Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rowling owns everything.
Now the action begins. Now all hell breaks loose. Draco will be helpful, of course. He's always helpful in one way or another.
Now, sit back and enjoy.
Love,
Avoline.
Draco followed Harry towards the Room of Requirement. Harry had already spoken Helena Ravenclaw, and despite her cryptic answer, both of them knew where the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw would be. Draco outpaced Harry by quite a few strides, but Harry soon made for it in sheer speed. They reached the wall concealing the room. Harry turned to Draco.
"You do it," he stated. "You're better at it." Draco nodded and began pacing.
I need the Room of Hidden Things, I need the Room of Hidden Things, I need the Room of Hidden Things.
He turned one last time to see the large doors. He grabbed one of the handles and opened the entrance, and Harry followed him. They split up, knowing good and well that they had a better chance of finding it faster if they searched seperately. Draco's eyes scanned for anything that he thought would hold a diadem.
"Draco," Harry called. Draco darted to where he heard Harry calling from, to see the dark-haired man holding the diadem. "Don't even think about it."
"I wasn't," Draco muttered. "I want the damn thing gone. The sooner we take down Voldemort, the better." They made their way to the door and were greeted by Hermione and Ron.
"Here," she breathed, handing Draco a Basilisk fang. His grey eyes met hers. "You're the only one not shaking like a leaf." He nodded before dropping to one knee and shifting his attention to the diadem. He raised the fang, then drove it into the large blue gem. A black plume of smoke shot out of the jewl, causing both Draco and Harry to tumble backwards. Draco's thoughts were scattered by the seering pain in his left arm.
The mark!
It was burning. Voldemort was angry. Draco writhed and screamed in agony. He was beginning to wish he could just cut his arm off and be rid of the blasted mark.
Just as suddenly as it started, the pain stopped. He looked around. Hermione was staring at him, her eyes glistening with tears. Ron was glancing at the two on the floor. Harry was staring off into the distance. Draco pushed himself up and focused on Harry.
"Where is he," he whispered. "Harry, where is he?" Harry's green eyes met Draco's.
"The boat house," he answered.
They moved quietly as they reached the small building. They crouched down so that they wouldn't be seen through the windows. Draco was behind Harry, and froze when he heard Snape's voice. He was telling Voldemort that no one was more powerful than he, that the Elder Wand only answered to him. Draco could tell, though, that the Dark Lord wasn't buying it.
Think quick, Snape. Save your own neck, or you'll become dinner for that filthy-
"Nagini, kill," he heard the Dark Lord order. Draco had to cover his mouth to keep from blowing their cover. He closed his eyes as he heard the creature strike his godfather over and over and over. He began shaking with the potent mix of emotions. Anger, sorrow, regret. All emotions that he could never deal with well. He cursed himself as small, muffled whimpers passed his lips.
He heard the crack as Voldemort disapparated, and he jumped to his feet and ran for the door. He pushed it open with enough force to rattle the panes of glass. His eyes were met with the sight of Snape slumped on the floor, barely hanging on to life. Draco fell to his knees as his gaze locked with that of his godfather's.
I'm a jinx, I'm a jinx. Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit!
He watched as Harry tried futily to stop the bleeding. Draco's ears could barely make out the words being said. Everything seemed to be moving in slow-motion. Once his eyes registered the moment of Snape's death, his emotions overtook him. He felt someone's arms around him, then heard Hermione's soothing voice in his ear. He couldn't stop himself; she was acting so much like his mother in that moment. He cried till his voice was hoarse, finally regaining his composure after at least thirty minutes.
Now he was all alone, with only the trio and his cousin to turn to.
The four of them trudged to the courtyard, or what was left, only to find it empty.
"Where is everybody," Hermione asked. No one answered. No one had to. They made their way to the doors to the Great Hall and opened them.
The hall smelled of death. Everywhere they looked they could see bodies and the injured. Draco scanned the area, only to see his cousin, Nymphadora, lying next to her husband, Remus Lupin. He felt bad that he wasn't as hurt. Hermione squeezed his hand as she passed him, following Ron.
"You barely knew her," she whispered before joining the Weasley family. He stared at the two bodies for a moment longer before turning to make his way out of the hall. He kept walking until he realized he was alone. He slumped against the wall and savored the silence.
"Draco," a voice called. He looked up to see Pansy staring at him. He could feel the tears stinging his eyes before he could find out what she was after.
"Pansy," he muttered. "Pansy, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." She dropped to her knees next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"What are you talking about," she questioned. He avoided her gaze, for fear of loosing control of his emotions.
"You need to go home, Pans," he murmured. "You really should, before you get hurt." He felt her fingers run through his hair.
"Why?" He emmitted a small, choked sound, his mind flodded with images of her lifeless body.
"Pansy, I'm a jinx," he croaked. "Mother and Father are dead because of me, Snape's dead, now my only cousin is dead too." Her warm hand pressed against his cheek.
"What about Bellatrix," she asked softly.
"I could care less about her. She's mental anyway." He finally raised his eyes to her. "I can't loose you. I know I've been the worst boyfriend ever, but I can change, Pansy. I could learn to treat you better." Her lips met his. "And I plan on starting now. Go home, Pansy, where it's safe." She pulled away and nodded, her eyes glistening with tears.
"I love you, Draco," she half-sobbed. "I'll wait for you."
Draco followed the crowd out of the Great Hall. He knew Harry had went to turn himself in, and now the Dark Lord was making his way up to the castle. Luna had been kind enough to alter his appearance slightly, so that he wouldn't be spotted by any of the Death Eaters. He saw the unmistakable form of Hagrid, and saw that he was carrying something.
"Wonder what Hagrid's carrying," Luna whispered in his ear. Draco cast his eyes towards the ground.
"Harry," he answered quietly. Luna gasped.
"Do you think he's," she began. He shook his head.
"He can't be," he replied. "He has to be faking it. He can't just die on us like that." He focused on the limp form as Voldemort began to taunt the crowd. He didn't pay attention to the old git. He had listened to enough of his droning. All he wanted right now was to be sure that Harry wasn't dead.
Something caught his eye. He furrowed his brow, focusing even harder.
Movement. Harry was alive. Draco bit his lip to keep from smiling. The crazy son of a bitch. Draco slid his hand into his pocket and grasped the wand concealed in it.
His father's wand.
He had found it discarded in the cellar of the manor, tossed aside like a piece of garbage. Harry still needed a wand, and Draco knew his father's wand was powerful. Maybe Harry could use it to defeat the Dark Lord.
Harry tumbled from Hagrid's arms and ran towards the crowd. Draco darted towards the Chosen One and pressed Lucius's wand into his hand, then ran towards the Great Hall. The battle had begun. Victory was close.
Draco stood in a corner of the Great Hall, sipping on a cup of tea. Harry had suceeded, with more than enough help from his friends. Voldemort was gone, as were most of the Death Eaters. Bellatrix had been killed at the hand of a very furious Molly Weasley.
Explains where Ron got his temper.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Harry standing there.
"You didn't have to give me your father's wand," he stated. "You could have kept it safe." Draco shook his head.
"You needed a wand," he countered. "I would have rather you use it than one of those filthy Death Eaters." Harry chuckled.
"You know the Elder Wands answers to you, right," he questioned. Draco shrugged.
"Snap the damn thing," he muttered. "It's caused more trouble than it's worth." He felt Harry press something into his hand, and he looked down to see a small, black stone.
"If you want, you can speak to your parents one last time," Harry offered. "Just be sure to get rid of it." Draco nodded and made his way to the burned-out Quiddich pitch. Once there, he turned the stone three times in his hand, his eyes closed.
"Draco." He opened his eyes to see his mother and father standing before him. A lump formed in his throat.
"Mother," he choked out. He could see the sorrow in her eyes.
"Draco. My son. You've become such a handsome young man." His breathing hitched, and he bit his lip.
"I'm so proud of you, Draco." He turned to his father.
"I miss you," he half-sobbed. "Both of you." She nodded.
"I know you do, son. Be strong, like I know you are. We'll always be with you." He nodded, unable to say another word. He closed his eyes, struggling to regain his composure. He knew she wouldn't be there when he opened them again. He turned and started towards the lake. He stood at the edge, then threw the Resurrection Stone into the water as hard as he could. He smiled, knowing that he had finally, after seventeen years, made his parents proud.