Sorry for the horrible cliffhanger! A lot of you were 'on the edge of your seat.'
I lied. After talking with my fabulous beta, highlyintelligentblonde, we decided to split my massive chapter 20 in two. After today, there are two chapters left.
Horses8 - Sorry about killing Fred again. I debated for a long time.
magicalalice - I'm so glad my update made your week! And I apologize for raising your blood pressure.
mollsballs - You've been pretty good at predictions, apparently! Hermione just had too much of a one-track mind.
mcal - I would be concerned for Hermione, too, eve if her heart is in the right place. They have A LOT to work out, don't they? Here's hoping they live!
Qween87 - I'm sorry you were so stressed out! But I'll take it as a compliment that you were on the edge of your seat. And thank you for enjoying my interpretation!
Kyonomiko - That chapter WAS bit of a roller coaster. Fluff and action all at once. Dad! Draco is honestly my favorite thing.
ZoeyOlivia - I actually apologize for Fred.
LashesToAshes - Hermione IS in Gryffindor, after all. It's at the heart of who she is, even if she is incredibly smart. I hope you didn't dwell TOO much on my fic this week, because it was a crazy cliffhanger.
Shipslover - SORRY
MotekElm - Hermione had faith in her abilities to shield herself, and no one could have anticipated what the night would turn into. I'll hold onto hope with you.
HarryPGinnyW4eva - I'll take it as a compliment that you were stressed out!
pgoodrichboggs - Not good, for sure! And thank you!
Calimocho (Liz) - You're welcome! Thanks for leaving a review!
SpuffyCarrie - There's A LOT going on. Thank you so much 3
Draco felt an inch away from full-blown panic. The world was closing in on him. This wasn't how anything was supposed to happen. Hermione was supposed to be fine. She was supposed to have come back to Shell Cottage. They were supposed to deliver a healthy baby three weeks from now. They were supposed to be a family.
Still hidden behind the tapestry, all he could see was blood. Red. Warm. Everywhere. All other sounds became muffled as his girlfriend began to moan. His breath came in short pants that couldn't quite seem to fill his lungs properly. The edges of his vision blurred and he swayed on the spot. It was just too much…
But no.
This was not how it was going to end. He refused to believe that this was how Hermione or his child would leave this world. Draco closed his eyes five seconds and focused on his breath. He had to stay calm. He had to keep it together. In through his nose. Out through his mouth. Nice and slow.
Oxygen flowed to his brain anew. The panic ebbed slightly as the logical side of him grasped hold once more. In his mind, he saw the next necessary steps with perfect clarity.
A path forward.
"Oh my god. Hermione." Potter had just slipped behind the tapestry and had clearly spotted the rapidly-expanding blood stain on the inseam of Hermione's jeans. "What's happening?" He looked down at Draco, still kneeling by his girlfriend. Her face was growing paler by the minute.
"Her placenta likely detached again. That's what this blood is." He turned back to Hermione, stroking her hand with his thumb.
"Is it serious?" Harry pressed.
"Yeah," Draco answered curtly. "It's damn serious."
He chanced a brief glance at Hermione's two best friends. Harry ran a hand through his hair, his own breathing shallow and his eyes wandering and blinking. Ron, meanwhile, had both his hands atop his head, eyes wide and unseeing, as if lost in thought.
"What can we do? Is there anything–?" Harry tried to string words together.
Draco took steadying breaths. He could feel the panic rise in him again. He had to try and keep himself calm. Before he could lower his heart rate enough to give any sort of answer, he heard Hermione's voice from below him, faint, but determined.
"N-no, Harry."
Immediately, her friends knelt at her side, leaving her surrounded.
"'Mione? Why? I want to help you."
She swallowed and grimaced in pain. "You… you have a job to do, Harry, Ron. Find the snake. Kill it." Hermione winced again, giving a small cry of pain. Draco felt his heart stutter. "End this. Please."
"But what about you?" piped up Ron, tears in his eyes. "I can't lose you, too. I can't."
Hermione pulled her hand up and stretched it out to cup Ron's face. "You won't. I have Draco. He's meant to be a healer, you know. We'll be okay."
Draco felt both men's eyes on him for a brief moment before they returned to the object of their concern.
"Go," she whispered, closing her eyes.
The atmosphere in the small space behind the tapestry changed almost immediately. Ron and Harry stood, and Draco could feel an air of purpose and conviction in the way they held themselves.
"We'll see you soon. We promise," Ron said before stepping out into the corridor.
Harry swooped down briefly to kiss Hermione's cheek. "Definitely. Stay strong, Hermione."
She gave the faintest of nods.
On his way out from behind the tapestry, Harry placed a hand on Draco's shoulder.
"Keep her safe."
A significant look passed between the two young men. So much was left unsaid in those green eyes, but Draco saw it all. For the first time, in that moment, Draco felt Harry Potter's complete trust.
"I will."
Without another word, the Boy-Who-Lived swept from their hiding spot and back into battle.
Immediately, Draco returned his attention to Hermione.
"We can't stay here," he murmured. "We've got to find somewhere safe. Can you walk?"
Hermione's head inclined slightly once more. He didn't hesitate. Shifting himself, Draco supported most of her weight by holding her up by her underarms. He heaved upward. Hermione gave a sharp cry of pain, and Draco instantly froze. She leaned heavily on him, her breaths sharp and rattling now.
"I… I don't know if I can move," she rasped.
From just outside the tapestry, Draco heard screams and other sounds of battle growing closer. The panic in his chest drew closer. He forced himself to push it down.
"You have to move, Hermione. There's fighting coming this way. I think we can make it to a classroom nearby. Let's lock the door and I'll see if I can help you."
He really wasn't sure where this bravado had come from, but he was grateful it seemed to be taking over his words and actions. With painstaking care, Draco helped Hermione shuffle step-by-step, inch-by-inch toward an empty room. The door hung wide open. Poking his head inside, Draco breathed a sigh of relief. The classroom appeared to be yet untouched by the battle other than the dust hanging in the air. Desks and chairs stood in their usual straight, orderly rows. Was this even a scene that still belonged in Hogwarts? It seemed so out of place now.
They moved inside as fast as they could, and Draco quickly turned around and sealed the door shut. The silence was immediate and overwhelming. He felt his heart slow at their relative safety; after only a moment, though, it sped back up again when he saw a drop of blood fall to the floor as Hermione propped herself up on a desk, her head arched back in pain.
"Augh, Draco. It hurts!" she cried through clenched teeth.
He had to do something, and quickly. But what? Fleur had spoken to him briefly about the procedure done to Hermione after the Manor incident, but he had not even witnessed the spellwork, let alone performed it.
But still, if he did nothing, then he was guaranteed to lose the woman he loved and their child.
He had to focus. He had to take action.
Doing the first thing that came to mind, Draco grabbed Hermione's beaded bag, which had been tucked away in her sock.
It was a wild idea… it was absolutely mad. But perhaps…
It might be their only chance. He had no experience doing this kind of healing, but with the right visualization…
He pointed the snatcher's wand inside the bag and yelled, "Accio pregnancy books!"
Several volumes came flying at him, and he managed to catch a couple, the others landing with a thud on the stone floor. Glancing through the titles, he found one in particular that caught his eye. This one, as he remembered, had incredibly detailed diagrams of the female reproductive system while pregnant. He studied the images by wandlight for three or four minutes, keenly aware of the time ticking by. Each second he took to prepare was another second that could affect Hermione's condition. He had to be quick, but careful.
"Hermione, I need to lower your trousers a bit and move your shirt up. Is that all right?" he asked.
She nodded, seemingly unable to speak.
Much of Hermione's jeans were now soaked in blood. With great care, he peeled away the waistband and flipped the cotton of her shirt away to reveal her great, swollen stomach.
Draco's stomach gave a jerk of nausea at the sight of blood smears on her lower pelvis, but took deep, gulping breaths to keep himself under control.
He had to step the fuck up, like Weasley said.
"All right, Hermione. Can you hear me? I need you to stay with me."
Hermione peeled her eyelids open, her irises glazed over with pain. He plowed on. "I am going to attempt to re-attach the placenta temporarily. It's not a long-term solution, but it will buy us a few hours so we can get you to safety and deliver the baby. Okay?"
Hermione nodded again.
"Good." Draco heard his voice even out, despite the thudding of his heart. It seemed that having something to do – having a purpose in all this – kept his nerves at bay. "It may hurt. I'm not sure. But I need you to take deep breaths for me. Yes. Good girl."
He watched Hermione's chest move up and down and got to work. The wand movements would have to be exact. He had seen Mrs. Weasley and a handful of other Order members perform spells that re-attached various types of tissue and repaired veins before and had been thoroughly warned that it was tricky business.
Never mind that, now. There was no need to trip himself up mentally. This was a situation that called for boldness and action.
Draco reached down and gently pressed his hand into Hermione's right hand side – that was where the muggle doctor had said the placenta had been attached. With several touches, he was able to give a basic estimation of where her uterus began and ended.
It was now or never.
Draco took a great breath in and pointed the wand at Hermine's abdomen. His hand held steady, Draco began to whisper the incantation he had heard Mrs. Weasley say back at the Burrow all those months ago.
"Exsarcio."
Hermione gave loud moans of distress as he moved his wand slowly up the right side of her stomach. He wanted so badly to comfort her. But there was nothing he could do for her.
Or was there?
Perhaps… just perhaps…
Draco reached out to Hermione with Legillimancy, much as he had all those weeks ago. As before, he rifled through her memories, searching for something happy to concentrate on.
Thoughts of the baby. Thoughts of early, sleepy mornings in the Great Hall. Thoughts of a happy childhood with her parents.
And then…
Draco saw himself riding a bike down a dark path. In the distance, the soft glow of lights indicated a town. He saw the two of them dancing together in that little Irish pub, great smiles on their faces, not a care in the world.
Yes, this was the one.
He carried on with the procedure, his mind re-focusing on repairing Hermione's placenta. Thankfully, Hermione's whimpers began to recede. When he reached the top of her abdomen, Draco pulled away for a moment, his eyes flicking from Hermione's stomach to her face and then down to the area between her legs.
Where blood had been seeping before, it now stopped.
Draco let out his breath.
"Hermione? Are you all right, love?
It seemed, not for the first time, his skills as a Legillimens had served him well.
Hermione opened her eyes, the ghost of pain still in her eyes.
"I… I think so."
"Do you have any Blood Replenishing Potion in your bag?"
When she nodded, Draco summoned a small vial of the stuff and scooted forward to help tip the contents down her throat. Hermione spluttered and gave a great sigh, her eyes closing in relief. Though her skin was far paler than he would have preferred, other signs of life seemed to be coming back to her.
For safe measure, Draco cast a heart rate charm at Hermione's stomach.
"One-hundred fifteen. Not great, but not bad," Draco commented, swiping the numbers away with his wand.
"My healer," Hermione whispered with a smile from the ground. She was still lying on her back, her knees raised and her legs spread. "I think you read those books in more detail than I did."
He gave a half smirk.
"Come on, Hermione. Let's get you cleaned up."
Now that his panic had passed, Draco could hear the sounds of the battle rage on just outside. As he cast Scourgify on Hermione's jeans, the whole castle shook with another explosion, sending dust flying everywhere.
"Thank Merlin that didn't happen while you were working," Hermione commented, grunting as Draco helped her sit up.
"Definitely," he replied. Hermione winced as he sat down beside her, rubbing circles on her back. "How's your pain level?"
"Not great, but manageable."
Draco nodded. He had to think of what to do next. They couldn't just wait out the rest of the battle here, could they? Surely, this place was only safe temporarily. He had been wracking his brain for a minute or two when he felt Hermione move beside him. She was holding onto a desk, struggling to pull herself to her feet.
"What are you doing, woman? Sit down!"
"We're just sitting ducks," she responded, standing upright. "I refuse to just stay here. I can't. I told Harry and Ron to go and fight, and now I feel ridiculous hanging back and letting everyone else fight while I just–"
"While you recover from nearly dying."
Draco looked Hermione in the eye, unblinking. She stared back, fire in her eyes. Gods, this woman was so stubborn.
"Hermione," he began, standing beside her. "I can't in good conscience let you leave. I mean, you're in labour, for Circe's sake! You need to come to grips with reality."
Her jaw tensed, her lips turning downward. "And that is?"
Draco sighed, reaching for her hand. "And that is this: you're done here. No more fighting. You need to take a step back for your sake and for the baby's. You think that going to fight is selfless, but it's not, Hermione. It's selfish."
He spoke these last words, emotion in his eyes.
Just as Hermione opened her mouth to respond, a crash sounded from just outside the door. Spells ricocheted against the walls. The two of them went silent as stone, the air caught in their throat. Draco blinked back tears as a green light radiated through the gap between the door and the floor. Hermione sucked in her breath as a contraction hit her.
Shite.
They waited, silent and still for something – anything to happen.
After a couple minutes, the sounds of fighting died away, traveling down the corridor.
The castle shook again.
"I hate being stuck here," Hermione whispered, burying her head in his shoulder. "I can't do anything to help. I have no idea what's going on."
"How do you think I felt for all those months I was at the Burrow?" Draco joked, planting a kiss in her hair. "But I learned my lesson the hard way. Sometimes it's better to lie low rather than make a rash decision."
It seemed Hermione didn't have a response.
They sat in mutual silence for several minutes. Hermione had another contraction.
"Any idea how far apart they are?" Draco asked. Perhaps if he acted as a healer, it would distract them.
"I'm not sure. Maybe every eight or nine minutes? But that's just a guess."
Draco hummed. "And is the baby moving?"
"She's currently kicking my kidneys, I think."
They shared a smile.
"She's really coming, isn't she?" Hermione whispered, patting her belly.
"I think so. Impeccable timing, really."
Somehow, that managed to make Hermione chuckle. But as soon as she started, she stopped, her face falling.
"I can't laugh, Draco. Not now. Not when Fred–" Her breath hitched.
Hermione's voice was suddenly cut off by the same cold, cruel voice. It emanated from everywhere and nowhere at once, the sound seeping into his bones. Draco felt his hair stand on end, as though the Dark Lord, himself, were standing beside him, his terrible red eyes filled with death.
"You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."
Could it be? Would the Dark Lord really stick to his word and give them this time? It seemed too generous… too empathetic for a monster like that. Turning to Hermione, he saw she was shaking like a leaf, her face sheet white despite the blood replenisher he had watched her swallow.
"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."
Draco felt his ears ringing in the deafening silence that followed the Dark Lord's announcement. No matter how many times he heard that terrible voice, it would always strike fear in him, it seemed. His mind briefly jumped back to all those times he stood in that damned drawing room, stone-faced but trembling. He could feel himself slipping, spiraling into the dark place he spent so many months of his life in…
Hermione squeezed his hand, a pained look on her face. Though it clearly took effort, she spoke clearly. "Don't you dare go disappearing on me, Draco. Focus. Focus on me. Focus on her."
Hermione reached out and placed his hands on her stomach. It had hardened during the contraction. The pressure against his palm seemed to ground him, bringing him back to the chaotic present. He blinked, words returning to his tongue.
"We have to get you to Madam Pomfrey. Did you hear? We have an hour. If there's a way to get you to St. Mungo's or anywhere else, we have to take that chance."
Hermione grimaced, though her eyes glinted. "Draco Malfoy, infamous Slytherin, wanting to take a chance? This situation really must be dire."
Though he wasn't sure how he had the energy to smile, he managed a small chuckle. Pulling himself to his feet, Draco helped Hermione up, supporting her weight.
"Can you walk?"
"I'll manage. Just go slowly." Hermione re-cast the protective enchantments over her stomach before they slipped out into the corridor.
The path past classrooms and staircases was littered with broken stones that had fallen away from the ceiling and walls. Even as they descended past several floors, the castle remained eerily silent and still, as though the building itself was holding its breath. Their movements were slow and purposeful, and the two of them stopped frequently, Hermione to catch her breath, Draco to check for bleeding. What a relief to see that his spellwork had been – at least temporarily – successful. When they reached the second floor, they found a handful of people shuffling around in the shadows. Their figures seemed slumped over and sluggish, but it wasn't until they drew closer that Draco realized the true reason for their movements.
They were carrying the dead.
Draco tried to breathe through the tightness growing in his chest.
"Do you see Ron or Harry?" Hermione asked as they made their way to the Great Hall. In his brief scan of the chaos, he saw a gaggle of redheaded people clustered in the distance, but none of them were distinctly gangly like Ron.
"Don't think so. Come on. Let's find Madam Pomfrey."
The entrance to the Great Hall passed overhead, and almost immediately, Draco felt inundated with the sorrow of others and the heavy presence of death. Along the floor were a series of bodies, lined up and quite still. His stomach lurched as he looked from face to face, and he knew Hermione was doing the same. Though not many of the dead were among his acquaintances, he heard several small gasps from beside him. Yes, Hermione would certainly know more of these people than he...
But then again, Crabbe and Goyle's bodies would likely never be recovered – never laid out in a terrible line like this for loved ones to cry over.
Another whimper from Hermione, and he coaxed her forward with a hand on the small of her back. She didn't budge. Furrowing his brow, he turned back only to find her looking at two more bodies lying limp before them. Her shoulders shook with grief. Clearly, she knew these people. Draco looked down too.
Tonks. Lupin.
Dead.
Hadn't it been just a few days ago that they had announced the birth of their little boy? They were supposed new parents, ready to embrace a new life with their son; they weren't supposed to be dead.
"Oh, Draco," Hermione buried her head in his shoulder, muffling a sob into his already disgusting, dust-and-ash-covered shirt. "They just had the baby." He felt her body stiffen with both emotion and another contraction, and though he searched himself, he couldn't find a single word to say in comfort.
Instead, he gently led her to a bench to sit. Conjuring some water for her to sip, he began to speak, though he wasn't sure who his words were intended to comfort.
"It'll be all right. Teddy's got lots of people who love him."
Hermione gulped down air as she tried to calm down, but when she started to respond, her voice began to grow hysterical. "We can't let that happen to us. We can't d-d-die. Not with the baby coming."
She was panicking. He could see it in her eyes. Wide and manic, they searched his own with such desperation as he had never seen before. No, that couldn't happen. He couldn't let her succumb. They would make it through this. They had to make it. Draco grabbed her hands and leaned forward, touching his forehead to hers.
"I won't let that happen," he whispered. "We're going to see her grow up. I'll do whatever it takes."
"We need to live," she whispered back.
"We need to live. For her."
As Hermione nodded, Draco saw two familiar faces wander into the Great Hall. He nudged the crying woman before him and pointed in their direction. While Ron staggered forward to join his family in grief, Harry stood, stock-still in the door, his expression mad with grief.
It seemed that Hermione had spotted it, too.
"Harry!" she called out through the crowd.
Even if he heard her, Harry didn't respond. Instead, he turned on his heels and fled.
Draco's heart sank. What was the bloody Boy-Who-Lived thinking, running away like that? Where was he going? Didn't he realize how much they all needed him? Wasn't he supposed to be The Chosen One or some rubbish like that?
Watching the scene unfold before them, Draco felt as though he was watching from outside of his own body. Had all these people really died while they flew through the Room of Hidden Things and hid out in a classroom?
Somehow, it didn't feel right to be so alive when so many were dead.
He spotted Oliver Wood carrying a tiny body over his shoulder. Was that person really old enough to be fighting? Wasn't everyone who stayed to fight supposed to be of age?
Death hung in the air all around them, and he could feel it looming over their shoulders, waiting, watching…
No, they had to leave while they could.
"I'm going to find Madam Pomfrey, all right?" he said, rubbing her shoulder in reassurance. Hermione nodded, but didn't say a word. As he went to search the crowds for the Matron of the Hospital Wing, he passed Ron. His eyes looked glassy and haunted.
"Oi, Weasley," Draco called. "Go sit with Hermione. I'm going to find a healer."
Ron's head immediately snapped up. "Hermione? Is she all right? Is she still here?"
"She is, but I think she's going into labour. I'm going to find Madam Pomfrey and see if we can get her out."
Ron nodded. "All right. But don't take too long, all right? It's already been forty minutes."
Searching through the throng of people in the Great Hall proved to be easy, but capturing the attention of Madam Pomfrey was another obstacle entirely. The witch was completely engrossed in the care of Lavender Brown. From where he stood over ten feet away, he could see great chunks of her flesh missing and blood trickling from her collar.
"Erm, Madam Pomfrey," he called urgently but quietly, not wanting to disturb the girl who was so clearly in pain. "We need you over–"
"Not now. I am needed in a great many places."
The mediwitch didn't even look up from her patient's mangled body.
"But–!"
"I will tend to you when I have seen to Miss Brown and a handful of others." Madam Pomfrey's voice shook as she spoke, though it was the only indication that she was anything but steady.
Draco swore under his breath. He didn't have time to fight for attention. Pushing his way back over to Hermione, he collapsed beside her, taking her hand as she leaned into his shoulder.
"I don't know if we're going to be able to get you out," he admitted truthfully.
Hermione nodded, a knowing look on her face. "We'll just have to do the best we can, then. Perhaps in a dormitory or the Prefect's Bath. Those places might be relatively safer."
Draco's eyes lit up. Of course. The Prefect's Bath. It had a strong locking charm on the door already. If only they could reach the fifth floor in time… the Dark Lord had only guaranteed an hour.
From beside him, Hermione winced once more, a small moan escaping her lips. "I just… ooh. I just wish I knew where Harry was." She sighed as he stood, holding out a hand.
"Come on. We've got to get going if–"
"OI! SOMETHING'S MOVING OUT THERE!" Someone shrieked from the entrance hall.
The entire room froze.
Then, like a slow trickle, people began walking over to the windows and doors to get a peek outside.
"Stay here," Draco ordered Hermione as he and Ron stood. She protested, folding her arms, but didn't budge. The two young men pushed their way through the converging crowd, trying to get even a glimpse of what was coming toward them on the grounds.
"Blimey, is that–?"
"Oh, no…"
"Wands at the ready, everyone. Don't be afraid."
The Dark Lord was coming. And he wasn't alone. Surrounded on all sides by his supporters, the monster who had made Draco's life… all their lives into a veritable hell these past few years approached. He had to go… had to get Hermione to the Prefect's Bathroom, away from all this. Maybe, just maybe, they would have a chance…
And then he saw something through the darkness. Something… off.
Just behind the Dark Lord stood a tall, familiar figure. If he squinted, he could identify a wild beard.
Hagrid.
And, was he carrying something?
Draco felt a soft pressure on his shoulder. When he turned his head, he saw Hermione just beside him, panting, her eyes narrowed as she peered into the darkness.
"Hermione, what are you doing out here? Get back in–"
"NO!"
They whipped around to face the source of the shout. Professor McGonagall stood near the front of the crowd, a look of pure anguish on her face. Everyone's gaze followed hers, and landed on the thing in Hagrid's arms.
Not a thing.
Harry.
"No!"
"No!"
"Harry! HARRY!"
All around him, people began to scream, including Hermione, her voice filled with such agony as he had never heard. That wasn't just the savior of the wizarding world lying dead before them. It was her best friend.
In death, Harry Potter seemed so small. Had he always been so thin? So ragged? Flashes of the four-eyed idiot through their years at Hogwarts passed through his brain. No… Harry had always been a force to be reckoned with. An idiot, yes, but a strong one. It was only in death that he seemed insignificant.
Draco felt a stab to his gut. He had been angry at Harry for running away, but the fool went and got himself killed, instead.
And for what? What would happen to them now? To their child?
He reached for Hermione's hand.
The screams and yells around them grew louder until the Dark Lord silenced them with his terrible voice. Beside him, Hermione continued to pant, clearly hurting. How was she still standing?
"Come on," he whispered. "Let's slip away. This could be our last chance."
"No," she hissed back, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I can't. I just… Harry–"
"Harry would want this baby to live and you know it, Hermione."
In front of them, a voice called out, ripping them from their private conversation.
"I'll join you when hell freezes over. Dumbledore's Army!"
It was Longbottom. Draco gawked at Neville, his face caked with blood and a fire in his eyes. Yet another realization, far too late, that he truly was meant to be a Gryffindor. He turned back to Hermione to find her face set. It seemed Neville's words had encouraged her.
Draco watched in horror as the Dark Lord set the Sorting Hat on a body-bound Neville's head before lighting it up with flames. His screams rent the air for mere seconds before the world bust into chaos once more. Giants began to tumble around them curses flying once more. The yells of those around him overwhelmed his ears. What had happened to their plan?
"Hermione, let's go!" Draco cried as the giants' presence drove everyone inside.
"HARRY! WHERE'S HARRY?" someone yelled from the distance. Hagrid.
He saw the blood drain from Hermione's face at these words. Had something happened to Potter's body? In an instant, he saw her demeanor change. The same fire that had lit up Longbottom's eyes now burned in hers. Though she was still clearly in pain, determination filled every inch of her body. Before he could say a single word to her, she re-cast the Shield Charm on her already-hidden stomach and took off into the pandemonium.
Damnit, Granger.
There was no way in hell he was going to just stand by. This was it. He could feel it. He was sure Hermione felt it, too.
Not only had students and Order members joined the fight – the centaurs of the Forbidden Forest burst into the school. A horde of house elves carrying all manner of sharp and heavy kitchen tools swarmed the battle, stabbing and beating anything in reach.
As he ran after Hermione through the battle in the Great Hall, the true horror of war surrounded him. Duels between people he knew, Death Eaters, students, professors… it was all coming to a head before his eyes. He wanted to run away and not look back, but it seemed that wasn't an option any longer. Somewhere in this room, his brave Hermione was fighting to the last, and if he wasn't by her side through it all, what did that make him?
Draco pushed his way through the room to get to the bushy head he saw in the distance. He was twenty feet away. Fifteen feet. Ten feet–
"Draco!" Two figures crashed into him, holding his arms in such a vice grip that he was sure it would bruise. It took a moment to process who these people were. But the hair, silvery-blonde, seemed to give it away.
"Father!"
Lucius Malfoy's eyes were wide with fear, and his mother's were much the same.
"Come, Draco. We must leave at once." His mother took his hand and began to pull him away.
"No, Mother. I'm staying. I have to stay!"
"This is not a request, Draco." His father hissed, hands shaking.
Ripping his arm away, Draco backed away, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I can't."
He took off running.
Hermione stood beside Ginny and Luna, the three of them fighting his aunt. She was so concentrated on the fight in front of her that her face gave no indication that she was in labour whatsoever. Draco was caught between terror and admiration. That Hermione could face the woman who tortured her and battle her head-on was nothing short of awe-inspiring.
But when a killing curse missed Ginny by inches, everything but terror evaporated instantly. Draco steeled himself to step in, but before he could even say a word, Mrs. Weasley dashed forward, pushing him out of the way.
"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"
Draco grabbed Hermione's arm and yanked her out of the way of the incoming battle. Her breath was shallow now, and it seemed the effort of distracting herself from labour was taking a toll on her. Sweat poured from her face as Mrs. Weasley dueled his aunt.
And then, many things happened all at once.
Mrs. Weasley's curse flew through the air, striking Bellatrix square in the chest.
The Dark Lord screamed and pointed his wand directly at the Weasley matriarch.
From out of nowhere, Harry Potter materialized, a Shield Charm erupting from his wand.
Hermione collapsed in pain.
Draco couldn't process it all – couldn't bring himself to believe that Harry hadn't died at all, but rather, had somehow survived. Instead, as the battle came to a head all around him, all he could see – all he could focus on was the girl in front of him, very much in danger, and very much about to deliver a child. It seemed his luck had run out with the healing work he had done in the empty classroom. Though she wasn't bleeding, her labour had come on strong.
He half paid attention as Harry and the Dark Lord circled each other, talking. Hermione grunted beside him, clearly trying to listen as well. With all eyes focused on the impending showdown, no one seemed to notice Hermione Granger on the floor, her face red, breathing erratic.
It was just as well, Draco supposed.
Harry was now speaking – having an actual fucking conversation with the Dark Lord. Truly, he was crazy.
Hermione's breath hitched beside him as she fought through a contraction. "Breathe, love," he whispered, rubbing her back. Was there a way for them to get out? Even just to another room? They might be able to slip out, unnoticed…
But then, an odd thing happened. Draco heard his own name.
"The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."
Hermione looked up at him, shock painted on her face. Whatever Harry had just said clearly struck a chord within her. The Elder Wand? But wasn't that some myth?
"But you're too late," he heard Harry say. "You've missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him."
In that moment, he saw Harry in his mind's eye, the hawthorn wand he had received in Diagon Alley held tightly in his fingers. What was Harry trying to imply?
Suddenly, two voices cried at once.
"Avada Kedavra!" The Dark Lord screamed.
Harry yelled, "Expelliarmus!"
Draco's heart stuttered to a stop as he watched the spells hit each other, the red overpowering the green. It was almost an out-of-body experience, watching the Dark Lord's wand fly from his hand as his body collapsed onto the ground.
He was dead.
It was over. It was done.
The sun began to rise on this new day, spilling light and warmth into the room.
As I said in the beginning note, things have changed and there are two chapters after today.
As to my announcement...I'll move forward with it now:
Don't want to leave the Gift of Joy universe so soon? Never fear! I am writing A SEQUEL! More details to come ;)
As always, come follow me on tumbler at biscuitsforpotter