Chapter 24 – Until Death Do Us Part
Draco ducked as a portrait fell from the wall, narrowly missing him. It was a portrait of his grandfather, he noticed, and clenched his fist as he moved past it. He moved through the corridors in a haze, searching for Potter, but also keenly aware of his home quickly deteriorating. Hundreds of years of proud Malfoy heritage destroyed.
Draco was angry at the Death Eaters, and Voldemort, even the Order for not knowing or caring about the history, the art, and architecture they ruined in their quest to fight for good or evil. His home had become the backdrop, meaningless in the great battle that raged around him.
Corpses littered the floor, but Draco paid no mind. He only needed to find Potter to put an end to everything. If Potter had been dead already, he would have known. A thought struck him, and for a moment he glanced at the bodies in panic. What if Hermione had ignored him, as she was prone to do, what if it was her body that lay there?
He was more aware after that, glancing for any sign of her tell-tale curls. But it wasn't a brunette that eventually caught his eye, but a ginger. Weasley was corned in the small ballroom that had become his and Hermione's special place. He was surrounded on all sides by black hooded cloaks. They had not heard Draco enter, and he pressed this advantage, shooting a spell to dislodge the chandelier that hung above them. Taking the destruction of his family home into his own hands.
With a mighty crash the chandelier fell. Crystals danced across the shiny wooden flooring. Draco eliminated the cloaked figures with a series of rapid fire spells. When the last body had fallen, uncomfortable silence filled the ballroom, only broken by the distant shouts from the manor beyond.
Weasley stared at him, his expression one of shock. But Draco could not bring himself to regret saving his life.
"Thanks," he said at last, but it looked as if the words had cost him dearly.
"Don't mention it," Draco replied. And then, because he could not help but push his luck, he added, "well, maybe just to Hermione." The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk as Weasley scowled at him.
"Bloody Bast-" Ron began.
"Ah, ah, Weaselbee," Draco taunted. "I just saved your life. Can't we keep it civil? At least until we find Potter, so I can tell him I killed Nagini?"
Weasley sputtered, turning an interesting shade of purple. Draco decided then, that should they both survive, they would never get along, but at least he would be entertained. "I knew she would tell you!" Weasley spat at last.
"She told me nothing of the sort," Draco replied curtly, annoyed that he once again failed to trust Hermione. "Hermione may have been top of her year, but I was never far behind. I'm smarter than you think I am. If I recall correctly, it was you and Potter who couldn't keep up? Now let's get moving."
Draco's footsteps echoed briskly in the ballroom, and he didn't wait to see if Weasley would follow him. But Draco took it as a good sign when he did.
"He was heading to downstairs when we were separated," Weasley offered grudgingly. Draco nodded. They left the ballroom only to be surrounded by chaos. Someone had let loose a flock of pixies. Draco watched in amusement as a Death Eater tried to swat away a few, as another prepared to dive-bomb him. His amusement was short-lived as a pixie tried to crawl into his ear. He swatted it away, before raising his wand to freeze it. He had barely said the incantation when another pixie began pulling at his robes, and Draco bumped into a Death Eater barrelling towards him.
He glanced longingly to the staircase hidden at the end of the wall that would lead him towards Potter. By the time he had rid stunned the Death Eater, two more pixies had joined the assault on his robes. By the time Draco had freed himself from their clutches, he had lost sight of Weasley. Tucked into the alcove that entered the staircase, he looked back searching for a flash of red, but Weasley was nowhere in sight.
Draco crept down the staircase, surprisingly, he would have preferred to have Weasley with him. They did not trust each other. They did not like each other. But Draco knew that with Hermione in between them, they couldn't hurt each other either. It would have been nice to have someone to cover his back.
The staircase led to the dungeons where they had held training for the new recruits. Draco had hated the dungeons as a child. They were cold and dark, and he could not understand why they needed them. But the manor had been built in a different time, when things were not so peaceful, he recalled his mother telling him.
The dungeons were quiet and it made Draco anxious. His concern was justified, and when he reached the base of the staircase he met a guard of six Death Eaters.
"We've been expecting you," said the Death Eater nearest to him. The voice belonged to Dolohov, Draco realized, and for a moment wondered what he had done to improve his ranking enough for a position of leadership. He gripped his wand tighter, two Death Eaters had already moved behind him, blocking the staircase and his only exit.
Draco knew almost every secret passage in the Manor, but the dungeons did not have any passages to avoid the risk of escaping prisoners. A wand prod him in the back and Draco was shepherded forward, following the maze of cells, and wondering if he was about to die. His death seemed inevitable at this point, he was outnumbered, with no way out.
He wondered if Voldemort had holed up in the small chamber at the back of the dungeons, meant for the most dangerous sort of prisoner. Unlike the other barred cells, its walls were entirely made of stone, except for the small reinforced door.
Dolohov stood back then, forcing Draco to enter the room first. The sight that met his eyes made him jerk to a halt.
"No!" He choked out. His parents were shackled to the wall. His mother looked frail. Her hair was unkempt and sticking to her face, and dark hollows shadowed her eyes. His father, too, was not how Draco recalled him. He had lost weight, his face drooped on one side, and there was a bloody slash running across his chest from shoulder to hip.
Draco bit the inside of his cheek, hard enough to draw blood. The pain forced him to focus as he cast a non-verbal spell with barely a flick of his wand. It took Dolohov a moment to realize what he was doing, but he was too late.
He launched at Draco, and Draco drew back his fist and punched him hard in the face. He felt warm blood coat his fist, but before he could give it any thought he turned his wand on him next. Dolohov fell with a scream as bloody boils erupted all over his body.
Draco turned quickly, he had freed his father, but he was still wandless. Draco managed to take down both of the Carrows, as his father throttled Rowle one-handed, and fended off Yaxley with his elbow.
Draco realized too late, that there was one Death Eater unaccounted for. He turned to find one of the new recruits, wand raised and eyes wide as he watched the fight. A roaring seemed to fill Draco's ears as he saw him say the incantation. Green light filled the room, blinding Draco, and when he opened his eyes the boy had fallen. He turned to his father, and a searing pain tore through him at the sight of his father's body and the glassy eyed look that would haunt Draco for the rest of his life.
Draco moved towards Rowle and Yaxley, fire burning in his veins. His mother's screams echoed in the background, tearing him apart. He had managed a single step forward and had raised his wand, but Yaxley beat him to the punch, and Draco was blown back off his feet. He felt his skull explode and then nothing.
Someone was coming, Draco registered, as his brain seemed to slowly regain consciousness. Each step echoed off the stone floor, the sound vibrating painfully in Draco's head. And then he remembered where he was. His eyes opened, and he squinted in the dim lighting. He shifted his position, only to feel a burning in his wrists where he was shackled to the wall, his feet dangling a foot off the ground.
He glanced to his right, and found his mother's gaunt face watching him anxiously. Her lips had hardly moved, but he could read them well enough to decipher that she was sending him her love. They were going to die here. He knew that for certain as his eyes were drawn back to his father's corpse, lying still as stone on the floor before him. Lucius Malfoy had never looked so dishevelled, and it hurt Draco to see him like that now.
The room seemed to drop several degrees, as the person Draco had heard approaching finally entered the room. Yaxley and Rowle stood at attention on either side of the door, but another four masked Death Eaters filed in behind the Dark Lord.
The Dark Lord regarded Lucius' body disdainfully, shoving it out his way with a bare foot as he approached them. The casual shove, drove Draco over the edge. He thrashed against his chains, trying to break free. He swore to himself, that if he did, we would tear Voldemort apart himself, with his bare hands, Horcruxes be damned.
Voldemort directed his wand at Draco, and he prepared to feel immense pain. None came though, his limbs only grew heavy. Too heavy for him to fight the restraints that held him. His tongue had grown heavier too. And when Draco tried to make a retort, all that came out was an indecipherable slurring.
"This is what becomes of traitors," Voldemort told the room at large. His red eyes met Draco's for a moment, and Draco jerked, his leaden body rattling the chains.
"My Lord," Yaxley said, stepping forward. "I would be honoured to silence him for you."
"That's not necessary," Voldemort said, as his red eyes bored into Draco's. "He may still be of use to us. His little wife is here somewhere no doubt. And she will come for him, just as he came for his parents. Potter won't be able to resist us if we have his Mudblood. These little heroes are always willing to die for the ones they love." Voldemort's gaze pierced his, and his sneer made Draco break out in goosebumps.
Draco shut down anger and grief and worry. He saw nothing but blackness as he felt Voldemort try and probe into his mind. He slammed every door. But the battle in his head continued, the back of his head throbbed once, and then Draco felt a searing pain before blacking out again.
Hermione was breathless, the passage Draco had left her in was long and twisted. She had yet to explore its entirety. But what she had seen at each look out spot had made her wary. They were outnumbered, even with the full support of the order. And she had not caught a glimpse of Draco, Ron, or Harry.
She crept further up the passage, to a peephole hidden in one of the many portraits. This part of the manor was unfamiliar to her, but a door was ajar across the hallway leading into the most luxurious bedroom she had ever seen. She could only assume that it was Lucius and Narcissa's bedroom. A single Death Eater skulked around the door, hexing anyone who entered the secluded hallway. Already there were bodies strewn about the entrances. The Death Eater glanced into the room again, and a moment later another hooded figure appeared, his arms laden with Narcissa's jewellery.
Hermione felt a momentary pang for this violation of her mother-in-law's home, but then she remembered the bodies in the hall, and the countless others she had seen sprawled across the manor.
Another Death Eater sprinted into the hallway, "we've gottem," he yelled down to his thieving comrades.
"Got who?" Hermione pressed her ear against the peephole to hear them better.
"The Malfoy brat, 'oo else?" the man said excitedly. "Locked up, like 'ee ought to be." Hermione pressed her ear against the wall, but she could not decipher any more of their conversation.
Heart-pounding she sprinted through the passageway, pulling on latches until she found the next exit that was large enough to get through and not blocked off. Hermione remembered the first time she had seen the manor, it had seemed huge then, but now as she ran through its corridors, knowing that Draco could be held captive anywhere, she felt its vastness thrice fold.
Hermione hear a shrill whistling, and pressed herself against a wall, just as a streak of purple light went past her. It exploded a curio with a bang and Hermione ducked as she was peppered with shards of wood and glass.
She found another of the entrances to the passage Draco had secured her in. Her skin stung where the shards had cut her. She raised her jumper and found her growing bump unscathed. She took a deep breath, caressing the skin there. "You're not going to grow up without a father," she told it.
Deciding that the dungeon was the most likely place to hold a prisoner, Hermione followed the passage down two flights of stairs, and then down a rockier slope. It smelt earthy and Hermione suspected she was getting closer to the underground level. She slipped out at the next exit, the door was concealed by a large wooden slab in the kitchen. Hermione poked her head in discreetly. But it was deserted, she wondered where the house elves had gone, somewhere safe, she hoped.
Hermione slipped out of the kitchen, and made her way down one of the stairwells leading to the dungeons. It was quiet, so quiet that Hermione wondered if she had missed the mark completely. Voldemort did not need a dungeon to restrain someone, there were countless other methods. Still she moved forward, past the seemingly empty cells, into the stone room at the back.
A gasp caught in her throat, and Hermione froze. There was blood on the ground, and what looked like signs of a struggle. Hermione was grateful whoever had occupied the room had clearly moved on, she backed up, meaning to put as much distance between herself and the space as possible.
Then she hear several cracks of apparition. Her wand was out, giving her the upper hand on her first two assailants. But more and more pops echoed through the dungeons and Hermione found herself surrounded. She felt the pull as her wand flew out of her hand, disarmed and alone, she turned on the spot ready to apparate. Another spell hit her, and Hermione's body froze, immobilized. Conscious, but unable to move, the tingles of terror chilled her to the bone. She was completely at the mercy of these Death Eaters.
She could still feel, and hear, and smell everything. Every brush of skin as they raised her to the wall, the chink of cold metal as they restrained her, the rancid breath of the Death Eater that taunted her.
The room emptied out slowly. And Hermione thought that the biggest insult was that they left her alone and unguarded. But their lack of concern was well-founded. No matter how hard she tried to break the curse immobilizing her, she could not. She did not know how long she was left hanging there, unable to move or scream, blink or cry. But after what felt like an eternity in limbo, Hermione heard footsteps.
For a moment, hope filled her. Wondering if a saviour had come at last. But as she listened more astutely, she could hear the slap of bare feet on the stone floors. A shiver coursed through her statuesque body. There was only one person she knew that had a tendency to walk through chaos bare-footed.
"What wasssted potential," his cold voice hissed from the shadows. "But you will be of use yet, Hermione."
Voldemort moved into the centre of the room. He appeared alone, but Hermione knew better. She wondered how many Death Eaters were hidden in the surrounding dungeons.
"Your husband it quite the hero," Voldemort went on. "He fought valiantly, I must say, when he saw that his poor parents were captured. It's a shame, the Malfoys were once such loyal, honourable allies. It just goes to show that even the smallest bit of pollution," he looked pointedly at her, "can ruin a family line."
"Speaking of heroes," he continued his rant uninterrupted as Hermione was unable to voice any of the retorts that had come to mind. "It's no surprise your capture has brought to me the greatest hero of all." His eyes had taken on a crazy glint, and Hermione could sense that he was viciously happy. "Bring him forward."
Two Death Eaters moved into the room, Hermione saw a flash of glasses and messy black hair struggling against them.
"Harry!" She shouted, breaking the spell at last. Anguish filled her, seeing Harry unarmed and trapped.
"I said she was not to be harmed," he spat at Voldemort.
"Of course," Voldemort agreed coldly. "We've agreed to the terms – your life for hers." Hermione thrashed against her bonds, screaming shrilly.
"You did not however, bargain for their lives," Voldemort pointed out cruelly, as Narcissa and Draco were brought in. Their wands held by the Death Eaters that held them. Draco ceased his struggling for a moment as their eyes met, and then doubled his efforts.
"But who to kill first," Voldemort pondered, tapping his fingers together with mock thoughtfulness.
"I've waited so long," he said, at last, turning to Harry. As he raised his wand, Hermione's screams filled the room, there was a lightning fast swish of a cloak and Harry, another Harry, appeared.
Hermione's scream cut short, at the appearance of this intruder. Voldemort froze for a moment, glancing almost comically between the two Harry Potter's that surrounded him. He turned back to the one held captive.
"You would never allow one of your friends to risk impersonating you," Voldemort spat. "You're too damn good." He spat the word.
"Are you sure about that," said the Harry behind him. "Avada Kedavra." There was a flash of green light and hell broke loose as Voldemort's body crumpled.
Hermione could do nothing but watch as Draco punched his captive in the face before grabbing his and his mother's wands. He shoved a now armed Narcissa towards Hermione, as he along with Harry and Ron began rounding up the Death Eaters as they tried to escape.
The moment Hermione was free, she grabbed her wand from Narcissa, and cast the spell she recalled learning long ago from Hogwarts: A History. The cracks of disapparition stopped, as a result of Hermione's handiwork. Not a single of the remaining Death Eaters would escape their time in Azkaban.
With the help of the Order, the Death Eaters were taken to Azkaban that very night. But the Manor was still full, of the survivors, the wounded, and the dead.
The fall night was crisp, and Hermione was grateful for the breeze that masked the smells of death and decay. The sights before her were enough to make her retch. She had stopped twice to do so, as she moved through the corpses, lined outside the Manor for identification.
Hermione knew Lucius's body was there, she could see Draco and Narcissa by it even now. After a brief embrace, Draco had asked for some time to mourn, and Hermione had withdrawn. Leaving him and Narcissa to grieve. She saw Professor Moody's body, his eye still whizzing around as if its owner could still see. The Weasleys were clustered around Percy's body, all but Fred who (in a strange coincidence) had lost his right ear, and was being treated in the Manor.
Hermione heard sobs, and cries of celebration, and relief as people found the ones they loved, dead or alive. She walked alone amongst the bodies, as if in a dream, expecting to wake up at any moment. She brushed Harry's hand as she approached him, staring over Remus' body. She wrapped her arms around him, and hugged him tight. She stiffened for a moment, as another set of arms wrapped around them both, before seeing Ron's familiar, freckled face.
She took two deep breaths, breathing in the sense of peace and home that they always brought her. Harry and Ron were her safe haven, even in the aftermath of the war they had fought for seven years.
"They're all dead," Harry said, his voice muffled in her hair.
"Hmm?" asked Hermione, confused for a moment. Many people had died, but she tried to think of all of the people they had saved. But then she saw his face, looking sadly at their old teacher and his father's childhood friend. The Marauders, she realized. She wondered what had happened to Pettigrew, Harry knew, she could see it written on his face.
They broke apart. Ron returned to his family, Harry was approached by all of those eager to shake his hand, and Hermione was left to resume her stroll amongst the fallen. Her feet had led her to the path that divided the Order and the Death Eaters. The line that divided good versus evil. She walked between them, it was a fine line, which she felt that she may have crossed, landing herself in this grey area.
She saw Voldemort's body from afar, though it was cold and lifeless, they had put protective barriers around it to help them breathe easier. Bellatrix's body was laid next to him, devoted to him in life, and after.
It was an eerie feeling being surrounded by so much death. But Hermione felt the familiar nudge in her stomach, and was reminded that they were surrounded by life too.
Coming Up in Till Death Do Us Part:
Draco nodded, unable to find the words to voice his devastation.