Chapter 79

Hermione hadn't been back to Hogwarts since they rescued the students. It was quiet now as she ascended the spiral staircase to the Astronomy Tower, recalling the chatter of classmates echoing off the walls. She'd never been up there in the morning, and the silence coupled with the pinkish light of dawn gave the tower a strange, foreign feeling despite her nostalgia.

In just a few hours, the castle wouldn't be quiet anymore. There would be screaming, explosions and death.

It was the end, for better or for worse.

Hermione knew her part. Hold the line, get Minerva, Snape, Lavender and any stragglers out of the way. Join a group sweeping the castle. Incapacitate, break wands, kill if necessary.

She felt unprepared.

And yet here she was.

She reached the top floor, wondering why Draco chose the Astronomy Tower of all places. Perhaps because it signified the start of the war, which he blamed himself for, and a time period when he felt completely helpless. Precisely because he had taken control over his life in an impossible situation, and fought to mold it into something he wanted, a future he could choose.

Hermione approached the turrets where the telescopes were aimed in different directions around the tower, and watched the sun rise in the distance. It was quiet and peaceful now. The fall leaves were a brilliant shade of red, resembling spilled blood.

"Hermione."

She jumped and whirled around. Draco was slouched on a chair, legs sprawled, in a darkened corner of the tower. Her heart fluttered at the sight of his blond head and grey eyes flashing back at her. He was wearing his Death Eater robes and gloves, and balancing the sword of Gryffindor by its hilt between his legs. His mask rested on his knee.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You're going to fight with the sword?"

He spun it around on its tip, holding the sword in place with his finger. Light glinted off of the blade, scattering throughout the tower. After watching it slowly spin to a halt he placed his palm atop the hilt and shrugged. "Maybe. It's a good secondary weapon, and I can hide it in my cloak." He grinned boyishly. "Beheading Nagini was fun. You should have a go with it."

"I prefer my wand, thanks."

"You'd sing a different tune once you've taken something's head off."

She scrunched her nose in disgust. "Doubtful."

He chuckled, and his dragon hide boots scraped against the floor as he approached her. Tall, imposing, and clad entirely in black. Her stomach twisted nervously as she remembered they were only hours away from the battle, but she smiled up affectionately at him.

"That's how you were dressed when I first gave you the Galleon."

Draco looked down at himself, holding out the fabric. "The robes are ridiculous. They may be scary but you can't run and they snag on everything."

"Well," Hermione replied. "You-Know-Who may be a brilliant, powerful wizard, but he doesn't seem very pragmatic."

"Must be all that virgin baby unicorn blood he drinks," Draco deadpanned.

He approached her and she watched the orange and pink light of the sunrise play across his features, illuminating his eyes with fire. He put his hand on the small of her back and Hermione leaned into him, inhaling his scent, warm and familiar.

Hermione wrapped her arm around his waist and Draco tugged her closer to him as they gazed at the coming dawn together. Draco fingered the eyepiece of the telescope next to them and swiveled it around so he could peer into it.

"These telescopes don't do much in comparison to the Hubble."

Hermione didn't bring his impending trial up and neither did Draco. By unspoken agreement, they resolved to enjoy the remaining time they had together. Harry and Ginny had done the same, disappearing into the night after the Trio had reminisced over Firewhisky.

She didn't know what this day would bring, but if they both survived it, there was no way in hell she would let him go to Azkaban.

She swallowed her rage, watching him squint so he could see better. "No, they don't. But the Hubble doesn't have to view through the atmosphere. And the lenses are so much larger."

"And to think, all this will be vaporized in five billion years."

How silly and pointless war was.

Hermione glanced up at him, he seemed wistful in the early morning light. "You can have another twenty-three generations of insufferable blond prats well before that happens."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Insufferable and well-endowed blond prats."

They heard shuffling from below and turned around to see Harry's disheveled black hair appear as he made his way up the stairs. He paused when he saw them and Draco stiffened against her. The Astronomy Tower held significance as a turning point in Harry's life as well as Draco's. No wonder he was drawn there.

"Sorry," he apologized and began to descend again. "I'll just–"

"No, Harry. Come here."

She extended her arm and he cautiously walked over to watch the sunrise with them, grasping her outstretched hand to stand next to her. Hermione didn't know how Harry would react to being in Draco's presence for the first time since school. They hadn't exactly found closure the night Draco rescued her from Azkaban.

Both men were tense on either side of her, wary of each other. But she wanted them both here with her now, in this moment before the war ended for better or for worse.

Harry had five hours to live. Five hours and she would never see him again. Hermione wasn't going to cry. She would hold it in for him. The last thing he needed now was her blubbering over the remaining time he had left on this Earth.

"Is Ron still sleeping?" she asked.

"Dunno. Probably." Harry leaned over the wall, gazing down at the ground below. It was where Dumbledore had fallen. "Ginny is, though."

"Fucked her that hard, Potter?" Draco quipped.

Harry straightened, slowly raised an eyebrow and replied, "Of course. 'Chosen One' and all that."

Draco snorted.

Just like that, the two of them dissolved the tension from their six-year rivalry at school. Hermione gazed up at Draco gratefully. He glanced down and winked in understanding. She loved him so much, and clutched his and Harry's hands, pulling them in closer.

The three gazed out over the miles of tree covered hills of Scotland. The fall colors were brilliantly highlighted by the pink and orange tones of the sunrise.

"Do you think Dumbledore knew?" Harry asked. "About me?"

He was well past the anger, the denial, the grief, the reluctant resignation. He had accepted his fate, marching towards it like the hero he was. Harry would die so that his friends would live, and he was able to talk about his death now as if it were any other benign topic.

Hermione hadn't reached that point yet, despite having had over a year to deal with it. And she struggled to discuss his impending death so dispassionately, so she started to Occlude. Draco noticed and gave her shoulder another squeeze.

"I'm sure he did," Hermione answered, her throat constricting. "If I could figure it out, Dumbledore must have known a long time ago."

Dumbledore had known a lot of things, and he had kept them to himself. She wondered if he had known about Snape. She, Draco and Harry were still flummoxed by the events that took place in this very spot. No one had an explanation, and Minerva said it was Snape's secret to tell while vouching for his integrity.

Harry seemed to have expected her answer. She watched as he traced the lines of the mortar in between the stones of the tower wall.

"I think I always knew I had to die." He squinted into the sun, the light made his green eyes luminous. "But… I'm glad. I really am. I know my life and my death will serve a higher purpose." Draco watched Harry intently, but said nothing, and Harry continued speaking. "That's all anyone can ask for, isn't it? And it's a true gift to my friends. They're the only family I've ever had. They've all done so much for me, and so many have died already."

Hermione bit her lip and stared down at the hands she held against her breast. Draco's thumb stroked her knuckle and as she blinked up at him, a tear ran down her cheek. She couldn't keep it in, even with Occlumency. Draco shifted his gaze to Harry.

"Don't you get tired of walking around with that martyr complex, Potter?" Harry cracked a grin when he saw Draco's playful expression. "It must be exhausting with everyone wanking to your every move."

Hermione glanced up at Draco curiously. Despite his teasing tone, he'd developed quite the martyr complex of his own of late.

Harry studied Draco for a moment and shifted his posture to face him. "No, no I don't. I used to hate the attention but frankly your reaction makes it all worthwhile." He glanced down at her. "Hermione, on my gravestone, make sure it says 'Boy Who Lived to Piss Off Draco Sodding Malfoy.'"

Hermione smiled, despite herself, and wiped her tear away. She couldn't face his gallows humor. "First thing after the battle," she choked out.

It warmed Hermione's heart to hear the two of them talking to each other so informally. She supposed that impending death had that effect on people. There was no need for pretense. But she couldn't keep her tears in.

"Well I must say, you've excelled at that. Your grave will likely be worshipped and continue to piss me off long after you're gone."

Harry raised an eyebrow, taunting him. "Then I have indeed lived my best life."

Draco barked a laugh.

"Who's going to kill him?" Harry asked, losing the snarky tone. "When I'm gone?"

Draco shifted his gaze to the sunrise. "There's no shortage of volunteers. I wouldn't mind doing it myself. Severus planned to. My mother really wants to kill him."

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "No kidding."

"Blaise's mum wanted to do it," Draco continued.

Harry turned to Hermione with a smirk. "Is she the one we saw at Malfoy's party when we were waiting for you outside?"

Draco smiled conspiratorially at Harry. "You'd know if you saw Blaise's mum."

Harry returned his grin. "I can die happy thinking she's the one to take You-Know-Who out. I can die happy just thinking about her. Period."

"We used to bribe Blaise into inviting us to sleep over just so we could–"

"Still here," Hermione interrupted with annoyance. Harry chuckled. But she was grateful to Draco, making Harry laugh on today of all days. She couldn't discuss his death so flippantly; it was too close to her heart. But it seemed that's just what Harry needed.

"She's got nothing on you," Draco reassured her with a patronizing kiss to the top of her head.

"She's a Legilimens, you know," Hermione retorted. "Taught me Occlumency."

"Yeah, I figured that out when–" Draco froze. Hermione looked up with a sly smile to see his panicked expression as he quickly realized the ramifications of Yasmine's singular skill. "Ooooooh fuck."

Harry burst out laughing.

"I'm never going to be able to look her in the face again."

Hermione joined Harry in his laughter.

"No, you don't understand," Draco said, turning to them in horror. "I wanked to everything when I was fifteen."

"We all did," Harry said, chuckling. "I used to have a thing for Madame Hooch."

Draco looked at him in disbelief. "Hooch?"

"Something about the way she held broomsticks," Harry explained.

"I always knew there was something wrong with you, Potter."

"Well, Malfoy, being scarred by You-Know-Who tends to do that to a person."

"Oh yeah?" Draco raised his left arm, baring his Dark Mark. "Pick another excuse for being a sick fuck."

"Being possessed by him," Harry retorted without missing a beat.

Draco raised his eyebrows, impressed. "That's fucked up."

Harry chuckled and then the three stood in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the sunrise.

"You're alright, Malfoy," Harry commented.

"You're not."

Harry snorted in reply, and Hermione drew each of their hands in tighter, crossing their arms across her chest.

"You know what I still don't understand?" Harry said, his voice soft as he stared into the morning rays of the sun.

"Snape?" Draco guessed, seemingly thinking about the same thing.

"Snape." Harry agreed.

"Cocksucker never explained anything."

"Neither did Dumbledore."

"Maybe they were having a lovers' quarrel."

Harry and Hermione burst out laughing.

The wind blew, ruffling her hair. They heard an animal cry in the distance. The sun rose higher over the trees, seemingly heralding a bright future ahead of them. It mocked her. Hermione squeezed their hands harder, biting back her tears. She would never have both of them with her again. Harry would be dead. Draco would be…

She didn't know what would happen, but she'd raise hell to keep him out of Azkaban.

"Fuck. Hermione I'm losing circulation here," Harry complained.

"I think your nails have made permanent indentations in my skin," Draco said. After a pause he continued, "Not that I don't enjoy that kind of thing."

"I didn't need to hear that, Malfoy."

"You're awfully sensitive for someone who's supposed to save all of Wizarding England. Are you sure you're the Chosen One?"

Hermione smiled as another tear ran down her cheek.

oooooooooooooooooo

Harry left to wander the halls of Hogwarts. He wore his invisibility cloak and wanted to say good-bye to what had essentially been the only true home he had aside from the Burrow. But he insisted on doing so on his own.

Hermione glanced up at Draco. They still had a couple hours until Voldemort showed up. He swept the hair out of his eyes and watched a bird fly past and into the distance. He was pensive, gazing out at the fall colors surrounding the castle. Pretty soon, he'd be joining the other prisoners and then fighting his friends. He didn't have the luxury to fight with everyone he cared about on the same side. She gnawed on her lip, wanting to ask him about it, but unsure if he'd want to discuss such a weighty subject in the remaining quiet that they had left.

Feeling her eyes on him, he turned to meet her gaze. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing."

He huffed a laugh. "Impossible."

She blinked up at him earnestly. "You'll be fighting against your friends."

His Adam's apple bobbed, but his answer was firm. "Yes."

Draco had already chosen. Of course he had, he was here. He'd given the Order as many details as he could about the composition of Voldemort's Army, he'd found the defectors and made peace with the fact that he'd be fighting those that hadn't turned.

And then what? What would his future be? Draco didn't want her to Imperius Kingsley, but what if he wasn't cleared?

"Draco?"

"Mmm?"

Her heart was beating so loudly in her chest that Hermione wondered if he could hear it. "I love you. And I want to be with you." She fingered his robes, and then tugged him close. "Tomorrow."

He raised an eyebrow. "Tomorrow 'eh?" Draco stared out over the horizon again, but allowed himself to be pulled into her. "We don't even know if we'll live past today."

He was avoiding her statement. "Let's assume we will."

Draco looked down at her from the corner of his eye. "And what if tomorrow is in five to ten years, Hermione? Or longer?"

She furrowed her brow. "I thought you believed Kingsley. That you'd get a fair trial."

He continued gazing out at the horizon, perhaps uncomfortable from her accusatory stare. "I do," his voice trailed off. "But it's not a guarantee."

That wasn't the impression he left her with the day he confronted the Order. "Draco, you don't owe anyone anything."

His eyes met hers and she was startled by how haunted they were. "That's not true."

"But it is. Don't you see how much you've done?" Her voice rose and she could feel herself getting worked up. "We never would have gotten this far without you. I thought you wanted to be free more than anything else."

Puzzled at her confusion, he replied, "I do."

"But then why won't you let me fight for you?" Tears started to burn her eyes.

"Hermione," he replied softly in understanding. Cupping her jaw, he ran his thumb across her lips, and smeared the tear leaking down her cheek. "You have, but…" After a few moments of her heavy breathing, his face paled. "I murdered children."

"Yes, I know what you did," she choked back a sob, trying not to cry. "But they would have been killed anyway and you had to! And I did terrible things, as well! We all did! You're no different!"

He furrowed his brows and shook his head. "I am different. That's why I have to face the Wizengamot."

"Draco, it's one thing to repent for sins, and something else entirely to punish yourself for them. They're not the same thing!" Her voice echoed out over the forest and she pulled his hand down from her face, holding it tight against her breast. Lowering her voice, she continued, "You can repent your entire life without ever having a trial. There is so much you can do in the world if that's what you want. What does going before the Wizengamot even achieve?"

"I want to be forgiven by the society I've wronged. That is repentance," he replied, pleading with her to understand him. "But only part of it. I want my trial to solve problems, not cause another war. I want to rebuild, like Kingsley says. And more than anything else…" his voice became hollow. "I don't want to carry these sins anymore, Hermione. They're eating away at me; I want to be free."

"But you are!" Her lip trembled. "Right here and now! Why are you risking the very thing you fought for? You thought you had no control, no freedom and look!" Dropping his hand, she threw her arms out wide and he watched her, eyes glittering, as the wind blew the hair back from her face. "You've taken control of a situation in which you had none. You have a future and you can do whatever you want with it. You don't have to answer to anyone anymore." She tugged on the fabric of his clothes, practically panting in her fervor. "Your body is your own. Your mind is your own. Your actions are your own."

"Yes!" his replied thickly, "And that's precisely why I'm making the choice to go to Az–" He paused and widened his eyes in surprise.

"You want to go to Azkaban?" she whispered in disbelief.

"No," he blinked down at her and ran a hand through his hair, just as incredulous as she was. "No, of course not."

Her lips parted in realization. For a brief moment, she recalled the night he gave her the plans to his mother's summer party and his wild, frantic expression when he screamed at her to hurt him. It all made sense now.

"No!" he repeated more forcefully after watching the expression change on her face. "I don't! I'd have to be sick in the head to want that."

He'd been repressing the effects of using self-hatred to cast the Cruciatus and Killing Curses this whole time. Hermione had refused to hurt him, so he found another outlet to punish himself, albeit subconsciously.

"Draco, have you ever heard of anyone willingly submitting themselves to the Dementors?"

"My father," he replied with a shake of his head. "But that's different. He's doing it to save my mother and me. I'm not…" He stared down at her and frowned, disturbed at her conclusion. "That's not what I'm doing."

He was.

"Hermione," he leaned into her and cupped her face with both hands. "Hermione, listen to me. Please. We don't have much longer. Let's just get through today, alright?"

She sniffed and gazed into his eyes, always so bright and passionate.

What choice did she have but to agree? She didn't know if she would live, she didn't know if Draco would live, or if any of her friends would, and so she nodded. But it was clear now. Draco wasn't himself. He was succumbing to the effects of dark magic. Hermione felt like a dam had been blasted open, and she was finally free to act.

"Alright," She rested her hands on his forearms, stroking the underside of his wrists. "But I'm not giving up."

He lifted the corner of his mouth and murmured, "If you gave up, the world would implode."

It would indeed.

Hermione leaned up into him, and pressed her lips to his mouth – hungry, desirous and loving. She wasn't going to let him go. He responded instantly, and tangled his fingers in her hair.

Breathless, she pulled him closer, desperately needing to keep him molded against her. As she removed his robes, his tongue entered her mouth and her core temperature rose; heating her blood, her limbs, her skin.

Piece by piece, they shed their clothing into a pile on the stone floor and tangled their limbs together. She kissed him everywhere. Her mouth was firm, forceful and then lingered on his skin before searching for another place. Draco needed her, and she wouldn't fail him. They clung to each other, desperately grabbing, holding, clutching; not knowing what the next few hours would bring.

Sitting on his lap, Hermione dug her heels into his back and their sweaty bodies slid against one another. He pulled away from a kiss and watched her, cheeks reddened and lips swollen. It seemed like she was losing him already, and she clung to his shoulders, bracing herself against him. Brushing the damp hair out of his eyes, she whimpered as he thrust up and into her.

Holding each other tight and panting for breath, their naked limbs quaked together, bathed in morning sunlight. Draco watched her, almost as if he was in pain, and Hermione's heart ached. He was hers. She'd do anything for him. Breathing heavily, she took his head and cradled it in the nape of her neck. He wrapped his arms around her, and his hot breath grazed her nipple. His heart thudded powerfully in his chest, mirroring her own. She held him there quietly on the stone floor, nervous about the battle, but more hopeful for the future.

Resting her cheek on top of his head, she squeezed Draco tighter.

Not wanting to let him go, Hermione rubbed the top of his head with her cheek and he released a slow exhale against her skin.

She couldn't save Harry, but she could save Draco.

Next chapter: LET THE BAD ASSERY BEGIN!