ClarkRaven and Prongs: Thank you so much for continuing to read and please read my other stories. And thanks to Amanda I hope this doesn't let you down.



The burning in Harry's head was too much but he couldn't close his eyes. Voldemort was so close now; if Harry had the strength to reach out his hand he could touch him. He smelled of death and decay. Draco gazed at his love growing so weak. Harry was always more affected by the presence of evil then anyone. Ron and Hermione's eyes were wide with fear. Draco then stepped forward suddenly willing to give up his soul for these three.

Draco started to laugh. It caught Harry and the others off guard. It was not a happy laugh. It was a mad laugh on that frightened Harry.

"Did you think I would let you kill them?" Draco asked.

"I don't see how you're going to stop me boy."

Draco laughed again. "I've been trained and punished in the Dark Arts since I was five."

"Your father was weak he was begging for his death when I got to him what could he have possible taught you?"

"That I am not my father." Draco's eyes were wide they blazed with all the hatred he had for his father, for the deatheaters who tortured his body and mind for so long. He simply didn't care if he died. He had love; he had the love of someone who was so pure and good that the mere presence of evil made him violently ill. He and Voldemort both lifted their wands.

"NO!" Harry screamed his hand touched Draco's, gripping the hand that held his wand.

"Crucio." Draco all but whispered. He had learned the curse through the many times his father put him through it, he had learned the proper pronunciation, tone of voice and wrist movements needed to unleash pain beyond imagination. It hit Voldemort dead on. Through the pain that seared through his body he in turn pointed his wand at Draco and

"Avada Kedavar." Except in wasn't Voldemorts voice, it was Draco's.

Harry felt a jolt go up his arm as his grip tightened at the sound of the words. He also felt something flow out of him; the pain of his scar stopped burning so suddenly it scared him.

Voldemort collapsed in a heap on the floor. The deatheaters all surrounded their fallen master. Draco also fell, caught by Ron who captured the boy's head before it hit the ground. The deatheaters were carrying the body of their master out. Was he dead?

The trio couldn't tell, their attention was focused on the silver haired angel who had saved their lives. Harry held him. Crying not knowing what would happen next.

The Dementors stepped forward to claim him. Harry, Ron and Hermione made circle around their friend.

The teachers were once again by their side. The Dementors simply left. They would get him soon enough.

"God Draco." Harry whispered. He was picked up and carried to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was at their heels.

"Everything's going to be alright love, I promise." Harry would not let go of Draco's hand and would never leave his side.

(Is that the end? How to continue? Power of love, power of Magic, power that Draco had inside of him amplified by pureness. That's how Voldemort was defeated this time. But he's not dead. That would ruin everyone else's stories.)