Bittersweet and Strange
Chapter 14: To Love a Beast
A deafening crack resounded in the street and lawn in front of Draco Malfoy's house, as dozens of Death Eaters, Ministry employees, and loyal supporters of the dark lord Voldemort appeared. They brandished their wands defensively, seeming awed at what they had Apparated into the middle of.
And what a sight it was! Voldemort's minions were grossly outnumbered, and Neville Longbottom couldn't help grinning at the thought. After all these years, we have the upper hand again.
Dennis led the first wave of fifty underground fighters, charging straight into the mob of enemies before them. Blurs of light and color rocketed through the midmorning air as the battle began. Cries of triumph and pain were traded as quickly as spells and curses.
Angelina Johnson stayed back from the first wave of fighting, watching in amazement as several Death Eaters were downed by infuriated common laborers. Corban Yaxley was the first Death Eater to die, writhing on the ground for a few moments after being destroyed by Lee Jordan's curse. Angelina and several other Order members began forming a barrier around the fighting ground, creating a human chain so that no enemy fighters could escape the area.
"Keep up the fireworks!" Neville shouted to Angelina from across the lawn. "We're rounding everybody up!"
Angelina answered him by loosing an explosion of blue from her wand. "Well, you heard the general!" she shouted over the din to the people gathered around her. "Let's make some noise!"
Dean Thomas gave a loud whoop and followed Angelina's example, as did Michael Corner and Padma Patil. Angelina saw a young girl, no more than fifteen years old, pulling several of her fellow underground members closer to her, and they rallied an enormous firework into the air.
Cho Chang was in the very heart of the battle, surrounded on every side by enraged dark wizards and witches. She kept a death grip on her wand, firing hexes and shouting curses with every bit of energy she had. Her Stupefy spell slammed into the heart of Augustus Sparrow, a well-known slave trader, and knocked him senseless to the ground. A short-haired girl next to her, wearing the uniform of a Ministry employee, was Accio-ing the wands out of the enemies' hands, and Cho glimpsed Theodore Nott behind her, muttering Unforgiveable Curses in every direction.
Near the edges of the battle line, George Weasley and Luna Lovegood fought back-to-back, taking Voldemort's supporters down one by one. When Luna tripped over a fallen Death Eater, George hauled her back to her feet and stood in front of her, indicating that she should stun the wizards coming up behind them. Luna almost felt suffocated at the throng of people crowding in on her, but she gritted her teeth and kept firing curses with all her might.
"Get help!" a shout rang out from Nigel Wolpert's left. "Go get help!"
Nigel spun around to see who had shouted, and when he saw Amycus Carrow, he shouted, "Diffindo!" and left Carrow to bleed out on the ground. He was too late to stop Alecto, whom Amycus had shouted to, from Apparating away, undoubtedly to rally support for their dwindling numbers.
"Dennis!" Nigel shouted, pushing his way through the crowd to get to the underground leader, who was grinning from ear to ear as the despised enemy fell at his feet. "We have to put up anti-Apparition charms on the battlefield! They're bringing more Death Eaters here any minute!"
Dennis didn't appear disturbed and fired a Cruciatus Curse over his shoulder. "So? The second wave of underground fighters is due any second. Whatever they've got, we've got more of."
Right on cue, another round of Apparition cracks filled the air as a huge group of underground fighters appeared on the battlefield, led by Ernie MacMillan. They didn't hesitate a second before joining the melee and attacking enemy witches and wizards. Nigel couldn't help shaking his head before joining them. This really was the beginning of a new age.
"I know they're here somewhere. Just give me a second."
Hermione didn't respond to Draco's words, just kept looking over her shoulder as though Voldemort himself might appear behind her any second. As soon as the battle had begun on his front lawn, Draco had pulled Hermione away from the window, insisting that he had something in the basement that would help the Order and the underground. They stood over a trunk in Draco's basement as he rummaged through it, looking for something he hadn't yet told her about.
"Hurry, Draco," Hermione mused. "We need to get back upstairs."
"I know, I'm just – here they are!" Draco yanked something from the bottom of the trunk, holding it up triumphantly before shoving it into Hermione's hands and reaching back into the trunk.
She looked at the object skeptically. "What is this?"
"That," he said matter-of-factly, pulling out several more identical objects, "is a Bombtastic Bomb. They were exclusively sold at –"
"At Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," Hermione finished, her eyes growing wide. "How on earth did you get hold of these?"
"I asked Blaise and Theodore to bring me some a few years ago," he explained. "Sort of a defense device that I didn't have to use a wand for. And look," he added, pulling something else out of the trunk. "A Blaze Box, and Wildfire Whiz-Bangs. All black market, of course."
"Of course," Hermione laughed, turning the objects over in her hands. "This will be perfect. But how do you plan on getting them out of the house? The doors and windows are covered in thorns."
"True," he admitted, gathering a handful of each item and gesturing for Hermione to follow him up the stairs. "But I think I have a way. When I was transporting potions to Dennis from inside the house, we used a trapdoor on the top of the roof. I can't leave the house, but a person from the underground could climb onto the roof and take things that I tied to ropes."
Hermione nodded. "So you'll use that?"
"No, you will."
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, and Draco laughed as they entered the hallway and began heading for the top floor. "I know, I know. But listen, all it will take is a tiny sip of the floating potion, and you can float high enough out of the trapdoor to throw these explosives onto the battlefield. Just make sure you don't hit any of your people."
"But I'm bound to the house!" she countered, trying not to drop any of the materials as they reached the top of the stairs. "I can't get out if I'm bound here."
"No, I'm bound to the house," he corrected. "You're bound to me. As long as I'm under the trapdoor, you can float up a little ways. I'll be handing the explosives to you from down there."
She gave him a small smile as they went inside a small room of the highest floor of the house. A yellow cord dangled from the ceiling, and Draco pulled it down to reveal a square door, which sprung open and revealed a cloudy sky above them. Hermione admired it for a moment, realizing that it was the first time she had seen the sky in almost four months.
"Are you ready?" Draco asked, arranging the items on a nearby table and pulling a tiny vial of the flying potion out of his pocket. Hermione glanced at him, then at the Bombtastic Bomb he had in his hand. She gave him a mischievous smile.
"Give me thirty seconds," she instructed, darting out of the room and leaving him surprised. Draco waited for what seemed like more than thirty seconds, but he finally heard her quick footsteps echoing up the stone staircase. When she turned the corner into the little room, Draco couldn't help but laugh when he saw what she was holding.
"Firewhiskey!" he exclaimed as she set the bottles on the table. She smiled proudly in response. "That's brilliant!"
She pulled the cork off one of the bottles and began dousing the bombs with the amber liquid, barely suppressing her smile. "This should give them quite a kick. Even if they're not deadly, they'll provide a nice surprise for all of Voldemort's friends. Especially with the help of my wandless magic," she added, grinning at him.
Draco couldn't help grinning back as he watched her. "That's brilliant," he repeated, shaking his head before reaching out to help her. "You're absolutely brilliant."
George had slowly been trying to inch his way closer to Draco's house, hoping to find something to indicate Hermione was in there, but passage through the heavy battle was nearly impossible. Luna yelped in pain behind him, and he whirled around to catch her, noting a bad wound on her right arm.
"Angelina!" George called, signaling to his friend on the outskirts. "Get Luna out of here!"
Angelina left her place on the edge and rushed to help Luna stay on her feet. Luna gave her a grateful smile but seemed unable to speak. George and Angelina each took one of her arms and pulled her out of the line of fire.
"Apparate her back to the Fortress, George," Angelina ordered. "Neville's got me watching the battle lines."
George's response was interrupted by Luna. "No, George, they need you here. I'll be fine. Just let me stay here and help however I can. I'm not useless yet," she smiled.
Angelina and George exchanged a quick look, but they knew they wouldn't have time to argue. Angelina was about to reach for Luna's arm to bring her closer to the grass, but Luna suddenly interjected again. Eyes wide, she pointed to the top of Draco Malfoy's house. "Look! Look up there!"
George and Angelina turned to face the house, and they nearly fell over at what they saw – Hermione Granger, floating just above the rooftop, firing round black objects into the raging battle. George watched in amazement as the bomb floated through the air as if guided by some unseen magic, then lighted on the head of Thorfinn Rowle, practically blowing his head to bits.
"Do you know what that was?" George crowed, looking excitedly at Angelina and Luna. "That was a Bombtastic Bomb, courtesy of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes!"
"That's impossible…" Angelina murmured, watching as another of the deadly bombs made a direct hit on an enemy witch.
George shook his head, fixing his gaze on Hermione as she hurled something that crackled and fizzed as it fell. He couldn't fight the wave of admiration that washed over him. Even from a hopeless prison, she was still fighting and still being creative. "She's given them some kind of extra kick. The original bombs weren't that destructive. She's made some sort of improvement." He shook his head again. "She's incredible."
Hermione's head disappeared under the rooftop again, and George remembered that his friends still needed him in the battle. "Just stay out of sight, Luna," he instructed her. "Apparate out if you're about to get caught."
"I know," she replied softly, her eyes seeming glazed as she looked ahead. "But, look, there's…"
Luna didn't have to finish. Angelina muffled a scream as the three Order members saw Penelope Clearwater get hit by a deadly spell and disintegrate into a thousand pieces. Angelina leapt forward, followed closely by George, and fired a vicious, "Avada Kedavra!" on the Death Eater who had just killed Penelope. She and George worked as a team to cut down the enemy every chance they had.
The Death Eaters' reinforcements soon arrived, immediately followed by a second wave of underground fighters. The battle raged even more fiercely, punctuated occasionally by an explosion thrown from the roof of Draco's house. Angelina felt she might choke on the tangle of bodies and spells that cluttered the yard. She hadn't seen so much fighting and death since the Battle of Hogwarts. She felt like she had been fighting for hours.
"Angelina!" a voice called out behind her. It was Neville, grimacing painfully from a gash on his neck. "You're supposed to be watching the battle lines!"
"I'm helping George!" she called back, firing an Expelliarmus to her left side.
Neville pushed closer to her. "I'll stick with George! Get back and help the younger ones guard the edges. I overheard one of the Death Eaters saying –" He stopped short, glaring at something behind Angelina's head. She turned to see and felt George do the same.
An explosion louder than a sonic boom rocked the yard, ushered by a billowing black cloud and tendrils of green smoke that curled above the heads of the witches and wizards on the battlefield. The fighting seemed to slow for a moment as every head turned to see the source of the explosion.
"Voldemort," Angelina whispered, the hair on her arms suddenly standing straight up. She reached for George's hand and held it tightly, feeling her heart pounding in her throat. The Dark Lord was flanked on every side by his elite Death Eaters, many of whom Angelina didn't know. Voldemort looked even worse than she remembered, his eyes sunken into his sallow skin, his withered hands gripping the Elder Wand like a vise.
Neville stepped forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Angelina and George. They held their breath as they waited to see what the next phase of the battle would be.
"Draco, he's here!" Hermione cried, pushing herself down through the trapdoor to get out of sight. Draco tugged her ankles down and helped her get steadied on the floor, the effects of the potion already wearing off.
"Voldemort?" he asked tightly, and Hermione nodded. Draco looked away, the wheels of his brain turning a mile a minute. Furrowing his eyebrows, he seemed to come to a conclusion and addressed Hermione again. "Hermione, you've got to get away from me."
Hermione scoffed. "I'm not leaving you, Draco."
"Yes, you are," he insisted, pulling her by the arm into the hallway. "Voldemort knows I'm here, and he'll be coming in here any minute now to get me to safety. I'm his Horcrux, after all. But he doesn't know you're here. If he finds you, you won't even have time to blink before you're Avada Kedavra'd into the floor."
"I'm not leaving you to face him alone," Hermione argued. "We've been through this much together, and I'll be hanged if I let you walk into the darkness alone."
Draco gave her an imploring look, gripping her upper arms and forcing her to look right into his eyes. "Hermione, you know how I feel. I've never told you, but you must know. So when I tell you that dying for you and your cause and my cause is the closest I'll ever get to being whole again, believe me." He paused, reaching his hand up to push the straggling bangs out of Hermione's eyes. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Hermione Granger, and I can never thank you enough. So just let me help you in the only way I know how."
Hermione could feel tears forming in her eyes, and she quickly reached up to pull Draco into her arms. He held onto her tightly, trying to memorize every detail of her for the last time. When they pulled away, Draco swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked into her warm brown eyes. There's never enough time for us.
"All right, Draco," she whispered, sounding more tired than upset. "All right."
Draco gave her a soft smile, reaching up to caress her hair one more time before he turned and walked out the door, not looking back as he did. Hermione blinked back her tears and began gathering the explosives off the table. No matter what she said, she wasn't nearly through fighting.
"Where is he?" Angelina demanded. "Voldemort was here just a moment ago, and now he's vanished. Where is he?"
Neville looked around in confusion, most of the people on the battlefield doing the same. After Voldemort's dramatic appearance, his Death Eaters had surrounded him and provided a shield for whatever he had just done. Voldemort was gone, and that worried Neville.
"Maybe he's gone back to wherever he came from," Cho replied, seeming unconvinced by her own statement.
Everyone, regardless of allegiance, whirled when a shout rang out from the edges of the battlefield. "Look, the wards are coming down!"
Neville watched in awe as the dark, oppressive wards that had been surrounding Draco Malfoy's house slowly vanished, lowering to the ground and disintegrating in a matter of seconds. The house suddenly seemed less ominous, the grounds less desolate. The thorns and the heavy vines covering the house remained where they were, but the magical block that had enveloped the house for so many years finally vanished.
"I never thought I'd see the day," Blaise Zabini muttered from behind Neville, his voice sounding shocked. Narcissa Malfoy stood several yards away, her eyes wide and her hands covering her mouth.
"Hermione's in there," Angelina reminded them quietly. "We can get to her now!"
Neville held out a hand to stop her. "Hold on a minute. Look at the door."
The few nearby Order members looked at the large wooden front door of Draco's house as the vines slowly parted, the thorns creating an archway large enough for someone to pass beneath. The door closed a few moments later, though no one seemed to have passed through.
"He's inside!" Blaise told them frantically. "Voldemort's gotten inside the house!"
George cursed. "He must have the Invisibility Cloak, then. Well, what are we waiting for? We came here for Hermione!"
"So we did," Neville agreed. "George, Angelina, find Michael and get him to see if he can keep the wards down. The rest of you, keep fighting. We're not through this battle yet."
Hermione could hear a commotion on the first floor, and she knew Voldemort must have entered the house by now. She scrambled to gather as many of the exploding pranks as possible into her arms and dashed into the hallway.
Hermione Granger was never one to rush into a situation blindly. Everything she did, every day of her life, was carefully planned, carefully crafted for success. Running headfirst into an extremely dangerous situation was completely against her nature, but she did it anyway. Why? she asked herself. She knew the answer.
She kept her back to the wall as she edged her way down the hallway, eyeing the staircase carefully. She could make out some sounds on the first floor, but she was too far away to tell what was going on. Satisfied that the staircase was safe, Hermione jogged down the steps to the second floor and stopped at the door to the tower stairs.
It only made sense that if Voldemort had entered the house, the protective wards must have been taken down. Her mind flashed back to what Draco had said – "you're bound to me, not the house" – and she ran up the tower steps as fast as she could, ignoring a louder noise from the downstairs. As much as she wanted to go downstairs to help Draco herself, she knew that without her wand she would be practically useless. Her only option was to get help.
With the wards down, the oppressive vines and thorns that sealed the tower window were at last possible to hack through. Hermione used the corner of the heaviest book she could find to beat at the thorns until she could see daylight through them. The swirls and shouts from the battle on the front lawn were much closer than they had been from the roof, and Hermione hacked at the vines with all her might.
Her hands grew bloody and raw from the thickets, but finally the opening in the heavy vines was large enough for Hermione to fit her head and shoulders through. She could see Neville and Angelina nearest to her from the battlefield, and she shouted with all her might, "NEVILLE! ANGELINA! I'M HERE!"
The noise of the fighting below was too great for Hermione's voice to be heard, so she resorted to her next idea. Picking up a Whiz-Bang, she hurled it through the opening in the thorns; she then reached out her hand and closed her eyes, and the wandless magic she had been learning for the past few months flowed out effortlessly. The Whiz-Bang, guided by her magic, landed directly behind Neville, not hitting any dark wizards or witches, but effectively getting Neville's attention.
"I'm here!" she shouted as loudly as she could muster, waving her arms when Neville turned around to see her. Neville tagged Angelina on the shoulder and pointed up at Hermione, who kept waving her arms and shouting. Neville and Angelina, quickly joined by George and Cho, formed a small group and began fighting their way through the tangle of people towards the front door of Draco's house.
Hermione stifled the tears that threatened to spill over, overwhelmed that her friends, her family, were finally so close. She pushed away from the window sill, gathered her explosives, and headed back for the tower entrance. She wasn't sure how she was going to get downstairs and to Draco, but she would at least have help on the way.
"It's Granger!" Theodore shouted above the din of the battle. Blaise was a few yards behind him and Narcissa a few yards ahead, and both turned to see Hermione's head disappear back through the vines in the tower window.
"How did she –" Blaise started, then looked at Theodore and shouted, "If she can get through the vines, so can we!"
Narcissa didn't reply but started toward the house, firing a swift curse at anyone who stood in her path. Blaise and Theodore quickly followed her and shoved their way past the tangle of witches and wizards, which only seemed to grow thicker as more and more underground fighters arrived.
Blaise shook Theodore's shoulder to get his attention. "The Order!" he yelled over the noise, and Theodore followed Blaise's pointed finger to see Neville, Angelina, Cho, and George already beating furiously at the thorns on a tall window. Narcissa saw them, too, and Blaise and Theodore followed her to the little group of Order members.
"Can we get inside?" Narcissa shouted, her voice hoarse and tired from her long night.
Angelina looked surprised to see the Malfoy matriarch referring to them as 'we'. "Don't know yet," she shrugged. "Cho is trying to charm the vines away from the window, but they seem too solid."
"Voldemort is in the house with them!" Narcissa argued. "He may raise the wards back if we don't get in there right now!"
"We're doing our best!" Angelina shouted back.
Narcissa's eyes flashed in determination, and Blaise and Theodore instinctively took a step back; they had seen that look before. Narcissa raised her wand, closed her eyes, and began moving her lips in words that were unfamiliar to the young people. Angelina and George watched her in confusion, and even Cho stopped her spellcasting when she saw the glowing stream that Narcissa's wand was emitting. Neville raised his eyebrows at Blaise, but Blaise simply watched as the magic from Narcissa's wand entwined itself through the vines.
Theodore glanced over his shoulder and saw a large figure lurking behind them, wand raised in attack. He shouted a curse but missed, and the figure – whom Theodore recognized as Fenrir Greyback – ducked behind a column.
"Hurry, Narcissa!" Angelina pushed, and Narcissa abruptly jerked her wand backwards. The vines responded to her simple spell, tearing down the center and leaving an opening wide enough for the group to climb through.
"Finestra!" Angelina muttered, and the glass in the dome-shaped window shattered almost soundlessly, falling in pieces at their feet.
George was the first to jump through the window, followed by Neville and Cho. Theodore held out his hand to help Narcissa through the frame, but she was already halfway through when he turned to her. Neville was the last to step through the window, and his foot had just touched the ground when a streak of light zipped right past his head.
"They know we're coming in," Neville told them, trying to keep his voice hushed. The noise of battle was muted from inside Draco's house, and they didn't want to alert Voldemort to their presence. "We have to keep Voldemort's people from coming in. Cho, Nott, stay here with me to help keep the enemy out. George and Angelina, go find Hermione."
George nodded sharply. "We're coming, too," Narcissa added, indicating herself and Blaise. "My son is in great danger, and I won't leave him to Voldemort's mercy."
"Fine," Neville agreed. "Now go! We don't have much time!"
Draco could sense Voldemort's presence more strongly than he had in years; it blanketed the entire house in webs of death and decay. As a Horcrux, he was especially attuned to the dark lord's moods and environment, and the sensation of being so close to Voldemort again was truly sickening. He hadn't seen Voldemort since –
A flash of light. A scream of pain. A wicked laugh. Draco felt a part of him vanish forever as Voldemort's soul took hold in his own. The very process of creating a Horcrux revolved around death and suffering, and Draco couldn't keep from howling as a wave of pure evil enveloped him and fused him irreparably with the dark lord Voldemort himself.
Draco shuddered at the memory, but he kept walking. He wasn't sure where in the house Voldemort was, but he knew he was getting closer. A shuffling of feet in one of the empty rooms of the first floor alerted Draco to Voldemort's whereabouts, and he pushed onwards toward the sound.
It was Draco that Voldemort was after – he knew that for certain. Voldemort couldn't allow his last Horcrux to be jeopardized, and a history-making battle outside Draco's house didn't exactly guarantee his safety. Voldemort was undoubtedly planning to get Draco away from the fighting; it was the only reason Draco could think of for why Voldemort hadn't put the wards back up.
The sounds of the raging battle grew dimmer as Draco stepped into the empty room and came face-to-face with Voldemort. Unwelcome memories came flooding back to him – his time as a Death Eater, the torture that had led to his imprisonment, his traumatic Horcrux transformation – and he swallowed a wave of nausea.
"Draco," Voldemort rasped, the semblance of a smile on his sunken face. "Come to me, my son."
Draco's skin crawled at the thought, or maybe at the insinuation that Voldemort considered him a son. "What do you want with me?" Draco had little desire to have a conversation with Voldemort, but if he could buy Hermione enough time, maybe she could get out before Voldemort knew she was there. He shifted his position slightly, blocking Voldemort's view of the hallway.
"You must be protected." The dark lord's slitted eyes bored into Draco. "You know that I must keep you safe at all costs, Draco."
Draco swallowed, trying to ignore the way his stomach knotted in fear. "Even at the cost of your Death Eaters?"
Voldemort scoffed, seeming surprised that Draco even had to ask. "Death Eaters are easily replaced. A Horcrux, on the other hand, is irreplaceable."
"Rise, my Horcrux," Voldemort had said, his eyes black with an evil concentration. Draco didn't have the strength to stand, so he stayed on his knees, trying to pretend that none of this was really happening. Godric, it just couldn't be.
Draco blinked the memory away, reminding himself to stay focused. "So irreplaceable that you keep me imprisoned like a wild creature?"
"That is exactly why I keep you caged, Draco," Voldemort purred, taking steps closer to Draco. "Because you are irreplaceable. And you certainly have the face of a creature," he added, his wicked smile looking exactly the way it had the night Voldemort covered Draco's face with those scars.
"I'd do it all again," Draco said contemptuously. "That battle outside will be the last one your forces ever fight. You've lost."
Voldemort didn't lose his smile. "Hardly. Perhaps my forces are outnumbered. I do not care if I lose them. As long as I have you, my life cannot be threatened nor my power vanquished. Now, we are wasting time. Come," he commanded, holding out a bony hand.
Draco took a step back and shook his head. Just buy as much time as you can. "I'm not going anywhere. You've used me and my family for the last time. Believe me, this is your last stand."
"No, my son," Voldemort said silkily. "I will never have a last stand. You must know by now that I cannot be defeated."
"Never," Draco hissed.
The Death Eaters cheered, raising their wands and sending sparks up toward the black sky. Voldemort laughed hollowly as he turned back to Draco, his eyes narrowing as he knelt beside him and lifted Draco's head. Draco tried to gather the strength to spit in Voldemort's face, but he had none left. Voldemort gave him a wicked smile, then shouted, "Crucio!" as he stood.
The memory gave Draco the incentive to do just what he hadn't been able to do seven years ago. As Voldemort lifted the Elder Wand to force Draco to his will, Draco spat straight into Voldemort's ugly face.
The dark lord let out an enraged growl, and Draco made a run for it, into the sitting room where he could find a place to hide and stall a few more minutes. Hearing Voldemort follow him into the hallway, Draco ducked behind a heavy blue curtain and held his breath. Merlin, I hope she's out of here.
"She was upstairs when we saw her," George whispered loudly to Angelina. She, George, Narcissa, and Blaise had managed to sneak through a back window quietly, and so far there were no signs of life. Angelina nodded in response to George, then held up a finger to tell them to listen.
"He's in here somewhere," Blaise whispered. None of them had to ask who he meant.
Angelina gestured toward the foot of a large stone staircase that was nearby the window they had climbed in. "We'll go up and find Hermione. Zabini, Narcissa, stay here and watch the window and the surrounding rooms. Give a shout if we're discovered."
Blaise nodded, but Narcissa shook her head vehemently. "My son is trapped somewhere in here with Voldemort. I will not leave him to be destroyed."
"Don't go after him just yet," Angelina ordered her. "Once we have Hermione, we'll do what we can for Malfoy, but I need you to stay here."
Narcissa hesitated, but the look in Angelina's eyes convinced her. "Fine. But I'll only wait a few minutes."
Angelina nodded curtly, tugged on George's arm, and began jogging up the stairs as quietly as possible. "Do you think we can trust them?" George asked her softly when they were out of earshot.
She shrugged and stepped onto the second floor gingerly. "Maybe. Either way, all that matters is finding Hermione and getting her out. She doesn't have her wand, and Voldemort is probably after her by now."
George nodded in agreement, but both stayed silent as they crept along the silent upper hallway. "Where do we look?"
"You check the doors to the right," Angelina instructed him. "I'll take the left. Go quickly but be as quiet as you can."
George was already starting down the hallway, so Angelina tried the first few doors on the left side of the hallway. Some were locked, and others were empty. She sighed, praying desperately that she could find Hermione before it was too late.
Hermione was not on the second floor, nor the first floor, nor even the third floor. She was, in fact, in the basement.
After sneaking down the passageway in the second floor room, Hermione had been able to concoct a plan she was quite proud of. From the basement, she could hear the entire first floor and tell exactly where Draco and Voldemort were. She couldn't get pinned down, either, because she could take the passageway or the tower staircase as an exit.
Someone else had entered the house as well, but Hermione wasn't sure who. She assumed it was a group of Order members looking for her, but she wasn't about to give up her upper hand and walk right into a group of Death Eaters. Besides, she had no intention of leaving with the Order until she had ensured Draco's escape as well.
Draco's footsteps had ended somewhere in the sitting room, and Hermione assumed he was hiding there. Voldemort had followed him from the hallway but seemed unsure of which room Draco was in. Hermione listened intently, trying to stay directly under Voldemort's path as he stalked through the first floor. Most of the floors in Draco's house were stone and were therefore useless for her purposes, but if she could somehow lure Voldemort into the old house-elf room – the only room with a wooden floor – maybe she could…
Voldemort switched directions and started towards the house-elf room, so Hermione made her move. Uncorking Draco's flying potion and smiling as she recalled the fiery blast it had created that morning, Hermione set the potion under the wooden floor and poured firewhiskey straight into the vial.
"What was that?" Cho demanded, looking over her shoulder at Neville. A deafening explosion had shaken the entire house, even from their position at the broken window.
"Explosion of some sort," Theodore responded, firing a curse past Cho and right into the face of a dark witch. "Somebody inside the house blew something up."
"Should we go check?" Cho asked. The people streaming toward the broken window were quickly becoming overwhelming to the three young people, and Cho was anxious to get out of the line of fire.
Neville kept his eyes looking out the window as he answered her. "George and Angelina will have it under control. What's important now is keeping these people out of the house."
Theodore winced as a glowing green bolt whizzed past him and singed his shoulder. "I don't think we'll be able to hold them off much longer."
Neville started to argue, but Cho interrupted him. "Nott's right, Neville. We've got to get to a safer spot or we're all dead."
Several more curses punctuated her words and hit the wall behind them, and Neville finally grunted in agreement. "Fine. Nott, head left. Cho, go right. Just get to a safe spot and kill anyone who comes through that window."
Draco felt the entire house shake as a wave of heat washed over him. The explosion came from somewhere in the west side of the house, but he wasn't sure which room. He also wasn't sure what could have caused it. Surely no one was stupid enough to sneak into his house and try to bait Voldemort? Maybe Theodore, but surely no one else.
He focused on regrouping and following through with his plan. He needed to get Voldemort as far away from the staircases as possible, since that was undoubtedly where Hermione would be making her escape. Draco had been certain that Voldemort would follow him into the sitting room, but he hadn't counted on an earth-shattering explosion distracting them both.
Oh, sweet Salazar. Surely it wasn't Hermione who had –
Who else? So she was still determined to keep him from meeting his fate. Draco shook his head in frustration and headed towards the source of the explosion. If one of them was going to die in this fight, it wasn't going to be her. He would make sure of that.
Hermione was surprised at the intensity of the explosion, especially combined with the firewhiskey and the wooden floor. Draco had already burned a small hole in the ceiling that morning, but Hermione's homemade flamethrower that practically incinerated the entire wooden area. Charred edges of the wood were still smoldering, and Hermione ducked away from the gaping hole so that none of the falling pieces would hit her.
The footsteps that had been leading to the house-elf room – Hermione could only assume they were Voldemort's – stopped, and she was unsure of where he was. She didn't know where Draco was either, which worried her, but she was determined to go ahead with her plan anyway.
Gathering the materials she had brought with her from the upstairs, Hermione eased her way towards the door that led to the tower staircase. Footsteps on the upper floors became louder and more chaotic, and Hermione hurriedly closed the door behind her and dashed up the steps. The second floor was her destination now.
"It came from downstairs," George called to Angelina, not even bothering to keep his voice down anymore. Angelina came on the run to meet George in the middle of the second floor hallway, and they didn't speak again, just bolted down the staircase to the first floor.
Blaise was still waiting, wand drawn and ready, at the foot of the staircase, but Narcissa was gone when George and Angelina reached the first floor.
"Where is Narcissa?" Angelina demanded.
Blaise pointed towards the west side of the house. "The explosion came from over there. She's afraid it might have been Draco."
"More likely Hermione," George commented. Angelina and Blaise fell into step behind George as he slowly began walking towards the source of the explosion.
The halls were deadly silent now, the crackling from the explosion growing fainter by the second. The noises of the battle outside were growing quieter as well, as if the fighting was slowly coming under control. Angelina could only pray that it was their side who was winning.
"Someone's moving around upstairs," Blaise whispered to them. "Who else is in the house?"
Angelina shook her head. "I don't know. Just stay focused."
They crept closer to the explosion site, George leading them and listening intently. He suddenly stopped cold, held an arm out to stop his companions, and lowered his voice coldly. "It's Malfoy."
Angelina looked in the direction George was indicating, then covered her mouth with her free hand, shocked at what she saw. She could barely recognize the youngest Malfoy – his face was completely covered in horrific scars and mutilations. His skin was chalky white, making him practically glow against the cold stone walls around him.
"What's he doing?" George whispered to Blaise.
The Slytherin shrugged in response. "Probably looking for us." Blaise held up a hand and whistled softly to get Draco's attention. Angelina nearly cringed when Draco looked straight at them, his face even worse from head-on. She took a breath to steady herself and joined George and Blaise in carefully edging towards Draco.
Draco could hardly believe his eyes – Blaise Zabini was here in his house, accompanied by Angelina Johnson and one of the Weasley twins. Hermione had been right; they really weren't going to give up on her.
As the little group headed toward him, Draco remembered his plan. With the three of them so close and Hermione undoubtedly nearby as well, he couldn't wait any longer. Giving Blaise a meaningful nod, Draco moved away from his stance near the wall and strode straight into the hallway.
Voldemort was in the doorway of the house-elf room, seeming confused as to what had exploded and why no one was nearby. Draco steeled his nerves and spoke loudly and clearly. "I'm here, Voldemort. Just do what you want with me."
Voldemort turned, glancing in every direction. He knew something was wrong. "What is this game you are trying to play, Draco?" he grated. "First you confront me, then you run away to hide, and now you return. What are you trying to do?"
Draco didn't respond, just stared directly at Voldemort in defiance. He could hear muffled footsteps and whispers in the hall behind him, undoubtedly of the Order members forming some sort of plan.
"You're protecting someone," Voldemort said, realization dawning in his colorless eyes. Draco set his jaw in determination. "There's someone here whom you are trying to hide from me."
"The battle has already ranged inside the house," Draco informed him flatly. "If you don't get out with me while you can, I'll be killed."
Voldemort's calm façade did not shift. "I am no fool, my boy. Do not try to trick me into leaving something important behind." His eyes narrowed. "Your mother, perhaps?"
Draco swallowed a lump in his throat. He could only pray that Narcissa was safe, and that no harm would come to her because of him, but she wasn't in his power to protect. Hermione still was.
Deciding to play along, Draco nodded. "Promise me that no harm will come to her."
Voldemort didn't respond, and the skeptical look on his face told Draco that he wasn't fooled. However, before either of them could continue their conversation, another explosion, this one from the front of the house, rocked the room to its foundation.
Voldemort lunged forward and grabbed Draco's arm, pushing him into the doorway behind him defensively. Draco saw George and Blaise duck into another doorway, and he signaled to them to move away while Voldemort was distracted.
"The front of the house," Voldemort hissed. "They've blown it away." He turned sharply and seized Draco's arm again, dragging him down the hallway. "Apparition is too dangerous. We will floo to a safe location."
Draco didn't fight. If this was how he had to keep Voldemort away from Hermione, then so be it. They passed the door that George and Blaise were hiding behind, but Voldemort was too focused on getting Draco away from the fighting to notice them.
The fireplace was in Draco's sitting room, and he didn't try to pull away as Voldemort prepared to floo them away. Taking a handful of floo powder – which Draco had not used in seven years – Voldemort tossed it into the fireplace but stopped short before pulling Draco inside with him.
Voldemort didn't say a word, just slowly turned to face the doorway of the sitting room. The house was almost completely silent, and Draco held his breath, hoping against hope that Voldemort would just take him somewhere else and be done with it. He felt his heart sink as Voldemort took several slow steps toward the hallway.
Voldemort stepped into the hallway, seeming almost in a trance, leaving Draco completely forgotten. Draco felt his throat tighten with fear. Only one person's appearance could spark such a reaction in Voldemort.
"You," Voldemort said emotionlessly. His gaze was tilted up at the staircase, at someone out of Draco's line of vision. Draco swallowed the lump in his throat and walked as quietly as he could to Voldemort's side.
Hermione's blood ran cold as soon as Voldemort stepped out of the sitting room doorway. She was poised on the staircase, a Whiz-Bang in one hand and the bottle of firewhiskey in the other. She had been fully prepared to launch it at the evil wizard's head and blow him to bits, but she felt herself frozen. His snakelike eyes bored into her, and she barely registered the sound of his toneless remark.
This was the man who had killed Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. This was the man who had crumbled her entire world and forced her to live like an outlaw. This man was the reason almost all her friends were dead. Seeing him face to face after seven years of despising his very name, Hermione was breathless, almost too shaken to move.
Almost. After several moments of blatant staring, Hermione remembered that she had less than three seconds to hurl the homemade bomb and at least critically injure Voldemort. The dark lord was still transfixed by her – Hermione recalled that Voldemort had assumed her dead for the last several years. Capitalizing on his shock, Hermione drew her arm back and took aim directly at Voldemort's face.
She stopped short when Draco stepped out of the sitting room entrance and stood next to Voldemort. A look of confusion twisted her features, and she realized just in time that hurling the Whiz-Bang at Voldemort would undoubtedly harm Draco as well.
Hermione's hesitation at Draco's sudden appearance was all Voldemort needed. Gripping the Elder Wand in his withered hand, Voldemort let loose an ugly curse that whirled at Hermione with blinding speed. She ducked to the side just in time to miss the curse, but another followed it immediately. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She was trapped.
Draco didn't think, didn't hesitate, didn't even breathe before reacting. Voldemort sent several rapid-fire curses at Hermione, who managed to dodge the blasts but was trapped in her position on the staircase. Draco instantly lashed out, seizing Voldemort's arm and redirecting the Elder Wand's dark violet stream of magic into the ceiling, which was marred with a smoldering black spot.
Voldemort struggled against Draco, but his physical strength was much weaker compared to Draco. Desperation pushed Draco to grapple in ways he had never been forced to do; in a strange moment of recollection, Draco thought back to Hermione punching him in their third year, a decidedly unmagical maneuver that he was imitating at that very moment.
The struggle lasted only a few seconds, but time seemed to move agonizingly slowly for Draco. In what seemed like slow motion, Draco twisted Voldemort's wrist toward him, reaching his other hand up to snatch the Elder Wand away from the dark lord. Voldemort's cry of horror and desperation echoed in Draco's ears as he held the Elder Wand for the first time in his life. In another odd moment of clarity, he noted how ordinary the wand itself felt, but how unusual it was to hold a wand after so many years.
Draco's world suddenly switched from slow motion into a blur of movement and sound. This was the moment he had been anticipating for seven years, the moment that his fate was finally back in his own hands.
He turned the Elder Wand on himself. Voldemort was mere inches away, reaching for the wand but seeming bereaved of strength without it. George, Blaise, and Angelina appeared in the doorway to his left, accompanied by a horrified Narcissa. Draco hoped that they would understand what needed doing.
With his last second of life, Draco lifted his head to see Hermione, who had leaped down most of the stairs and now stood looking at him, one hand reaching toward him and whispering, "Draco…" He could never create a more beautiful sight to see as his last.
Draco closed his eyes, and the Elder Wand almost seemed to act of its own accord. The killing blast went straight into his own heart, and Draco fell to the ground, the beckoning darkness overtaking him at last.
Hermione heard herself scream, but she seemed to be in a trance, completely flabbergasted at seeing Draco Malfoy turn the Elder Wand on himself and fire the killing curse. He lay completely motionless on the floor, his sightless eyes staring straight ahead. Hermione bit her lip to keep from crying out again, and she tore her eyes away from Draco's body, focusing instead on the withered, snakelike man who was reaching for the Elder Wand, still clutched in Draco's hand.
She drew back the Whiz-Bang she was holding and released it, using her wandless magic to drive it straight at Voldemort's head. The dark lord looked up in time to see it coming and ducked, leaving the Elder Wand several feet away from his reach.
George and Angelina were several yards away, but George cleared the distance in seconds. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had seen him so enraged, and she thought back on the deaths of the Weasley family – how Voldemort had performed their executions personally. She knew without a doubt that George was seeing those images as well.
"Avada Kedavra!" George shouted at the top of his lungs. The words echoed in the empty house and hung in the air, punctuated by a stream of green magic that hit Voldemort squarely in the chest. The evil wizard was frozen, his mouth open in shock, his bony hands still reaching out for the Elder Wand. Hermione had never known she was capable of such hatred until she saw Voldemort standing before her.
Narcissa stepped forward from the entryway, her wand drawn and her face a mask of despair. "Avada Kedavra!" she said in a chilling voice. Another green bolt slammed into Voldemort's toppling form. Hermione didn't see him, but she could hear Blaise's voice as he sent a third killing curse at Voldemort.
Hermione's eyes flicked to Draco's form, lying on the floor next to Voldemort. Tears failed her, as did any emotion. Without taking her eyes from Draco, Hermione muttered, "Confringo," with all the anger and bitterness and hatred she had ever felt. The body of the dark lord – Voldemort, Tom Riddle, who had ruined the lives of thousands of wizards and witches and who deserved worse punishment than had ever been conceived – exploded into tiny pieces, which hung in the air and gradually blinked out of existence. Voldemort was no more.
"It's done," Neville said, his voice betraying his exhaustion. "It's over."
The front lawn of Draco's home was littered with bodies and scorched with the innumerable curses that had flown for the last hour. The cloudy sky was marked with a billow of smoke that had yet to settle. Neville wiped the sting out of his eyes and blinked back tears that had sprung unbidden.
The Order and the underground had won. With overpowering forces and more pent-up vengeance than the world had ever seen, Voldemort's forces were obliterated, the survivors captured by underground fighters and hauled off to a holding place. The Order members were still walking the battlefield, looking for casualties within their ranks and aiding underground members with their duties. Even Luna, with her nasty arm injury, refused to leave without helping.
Neville knew he should be seeing to whatever the Order needed on the dwindling battlefield, but he still had one person he needed to see first.
Cho and Theodore leaned against the back wall, exhausted from the ferocious fighting. Cho raised her head as Neville stood and began limping down the hallway of Draco's house. She instantly knew where he was going and struggled to her feet as well to follow. Theodore's footsteps joined hers a few seconds later.
The three battered soldiers made their way down the hallway, checking inside rooms and halls for any signs of life. The air in the house was chilly and damp, despite the heat generated by the explosions nearby.
"I think I know where they might be," Theodore finally said. Neville and Cho turned to him and followed Theodore's path down an adjacent hallway. The house wasn't enormous, but the halls were confusing, especially to those who hadn't been inside before.
Theodore was right. He was the first to cross the threshold of the entry hall, and his jaw dropped at what he saw. Draco, lying dead on the floor. Hermione, kneeling next to him and shaking with suppressed sobs. Narcissa, clutching Draco's hand. Blaise, George, and Angelina stood a few feet away, their faces somber. Voldemort was nowhere to be seen.
Blaise turned to see Theodore as he came in, and he immediately broke away from the group to grab Theodore in a hug. Blaise was rarely so bold, so Theodore knew that whatever had happened in the entry hall must have shaken him badly.
"What happened?" Theodore asked, surprised by the break in his voice.
Blaise's eyes were blurry as he answered, purposely averting his eyes from Draco. "Voldemort came after Malfoy. Tried to get him away from the fighting. Granger tried to attack Voldemort, but Draco saved her. He killed himself with the Elder Wand so we could kill Voldemort."
"Voldemort is dead?" Neville asked from behind Theodore.
Blaise nodded. "Because of Malfoy."
Theodore could imagine Neville and Cho's surprise at Draco's sacrifice, but he felt no such amazement. For Blaise and him, it had only been a matter of how Draco would prove his loyalty, not if. Theodore reached out and put a hand on Blaise's shoulder to comfort him as they both watched the scene before them unfold.
There was a hole in Hermione's heart, and it would never be filled again.
As she knelt next to Draco's body, she felt the first touches of emotion bubbling inside her, but she still was too astonished to react. Draco's actions had been totally unexpected, though she knew she should have anticipated that he would make the sacrifice himself first. He had saved her and everyone else.
Hermione felt cold from head to toe. Surely she couldn't be looking at the dead body of Draco Malfoy. It was unfathomable; all the dreams she had had for the future, all the hope she had accumulated during their months together, everything was crushed. She felt hollow, empty, even dead herself. Hermione Granger was no stranger to loss, even the loss of a true love, but she could never remember the crushing ache that enveloped her so completely now.
She was marginally aware of Narcissa on Draco's other side, and of several more people crowded into the entry hall, but she was wholly focused on Draco. His scarred face was devoid of any life, which was a sight Hermione had never wanted to see. The cruel marks were practically invisible to her now – if anything, they were beautiful reminders of the horrors Draco had endured to do what was right.
He had saved her. Hermione thought back to what Draco had told her what seemed like eons ago. "You've saved me. You are my redemption." What little peace Hermione had been able to bring to him seemed miniscule compared to the sacrifice he had just made for her. She felt sobs welling up in her chest and fought to keep them suppressed.
What was there for her now? How could she continue with her work without Draco at her side? Where was she supposed to go from here?
Her grief was interrupted by a voice that she hadn't even realized was speaking. So focused was she on Draco's still face that Hermione took several seconds to realize that Narcissa was talking to her.
"Ms. Granger," Narcissa said softly, her eyes teary but her voice strong. "There is something I must know."
Hermione gave Narcissa a blank look, trying to process anything other than the scene she had just witnessed. Unable to find any words, Hermione simply nodded and tried to focus on Narcissa. The older woman didn't seem defeated, only shaken. Her face was proud and noble as always, and Hermione finally snapped her mind back into focus.
Narcissa spoke softly, so that only Hermione could hear what she was saying. "When Voldemort first cursed Draco to be trapped in his home, and when he first gave him these scars, I was watching from the shadows." Narcissa's eyes clouded at the difficult memory, but she pressed on. "I saw the thorns wrap around the windows and the dark clouds form over the roof. I heard every word Voldemort said as he cursed Draco, and I took care of him when Voldemort and his Death Eaters left. I healed his wounds as best I could, and…" she trailed off, seeming unsure of how to finish her story. "I altered Voldemort's curse."
Hermione felt the first flicker of hope in her heart, and it must have shown in her eyes based on Narcissa's reaction. "You altered the curse? How?"
"I had used the spell once before," Narcissa explained, "so I knew it was possible. It's simply a reversing charm, and it is capable of reversing any curse, provided it is performed within an hour of the curse's placement. It requires some sort of condition, something that must happen before the curse can be revoked."
Hermione's heart sped up. There was still a chance. "What is the condition?" she asked.
Narcissa hesitated, searching Hermione's face for some kind of answer. Finally, she replied, "The reverse to Voldemort's curse is that someone had to fall in love with Draco." She shook her head and continued. "I often wondered if I had chosen something impossible, since no one was allowed to visit Draco except myself for many years. I never even mentioned it to him so he wouldn't get his hopes up. But I have always held out hope that one day, there would be someone who could see Draco for the man I know he is. My love was enough to save him that day, but someone else's will have to be enough to save him now."
Hermione found herself speechless once again, and she looked from Narcissa's face to Draco's several times.
"When I saw you in the slave pavilion that day," Narcissa went on, leaning toward Hermione imploringly, "I sensed that something was different about you – something familiar. I didn't know then, but now I know why I sensed that. You have great strength, Ms. Granger, and an incredible ability for compassion and leadership. I have seen that many times in the last few months, never more so than just a few moments ago. You were willing to sacrifice yourself for Draco, as he was for you. So now, I can only ask you this, Ms. Granger." Narcissa paused and looked Hermione straight in the eye. "Do you love my son?"
A moment, gentle as a breeze, passed between the two women, and Hermione felt the wheels of her mind turning. An act of sacrificial love, she remembered reading. I have no reason to believe that an act of selflessness would not have the same restorative effect on a Horcrux. Hermione felt emotion welling up in her chest as the full weight of what Narcissa had just told her took hold.
Hermione tore her eyes from Narcissa's intense gaze and looked back down at Draco's face, his head cradled in her lap. All the feelings, all the affection, all the passion she had felt for Draco in the last few months suddenly rose to the surface like bubbles in a potion. Hermione had spent the last months hiding her feelings and pretend they were not real. Now, she felt that she would be overwhelmed by the need to say her feelings aloud.
Her gaze never left Draco's face as she spoke. "I do. I do love him." Once the words were free, it was as though she couldn't stop saying them. "I love him. I've loved him all this time." But she wasn't speaking to Narcissa anymore. The rest of the room was fuzzy, practically invisible now.
"I love you," she whispered, pulling Draco closer to her and reaching down to speak into his ear. "I love you, Draco Malfoy. I love you. I love you."
The room was perfectly silent, everyone holding their breath as they watched Hermione hold Draco and whisper to him. Even Narcissa cast her gaze down at the ground again, seemed deflated as nothing happened. Hermione could not bring herself to look up or even to open her eyes. She just clutched him as if somehow her whispered professions of love could bring back the man she adored.
The sound began imperceptibly, humming in the air around Draco. It gradually grew louder, first reaching Narcissa's ears, then Blaise and Theodore, then George and Angelina and Neville and Cho, and finally Hermione. She still didn't open her eyes, but the sound was impossible to ignore. It whisked through the room like a dragonfly, wove in between the tendrils of air and smoke, brushed over their faces breezily. It came from every direction and none at all.
"Look," Blaise said softly, pointing to the window next to where the group was standing. The others turned to see what he was pointing at. Theodore joined his friend's amazement as they watched the thick, oppressive vines – those vines which had made Draco's home a prison – slowly unfurl from their knots and detach from the house. Blaise whirled around to look at the windows in the rooms behind him, all of which were magically freed of the thorns as well.
Theodore walked to the window and gripped the windowsill in amazement as he looked outside. "The sun!" he called to Blaise. "The sun is shining! The black clouds are gone!"
Cho looked at Neville in confusion. "What does this mean?" she asked, but Neville didn't answer, simply kept looking at Draco and Hermione on the floor.
Hermione still hadn't pulled away from Draco, but she could hear Blaise and Theodore's amazed responses to the changes that were happening to the house. Had her confession of love broken the curse on the house? It seemed so, but she was hardly concerned with the house. All she cared about was bringing Draco back, but he had yet to stir.
And then he did. Hermione felt the softest touch of his eyelashes brushing against her cheek, then his breath against her neck for the briefest moment. Realizing that her face was wet with tears, Hermione pulled herself away from Draco and watched his face in amazement.
The first thing Draco was aware of was that he was alive, a fact that fully surprised him. The last thing he could remember was grabbing the Elder Wand from Voldemort's hand and turning the dark lord's killing curse away from Hermione and onto himself. He had fallen into blackness instantly, and he could remember nothing about what had happened between that and where he was now.
When his milky gray eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was Hermione Granger, tears streaking her face and a look of pure, shocked delight in her eyes. They were both frozen for a moment, incredulous that they were seeing one another again alive. When he could feel his hands again, Draco reached up and touched Hermione's face, brushing away one of the tears that was slipping down her cheek. She gave him a watery smile and a choked laugh, and suddenly she was in his arms and he was sobbing with joy and the rest of the world was nothing but a memory.
He was alive. Hermione couldn't keep herself from sobbing, and she found that she had no desire to. Draco wasn't dead; he was clinging to her with all his might, as though he would never let go. Hermione held him just as tightly and found herself laughing through her tears.
He kissed her first, gripping her hair in his hands and sitting up so that he could hold her again. Hermione felt his lips on her lips, her cheeks, her nose, and she returned his affection without reservations. When he stopped kissing her and laid his face against her shoulder, Hermione heard him speak softly.
"How?" he asked. "How did…"
Hermione placed her hands on either side of his face and smiled with all the love she felt for him. "Don't you remember? An act of sacrificial love? It's enough to destroy a Horcrux, and it's enough to bring one back."
A look of confusion crossed Draco's face, but he didn't argue, just stroked his fingers through her loose hair. Hermione traced the scars on his face with her fingertips, noting how the scars had remained, despite the curse being removed.
"I'm glad the scars are still there," Draco said softly, reading her thoughts. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Hermione smiled even wider and kissed him again. "Neither would I."
After a few more seconds of gazing at one another, Draco and Hermione suddenly remembered that the room was still full of other people. Draco turned his head to see Narcissa, who was kneeling just a few feet away from him.
"Mother," he managed, his voice thick with emotion, and Narcissa reached forward to hug him as well, stroking his hair and letting tears fall freely down her cheeks. Hermione couldn't help but smile as she watched them.
Draco looked to his left next and pulled himself to his feet, wobbling a bit as he stood. Blaise and Theodore were by his side in a second to steady him, and Draco pulled each of them into a hug that meant more to them than anyone else could know. "I'm glad you're here," Draco said honestly, giving them both a grin.
"Well, we're glad you're here," Theodore joked, slapping Draco on the shoulder. "We just about lost you, mate."
"I know," Draco responded.
Neville and the Order members stood quietly to one side, watching the scene unfold and not knowing what to do. Hermione leaped to her feet and ran to them, another wave of emotion rolling over her and she swept all four of her dear friends into an embrace. Neville choked back tears of his own when Hermione hugged him. "It's been so long," he stated. "I can't tell you how we've missed you, Hermione."
"Neither can I," Hermione admitted, beaming at her friends.
George gave her a wide grin and threw an arm around her shoulders. "We thought we had lost you for good, 'Mione."
Angelina nodded emphatically. "We really did. But George never gave up hope," she added with a meaningful smile at George.
"I knew you were too much of a survivor to let yourself get killed," George remarked, earning a laugh from Hermione. "Besides, you're all the family I've got left. I couldn't get along without my best friend." He winked down at her with a cheeky grin. "That was ruddy good work with those Bombtastic Bombs. I always knew you'd come around to them one day."
Hermione laughed at that. "Well, it was my idea to douse them in firewhiskey, but it was Draco who…" Hermione stopped, seeing the intrigued looks on her friends' faces. She turned to see Draco standing with Blaise, Theodore, and Narcissa a few yards behind her. None of them spoke, just watched the Order members interact.
"It was Draco," Hermione repeated. Taking a step away from her little group, she stretched out both of her hands to Draco, inviting him to step forward and take them. Draco looked at the Order members cautiously, as though they might stop him from even touching Hermione. When none of them made a move, Draco took the step forward and clasped Hermione's hands in his.
"I'd like you all to meet someone," Hermione said gently, linking her arm through Draco's. He felt strangely uncomfortable, as though he weren't good enough to even speak to Neville or George or Cho, these people who had fought tooth and nail for their lives.
"I believe you all know Draco," Hermione continued, looking at each of the Order members earnestly. "But I think you'll find him quite different from when you used to know him. I certainly did," she added, giving Draco a steady smile.
None of the Order members moved for several moments, seeming too surprised to say anything. Draco looked back at their wondering eyes, too paralyzed to make a move or say a word. He had imagined this scenario so many times – what he would do if he met the Order, what he could say to atone for all the horrible deeds he had done in his youth. What could a Death Eater say to a war hero? How could a creature of darkness ever expect forgiveness?
Neville was the first to step forward, and Draco braced himself for whatever Neville had to say. However, Neville didn't speak; after a long moment of looking straight into Draco's eyes, the leader of the Order stretched out his hand and held it out to Draco.
Afraid the moment might pass if he didn't seize it, Draco took Neville's hand and shook it firmly, his face obviously showing his incredulousness. Neville didn't look away. "It's been a long time, Malfoy," he said finally, giving Draco's hand one last shake before releasing it. "From what I've heard, we have a lot to be grateful to you for."
Draco felt his throat tightening, and Hermione squeezed his hand to reassure him. Neville Longbottom was thanking him? For what? Deciding not to be a murderer anymore? Smuggling a few potions to an underground leader? The room seemed to be spinning, and Draco clutched Hermione's hand as tightly as possible to make sure he wasn't just dreaming all this, floating somewhere in the afterlife.
"Yes," Angelina agreed before Draco could respond. She held her hand out as well, and Draco shook it in awe. "We had no idea what all you had done to keep the underground movement going. Your sacrifices have made our work possible, and we never knew."
George nodded next to Angelina. "We had you figured wrong, Malfoy. We would never have made it this far without you and your group."
"What?!" Draco exclaimed. Was he hearing this? Perhaps they had somehow forgotten who they were speaking to."You don't understand! I was a Death Eater. I was Voldemort's right hand. I killed your people!"
Cho stepped forward. "You also turned your back on that life and chose to face whatever consequences you had to in order to do what was right. Dennis told us all about it! You worked undercover as long as you could, then you were given a horrible punishment when you were discovered. You even helped the underground after that, by giving potions and information." Cho's eyes were kind as she spoke to him. "You saved Hermione as well. You sacrificed your life for her and for us. What more could we expect from you?"
Draco was overwhelmed, his heart turning over inside itself as he processed what Cho was saying. They had forgiven him. They considered him one of their own. Hermione had been right. "It's not enough," he whispered, hearing the strangled disbelief in his own voice. "It's never enough, it couldn't be…"
He sank to his knees, feeling Hermione's arms wrap around him. He buried his face in his hands and, for the first time in many years, sobbed until he had no strength left. Of all the ways he imagined his story ending, he had never once hoped that he could find redemption in the eyes of these war heroes. Their compassion, their willingness to forgive, washed over him like a crushing wave, one that he longed to drown in for the rest of his life.
"You may not have forgiven yourself," Hermione whispered to him, laying her face against his shoulder as he shook with sobs. "But we already have. One day, you'll learn to see yourself the way we do."
After several moments, Draco felt himself regaining control of his emotion and raised his head, gazing far into Hermione's deep brown eyes. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Draco raised himself back up to his full height and gave each of the Order members standing before him a steady look. "Thank you," he finally managed, not sure how to put his feelings into words. "You can never understand what… how much I…"
Hermione squeezed his hand to encourage him. Seeing Draco with the people she considered her family was an odd experience, but one that she hoped would become a normal one. Even she was amazed at their welcoming reactions to his change of heart; though she knew they would eventually accept him and forgive him, Hermione was infinitely glad that they had shown Draco such warmth. The look on his face and the tremble of his hand told Hermione that he was feeling the same amazement that she was.
The Order members didn't respond, just gave him reassuring nods and cautious smiles. A pounding of footsteps from the hallway behind them made Neville turn around to see who was coming. Dennis Creevey slid into the room, his face covered in grime and his smile bright as a star.
"Longbottom, get out here and help us get these slimeballs contained!" Dennis said excitedly, shoving Neville's shoulder playfully. "We've got more than four dozens groups –" Dennis stopped short in his enthusiastic speech when he noticed Draco standing by Hermione. Dennis' face took on an expression of amazement, and he rushed forward to pull Draco into a hug.
"Malfoy!" he shouted excitedly, as he always seemed to be. He grabbed Draco by the shoulders and gave him a brilliant grin. "You're here! You're alive! You're…" Dennis thought for a moment. "You're not going to believe the mess outside."
Draco laughed at that, feeling the stress and shock of the last few minutes begin to loosen at the sight of his old friend. "You git. I'm not back from the dead five minutes and you're already dragging me into your hijinks."
"Back from the dead?" Dennis squawked. "I can't wait to hear the explanation for that. But in the meantime, I've got a fallout to deal with. Come on, Longbottom," he declared, already heading for the hallway again. "Bring your people and help me get this straightened out. I've never won a war before."
Neville couldn't help but grin back at Dennis as he dashed down the hallway, Angelina and Cho following him a few seconds later. George paused and gave Hermione a fond smile. "I'm glad you're back, 'Mione," he said kindly, then turned to follow the rest of the Order into the front lawn.
Hermione heard Blaise, Theodore, and Narcissa come up behind them, and she and Draco turned to face them. Narcissa's eyes were full of tears, and she reached up to place both hands on Draco's face. "It's finally over," she told him, relief obvious in her voice. "All these years, and it's finally over."
Draco nodded and leaned forward to kiss his mother's forehead. "Thank you for everything you've done. If it weren't for you, I…"
"Another time," Narcissa cut in gently, nodding at the others in the room. "There's been enough emotion here for one day," she smiled. "Now, I will go see what I can do to help our new administration."
Blaise and Theodore moved to follow Narcissa into the hallway, but Blaise stopped to put a hand on Draco and Hermione's shoulders. "Thanks to you two," he remarked, "Theodore here owes me fifty galleons."
Theodore groaned exaggeratedly, and Blaise simply laughed. "What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked, but Blaise just shook his head.
"As Mrs. Malfoy said so well, another time." Blaise threw his arm around Theodore and walked into the hallway as well, whistling as they went to help on the battlefield.
Draco and Hermione watched them go, both ready to help with the fallout but neither one wanting to leave the quiet moment in the entry hall. Draco was still holding Hermione's hand, and she looked up at him a little shyly, not sure what to say after such an eventful occurrence.
Draco finally spoke first. "I can't believe I'm about to go out in the open again."
Hermione smiled at that and chuckled. "I doubt you'll find it's changed much."
"Everything has changed," he replied, shaking his head. He took Hermione's other hand in his and faced her squarely. "I thought my chances at happiness were over, but I was wrong. You've given me the hope and the inspiration to see the rest of this journey through. You've changed my entire life for the better."
Hermione shrugged slightly. "I didn't do all the work. You're the one who decided to change your ways all those years ago."
"Maybe," he conceded. "But you're the reason I'm alive today."
"What did I tell you about true love?" she said teasingly. A smile tugged at the corners of Draco's lips, and she reached her hands up to his shoulders, stepping closer into his arms. "I told you it had more power than you thought."
Draco nodded thoughtfully, then leaned down to touch his forehead to hers. "Say it again," he said quietly, kissing her with the gentleness of a feather.
Hermione returned his kiss, sliding her arms around his neck. "I love you," she whispered against his lips. "I love you more than I can ever tell you."
Draco buried his face against her neck, smiling at the tickling sensation of her hair on his cheek. "And I love you, Hermione Granger," he answered. "I love you."
He kissed her once more, letting his lips linger on hers before he pulled away. He drank in her gentle eyes, her freckled nose, her messy hair, and couldn't help but smile as she stood on her toes to plant a kiss on his forehead. Taking a step back, she reached over to clasp his hand in hers and squeezed it affectionately.
"Let's go see how much the open air has changed," Hermione said, tugging his hand gently. "We've got a lot to do to get our world back to where it needs to be."
Draco grinned in response and let her lead him. "We certainly do. My world is just beginning today," he replied.
Together, Draco and Hermione took one last look behind them at the familiar entry hall, the kitchen door, the stone staircase, and then they walked hand-in-hand into the open hallway to greet the new world.
A/N: My dear, dear friends, I can't tell you how much this story has meant to me the past few years. I've never finished a novel-length story like this one, so writing the final chapter of "Bittersweet and Strange" is truly a bittersweet experience for me. This journey has been incredible and has taught me so much in so many ways. I can't express my gratitude to those of you who have reviewed, favorited, or just enjoyed my story; you truly are at the heart of my work, and I thank you humbly and honestly. I had originally planned for an epilogue to this story, but I ended up incorporating it into this final chapter. As such, this is the last update to "Bittersweet and Strange."
Thank you, thank you, thank you. I am so honored to have been able to write a story that meant a lot to people, just like other people's fics have meant to me. Please leave a review and let me know what your thoughts are on this final chapter. As always, your feedback is the high point of my day :) Also, be on the lookout for another story (a Star Wars fic!) that will be coming soon. Once again, thank you for joining me on this three-year journey. I love you all! See you on the next story! :)