Lucius had just opened his eyes when Draco gifted him with a good, swift kick to the ribs.

"Hello, father," he drawled, as the elder Malfoy scrambled up to his knees, snarling. "Time to rise and shine. We're going to have ourselves a little duel, you and I. On your feet."

Lucius glared from Draco to Harry- both of whom had their wands trained steadily on his chest- and back again as he stood. "You really want to take me on…son?" he asked in a low voice.

"With Harry here to make sure you play fair, yes, father, I do. If you try to curse me prematurely, he will kill you. After what you've done to both his best friends, I don't doubt for a minute that he has the will to do so- and neither should you."

Lucius looked again to Harry- and saw death looking back from the green depths of his eyes. Yes, Harry was prepared to kill.

Lucius swallowed hard.

"Well, father?" Draco prompted. "This is how it ends. You are armed, so am I. Harry will not act unless you attempt something dishonorable. So- are you ready to take me on man-to-man?"

The older man's lip pulled back and he met his son glare for glare. Then, without another word, he whipped his wand sharply up and then down in a quick salute.

Draco followed suit, then turned on his heel to pace off the prescribed dueling distance.

Lucius, for his part, turned as well-

And fled.

Harry gave a shout and Draco reacted instantly, whirling back around, thinking that his father was attempting to curse him while his back was turned. When he saw what was, in fact, occurring, he gave a snarl of outrage and fixed his wand on Lucius' retreating back. He saw that Harry had done the same. A look as quick as lightning, and as powerful, flashed between the two boys, and just as Lucius reached the door he had been making for, they cried with one voice,

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The two jets of green light emitted from their wands merged into one before hitting Lucius in the back, sending him sprawling forward onto the floor where he lay as he had fallen, utterly still.

For a moment, EVERYTHING was utterly still- Harry and Draco both deep in shock, trying to process what had just happened so quickly. Then,

"Oh my God," Draco breathed, and staggered backward. He would have fallen if he had not fetched up against the banister of the stairs. He was ashen- the palest Harry had ever seen him, and that included the time he had very nearly bled to death, thanks to Harry himself.

"Malfoy," Harry said, and then, more gently, "Draco-?"

Draco turned toward Harry then, his eyes so huge they seemed to take up half his pale face. "Potter," he whispered, "check him, will you? I can't."

Harry believed this. It appeared to be all Draco could do to hold himself upright at the moment. He advanced warily on Lucius, wand still out and trained on the body, ready for anything- all his previous encounters with dark wizards had taught him that there was no such thing as too much caution in situations like these- but deep down, he knew, just as Draco seemed to, that it was over. Lucius was not playing dead.

This was the real thing.

Reaching the body, Harry kicked Lucius over onto his back and stared down for a long moment into the glazed and totally lifeless eyes. Then he dropped to one knee and checked for a pulse; there was none. Seizing a corner of Lucius' black cloak, he flipped it up and over the dead man's face, concealing it. He turned back to Draco, who, he saw, had sat down heavily on the lowest step and was hunched forward, elbows on his knees and face buried in his hands.

"Draco."

There was no response. Harry stood and approached the blond boy, who did not look up. "He's dead."

Draco sucked in a long, shuddery breath and finally raised his head. His eyes, when they met Harry's, were haunted.

"I looked up to him," he whispered.

Harry said nothing; he could not think of a thing to say.

"All my life," Draco continued, "I looked up to him. I idolized him. I wanted nothing more than to please him, to be like him, to…to make him proud. And he was nothing but a fucking coward, a coward to the end! I didn't want to curse him in the back…I had no choice, he- he couldn't even face me like a man. God, Potter. And I'd still be looking up to him if it weren't for…for last year, if it weren't for…oh, bloody hell! Hermione!"

He launched himself from the step he'd been sitting on, moving so fast that he appeared to materialize at her side as if he'd apparated there. By the time Harry had fully registered the fact that he'd moved at all and had turned toward where they'd left Hermione, Draco was in the process of standing with her once again cradled securely in his arms.

"Come on, Potter. We have to get out of here! Now!"

And without another word he was running for the front door. Harry, right behind him, waved his wand at the double doors, causing them to fly open just before Draco reached them.

"Thanks, Potter," Draco said, not looking around or breaking his stride. He took the manor's front steps two at a time and then was racing across the grounds, toward the gate past which they could portkey back to Hogwarts. He didn't even miss a beat when he felt Hermione's arms come up and clasp loosely about his neck, just muttered "oh, thank God!" and then murmured softly to her as he ran, "that's it, sweetheart, stay with me now, we're almost there."

Then he was skidding through the gate, turning even as he did so to watch Harry's approach- he had fallen a short ways behind, despite his best efforts to keep up, and no wonder, really- even with Draco's pain-reducing spell he had to be in agony, running with at least one broken rib, and, Draco suspected, probably more like two or three.

As Harry reached him, sinking to his knees with both arms clasped protectively about his body, breath coming in rapid, pained gasps, Draco fumbled the portkey out of his pocket and went down on one knee beside Harry, shifting Hermione in his arms so that he could get a secure grip on Harry as well as on her. She seemed to realize something of his quandary and tightened her arms about his neck, making his job slightly easier.

He smiled into her hair. "Hermione? You with me, love? You awake?"

"Mmh."

"Good. I want you to try to stay awake now, okay? We're nearly there. All we have to do now is portkey and we'll be back, we'll be…home. So just hold it together for a minute longer, all right? Hermione? PLEASE stay awake now, stay with me- Hermione?"

He felt her nod against his chest, just before another shudder ripped through her body.

"Potter," he said through suddenly clenched teeth, "grab the portkey. Right now."

Harry pried one arm away from his body and did so, grimacing. His head fell forward onto Draco's shoulder, his jet black hair mingling with Hermione's. He held onto the egg cup as if for dear life as Draco placed it against the smooth skin of Hermione's cheek.

"Hold on, both of you," Draco said- then, "activate."

00000

Draco landed hard on his back at the top of the stone front steps of Hogwarts. Though the wind was knocked out of him by the rough landing, he instantly scrambled to his knees, looking frantically about for Hermione. He located her some distance away, lying face-down, halfway down the steps. Her dark hair was fanned out about her head, and she wasn't moving.

"HERMIONE!" Not pausing to see where, or even whether, Harry had landed, he scrambled on his hands and knees down to where she lay. Bending close over her, he gently pushed her hair back from where it fell across her face. "Hermione?" his voice was a strangled whisper- "Hermione- Goddamn it, I told you to stay awake! Shit! Hermione…please." He rolled her onto her back, gathered her into his arms, and struggled with her back up to the top of the steps.

Laying her flat on her back on the landing, he slipped one hand beneath her head to cushion it and with the other, began stroking her cheek, his tears again beginning to fall unchecked onto her still face.

"Malfoy," came a voice at his elbow. He raised his head to see Harry there, staring down at Hermione, ashen-faced.

"Potter," he croaked, "go get Snape. Tell him- the poison…smells sweet, like licorice…but tastes foul…takes two hours to show effects. I think it's a pretty new potion- maybe one of my father's original creations. Tell him if he knows what it is- if there's an antidote- to bring it, quick!" Still Harry stared at the lifeless form of his friend, seemingly in shock. "Potter, for God's sake, go- NOW!"

With a great, shuddering breath, Harry stumbled to his feet and made for the front door. He was bent nearly double, with one arm wrapped tightly about his middle, but though his jaw was clenched and his face betrayed the excruciating pain he was in, he still moved remarkably quickly. In a second's time he was through the door and gone. Draco knew that he himself, being for the most part uninjured, could doubtless move even faster, but he couldn't go. He could no sooner leave her there than rip out his own heart and leave it lying on the cold, hard stone.

"Hermione," he whispered; "oh God, please wake up." He fumbled his wand out of his robe one-handed, the other hand still cushioning her head. Placing it against her chest, he again murmured "Ennervate," just as he had back at the manor. Her eyelids fluttered and she gave a tiny moan; that was all. She had to be really far gone, he realized despairingly, in order for the spell to fail to revive her.

Harsh sobs began to wrack his body. Gently easing his hand out from beneath her head, he laid himself down beside her and buried his face in her chest, his whole body convulsing with the power of his sobs. "Hermione," he gasped, "don't leave me here!" Suddenly he remembered a quote from a book he had read earlier in the year in Muggle Studies class, which he had finally enrolled in, after years of shunning it, in order to learn about the culture that had produced the woman he loved. The book was an old muggle romance called "Wuthering Heights". He had found himself identifying surprisingly well with the story's protagonist, Heathcliff; a brooding loner who had somehow managed to win the love of a most remarkable woman.

Now, tightening his arms about Hermione, he groaned, "do not leave me in this abyss where I cannot find you! Oh God, it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!"

A second later he jerked his face up with a gasp of surprise, feeling a feather-light touch on the top of his head. Hermione, amazingly, had regained consciousness and was stroking a hand gently through his hair. She smiled when he met her eyes- she didn't appear to be in pain an longer; only very, very tired. She let her hand fall back to the ground.

"Wuthering Heights," she whispered; "a bit melodramatic…don't you think, Malfoy?"

"Hermione," he breathed, cupping her face in both his hands.

"Don't compare me to Catherine," she said then, very seriously. "I never liked her much. She had a good thing and she let it go, and then spent the rest of her life whining about it. Whereas I-" with a great effort she raised her hand again and lightly caressed his cheek- "I have no regrets. And if our time together came at a price, that's to be expected, really. Most good things do. It was-" she paused as pain flashed briefly behind her eyes- "it was worth it. I love you, Draco. So, so much."

"No," Draco choked out; "Hermione, please no. Don't do that. Don't say goodbye!"

Tears started in her eyes. "I can't…fight this anymore," she whispered sadly, and he saw that indeed, the light was fading from her eyes again. "I'm so sorry I…couldn't be stronger for you…I would have loved to marry you. But I'm weak-" the tears escaped then, though she tried to blink them back, and rolled down the sides of her face to lose themselves in her hair as she gazed up at him.

"You are NOT weak," Draco said fiercely. "You are the strongest, bravest, smartest, most beautiful and independent woman I know. Do you think I would accept any less for my wife?"

She smiled up at him through her tears. It was a sleepy smile- her eyes were growing heavy-lidded…

"Wait," he cried desperately. "Hold on, love, just a moment more- I have something for you. Wait-" He groped for his wand where he had dropped it on the steps, and finding it, pointed it in the general direction of Gryffindor Tower and muttered, "Accio!" He had just time to lean down and plant a kiss on the tip of Hermione's nose before he was alerted by a whizzing noise and, reaching up, snatched a tiny object out of the air with the same precision he had always used when catching the golden snitch. This object was no bigger than a snitch; it was a tiny, black velvet jewelry box.

"Hermione, look," he pleaded, holding the box in front of her face so that she couldn't help but see. She blinked slowly, once; twice- and seemed to regain at least a measure of focus in her eyes.

"Draco…what-?"

"Shh- just look." He popped open the box, revealing the ring within. A single, pear-shaped diamond graced a plain, slender platinum band. The stone was not large- but it was flawless, and in impeccable taste. "What do you think?"

She took a deep, hitching breath, clearly rallying herself to speak. "Draco, it's…beautiful. But you shouldn't give it to me. Keep it; you'll find someone else for it. I don't want you…to waste your whole life mourning me. It's not-" and a tiny smile flitted across her face- "it's not practical."

Draco's face literally contorted for a second with agony; he looked quickly down and away, not wanting her to see his pain. Why burden her with it now? When he spoke, still looking away, his voice was hoarse with emotion. "This ring belongs to you, and no one but you," he said, and raising her left hand, slid the ring onto her finger.

Oh God Oh God, he thought despairingly, glancing wildly toward the closed front door of the school, where in the HELL are Potter and Snape?

Glancing back down at Hermione, he saw her eyes had again drifted almost completely shut. "NO!" he cried, grasping her by the shoulders and shaking her. Keep her talking! His mind screamed frantically, and he cast about desperately for a topic.

"Hermione, tell me- tell me-"

"What?" Her voice was barely audible.

"The wedding," he said, his eyes lighting on the sparkling stone on her finger; "tell me about our wedding. Every detail. Whatever you want. Name it and it's yours."

"Wedding?" she echoed, in a faint, puzzled voice.

"Yes," Draco half-sobbed, his voice now tinged with hysteria. "Girls love to plan weddings, right? Pansy had her wedding to me planned halfway through first year!"

"Oh…right. I suppose so."

Draco got the distinct impression that she was simply trying to humor him now. (I should have posed her an arithmancy problem instead, he thought distractedly.) But let her humor him. He didn't care. Just so long as she kept talking…. "So, what do you want?" He racked his brain for the components of a wedding. "The…dress, the flowers, the…the cake, tell me!" Again he cupped her face in both his hands, leaning over her so close their noses were nearly touching, willing her to keep her eyes open, to keep looking up at him.

A small frown creased her brow as she appeared to think it over. "I want…a cliff, by the sea, at sunset," she whispered finally, and even as close as he was, he had to strain to hear her. "I…want…two best men, because I could never choose…between them."

Oh Jesus, Draco thought sickly, Ron- she doesn't know about Ron….

"I want a dress…that floats out behind me- silver-white like your hair…a dance, to our song…and…and a…cake, shaped like…a stack of books…because it all…started in…the…"

And then it happened. Her body gave one last convulsive shudder, her hands clenching into fists- she gasped and her eyes flew wide, as if in surprise, as if, despite everything, she really HADN'T actually expected it to come to this- and then the light in them was, completely, all at once extinguished, and with one final exhalation, she went perfectly still.

"No," Draco breathed, stunned.

"Oh.

God.

No."

Suddenly, violently, he pulled her into his arms in a crushing embrace and began rocking back and forth with her, not even realizing what he was doing, out of his mind with grief.

"Hermione," he gasped, "don't go. PLEASE DON'T GO!"

Then he did something he had never done before, in his entire life, as far as he could remember. He began to sing.

"Sometimes when we touch…" he choked out, his face hidden behind the dark curtain of her hair, "the honesty's too much, and I have to close my eyes and hide…I want to hold you til…til…I…" he couldn't go on. Laying her gently back on the ground, he reached down with one shaking hand and closed her lifeless eyes, then lifted her left hand, with the engagement ring flashing on her finger, to his mouth and kissed it tenderly.

Then, still clutching her hand, doubled over with a grief so acute he felt it as a searing physical agony, he did something else he had never done before.

He screamed. And screamed. And screamed.