Harry and Draco trekked until they could no longer see the distant lights of the castle glimmering. On their way, Harry had told Draco everything he'd need to know about being the Boy Who Lived, including Wormtail's life debt to him, his mother and father, Sirius, and Voldemort. Draco, in turn, told Harry every pertinent thing about his life that he could remember. After they'd run out of things to say, they grew quiet and remained so for hours.

After two hours of walking they reached a clearing in the trees. Harry looked around uncertainly.

"How will you know when you've found the right place?" Draco asked.

"I'll know," Harry said. "I can still hear his thoughts, sometimes. I can sense him. He's particularly on edge, as of now. He's looking for you, trying to see if he can sense you coming near. He thinks you're under his spell."

"What spell?"

"He's trying to draw you in, using some kind of ancient magic. There's something wrong with it, though… He's not sure what." Harry said all this with a look of intense concentration on his face.

"You can tell all that?"

"When he's excited, he's easier to understand," Harry answered simply. Draco was still baffled, but asked no more questions.

Hours passed. The moon was full and straight overhead when Harry stopped abruptly.

"This is it," he said. "Quickly, drink the potion!"

They both rummaged through their cloaks for the tiny vials of potion. They downed the gelatinous ooze, and soon they had switched everything: bodies, clothes, even wands. Harry gave Draco his glasses, and said glibly, "Don't break them, or else you'll be blind as a bat, and no help to me at all." They both smiled grimly.

Harry took his wand and tucked it neatly in a tiny pocket in the inside of his sleeve. Draco looked at him curiously.

"Well, Voldemort won't expect you to pull a wand on him. You're supposed to be under his spell, remember?" Harry answered quickly.

He took hold tightly of Draco's arm, and though he still didn't technically know how to Apparate, he concentrated hard on the image in his mind and jumped.

They landed heavily on the grass outside of what Harry recognized as the Riddle Mansion.

"Is this where you meant to land?" Draco whispered snarkily. He wasn't keen on having been dropped into dewy grass.

"No," said Harry, "but its close. He's in there." He pointed to an upstairs window.

"Is he alone? I mean, he can't let his Death Eater's know about this, can he?"

"Of course not… but, no, he's not alone. There's someone else there too, I just can't tell who. If he'd only look at them, I could see…" Harry concentrated hard, but could determine nothing. "Let's go."

They snuck silently, a sound repelling charm placed upon them both. When they reached the outside of the door, Harry said, "I'll go in. You stay here until I need you. You'll know when."

Harry burst through the door, and it snapped closed behind him. He suddenly felt light and carefree. Nothing mattered…

Wait, what's happening to me? he wondered. A voice in the back of his mind answered, You're going home, to be with your mother and father.

Mum and dad? Harry thought excitedly. Oh yes, that sounds wonderful… Then it slowly dawned on him that his mother and father were dead, and he wasn't keen on being dead anytime soon.

No, I don't think I will, thanks, thought Harry, and suddenly his body was overtaken by spasms of horrible pain. He thought harder, No, I don't think I'll die today, if you don't mind. The pain ebbed away, a bit at a time. He regained some use of his body, and discovered he'd been lying face-down on the floor.

The Imperius curse! he thought as he stood up… but I wonder why I couldn't fight it at first? He looked wildly around for Voldemort, but saw only Wormtail.

"Levaitate!" came Voldemort's voice from the corner just next to the window. Harry, inside Draco's body, was pulled from the ground and into the air until he hung above a large cauldron.

Then he saw him.

Voldemort had been sitting in the darkness, Nagini wrapped around the legs of his chair. He had risen now, his full height somewhat more than Harry remembered.

"Ah yes, Draco, I have you now…"

"No you don't!" came a shout from the doorway. Harry twisted in midair to see himself burst through the door. Draco, you idiot, I told you not to come till I called you, he thought.

"Oh Harry, how little you truly know," Voldemort sighed, with the air of a father chiding his child. "Did you think I would let you come between my soul and my new self? This boy, well… he's a man, now," he pointed to Harry in Draco's form, suspended above the enormous silver cauldron, "this man is all that I care about now. You're still just a boy, Harry."

He pointed his wand lazily at Harry's body, and without a word, Draco's mind went blissfully blank.

"But, then, I suppose that's another thing we have in common, isn't it, Harry? We're both just so nearly men, but not enough to matter. But whereas only time can help you, Harry, I already have what will make me a man." He motioned his hand to Draco's body, and Harry's mind, floating and unable to free himself.

Draco was very near panicking. Every inch of his body ached with the concentration of fighting Voldemort's spell. Somehow, he could access a part of his mind that he'd never been able to before. Maybe, he thought wildly, that isn't my mind I'm accessing. Maybe it's Harry's. He knew Harry could fight the Imperius curse, and now, for the first time, he was fighting it too.

"Now, go away," Voldemort said dismissively, throwing his hand in the direction of Harry's body. Draco let himself give into this command. He had to let Voldemort think that he was still under the curse. He flew across the room, landing heavily against the far wall.

"Wormtail," Voldemort said tersely, "kill him."

"W-what? Master, don't you want to… I mean, the prophesy, my Lord?" Wormtail mumbled feebly.

"No, no… one must not hold stock in things as uncertain as prophesies. That is one lesson Dumbledore taught me that has held true…" Voldemort said, his eyes still fixated on Harry, still suspended in mid-air over the cauldron, which was now hissing and boiling in a menacing way.

Wormtail inched toward Draco, who had crumpled on the floor in a heap, his wand falling next to him, just out of arm's reach. Voldemort paid them no attention.

"You can't kill me, Peter," Draco whispered, quickly drawing on all the information Harry had told him before they'd left. "What about my father? If he could see you now, cowering before him," he cast his eyes toward Voldemort, "what would he think? You're not a coward, Peter, you don't have to kill me. You can still redeem yourself."

His heart was racing. It was a long shot, and Draco knew it, but anything was worth a try at this point. He could see Wormtail's hands sweating, slipping on his wand, which was pointed uncertainly at Draco's neck.

"If you let me go and you help me, we can kill him together. You'll be able to come out of hiding as a free man," Draco continued quietly, carefully inching his hand toward his fallen wand as he talked. "You'll be forgiven, respected…."

Wormtail said nothing, but his eyes betrayed him. He wanted so badly to leave this life behind and start anew, but he was still gripped by fear. His eyes sparkled now with tears as he lowered his head. Draco let out a sigh of relief as his fingers finally closed around his wand again. Taking a leaf from Harry's book, he slipped it up his sleeve and out of sight.

"I'm so sorry Harry. I loved your parents… I was so frightened. I never wanted to do it." Tears cascaded down his cheeks, but he quickly wiped them away. "I was scared, everyone was scared…"

"I know, but you don't have to be anymore," Draco said, nearly silently. "Once he's dead, you'll be free."

"No, Harry… he'll never die." Wormtail said these words with the cold intuition of someone who knew what they shouldn't. Draco shuddered. Would those words be the last he'd hear?

"I'm sorry Harry… I'm so sorry…" Wormtail cried, raising his wand. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Four voices rang out in the darkness, and four brilliant flashes of green light shone in the tiny room, then all went dark.

Harry gasped for breath, but his lungs only filled with liquid. Where am I? he thought, but then it all came flooding back to him. He launched himself up out of the burning hot cauldron, which he'd fallen into when the curses had hit. He looked around. No one was moving. Voldemort was stiff and still on the ground. Harry climbed out of the cauldron and began screaming.

"AVADA KEDAVRA, AVADA KEDAVRA, AVADA KEDAVRA!" he shouted at Voldemort's still body. Nothing happened. Harry kicked him. He kicked him and stomped upon him and threw his fists at him. Nothing happened.

"He's dead!" Harry cried. "Draco, he's really dead!" But Draco didn't answer. Harry looked around. Draco was slumped against the wall by Wormtail, his eyes pulled open in horror.

"NO!" Harry screamed. "REVERVATE!" But nothing could wake Draco now.

He turned on Wormtail, who was equally unmoving and horrified-looking. "You…" he said, disgusted and seething. "You killed my parents, you betrayed me, you brought him back to power and now you've killed my friend!" Harry shouted at Wormtail's body. "Is there anything else you want to do to ruin my life?"

He viciously kicked Wormtail's body with all of his strength, and didn't stop kicking until he was weak and out of breath. "You're worse than him," Harry finally spat. He gathered up Draco's body, and unsteadily made his way out.

"He's dead," came a voice from outside Dumbledore's office, where everyone had gathered to wait. For a split second, everyone's faces brightened, thinking he was talking about Voldemort. Then Harry walked through the door.

"He's… dead." Harry said again stiffly. His voice was as flat and lifeless as the body in his arms.

"Oh, Harry… Harry," Hermione cried, fawning over the body.

"I'm Harry," Harry said, looking at the mirror image of himself in his own arms. "The potion hasn't worn off yet."

"Oh my God," Fiona gasped. She knelt over on the floor, picking Blaise up off of the carpeting. "She's fainted dead away…"

Hermione, too, was on the floor, but not from fainting. She wasn't crying, but looking at the floor, shaking her head in disbelief. "I don't know how it happened…"

"I don't either," Harry said. "Wormtail killed him, even though he had a life debt."

"Peter Pettigrew owed you a life debt, Harry. Not Draco…" Dumbledore said, his voice heavy with guilt and sadness. "Tell me what happened."

"I'm not even sure, really. All of us shouted the killing curse at once. Mine hit Voldemort, and his hit me, but… his bounced off, again. I knew I was going to die because my mother's protection had been lifted, but I didn't. Voldemort went all stiff and fell over. I was dropped into a cauldron of boiling potion, and almost drowned. The next thing I knew, I couldn't breathe. I crawled out of the cauldron and… everyone was dead. Wormtail, Voldemort… Draco…"

"Then he's truly dead?" Dumbledore asked.

"Of course he is, look at him," Harry said angrily. "Oh... you mean - yes, he is."

"I think that is enough for tonight, Harry. You should go lay down, I think. Everyone, please leave us."

Fiona, with her arms tightly around Blaise, pulled her away from Draco's body and out the door. Ron was holding Hermione tightly, her face buried in his chest. He looked at Harry.

"When you're ready…" he started, but Harry interrupted him.

"I know. Will you take care of Hermione?"

" 'Course." Ron answered, and left.

Harry turned to Professor Dumbledore.

"Sir, do you mind if I… well, I mean, if I bury the… the body?" He asked uncertainly.

"Of course not, Harry. You and your friends are the only family he had left. I think it would be very fitting." He placed his arm around Harry's shoulder in a fatherly manner. "No come, let us get you to bed. All the rest of this unpleasantness can be taken care of in the morning."

"Sir, please, could we do it now? I don't think its right to wait."

"If you feel that is best, then you may. I will gather your friends. Meet me on the grounds." He paused. "I assume that is where we will bury him."

"I think so, sir. This is where his family is."

They gathered under a tree by the forest where Harry had dung a hole the old fashioned way, with a shovel and sweat. Dumbledore lowered a cloth-wrapped bundle into the ground, and Harry began to shovel the dirt back in.

Blaise raised her hand, and with her wand, moved dirt into the hole as well. Hermione was kneeling on the ground, pushing great handfuls of soil into the darkness. Fiona and Ron stood by, strangers intruding on their grief. Dumbledore reached down and patted a fist full of earth onto the finished grave, and as he drew his hand upward, a stone appeared beneath it. He ran his wand carefully across it, the words: "Draco Lucian Malfoy" etching themselves as he wrote.

They all gathered round the stone, some crying, others standing steadfast. When Ron suggested that someone say a few words, Fiona instead conjured her guitar. She played softly and cried. It was the same low and mournful song of love and loss she had been playing the night that Draco had watched her, and she felt it only fitting as a eulogy for his life.

When she was finished, Dumbledore stood.

"Draco died," he said quietly, "so we all could live, untethered by the tight and devious rein of a cruel master. He was a brave man, and we shall all miss him."

"You brought me to life," Hermione said, her voice almost silent. Ron and Harry bowed their heads, unable to look at her suffer.

Instead of speaking, which she was nearly incapable of now, Blaise took out her wand and carved the outline of a small dragon on the stone, and then she dissolved into sobs.

Dew was falling on them like tears, signaling an end to this unnaturally long night. The full yellow moon had fallen over them some time ago, leaving them alone in the half-darkness. The sun was raising in the east, the light tinting the sky over the lake red and spreading over the land like their grief. Day broke over them, huddled around a dead patch of earth, crying, while the rest of the world rejoiced.