquired over years of practice. It was not until the fifth book that she found something worth her patience.

My sinister brother has placed a Curse upon my body. I can feel the weakness; feel the Curse sapping my body of everything I have once valued. The black star has spread along my chest and it will reach my heart soon if I do not do something. I have made it my own personal goal to find a cure, because only then will I survive.

She skipped a few pages, her heart racing, and came to the last page of the book.

My time has run out. If my predictions are correct, I only have a few hours to live. Every potion, every brew I have tried has failed. I am starting to lose hope. Death is nearing, watching me, planning to take me. I have succeeded in repaying my brother in death, but it has not gained me much. I will only join him soon.

And on the back cover of the book was scribbled instructions on how to brew a potion in utterly different handwriting. She desperately searched through the rest of the books but the only instruction on a potion was the one she had found in the fifth book. She snatched it up and raced towards the dungeons.

:::

Draco pulled the blanket on his bed around him, shivering at the sheer coldness in the room. He glanced at his only companion as he grit through the pain: Potter.

He found it funnily ironic that the one person sitting next to his death bed was Harry Potter, the boy he had hated with every fiber of his being only a few years ago. The Boy-Who-Killed-Voldemort was sitting in a chair a few feet from his bed, solemnly staring at the ground. Everyone else was mourning in their own way. Ronald was tending to Ginny, and the rest of the Weasleys were attempting to assuage Percy's pain at losing his fiancée. Shacklebolt had taken his mother out for a 'drink' to 'celebrate the victory' and he was pleased that he would not have to hear her sobs of loss by his bedside as he enjoyed his last few moments. As far as she knew, he was perfectly fine. Longbottom and Lovegood and Finnegan were with the rest of the Aurors, hunting down the remaining Death Eaters that were still at large. Dean Thomas was currently in Mungo's, as Greyback had taken a good chunk out of his shoulder.

"How's Weaslette?" Draco whispered, his voice hoarse from the pain, and he found himself actually curious on the redhead's progress.

"Better." Potter said, not looking up from his feet. "She'll be ok. She's just a bit shaken up."

Draco coughed, a great, wracking thing that surged through his body and when he removed his hand from his mouth he was astonished to see blood. He wiped it on the sheets and groaned, shutting his eyes and attempting to block out the pain that was spreading through his body like fire. Potter did not look up, but stayed bent over, his hands neatly clasped in front of him.

Draco wondered where Hermione was. Potter had told him that he wasn't sure where she was, but he had seen the lie in the man's eyes. He just wished that she was there. Was she afraid to watch him die? To watch him take his last breath? Was she that incredibly selfish? Didn't she know that he needed her?

"Listen, Potter…" Draco began, but had to stop as he began to cough again, but this time it was more difficult to stop. Potter looked up at last, his eyes worried (funny how things turned out) and Draco had to lean over the bed to expel the blood from his mouth. He knew it was drawing near, the very end of his existence.

"Do you need…?" Potter began, but Draco cut him off by shaking his head.

"Just…just tell Hermione…" The words were incredibly difficult to speak, especially to Potter, who was surveying him quite pitifully and with a bit of understanding.

"I know." Potter said.

And he was grateful.

Draco took a shaky breath and moaned again; his chest felt as if it was shrinking all of a sudden and it was incredibly hard to draw in breath. He felt like he was sinking into a dark hole and it was becoming incredibly difficult to focus on Potter's face. And he knew it was time. He just wished that Hermione was there, to hold his hand, to say it would be fine even though they both knew it would not be, and to tell him goodbye, and so that he could tell her goodbye and apologize for everything he had ever done.

"Thanks…Harry."

And he closed his eyes.

:::

Hermione was sure she had never moved so fast in her life. She practically flew across the street, practically flew into Grimmauld Place, and practically soared up the stairs and into the room that they shared, the room she knew he would be in, ignoring the surprised looks of the people moving slowly in the kitchen. She slammed open the door and panted heavily, her eyes falling on Harry, standing, his eyes solemn, and Draco, buried in the bed and sheets, his eyes closed and he was still, so incredibly still.

Harry turned to look at her and instantly his expression darkened. "What the hell were you thinking?" He accused. "Draco needed you, he needed you here and you weren't – "

Hermione ignored his angry questions of where she had been, ignored his accusations that Draco had needed her, ignored the screaming voice in her head, too late, and slipped past her best friend and pulled the vial from her cloak and slipped the purple liquid into Draco's mouth.

She waited, tense. She watched his face for any signs of life, waited to break into a smile and jump in the air and wrap her arms around his warm body and hug him and kiss him and listen as he told her it was all going to be ok, that he was healed, and that he would not leave her like that again until they were old and gray. She waited. And waited. And waited.

Breathe.

Harry had not moved an inch, and it seemed that he was holding his breath as well, watching the blond who was lying the bed, so still, so lifeless.

He was so still.

Please breathe.

And Hermione lost it.

"Damn it!" She screeched, leaping forward and pounding Draco's lifeless chest with her fists and screaming, and the tears came, the horrible tears of defeat and loss.. "Damn you, Draco! Wake up! You can't just do this! Stop being selfish!" She pounded his chest, trying to pound life into him, trying to make him breathe, but it was so pointless and he was gone. Harry reached for her and pulled her away from Draco, and she turned into him, pressing her face into his reassuring body and screaming into his chest and sobbing out the pain and the hate and she didn't understand why he wouldn't wake up, why he wouldn't get up and say it was going to be ok and hug her and kiss her and it could not be true he wouldn't just leave her like that, he wouldn't just leave me without a fight.

"Shh," Harry soothed, but it was not soothing at all. She wanted to run and run and get away from this place and not look back. She needed to get out of here, away from his dead body, away from all the sadness and death.

A deep, shuddering intake of breath.

A pained moan.

Harry stilled, and Hermione went utterly silent. And together, they both turned to stare at Draco Malfoy, whose eyes were flickering open, who was pushing himself up in the bed, who was rubbing his eyes. Grey eyes were staring at her in confusion, and he blinked, he blinked, he breathed, and she sobbed.

His eyes flickered from Hermione, to Harry, and back to Hermione.

"Am I…Am I dead?" Draco asked.

Hermione choked out a laugh but it came out as more of a sob and leapt on him, wrapping her arms around his body, tears flowing freely, and she punched his chest. "How dare you put me through that, you selfish git." She whispered, and he held her tightly against him. She prayed and hoped that she would never wake up from this wonderful dream, that she could stay in this moment forever and never go back to reality.

"I love you."

Hermione forced herself to pull away and stared into his glossy eyes, and she was so happy that she did not even care that Harry was there. She grinned as cheekily as she could muster and whispered, "I know."

And he smiled and pulled her closer to him, and she knew that this was too real to be a dream.

A/N: Cheesy, I know :) I hope you guys liked it, though! Tell me what you think! Only the epilogue to go :)