A/N: Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Early March. ARGH! Story… getting… close… to end…-sadness- Warning, more character death in this chappie. TOUGH LUCK. More language, blah blah blah. Enjoooyy.
Disclaimer: I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-
I RECOMMEND LISTENING TO TRUTH BY SEETHER WHILE YOU READ THIS. IT MAKES IT BETTER.
The Stone Speaks
Chapter Forty-Two: Into The Skirmish
DRACO
Draco moved swiftly back down the corridor. His heart was pounding and he was terrified – yet, somewhere, in what seemed like a distant land that was many miles away, he was floating. Floating with the memory of Ginny's lips on his. He pushed that to the back of his mind, and focused on the smouldering embers at the end of the tunnel, where the Dark Lord surely waited.
"Hello?" he asked, poking his head out of the end of the tunnel. He didn't bother with a 'my Lord' – that would only equal as grovelling to Lord Voldemort, and Drakonus Ophius Malfoy did not grovel.
The instant that any portion of Draco's anatomy left the safety of the slender walkway, an explosion of flame greeted him, sent by Lord Voldemort's angry wand. It burned terribly, but did not catch fire to his hair or skin, thankfully, and Draco hid back again, before leaping out.
He jumped past the billowing fire, and landed nimbly on his feet, standing, legs parted in a battle stance, opposite the Dark Lord who had menaced the past seventeen years of his life. Draco flexed his long fingers on Ginny's wand (damn! I forgot to give it back! Ginny's defenceless to the wrath of the Death Eaters, a part of his brain panicked) and stared levelly into the narrow crimson slits that represented Lord Voldemort's eyes.
"So, Malfoy," sneered Lord Voldemort.
"Junior," interrupted Draco. "I'm Malfoy Junior. Just because my father's dead doesn't mean that he never existed." His words were cold and aloof; he no longer cared that he would be punished for his unfriendliness.
The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed. He eyed Draco lethally, as if contemplating whether to kill, torture, scream at or ignore this impertinent teenager. After a moment's study, he said, "Very well. Malfoy… Junior."
"Yes?" asked Draco insolently. He was being blatantly rude, but that was why he was here. Anger Lord Voldemort, weaken him, and, most of all, keep him distracted so that he couldn't go to the battlefield. The instant that he set foot into Hogsmeade, the whole war was pretty much determined. If the Dark forces could be weakened and nearly destroyed before their key element – Lord Voldemort – got there, then maybe, maybe they could actually win.
"I see that you've changed sides," Lord Voldemort said conversationally, though his voice was dangerously calm and very soft.
"That observation took you long enough," said Draco, tilting his head slightly sideways, as he was regarding the Dark Lord with distaste and wondering.
Lord Voldemort's lip curled. "Interesting, isn't it, how all it takes to make a man out of a hormonal teenager is a few months with a beautiful girl?" he sneered.
"Leave her out of this," snapped Draco. "Don't think that you can get me back on your side. You tortured me for a week and you murdered my parents – ooh yes, I'll join you Lordie!" he simpered, mocking a high-pitched, stupid voice imitating what a fool he would have to be to join the Death Eaters.
Red eyes narrowed further.
"Listen – Tom -"
"YOU DARE!" spat Lord Voldemort, holding his wand up close to Draco's face.
"No, no, don't interrupt," Draco chided, "it's rude. I wasn't finished – Tom Marvolo Ridd-"
"CRUCIO!"
Draco's taunting was cut off and transformed into a scream of agony. He stumbled backwards, curling his hands into claws – memories were flashing back… "No, no, no!"
Blood was pouring down her gaunt face, so crimson that it made her hair seem pale and dull; her clothes were stained scarlet as she slowly bled to death.
"It's fake," Draco ground out past the incredible pain. "It's all fake. She's alive… she's-"
"Are you sure, Malfoy?" sniped Lord Voldemort cruelly. "The battle of Hogsmeade has already started. The killing has begun. She could lying in the mud, choking on her own blood, bawling her eyes out because no-one cares enough to save her-"
Before Draco could try and be rational about what he wanted to do, he ran forwards, his hands still in claw-shapes, and flew at the sneering, evil man in front of him. Draco got in three or four decent punches before the spell hit him in the chest and sent him flying backwards.
He landed, hard, on his back, so that the air was knocked out of his lungs, and he lay in the dirt, winded and helpless. Draco tried to find the sarcasm that was always at his aid, but it had somehow disappeared. Finally, he choked out, "damn."
"Damn indeed, Malfoy," Lord Voldemort snapped. "I recommend that you don't talk to me like that – and do not attack me. I am taller, stronger, wiser and more powerful than you are… and, I daresay, more than you will ever be." He twirled his wand between his long, cold fingers. "Hm… do you think I should kill you now… or later?"
Plan, plan, plan… gotcha Draco staggered to his feet, weak and tired. His fingers clung to his wand for something to focus on, and then he slowly lifted his chin. "How about…" he gasped, and then the rest of his sentence were lost.
"What?" Lord Voldemort was getting angry. His eyes were slits now, glaring crimson.
"I said…" Draco wheezed. "How about NEVER!"
In an instant, he had straightened up, brandished his wand, cried out, "STUPEFY!" and, once the Dark Lord was flat on his back, unconscious, Draco turned and sprinted for the battlefield. "Colloportus – impentrio," he panted, waving his wand at the door to the Shrieking Shack after he had closed it. The door slammed tight and locked. Lord Voldemort would be delayed getting the battlefield.
After he woke up, that is.
Draco sprinted through the marsh, feeling his knees get pulled down. As he drew closer to Hogsmeade, he saw the chaos that was taking place there. Blood – bodies – curses – screaming – shouting – crazed animals – it was like something from a nightmare. Then, the nightmare developed into a lurid bloodbath when two demented, murderous, full-grown dragons swooped into the scene.
"Oh, come on," he groaned. "You have to be freakin' kidding me."
However, the dragons were real, and so was everything else; Draco tightened his grip on Ginny's wand and raced forwards into the battle. Almost instantly, he spotted a disgustingly familiar head of tight, messy black curls. "Hey!" Draco bellowed at her.
Bellatrix whirled around. She had trails of green slime and scratches lining her face; she did not look good. She caught sight of Draco and her lip curled into a menacing leer.
"Miss me?" Draco growled.
"Hell, yeah!" Bellatrix snarled. "CRUCIO!"
Draco leapt sideways and narrowly dodged the beam of blue light. "Bring it, bitch," he yelled at her. "Impendetia!" Bellatrix stumbled backwards, bruises forming instantly on her face as she pummelled by Draco's spell.
"Come on, darling!" crooned Bellatrix. "CRUCIO – just like old times, eh?" She fired three more well-aimed Cruciatus curses in his direction. Draco dodged these too, though the last brushed against his elbow and sent shooting pain ricocheting through his lower arm.
"In case you hadn't noticed," Draco shouted back. "I escaped the old times – so it'd be crap to try. Catch me if you can!" he wheeled around, racing back the other way. A slosh of footsteps informed him that his dear old aunt was following him. Come on, come on… he weaved through a duel, ducking under fire, and then yelled in a high-pitched, female-impersonating voice, "OI, STUPID!"
Bain, a highly touchy centaur prince, spun around for the woman who had insulted him. "Who dares insult Bain?" he bellowed. He saw only a curly-haired Death Eater with a glare on her face, and heading towards her, letting arrows loose. Draco, seeing that Bellatrix was taken care of, raced away in the other direction to help.
"HELP!" screamed a girl's voice. "PLEASE!"
Draco ran faster, holding his wand high. There he saw an Inferi, holding a Ravenclaw girl in his year, Zhang or Chang or something like that. "Hang on!" he called to her, and took careful aim at the Inferi.
If I miss… Draco shook away his doubts. "Confringo!" he hollered. An explosion of flame billowed outwards, knocking the dead soul's head clean off. The Inferi gave a tortured howl before disappearing in a wisp of smoke. Then he hurried to the Ravenclaw. "Are you okay?"
The girl was famous for her long, shiny, black hair… but it had been burnt off, and her face held severe burns. Each harsh gasp sounded as though she was breathing water, and Draco knew with a sinking feeling of dread that Chang was bleeding internally.
"FAWKES!" Draco shouted. "FAWKES!" He knew that the phoenix had healing powers, and if the bird didn't arrive soon, then Chang didn't have a hope of surviving. "Hang on, Chang, help's coming," he reassured her, although he was very panicked.
"No," rattled Chang. "No… Fawkes can't help me… he won't get here in time… I can't… breathe – help -" she wheezed, her breathing a ghastly gurgling. "Please… tell my… parents…and friends… I love -" she choked out, her murmurs bubbling and making vile splashing noises and her lungs continued to fill with her own blood.
"I will," Draco agreed. "I will, I promise. Chang… you did well. You did a really good job, and you've made us all proud," he said softly. If he was going to be the only witness to this Ravenclaw's death, then he wanted to make sure that the last thing she heard was kind and telling her that she was wonderful.
Chang jerked her head in a half-nod, before collapsing into the mud, blood trickling from the corner of her pink, tattered lips. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she moved no more.
Another gone.
Draco brushed back some of Chang's prized black hair from her face, and then straightened, gripping Ginny's wand. "Don't worry, Chang. I'll make sure we win this fight – for you and everyone else who has to lose their lives."
"Aw, how sentimental," someone cooed spitefully.
"Oh, God, not you again," Draco complained, turning to Bellatrix. "My, my, isn't 'sentimental' a bit long for you? I thought you generally stuck to the monosyllabic words. Clever, Lestrange." He eyed her, watching every movement of her body and every twitch of her fingers on her wand, predicting her next moves every second of the way. "Anyway, I thought Bain was dealing with you."
"Bain?" echoed Bellatrix nastily. "Bain? That filthy half-creature has a name? You disgust me, thinking that I could be brought down by a mongrel donkey."
Draco did not answer in a phrase: instead he shouted, "STUPEFY! INCARCEOUS!"
"Protego," said Bellatrix lazily. However, her pretence did not work as well as she might have liked – she was whacked backwards, landing hard on her rear. "Ooh, feisty, nephew."
Draco let out a yell of anger, and threw curses, jinxes and hexes galore at the female Lestrange. The rest of the battle blurred, the lines of reality and hell blurring into one big fiery panorama. Growls loosening from behind his gritted teeth, he saw the torture chamber again, saw Bellatrix cackling, saw the terrible things that he had been put through, saw her attempt to kill Ginny… "AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Forget 'I'll never kill anyone'. Bellatrix tried to kill Draco – tried to kill Ginny. And now she would pay.
Bellatrix' eyes widened in genuine fear, and she began a violent slashing motion with her wand to protect her – but it was too late.
Draco felt anger and power surging through every inch of him, propelling itself out through Ginny's wand. Then green light flashed, and then was a deathly quiet, apart from the low, angry hissing of death as it sped towards Bellatrix. The green sailed past Bellatrix' flailing arms, and hit home.
The female Death Eater's eyes widened still, and she took a step backwards, as if in shock at what Draco was doing. However, she wasn't in shock. Because she was dead.
She fell to the ground, eyes bulging in her 'shock', and crumpled in the sludge. Draco's chest was heaving in fury as he stared down at her. Then, he started to feel horror levitate past his stomach and his heart…
Look at her. She's dead. She's lifeless. She will never breathe again. Because of me. I killed her. I killed her. I – am – a – murderer.
Feeling sick, Draco spun and ran, without any solemn memorial to close her vacant, staring eyes and respect her life (as if I would anyway, he thought dryly) and vanished into the skirmish around him.
A/N: YAY! Bellatrix Lestrange is finally dead! –happydance- And so is Cho Chang. – unhappydance- Oh well, I never really liked Cho anyway. –happydance- Okay, so far I've killed one Gryffindor, one Ravenclaw and two Death Eaters… that's one more Gryffindor, Huffelpuff, Slytherin to go! Please reviewww…