Living the Legend Chapter VIII: Rest In Peace Marie McKinnon

A/N: This is it, folks. Not only am I ending my series, but this is "The Last of the Fanfictions" for me. I think I need to move on to more challenging work. You haven't seen the last of me, you poor people you, if you read originals too. Without further ado.

"Ennervate."

She opened her eyes, still dozy after Stunning, and tried to rub them. A rough rope inhibited her movements, which she didn't understand. As captive of one of the most magically talented wizards in the history of the world, she was tied to a chair with common, Muggle rope? The Stunning Spell's effects wore off quickly. Her magic wouldn't work as well on something that wasn't magical by nature, and, unlike a spell, all the soreness of binding would remain longer than magical traces.

She saw a smooth stone floor from her studies of her predicament, but was not prepared for any semi-human voices. "Comfortable?" The hissing voice she heard in her worst nightmares asked.

"Very. I expected nothing less than wonderful hospitality from your organization, although they have been known to be a bit barbaric," she replied smoothly, amazed at her own daring. The words had just slipped out while the rest of her body was frozen in fear.

He sat luxuriously in an armchair across the spacious room from Ginny, the perfectly positioned light globe above his head catching the light from his vermilion eyes. "Well, that does explain your cuts. You wouldn't imagine the fun Thomas Nott had tying you up and taking your wand out of your pocket. He was even clumsier than usual."

At the mention of cuts the dried blood on her cheek and collar began to itch almost painfully, then burn with embarrassment as her face turned red. She changed the topic of conversation deftly. "Thank you very much for the invitation to visit you. Should I change for dinner, or is this rough appearance what you were looking for?"

"Stop making a fool of yourself. Tell me everything before I lose patience."

She smiled coquettishly. "I'm sixteen, fit, attractive, I take Year Seven level courses at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I enjoy--"

"CRUCIO!"

A network of pain filled in every empty space in her body, searing through her stunned mind and bringing one thought to the top: don't scream. Whatever he does, don't scream. Her anguish intensified as wave upon wave of agony poured over her trembling body. She would die, she couldn't do it, her body couldn't take the torture. The world would blacken and vanish, but she would not scream.

It stopped, and she took a large breath. Her muscles vibrated wildly after the strain of aches multiplied infinite times.

~Ginny!~ An anxious mental voice cried, hastening to her side in spirit. ~Are you all right?~

She was relieved beyond belief to hear from Draco, and replied in due turn. ~I will be. Are you and Harry together? I'm in a huge chamber, pillars, raised platform at one end, and I'm the only person here. Voldemort definitely does not qualify as a person, but he's enthroned in a hardback chair on his little stage. Have you any idea where we are?~

~My house. You're probably in the ballroom and Harry and I are in the dungeons. Thomas Nott is guarding us, smug b******. We're all right, no major wounds, though I think they threw us around a bit. Keep him busy for a while, we'll be brought up so he can gloat, I expect.~

~Thanks. I'll do my best to drive whatever of his living daylights are left out of him. Love you,~ she finished, trying to sound relaxed.

~Love you too.~

She sat regally, making the old chair look like a throne, and condescendingly turned her powerful gaze towards Voldemort, who was conversing with a guard. There was something inside her forcing her to act confidently disdainful toward someone who would happily murder her ten thousand ways from next Wednesday. Knowing, as she did, that he was afraid of his mortality did not help, just as a Muggle child telling him or herself that there are no such things as ghosts is still frightened and shaking under their covers.

"You will be the last to die," Voldemort said cruelly. "I'm sure you will enjoy watching your companions fight and lose."

An image flashed through her mind of Draco and Harry lying on the floor in pools of blood and a red-eyed menace advancing on her, a maniacal smile lighting the haggard face. That won't happen, she told herself repeatedly. The huge doors opened soundlessly to reveal a guard of ten tall, cloaked figures and two grave prisoners.

"I have been waiting for this a long time, Harry Potter."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Do I have the honour of being expected, or am I just baggage?" He was shocked. Had he just said that? He had. He had dared to use his proverbially smart mouth in front of the Dark Lord, who would already enjoy cursing him into millions of atoms.

"Your father warned me about you, boy. I will duel you first." Wand out, Voldemort advanced, but Draco had different ideas. He looked at Ginny, who had enchanted his blade, and mentally asked for a quick counter- charm.

His hand went to his left side, grabbed the hilt of an invisible blade, and unsheathed it as it slowly became visible. "Touché." It burned with silver fire, lashing out at the eyes and sending bright flashes of light as it cut through the air.

"Expelliarmus!"

Fear jumped in his hands, but stayed put. White-hot bolts of power grazed his head to convince him to release his weapon, but he did not, holding it tightly and deflecting curse after curse with lightning speed. Unfortunately, they were as potent after being deflected as they were when initially cast. Eight of the ten Death Eaters now guarding Harry were struck down with painful curses.

An unrelenting barrage of the two lesser Unforgivable Curses flew at him from four directions at once. He missed the last one, the Cruciatus Curse, and doubled up in pain. His contortions were too much for Harry, who let a stream of silver fire bathe the antagonist in its fiery glitter. Letting out an unearthly shriek, he ended the curse and watched Draco get shakily to his feet.

Voldemort's eyes flared with anger. "Very well. I will give you something you cannot send at my followers." He paused to let the implications sink in, his back to Ginny.

In that half second a frenzied half hour of untying the knots in her rope came into play. They fell slack around her, allowing her to stand up slowly, burning with the flame of righteous anger. One of the remaining Death Eaters aimed his wand at her, and she realised before she cast her silent spell that it was Thomas Nott. He crumpled to the ground with a muffled thud, but his master's high, cold voice interrupted the sound.

"This moment is for Dominic, entombed in Azkaban, and your father, who needs to see his past mistakes corrected. Avada--"

Draco waited for his demise to be sentenced with the final syllables and let his terror take full possession of him. He bowed his head in acceptance of death, internally begging for mercy or just five minutes of life, five minutes to say goodbye to everything he loved. Seconds later he raised his eyes and saw, beyond a shadow of a doubt, a magical glimmer embedded in the skeletally thin torso.

A chain reaction occurred with the destruction of Voldemort's magical power source. All the recycled magic he had used built up and exploded, leaving nothing but a crumpled black robe on the floor.

"Stop right there," Ginny said harshly, whirling to face the last Death Eater. "Petrificus Totalus! Stupefy!"

With the rigid snap of a tensed figure hitting the sleek wooden floor, her composure vanished. "We did it," she whispered, looking at the mass of black cloaks. "We really did it." Tears spilled down her cheeks like a much-needed rain that flooded her with relief.

"I can't believe it," Harry echoed. "He's dead. We've done away with the single most evil wizard in the history of the magical world."

"No need to get all excited," Draco said sarcastically, as if the deficit of excited screaming made him ill. They stood together in the middle of the room, still astounded, when they heard a small pop.

Dumbledore and several terrified Aurors appeared. They turned around to survey the extent of the work done, and stared at Ginny, Draco, and Harry.

"I expect to find three bodies and am greeted with eleven," the elderly Headmaster said in somber tones. "Three teenagers have done what scores of mature wizards have never managed, even with all the help the Fates could give them. All the world is indebted to you for the great deed you have done."

The serious words lifted them beyond the skies. They were singlehandedly responsible for the demise of public enemy number one and the capture of his followers, and were being recognised as heroes.

"It's what we were meant to do," Harry finally said.

A few moments of awe descended upon the room before the Aurors remembered their duties. "When we've done transporting the prisoners, we will accompany you to Hogwarts. Stay somewhere out of the way."

Dumbledore took up his wand and moved away to help the Aurors, his long green robes sweeping over the wand that had killed so many, including Harry's parents.

In the shadows, Ginny put a gentle finger to her cuts and bruises. "I feel horrible," she tried to say, but it wasn't true. Even through layers of dust and dirt, her excitement shone vividly in her movements.

"You've never looked more beautiful," Draco said, kneeling. He brought a blue velvet box from the depths of his pockets and snapped it open. "Will you do me an even greater service than you've done just now, and marry me?" An exquisite diamond ring sparkled in the box.

"Yes," she breathed, and buried herself in his open arms. "There is nothing that could make this moment any better," she murmured into his ear as he slid the ring onto her left ring finger.

Draco leaned over her and placed a gentle, soft kiss on her upturned mouth. She smiled contentedly into his kiss and drew away slowly.

"Well, there's always that."

And so we have it. Our story began with a dream and ended with a dream come true.