Showdown
Disclaimer - I do not own the characters, and I make no money (from this or from anything else!). This is not intended as copyright infringement, please do not sue!
Harry did not sleep at all that night. He didn't even try, just sat staring into space. He re-read the last two diary entries over and over again, a sensation of numb horror settling over his shoulders like a heavy weight. He relived all his time with Draco, trying to see whether there had been any clues, whether he should have seen this all along instead of missing it completely. His boyfriend, the man he had been in love with for over two years, was a murderer. Somehow, probably using the Imperious curse, he had made Ron hang himself. Had he watched as Ron flailed at the end of the rope, choking and gasping his life away? Had he spoken to Ron first, or hit him with the curse from behind as Ron stood waiting for him trustingly at the top of the stairs? Harry believed the diary implicitly now - what reason would Ron have to lie in his diary, in a book that he was not expecting anyone else ever to read. Despite Harry's desperate attempts to find some explanation, he knew that there was none other than that spelt out in the diary. Draco Malfoy had murdered Ron Weasley. Harry's boyfriend had murdered his best friend. Harry knew Draco could use the Dark Arts - Draco had occasionally spoken of them to Harry; they had discussed the fact that he had to learn them, had to do what he was told or face the loss of his family and lands his family had owned for centuries and possible death. Harry had sympathised at the time, but now he thought detachedly that it had all been lies, that Draco loved the Dark Arts, loved being able to torture and kill with a single word. For Draco to have used the Imperious Curse was perfectly possible. Too stunned even to cry, Harry sat by the window, waiting for dawn, waiting for Sirius to wake so he could confess what he'd done.
At about four, Hedwig returned from delivering the letter to Draco, the letter confessing the theft of the diaries, the letter containing another declaration of love. Harry caressed Hedwig's head thoughtfully, a vague thought trying to make itself heard among all the others clamouring for his attention. The snowy owl seemed to sense that her owner was upset, she hooted quietly and gave him a small nip before flying to her cage. Harry sat until dawn, lost in a haze of memories.
When Harry could hear Sirius in the kitchen, singing cheerfully to himself as he burnt some toast, he stood stiffly and made his way to the door, trying to stretch some of the stiffness from his limbs. Clutching the diary in his hand he pushed open the door.
"Morning Harry! Sleep well?" asked Sirius, his gaze fixed intently on the toast as if daring it to burn again.
"Sirius," said Harry. His voice sounded cracked and hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken for years. "Sirius, I've made a mistake. I've made a terrible mistake."
"I rather think you have," drawled a familiar voice. Harry and Sirius whipped around in time to see Draco Malfoy stroll jauntily out of Sirius's bedroom, closely followed by his father, Lord Voldemort and Wormtail. Sirius inhaled sharply at the sight of Wormtail, but otherwise said nothing. Harry stared at his lover. Draco looked poised, elegant and completely in control. Harry searched his face in vain for any sign that what they had shared, what he had thought they shared, was not all an illusion.
"You killed Ron," he said softly. "You murdered him in cold blood."
"True," said Draco, without a hint of regret. "He was in my way. He both prevented you from being completely mine and held the means to destroy me. He had to go."
"Why?" asked Harry, the pain in his voice making Sirius wince.
"Because I asked him to," said Voldemort. "And look, our plan worked. The great Harry Potter, in love with a Malfoy. Can't eat, can't sleep for pining over a boy your own common sense should have told you could never be yours. Still, I suppose that's Gryffindors for you. Blindly trusting, just like your friend Ron,"
"You aren't worthy to speak his name." snapped Harry. He stared at Voldemort in rage, almost ready to launch himself at the Dark Lord, the fact that he was unarmed and defenceless barely crossing his mind.
"There must be something else," said Sirius into the momentary pause. Harry darted a look of confusion at him, he suspected that Sirius was trying to tell him something, but he wasn't sure what.
"I mean, this is a lot of effort to go to to destroy one boy. Just because he had lived so far was no guarantee he would live again. What else do you want from him?"
"Maybe you've finally grown up, Padfoot," sneered Wormtail, spitting Sirius's childhood nickname like a curse. "Perhaps you've learned to see the bigger picture at last."
"The information he passed us was very helpful," said Voldemort casually. "At this very moment my Dementors are taking down your strongholds. Within hours, the wizarding world will be mine, and mine alone. Fudge is dead, and Dumbledore will soon join him, thanks to Harry,"
"No," Harry whispered, staring at Draco in horror.
"Yes," said the other boy smugly. "All your letters went straight to my father and the useful information in them was immediately made known to those it concerned. Did you not wonder why you were making so little progress? We knew about most of your raids. Only those who had incurred the wrath of the Dark Lord were left there. You have helped us to victory Harry, and with what you have given us we will eliminate all the Mudblood magic-users and those who are unworthy to study magic."
"And so, the Boy Who Lived looks out on the last day of his life," hissed Voldemort softly. "What do you see child? You lived a lie, clinging to illusions. Will you accept the inevitable and die like a man?"
"I will not make it easy for you," said Harry staunchly, hoping that Sirius had prepared whatever it was he was going to do.
"I expected you wouldn't," said Voldemort calmly. Suddenly his wand was in his hand. Harry heard a shout and threw himself to the floor. Voldemort shouted another word, and Sirius's spell rebounded off a magical shield.
"Go!" yelled Sirius. Harry dived for his bedroom, knowing nothing except that he had to reach his wand. Slamming the door behind him in a vain attempt to buy himself some time, he dived for his trunk. As he grabbed his wand, his hand brushed the sword. He grasped it quickly in his hand, holding the wand in his right. The door behind him exploded in a cloud of splinters, a lump of wood hitting Harry so hard on the side of his face that he staggered and nearly fell. He turned quickly, feeling dazed, to see the figure silhouetted in the doorway lifting his wand.
"IMPEDIMENTA!" yelled Harry, pointing his wand at the blond figure. He heard him begin a spell, but saw him go rigid and freeze and knew his spell had worked.
"Petrificus Totalus," he said calmly, and the frozen figure fell to the floor. Harry quickly darted out into the main room, stepping over the figure in the doorway, not caring if it was Lucius or Draco. Sirius was in the middle of a pitched battle against Voldemort and Wormtail. Where was the other Malfoy? Harry heard a noise behind him, and spun around.
The next few moments seemed to go in slow motion. As Harry turned, the figure must have lunged at him because Harry saw Draco diving towards him, felt a jolt through his left arm and the next thing he knew, Draco's body was impaled upon the sword of Salazar Slytherin held in Harry's left hand. Draco let out a scream of agony, enough to distract the warring parties of Sirius, Voldemort and Wormtail. This moment of distraction proved too long; Sirius cried out and fell to the ground. Harry moved again, yanking the sword free from Draco's body, widening the wound that gaped through the other boy's stomach and out of his back. Draco let out a gurgling cry as he slumped to the floor, blood pouring from his body, an expression of pained surprise on his face.
"So Harry, it shall be just you and me," said Voldemort. Harry noticed that he was looking strange, his eyes held an expression that he had not seen there before and they were fixed upon the sword.
"You're afraid," he said, wonder in his voice as he stared down at the blood-drenched sword clutched in his bloody hand. He wiped Draco's blood off onto his robes and hefted the sword.
"This can hurt you," he said, suddenly realising the power of the weapon he held. "The sword of your ancestor, a man without whom you could not have existed, that can break all of your spells. A blow from this sword would kill you stone dead."
"Avada Kedavra!" yelled Voldemort. Harry watched the green light flare towards him, lifting the sword in a feeble defence as he dodged. The light hit the blade, burning the blood on it to a black stain and deflecting harmlessly into the wall. Harry snarled an unintelligible challenge and lunged towards Voldemort. Voldemort screamed a curse, but Harry was too quick for him, dodging away yet again, the spell shooting past his ear. He heard Wormtail shout something, spun around to face this new threat, and saw that Wormtail was staring in amazement and horror at a charred stick in his hand.
"My wand!" he exclaimed in panic. "What's happened to my wand?"
'Of course! He owes me his life, and so he cannot take mine!' thought Harry. He dived for Voldemort, who was shouting to Wormtail to use Draco's wand. Dropping his wand, he hefted the sword in both hands and swung it at Voldemort, slicing him on the arm. Voldemort screamed, and Harry knew that he was right. With this weapon, Voldemort could be killed. On the floor behind Voldemort, he saw Sirius stir. His heart lifted; his godfather wasn't dead, but Voldemort shouted a curse and Harry was forced to dodge, picking up his wand and sending Voldemort a curse of his own, trying to get close enough to use the sword again. Behind Voldemort, Sirius shouted an arcane word. The room was filled with blue light. Voldemort stumbled, automatically throwing up an arm to shield his eyes. Harry didn't wait for him to recover. He lunged at Voldemort, swinging the sword with little finesse but great determination. He felt the sword connect with the flesh of Voldemort's body, felt the flesh give and the sword slide through. The room swelled, filling with green light which completely obliterated the blue. Voldemort screamed, an anguished scream of pain and despair. Harry held onto the sword tightly, dragging it through the Dark Lord's body, severing bone and muscle. Gouts of blood burst from Voldemort's slender frame but Harry hung on grimly. The green light shone brighter and brighter, the scream rose in pitch until Harry thought he would be both blinded and deafened, until suddenly both the noise and the light stopped. The resistance against the sword was gone, and Harry very nearly fell over. He let his arms fall, but continued to clutch the sword in both hands as he stared at the twisted, blackened body of Voldemort, lying on the floor. This time there could be no argument. The Dark Lord was dead. Wormtail stared at the shrunken corpse of his master in awe.
"Petrificus Totalus," said Sirius. "Sorry Peter," he said flatly as the small man fell to the floor, "but I want to clear my name, and I don't trust you not to run off again."
But Harry had stopped listening. Dropping the sword, he moved over to the spot where Draco lay. He knelt beside the boy, reaching out to smooth back the now tousled and bloodstained blond hair. Draco's eyes opened, and Harry stifled a gasp of surprise. He had expected him to be dead, the feeling of Draco's body impacting on the sword was a foggy blur, but he knew that the memory of it would haunt him for the rest of his life. Glancing down at Draco's stomach, he realised that if Draco was alive now, he wouldn't be for much longer. The blood pouring from the stomach wound Harry had inflicted showed that Draco would bleed to death soon. The smell of stomach juices confirmed the truth, that not even magic could save Draco now.
"Oh Draco, I'm sorry," he said softly. The blond was staring at him, his eyes full of fear and rage.
"Don't be afraid," said Harry gently. "The pain will stop soon."
"Don't... want..." rasped Draco hoarsely, a thin trickle of blood sliding down his chin.
"I still love you," said Harry warmly. "I'll stay with you Draco, until the end."
"Not...fair..." he croaked.
"Nothing ever is my love. Nothing ever is." Draco stared at him, eyes full of rage. Harry took his hand, holding it tightly with his left hand and stroking the other boy's hair with his right. Draco shuddered, and Harry felt himself freeze, guessing that this was the end.
"Not... all... an.. act.." gasped Draco, his eyes suddenly pleading. "Love... you..." He inhaled chokingly, the blood foaming from his lips. "Tried..." he slurred. "Forgive?..." he groaned.
"I love you Draco," said Harry earnestly. "It wasn't easy for you, and I can forgive you." Draco closed his eyes. His body spasmed, a long-drawn-out rattle came from his throat. When his body relaxed, the hand in Harry's was limp. Draco Malfoy lived no more.
Harry gently placed Draco's hand by his side. The blonde's eyes were closed, his face looked peaceful. Harry stood carefully, trying not to disturb him and turned to face Sirius.
"We'd better contact the Ministry. See if what he said was true."
Sirius nodded and moved over to the fire. Harry watched dully, keeping an eye on Lucius and Pettigrew, both still held by the full Body-Bind he and Sirius had cast on them. Suddenly there was a pop and Dumbledore appeared, surrounded by high-up military officials. Harry saw Dumbledore glance around the room and flinch, watched the colour drain out of his face. Surprised, he looked around, seeing the room for the first time. The whole place was splattered with blood, both Voldemort's and Draco's. Voldemort's blackened corpse lay on the floor, the carpet around it bloodstained and scorched by the light of the magic released from his frame. The corpse itself was grotesque, a shrivelled hump of hacked flesh and twisted limbs. Draco's body lay at Harry's feet; with a tremor of mingled disgust and shame, Harry realised he was standing in the pool of blood which had seeped from the body. Harry realised that he himself was covered in blood, the robes he had worn when he left the Weasleys were pasted to his body, his glasses were spattered with blood and he could hardly see through them.
"I'm sorry," he said softly.
Ministry officials hurried to Lucius and Peter, freeing them from the spell that bound them and motioning them to their feet. Wormtail stared at the floor, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Lucius's eyes were fixed on the body of his son.
"We'll need a statement." said one of the officials gruffly. "We'll take these two now and come back for the... others later."
"I'll handle it," said Dumbledore calmly. The official nodded.
"We trust you sir." he said, before he apparated away, leaving Harry, Sirius and Dumbledore alone.
"Perhaps you'd better explain," said Dumbledore.
***
That evening, Harry sat at the table, holding a mug of now-cold hot chocolate in his hands.
"You're supposed to drink it, not look at it," said Sirius gently. The room was now mostly back to rights. No one walking through the door for the first time now would guess that only that morning two men had bled to death on this very carpet. Those who had been there before might have noticed that the furniture looked more battered than it had previously, and some of it was broken, but otherwise the ministry wizards had done their clean-up job well and there was no real sign that anything untoward had occurred.
"I don't want it," said Harry abruptly, pushing it away from him. Sirius regarded him gently.
"Things pass, Harry," he said softly. "Life will never be the same, but there will be a time when this pain isn't as bad."
"I killed them both," said Harry, feeling beginning to seep back into his head, replacing the hollow numbness with a deep, aching despair. "Draco and Ron. He'd told me before that he didn't trust Malfoy, that he thought something was going on, and I didn't believe him and he died!" Harry stared at Sirius. "How can I cope with that?"
"Harry, I'll be honest here. I don't know. I feel the same about your father. I persuaded him to use Peter instead of me, remember? I don't know how you cope with it, but I know you can. You are not alone Harry. Even with Ron and Hermione gone, there are still people who care about you. I will help you in any way I can. So will Dumbledore, so will Hagrid, so will the Weasleys."
"But I killed their son!" interrupted Harry. "How can they forgive me for that?"
"You didn't kill him, Draco did. Sure, perhaps he wouldn't have died then if you hadn't been dating Draco, but he might have died later. Without Voldemort's plan to ensnare you through Draco, he would have attacked you in another way, perhaps through Ron. You can't know what would have happened if things had been different."
Harry nodded, feigning acceptance of his godfather's words, but inside he felt nothing of the kind. 'I should have done something' he thought. ' There must have been some way of knowing, there must have been another choice I could have made,'
"Can you imagine your past without Draco?" asked Sirius softly. Harry looked at him in shock, and Sirius grinned sadly. "Best get some sleep Harry. We've got the rest of your life to discuss the what-ifs. Sleep is what you need now."
"Goodnight Sirius," said Harry, standing up from his seat at the table and making his way to his room. "Thanks,"
"Well, what am I here for?" asked Sirius jokingly. He got up from the table and ruffled Harry's hair as he walked past. Harry gave him a weak smile and went into his room. He didn't bother to turn on the light, but instead walked over to the mirror standing on the desk. It wasn't as elaborate as the mirror he'd given Draco, but it showed him a reflection, and that was all it needed to do. His face looked strange somehow. In one way there was nothing he could put his finger on, no one thing he could point to and say 'This is what the last two days has done to me.' Apart from the huge bruise on his chin, a bruise which would fade with time, the face staring back was still the same as it had been when he had first arrived at the flat the day before, the same face that had stared back from the bathroom mirror at the Dursleys. But in another way he was completely changed. His eyes shone a vivid, eerie green, the bruise on his jaw adding to the effect this created to emphasis the exception pallor of his skin. His hair, limp and lifeless, tangled before his eyes. Through his glasses, Harry could see that his eyes held a haunted, hunted look that made him look much older than his recently-gained eighteen years. With a snarl he turned away from the mirror and threw himself face-down on the bed. Draco's face floated before him, the rage in his eyes when he had realised that he was going to die. He stared at the picture in his mind, wishing that there was something he could do. Gradually, Draco's face altered itself so that it was Ron staring at him, the hurt look in his eyes cutting Harry to the bone. 'I'm sorry,' he thought desperately, before beginning to cry, silently at first but then louder as the realisation of the events of the last few days, the last few years, began to hit him.
When he had cried himself out, Harry rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling, remembering the events of the last few years and wondering what he should do next.
Last part coming soon! Thank you so much to all the reviewers - I feel really loved! Sorry to those of you who asked for a happy ending though! Please review this part as nicely as you reviewed the last one!
Disclaimer - I do not own the characters, and I make no money (from this or from anything else!). This is not intended as copyright infringement, please do not sue!
Harry did not sleep at all that night. He didn't even try, just sat staring into space. He re-read the last two diary entries over and over again, a sensation of numb horror settling over his shoulders like a heavy weight. He relived all his time with Draco, trying to see whether there had been any clues, whether he should have seen this all along instead of missing it completely. His boyfriend, the man he had been in love with for over two years, was a murderer. Somehow, probably using the Imperious curse, he had made Ron hang himself. Had he watched as Ron flailed at the end of the rope, choking and gasping his life away? Had he spoken to Ron first, or hit him with the curse from behind as Ron stood waiting for him trustingly at the top of the stairs? Harry believed the diary implicitly now - what reason would Ron have to lie in his diary, in a book that he was not expecting anyone else ever to read. Despite Harry's desperate attempts to find some explanation, he knew that there was none other than that spelt out in the diary. Draco Malfoy had murdered Ron Weasley. Harry's boyfriend had murdered his best friend. Harry knew Draco could use the Dark Arts - Draco had occasionally spoken of them to Harry; they had discussed the fact that he had to learn them, had to do what he was told or face the loss of his family and lands his family had owned for centuries and possible death. Harry had sympathised at the time, but now he thought detachedly that it had all been lies, that Draco loved the Dark Arts, loved being able to torture and kill with a single word. For Draco to have used the Imperious Curse was perfectly possible. Too stunned even to cry, Harry sat by the window, waiting for dawn, waiting for Sirius to wake so he could confess what he'd done.
At about four, Hedwig returned from delivering the letter to Draco, the letter confessing the theft of the diaries, the letter containing another declaration of love. Harry caressed Hedwig's head thoughtfully, a vague thought trying to make itself heard among all the others clamouring for his attention. The snowy owl seemed to sense that her owner was upset, she hooted quietly and gave him a small nip before flying to her cage. Harry sat until dawn, lost in a haze of memories.
When Harry could hear Sirius in the kitchen, singing cheerfully to himself as he burnt some toast, he stood stiffly and made his way to the door, trying to stretch some of the stiffness from his limbs. Clutching the diary in his hand he pushed open the door.
"Morning Harry! Sleep well?" asked Sirius, his gaze fixed intently on the toast as if daring it to burn again.
"Sirius," said Harry. His voice sounded cracked and hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken for years. "Sirius, I've made a mistake. I've made a terrible mistake."
"I rather think you have," drawled a familiar voice. Harry and Sirius whipped around in time to see Draco Malfoy stroll jauntily out of Sirius's bedroom, closely followed by his father, Lord Voldemort and Wormtail. Sirius inhaled sharply at the sight of Wormtail, but otherwise said nothing. Harry stared at his lover. Draco looked poised, elegant and completely in control. Harry searched his face in vain for any sign that what they had shared, what he had thought they shared, was not all an illusion.
"You killed Ron," he said softly. "You murdered him in cold blood."
"True," said Draco, without a hint of regret. "He was in my way. He both prevented you from being completely mine and held the means to destroy me. He had to go."
"Why?" asked Harry, the pain in his voice making Sirius wince.
"Because I asked him to," said Voldemort. "And look, our plan worked. The great Harry Potter, in love with a Malfoy. Can't eat, can't sleep for pining over a boy your own common sense should have told you could never be yours. Still, I suppose that's Gryffindors for you. Blindly trusting, just like your friend Ron,"
"You aren't worthy to speak his name." snapped Harry. He stared at Voldemort in rage, almost ready to launch himself at the Dark Lord, the fact that he was unarmed and defenceless barely crossing his mind.
"There must be something else," said Sirius into the momentary pause. Harry darted a look of confusion at him, he suspected that Sirius was trying to tell him something, but he wasn't sure what.
"I mean, this is a lot of effort to go to to destroy one boy. Just because he had lived so far was no guarantee he would live again. What else do you want from him?"
"Maybe you've finally grown up, Padfoot," sneered Wormtail, spitting Sirius's childhood nickname like a curse. "Perhaps you've learned to see the bigger picture at last."
"The information he passed us was very helpful," said Voldemort casually. "At this very moment my Dementors are taking down your strongholds. Within hours, the wizarding world will be mine, and mine alone. Fudge is dead, and Dumbledore will soon join him, thanks to Harry,"
"No," Harry whispered, staring at Draco in horror.
"Yes," said the other boy smugly. "All your letters went straight to my father and the useful information in them was immediately made known to those it concerned. Did you not wonder why you were making so little progress? We knew about most of your raids. Only those who had incurred the wrath of the Dark Lord were left there. You have helped us to victory Harry, and with what you have given us we will eliminate all the Mudblood magic-users and those who are unworthy to study magic."
"And so, the Boy Who Lived looks out on the last day of his life," hissed Voldemort softly. "What do you see child? You lived a lie, clinging to illusions. Will you accept the inevitable and die like a man?"
"I will not make it easy for you," said Harry staunchly, hoping that Sirius had prepared whatever it was he was going to do.
"I expected you wouldn't," said Voldemort calmly. Suddenly his wand was in his hand. Harry heard a shout and threw himself to the floor. Voldemort shouted another word, and Sirius's spell rebounded off a magical shield.
"Go!" yelled Sirius. Harry dived for his bedroom, knowing nothing except that he had to reach his wand. Slamming the door behind him in a vain attempt to buy himself some time, he dived for his trunk. As he grabbed his wand, his hand brushed the sword. He grasped it quickly in his hand, holding the wand in his right. The door behind him exploded in a cloud of splinters, a lump of wood hitting Harry so hard on the side of his face that he staggered and nearly fell. He turned quickly, feeling dazed, to see the figure silhouetted in the doorway lifting his wand.
"IMPEDIMENTA!" yelled Harry, pointing his wand at the blond figure. He heard him begin a spell, but saw him go rigid and freeze and knew his spell had worked.
"Petrificus Totalus," he said calmly, and the frozen figure fell to the floor. Harry quickly darted out into the main room, stepping over the figure in the doorway, not caring if it was Lucius or Draco. Sirius was in the middle of a pitched battle against Voldemort and Wormtail. Where was the other Malfoy? Harry heard a noise behind him, and spun around.
The next few moments seemed to go in slow motion. As Harry turned, the figure must have lunged at him because Harry saw Draco diving towards him, felt a jolt through his left arm and the next thing he knew, Draco's body was impaled upon the sword of Salazar Slytherin held in Harry's left hand. Draco let out a scream of agony, enough to distract the warring parties of Sirius, Voldemort and Wormtail. This moment of distraction proved too long; Sirius cried out and fell to the ground. Harry moved again, yanking the sword free from Draco's body, widening the wound that gaped through the other boy's stomach and out of his back. Draco let out a gurgling cry as he slumped to the floor, blood pouring from his body, an expression of pained surprise on his face.
"So Harry, it shall be just you and me," said Voldemort. Harry noticed that he was looking strange, his eyes held an expression that he had not seen there before and they were fixed upon the sword.
"You're afraid," he said, wonder in his voice as he stared down at the blood-drenched sword clutched in his bloody hand. He wiped Draco's blood off onto his robes and hefted the sword.
"This can hurt you," he said, suddenly realising the power of the weapon he held. "The sword of your ancestor, a man without whom you could not have existed, that can break all of your spells. A blow from this sword would kill you stone dead."
"Avada Kedavra!" yelled Voldemort. Harry watched the green light flare towards him, lifting the sword in a feeble defence as he dodged. The light hit the blade, burning the blood on it to a black stain and deflecting harmlessly into the wall. Harry snarled an unintelligible challenge and lunged towards Voldemort. Voldemort screamed a curse, but Harry was too quick for him, dodging away yet again, the spell shooting past his ear. He heard Wormtail shout something, spun around to face this new threat, and saw that Wormtail was staring in amazement and horror at a charred stick in his hand.
"My wand!" he exclaimed in panic. "What's happened to my wand?"
'Of course! He owes me his life, and so he cannot take mine!' thought Harry. He dived for Voldemort, who was shouting to Wormtail to use Draco's wand. Dropping his wand, he hefted the sword in both hands and swung it at Voldemort, slicing him on the arm. Voldemort screamed, and Harry knew that he was right. With this weapon, Voldemort could be killed. On the floor behind Voldemort, he saw Sirius stir. His heart lifted; his godfather wasn't dead, but Voldemort shouted a curse and Harry was forced to dodge, picking up his wand and sending Voldemort a curse of his own, trying to get close enough to use the sword again. Behind Voldemort, Sirius shouted an arcane word. The room was filled with blue light. Voldemort stumbled, automatically throwing up an arm to shield his eyes. Harry didn't wait for him to recover. He lunged at Voldemort, swinging the sword with little finesse but great determination. He felt the sword connect with the flesh of Voldemort's body, felt the flesh give and the sword slide through. The room swelled, filling with green light which completely obliterated the blue. Voldemort screamed, an anguished scream of pain and despair. Harry held onto the sword tightly, dragging it through the Dark Lord's body, severing bone and muscle. Gouts of blood burst from Voldemort's slender frame but Harry hung on grimly. The green light shone brighter and brighter, the scream rose in pitch until Harry thought he would be both blinded and deafened, until suddenly both the noise and the light stopped. The resistance against the sword was gone, and Harry very nearly fell over. He let his arms fall, but continued to clutch the sword in both hands as he stared at the twisted, blackened body of Voldemort, lying on the floor. This time there could be no argument. The Dark Lord was dead. Wormtail stared at the shrunken corpse of his master in awe.
"Petrificus Totalus," said Sirius. "Sorry Peter," he said flatly as the small man fell to the floor, "but I want to clear my name, and I don't trust you not to run off again."
But Harry had stopped listening. Dropping the sword, he moved over to the spot where Draco lay. He knelt beside the boy, reaching out to smooth back the now tousled and bloodstained blond hair. Draco's eyes opened, and Harry stifled a gasp of surprise. He had expected him to be dead, the feeling of Draco's body impacting on the sword was a foggy blur, but he knew that the memory of it would haunt him for the rest of his life. Glancing down at Draco's stomach, he realised that if Draco was alive now, he wouldn't be for much longer. The blood pouring from the stomach wound Harry had inflicted showed that Draco would bleed to death soon. The smell of stomach juices confirmed the truth, that not even magic could save Draco now.
"Oh Draco, I'm sorry," he said softly. The blond was staring at him, his eyes full of fear and rage.
"Don't be afraid," said Harry gently. "The pain will stop soon."
"Don't... want..." rasped Draco hoarsely, a thin trickle of blood sliding down his chin.
"I still love you," said Harry warmly. "I'll stay with you Draco, until the end."
"Not...fair..." he croaked.
"Nothing ever is my love. Nothing ever is." Draco stared at him, eyes full of rage. Harry took his hand, holding it tightly with his left hand and stroking the other boy's hair with his right. Draco shuddered, and Harry felt himself freeze, guessing that this was the end.
"Not... all... an.. act.." gasped Draco, his eyes suddenly pleading. "Love... you..." He inhaled chokingly, the blood foaming from his lips. "Tried..." he slurred. "Forgive?..." he groaned.
"I love you Draco," said Harry earnestly. "It wasn't easy for you, and I can forgive you." Draco closed his eyes. His body spasmed, a long-drawn-out rattle came from his throat. When his body relaxed, the hand in Harry's was limp. Draco Malfoy lived no more.
Harry gently placed Draco's hand by his side. The blonde's eyes were closed, his face looked peaceful. Harry stood carefully, trying not to disturb him and turned to face Sirius.
"We'd better contact the Ministry. See if what he said was true."
Sirius nodded and moved over to the fire. Harry watched dully, keeping an eye on Lucius and Pettigrew, both still held by the full Body-Bind he and Sirius had cast on them. Suddenly there was a pop and Dumbledore appeared, surrounded by high-up military officials. Harry saw Dumbledore glance around the room and flinch, watched the colour drain out of his face. Surprised, he looked around, seeing the room for the first time. The whole place was splattered with blood, both Voldemort's and Draco's. Voldemort's blackened corpse lay on the floor, the carpet around it bloodstained and scorched by the light of the magic released from his frame. The corpse itself was grotesque, a shrivelled hump of hacked flesh and twisted limbs. Draco's body lay at Harry's feet; with a tremor of mingled disgust and shame, Harry realised he was standing in the pool of blood which had seeped from the body. Harry realised that he himself was covered in blood, the robes he had worn when he left the Weasleys were pasted to his body, his glasses were spattered with blood and he could hardly see through them.
"I'm sorry," he said softly.
Ministry officials hurried to Lucius and Peter, freeing them from the spell that bound them and motioning them to their feet. Wormtail stared at the floor, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Lucius's eyes were fixed on the body of his son.
"We'll need a statement." said one of the officials gruffly. "We'll take these two now and come back for the... others later."
"I'll handle it," said Dumbledore calmly. The official nodded.
"We trust you sir." he said, before he apparated away, leaving Harry, Sirius and Dumbledore alone.
"Perhaps you'd better explain," said Dumbledore.
***
That evening, Harry sat at the table, holding a mug of now-cold hot chocolate in his hands.
"You're supposed to drink it, not look at it," said Sirius gently. The room was now mostly back to rights. No one walking through the door for the first time now would guess that only that morning two men had bled to death on this very carpet. Those who had been there before might have noticed that the furniture looked more battered than it had previously, and some of it was broken, but otherwise the ministry wizards had done their clean-up job well and there was no real sign that anything untoward had occurred.
"I don't want it," said Harry abruptly, pushing it away from him. Sirius regarded him gently.
"Things pass, Harry," he said softly. "Life will never be the same, but there will be a time when this pain isn't as bad."
"I killed them both," said Harry, feeling beginning to seep back into his head, replacing the hollow numbness with a deep, aching despair. "Draco and Ron. He'd told me before that he didn't trust Malfoy, that he thought something was going on, and I didn't believe him and he died!" Harry stared at Sirius. "How can I cope with that?"
"Harry, I'll be honest here. I don't know. I feel the same about your father. I persuaded him to use Peter instead of me, remember? I don't know how you cope with it, but I know you can. You are not alone Harry. Even with Ron and Hermione gone, there are still people who care about you. I will help you in any way I can. So will Dumbledore, so will Hagrid, so will the Weasleys."
"But I killed their son!" interrupted Harry. "How can they forgive me for that?"
"You didn't kill him, Draco did. Sure, perhaps he wouldn't have died then if you hadn't been dating Draco, but he might have died later. Without Voldemort's plan to ensnare you through Draco, he would have attacked you in another way, perhaps through Ron. You can't know what would have happened if things had been different."
Harry nodded, feigning acceptance of his godfather's words, but inside he felt nothing of the kind. 'I should have done something' he thought. ' There must have been some way of knowing, there must have been another choice I could have made,'
"Can you imagine your past without Draco?" asked Sirius softly. Harry looked at him in shock, and Sirius grinned sadly. "Best get some sleep Harry. We've got the rest of your life to discuss the what-ifs. Sleep is what you need now."
"Goodnight Sirius," said Harry, standing up from his seat at the table and making his way to his room. "Thanks,"
"Well, what am I here for?" asked Sirius jokingly. He got up from the table and ruffled Harry's hair as he walked past. Harry gave him a weak smile and went into his room. He didn't bother to turn on the light, but instead walked over to the mirror standing on the desk. It wasn't as elaborate as the mirror he'd given Draco, but it showed him a reflection, and that was all it needed to do. His face looked strange somehow. In one way there was nothing he could put his finger on, no one thing he could point to and say 'This is what the last two days has done to me.' Apart from the huge bruise on his chin, a bruise which would fade with time, the face staring back was still the same as it had been when he had first arrived at the flat the day before, the same face that had stared back from the bathroom mirror at the Dursleys. But in another way he was completely changed. His eyes shone a vivid, eerie green, the bruise on his jaw adding to the effect this created to emphasis the exception pallor of his skin. His hair, limp and lifeless, tangled before his eyes. Through his glasses, Harry could see that his eyes held a haunted, hunted look that made him look much older than his recently-gained eighteen years. With a snarl he turned away from the mirror and threw himself face-down on the bed. Draco's face floated before him, the rage in his eyes when he had realised that he was going to die. He stared at the picture in his mind, wishing that there was something he could do. Gradually, Draco's face altered itself so that it was Ron staring at him, the hurt look in his eyes cutting Harry to the bone. 'I'm sorry,' he thought desperately, before beginning to cry, silently at first but then louder as the realisation of the events of the last few days, the last few years, began to hit him.
When he had cried himself out, Harry rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling, remembering the events of the last few years and wondering what he should do next.
Last part coming soon! Thank you so much to all the reviewers - I feel really loved! Sorry to those of you who asked for a happy ending though! Please review this part as nicely as you reviewed the last one!