Author's Note: I'm pleased you've enjoyed the epic Battle of Hogwarts so far; it's really quite a vague part of the books with a lot of room for interpretation if you feel like mixing it up! I won't keep you waiting this time. As always, JKR wants us to follow the spiders.

...

Draco stared in horror as Potter – stupid, self-sacrificing bastard – strolled into that damn clearing waiting to be slaughtered like a lamb. He had to try very hard not to flinch, but to actually smile victoriously like the rest of the remaining Death Eaters. Glancing at his father, he saw Lucius laugh with almost perverted delight. This was not good. This was a disaster. For years he had fantasized enthusiastically about Potter being disfigured in some hideous and embarrassing way; that's the kind of thing you thought about with childhood rivalries. But now everything was different. He didn't think they could ever possibly be friends, the very word made him feel sick. But Hermione loved this boy. She thought of him as a brother; they had looked out for each other since first year, and she would be absolutely devastated if something happened to him. Which now seemed inevitable.

What the fuck does he think he's doing? Draco thought with barely repressed rage and desperation. The last thing in the world that he wanted right now was to see Hermione's sweet, innocent face broken by grief for the loss of her dearest friend. And it would break her. Her whole life these past few years had been about helping and protecting Potter. She would be completely shattered by this. And there was nothing Draco could do. To get involved and try to help the idiot now would just be a death sentence for the both of them. And Hermione would need him after this.

Draco watched with wide, haunted eyes as the stupid wanker entered the clearing, stepping calmly over roots and rocks to stand directly before Lord Voldemort. The two dichotomous wizards faced each other, one with a feverish glee on his snake-like features, and the other expressionless.

"Harry Potter," the Dark Lord whispered, and as quiet as his voice was, it seemed to echo around the clearing. He looked the boy up and down, his face a myriad of emotions, the strongest of which was absolute searing hatred. "The boy who lived," he added almost whimsically, as if pondering the name and what it meant here and now. There was a pause, painfully long, in which nothing happened. Then he lifted his wand in bony, white fingers.

Draco took in a deep gasping breath of air as the curse from Voldemort's wand burst forwards in a beam of violent static light, illuminating the entire clearing. Potter just stood there uselessly, not even raising his own wand to defend himself.

Why doesn't the bloody idiot defend himself?

When the spell hit him, the onlookers shouted out in shock as the light crackled as if with a mind of its own. Draco had never seen an Avada appear this way. Potter dropped instantly to the ground in a boneless heap, his head thunking against the forest floor. But the light seemed to refract and jet backwards a bit as it lingered on the tip of Voldemort's wand. The Dark Lord's red eyes widened in momentary surprise before he, too, seemed to fold in on himself and crumple to the floor. A number of Death Eaters leapt forwards in concern. Bellatrix, who was of course closest to him, reached out, make her hand met the obviously painful sting of a barrier of some kind as the spell continued to swirl a bit around him like an electric charge.

After that everyone seemed to back off a bit and just watch uneasily as his form convulsed in an agitation of muscles and limbs, while Potter stayed dead-still on the ground before him. It seemed like minutes before the spell finally dissipated and with a great whooshing sound, the light disappeared. The clearing was once again hurtled into darkness.

Draco was staring straight at Potter's prone body. He had inched forwards to get a better look while everyone was shuffling around trying to help the Dark Lord, and he now stood quite close to the Chosen One. He could discern no movement from the messy haired boy. He was completely still. Well, of course he was, Draco thought with a dark grimace of regret; just because he survived the killing curse once as a baby did not mean he could defeat the impossible again. The little flutter of hope he felt when Voldemort's spell seemed to distort was slowly fading as the boy remained motionless.

Finally, after what seemed like a few long minutes, the Dark Lord stumbled to his feet. It was odd to see the normally controlled and, for lack of a better word, graceful man look so haggard, but he did. He was gaunt, and stood on unsteady legs. Many of the surrounding Death Eaters were shocked at this appearance, preferring to see him as some kind of impervious deity that they could worship. It shook them to the core to watch him feel things that were so human, so weak. Many took a few steps backwards away from him. How could killing one pesky little teenager have caused such a reaction, they probably thought. They were scared.

The bolder ones, the ones who would be quite happy to lick the ground he walked on, shuffled closer. Bellatrix and his father were among them. They appeared worried, reaching out to help him stand and get his bearings. This turned out to be a mistake for them, as Voldemort snarled, the noise sounding a bit like the hissing of a snake, and sent a pulse of magic out that stung them. The small number of them who had dared move closer cried out, nursing their sore hands and staggering away.

"Is he dead? He must be dead now, this time surely…" the Dark Lord was rambling, murmuring a bit incoherently, but his thoughts were clear. He had been thwarted by Harry Potter too many times; it had made him obsessed, crazed at the idea of the boy's death.

Draco was closest.

He cautiously stepped towards the body of Potter still lying on the forest floor, limbs slightly cocked to one side and glasses askew. He glanced at Voldemort, checking that he wasn't about to be cursed, and gave a sigh of relief when the Dark Lord nodded enthusiastically, almost pressing him to deliver the joyful news of the boy's death. Draco knees were shaking and there was an unpleasant sensation in his mouth that tasted suspiciously like bile. But he had to know. He had to know if Hermione had lost her best friend. It felt like he actually walked a mile, his body was so exhausted, but he managed to make it across the leafy ground to Potter. He leaned down over him, peering around at his face, which was turned away from the group. He looked completely lifeless.

But…

Wait…

Draco could have sworn he saw his lips move just slightly, as if drawing in a tiny breath of air. Maybe he was imagining things. He reached out with a shaking hand and placed two fingers against Potter's neck where his pulse would be found. And when he pressed his fingers down he felt the steady pumping of blood in an even rhythm that signalled life, joy, hope.

Potter was alive. He'd done it again.

Draco wanted to reel backwards, since he felt like his body would convulse just from the shock. How could this have happened? No one was meant to survive the killing curse, let alone twice. But Potter's body didn't lie; there were signs of life in him if you watched closely enough and knew what to look for. He swallowed and leaned closer, hoping that the boy was cognisant of his surroundings and not still trapped in some coma. The slight roving of his eyeballs under their lids encouraged him.

"Bloody hell, Potter," he whispered as quietly as he could, so that none of the other Death Eaters would hear him, and if they did would hopefully think that he was whispering some parting words of hate to his school nemesis, "If you don't end it with this snake-faced bastard soon, I'll kill you myself!"

He saw Potter's lip quirk up into a half-smile and saw the boy nod his head very gently. Then Draco rose to his feet, his heart pounding. He drew all his concentration into a single focus point – making sure that his occlumency walls held tight, and conveyed the blankness of honesty. It wasn't often that one lied to the Dark Lord and got away with it. He was counting on his own skill with resisting legilimency, as well as his hope that Voldemort was still a bit shaken from what just happened to see him through this.

When he turned around to face the group of Death Eaters and Voldemort, he let his lips stretch into a wide, victorious grin. He didn't have to fake the emotion.

"He's dead," he announced loudly. His voice was filled with delight, malice and anticipation. He was very convincing.

Almost at once a cheering rumbled through the group and burst out, with Death Eaters calling out insults to the 'dead' body before them, and Voldemort himself managed to crack his thin, ashen lips into the barest hint of a smile too. The cacophony of noise lasted for ages, and Draco joined in, not moving away from Potter's body. If things went badly he might still need to act to get him out, so standing guard wasn't a bad idea. Finally the Dark Lord held up his hand for silence, before pointing one bony finger over at a large figure that was tethered somewhere towards the back of the group. A couple of the stronger Death Eaters kicked the man forwards, and as he entered the light of the clearing, Draco saw that it was the half-giant Hagrid.

"You," Voldemort spat at the large man who was openly weeping and moaning through his gag, "Pick up his body. We will return to the castle as victors. It is time to finish this."

Although his words were quietly spoken, it rallied the spirits of the Death Eaters enormously, who cheered and shouted with excitement. Draco stepped to one side as the shaking figure of Hagrid leaned down to scoop up the boy. Even though the giant glared at him with nothing but fury, Draco felt relief. He had been worried that they would choose to drag him back or toss him around, which would probably not end well. He was thankful for the way Hagrid cradled Potter so gently instead. He supposed it was the Dark Lord's way of being perverse, to make one of the boy's friends nurse his dead body and reveal him to the Order.

As a group they made their way quickly and efficiently back through the forest towards the school. They were met by no resistance from the creatures of the forest. At one point Hagrid managed to rip off his gag and yell something at a group of centaurs who watched them pass. His voice was filled with anguish as he screamed at the impassive horse men. Their group just kept walking, a few of the men around them laughing cruelly at the giant.

It didn't seem to take very long at all before they reached the castle. Draco saw the large glittering structure loom up out of the trees, and soon they were emerging from the dark forest and onto the front lawns, filtering out onto the stretching open grounds just outside the main doors. The castle looked like it had seen better days. There was smoke rising from its walls, and the stonework seemed singed and crumbled. It was actually a depressing sight. He was very fond of Hogwarts and seeing it in ruins only served to increase his disgust of the Death Eaters and Voldemort; they were the ones who had brought about this destruction. As weird as it sounded, Hogwarts didn't deserve this. As their group approached the castle up the front lawns, the light from the front entrance grew brighter, and the people inside spilled out in small dribs and drabs. Many were nursing injuries, or supporting each other. They all looked weary, ready for this to be over. He was surprised by how young some of the students were who stayed. Why had nobody made sure they were evacuated?

Towards the front of their group was the surprising figure of Neville Longbottom, limping heavily on one side but with a look of grim determination on his face. Draco froze a bit in shock, stumbling a little before he found his footing again, though he continued to stare at his old school bullying victim. He had never seen this side of Longbottom. The Gryffindor had clearly gone through a lot this last year. Draco had of course heard from friends that he had been the leader of the student rebellion at Hogwarts, but he had never quite believed it. But now, looking at the battle-worn, hard face of the man before him, no longer the scared boy from their youth, he certainly accepted that Longbottom was a force to be reckoned with. Draco smiled crookedly, strangely pleased that the young man had finally found some guts; he was also proud of Hermione for always believing in him. She had obviously seen something in Neville that others hadn't, and Draco himself was quite happy to have that perception altered.

He peered around the people at the front, trying to catch a glimpse of his curly-haired witch. He finally saw her emerge from the castle, and couldn't help the smile that teased at his lips at the sight of her alive and looking relatively unharmed. He saw Blaise follow close behind her as she pushed her way towards the front of the group. He was keeping a close guard on her by the looks of it, just as he had promised. And Draco knew from first hand experience in his sixth year that it could be very hard to avoid Blaise if he was committed to following you. He was like a dog with a bone.

Draco watched as she scanned the crowd desperately, her eyes wide and her plait now almost completely dishevelled. She was standing on the balls of her feet, wringing her hands as she watched the Death Eaters arrive. Finally she spotted him, and only because he pushed his own way right to the front of the group so that he could watch her more closely.

Their eyes met, and without being able to say anything, they managed to convey a weight of emotion to each other; relief, regret, sorrow, joy, fear. He felt a stinging sensation in chest, and recognised it as a fierce need to protect her, to do whatever he could to make sure they both saw it through this confrontation and out the other side. There was something amazing here – he had known it for years, even if she was just warming to the idea – and he would be damned if either of them were to die before they could explore the potential future between them. There were several shouts of dismay erupting across the opposite side, as more and more people became aware of the limp figure carried in Hagrid's arms. Several of them cried out, yelling accusations, or just declaring their disbelief, their anguish. Hermione's head turned around in surprise at the noise, and fell on the face of the youngest Weasley girl who was staring at the half-giant in horror, her face a picture of absolute despair. Confused, Hermione spun back around to look at the same spot, and Draco watched miserably as she saw the body of her closest friend, and heard the mocking laughter of the Death Eaters.

He wanted to call out to her, to tell her that Potter was alright, that he wasn't really dead. But he knew he had to stay silent. Even if he gave her some kind of signal of reassurance, they could be in trouble. Voldemort believed that Potter was dead, and if he didn't trust the reactions of all the boy's friends to the news, then he would become suspicious.

Trying not to give anything away through his expressions, he turned his attention to Voldemort as he started speaking, his voice amplified again to bellow across the grounds.

"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone."

At once all the voices opposite them were raised in an outcry of anger, protesting his cruel lies. The loudest among them were Ron and Hermione, her beautiful brown eyes swimming with tears as she declared her friend's bravery. Somehow the Dark Lord managed to silence the crowd with a bellowed word and a wave of his wand, as he continued to taunt them. His voice washed over Draco like a droning wave of spite, and he barely took in the words. He was too busy gazing at Hermione with worry. She was clearly grief stricken. What if she did something stupid and impulsive?

Draco didn't really pay attention again until Voldemort was calling for wizards – only purebloods of course – to switch over to his side. He was appealing of course to those few on the fringe who were likely to want to save their own skin, because he couldn't imagine any of those key Order members being disloyal to their cause. They were all passionate defenders of their deeply ingrained sense of morality.

Which is why he was so surprised when Neville strode forwards out from the rest of the crowd. He had his wand clenched tightly and was striding all too quickly towards the group. At first it seemed as if he was – unbelievably – taking up Voldemort's offer. But then his anger became clear to those before him. Bellatrix quickly and efficiently disarmed the poor Gryffindor boy, and he was thrown back a couple of steps. The gathered Death Eaters laughed cruelly.

"And who is this?" Voldemort asked coldly.

Bellatrix cackled in her high, grating voice and said,

"Neville Longbottom, my Lord – the son of those aurors remember?"

Voldemort smiled as if with fond recollection of the story of their torture. He began to speak to the boy, but Draco just stared past him at Hermione, willing her not to move, not to intervene. He saw the look of wild anguish on her face, the desperate need to act, to hurt someone as payback for the hurt she thought had been done to her friend. He even shuffled forward where others in the group had moved around in a semi-circle so that he would be closer to her. He held himself on the edge there, poised to act in case she did.

Voldemort was openly mocking poor Longbottom now, starting to launch into speeches about pureblood values. But to his credit, Neville held his own, sticking to his values with a stubborn sort of courage that only infuriated the Dark Lord further. He had to almost stop himself from snorting with a laugh of disbelief when the dark wizard started declaring Hogwarts as a school for only Slytherins. As if that was the solution to all the problems in the wizarding world. What a joke.

He looked up in surprise when there was a crashing sound from above, glass showering down amidst screams onto those standing below. The Dark Lord had summoned a floppy brown item to land in his bony fingers, and Draco watched in surprise as he realised it was the school Sorting Hat. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Looking back to the side and slightly behind him from where he was standing, he watched Voldemort's red, malevolent eyes with trepidation.

"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to fools who continue to oppose me," he yelled to the gathering forces on both sides. In one swift flourish of his wand, the hat soared from his hand and landed right on top of the Gryffindor's head, strangling him and muffling his entire face in its mouldy folds. Neville convulsed and stumbled backwards, his body thrashing about under the hat. The crowd behind him gasped and started to rush forwards to help him as the Death Eaters jeered and booed the poor boy. Voldemort growled at the people swarming forwards and flicked his wand again, making the hat burst into flames. They weren't normal flames, but a force of dark magic, crackling with blue static and consuming Neville's head entirely. The Death Eaters cheered as the Order were forced backwards, unable to approach the scorching fire and help him.

"NO!" Hermione screamed out in helpless rage, watching Neville suffer. Draco's eyes flickered to the side as well and saw Potter's brows furrowing together from where he still lay dangling in Hagrid's arms. No doubt he would do something heroic and self-sacrificing soon to step in and help.

A couple of things happened at once that altered his decisions in that moment. Hermione was stricken with panic, and Potter was probably on the verge of doing something stupid. And then the strangest thing happened. While Neville was shrieking and desperately grappling to remove the hat from his head, there was a clunking sound. From under the very hat itself, a sword appeared and thunked to the ground, its ruby hilt glittering, and its sharp edges gleaming in the encroaching light of dawn as it peaked over the horizon.

At the same time, Voldemort was hissing something incoherently behind him, and soon enough that damn snake, Nagini, was slithering forward to scoop up her next meal in the form of Longbottom. The snake writhed across the ground menacingly, arching its length in a graceful coil ready to strike.

Draco felt the air vanish from his lungs in a single breath. It was like time froze for a split second, and all his thoughts crystallised into one clear choice. It was time. He knew that he had to make his move eventually, and this was it. The Order were no help to Neville, the fire was being controlled by Voldemort to force them backwards, and was impervious to their spells. But he could slip in unnoticed and give him a chance to get free.

And there was another thought swirling through his mind that kept nagging at him. It was Potter staring meaningfully at his friends and saying "now it's just the snake." Did that mean that the snake needed to die? All these things rushed through his head in the briefest of moments, but in the end they propelled him forwards into motion with barely a hint of hesitation.

Draco took a deep breath as he raced forwards. He was counting on the fact that his actions would be so baffling to the Death Eaters that they wouldn't think to hex him. They might even believe he was doing their dirty work somehow still. His heart was pounding with adrenalin as he made the long dash towards Longbottom. He had to wince and narrow his eyes against the unbearable heat from the magical flames hungrily devouring the sorting hat as he finally reached the poor boy thrashing in pain, where a giant fucking snake was readying itself to pounce on him.

In one fell swoop, Draco came barrelling in at top speed, skidding to a halt and scooping up the sword from where it had fallen on the ground. He put himself bodily between the burning figure of Neville and the snake. He was only just in time as Nagini came launching through the air, her mouth agape with fangs reared to pierce the flesh of her victim. Letting out a wordless scream of pent up rage, his body burning from the sprint and the effort of raising the heavy sword, he swung the weapon in a wide arc in front of him. A burst of savage joy flared up inside him when he watched through squinted eyes as the blade sliced cleanly through the neck of the snake and severed her head completely off.

The next moment the satisfaction had been sucked from him as a cold, almost black mist settled around him from her writhing body, a dark force exiting her body aggressively, battering against the closest figure, the one responsible for this act. It made his whole body shudder, and he dropped the sword with a yelp of pain. In the same instant, a loud cry of fury rose up from somewhere in front of him, and he managed to raise his head long enough to see the bared teeth and wild, livid eyes of Voldemort. It took him a moment to identify the emotion of the Dark Lord's face, but when he did it made his heart stutter back to life with renewed energy.

He was scared.

Behind him, Neville was given relief from the fire with Voldemort's distraction just long enough to wrestle the hat from his head. He looked visibly shaken, but still determined as he glared over at his enemies.

Then the real reaction began. All at once, the sea of Death Eaters before them burst out into a wave of shouts and cries of outrage, many yelling out "TRAITOR" or other much ruder terms to describe him. He felt his palms sweat as he grasped his wand and held it in a tight, vice-like grip. The crowd before him prepared to attack as they raised their wands too, and Draco and Neville both simultaneously stumbled a few fearful steps back in the face of such a large opposition. But before any spells could hit them, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder, and he turned his head to the side to see Hermione extending a shield charm over him to protect him. She didn't look at him; she was too focused on glaring with icy fury over at the Death Eaters below them on the lawn. He felt her hand squeeze him with relief and affection, but her concentration was intense. Out of the corner of his eye he saw some other figures stepping up to form a protective barrier, including his newly met cousin Nymphadora, and Minerva McGonagall looking enraged like a lioness protecting her cubs. And to make matters even better for them, he heard the drum-like thumping of hooves from packs of centaurs who had surrounded the Death Eaters from behind around the fringes of the forest, finally paying heed to the battle and choosing to side with the Light.

But even so, Draco wasn't sure that all of this would be enough to stop Voldemort himself. The manic wizard, eyes glinting with uncontrollable wrath, was striding towards them. He had his wand raised high in the air, his lips curling back into bestial snarl as he prepared to fire his first hex.

And that's when, finally, Potter chose his perfect moment.

Draco had to give the boy credit; he knew how to cause the most dramatic distraction imaginable. It was chaos. Jumping down from Hagrid's giant arms, he yelled "EXPELLIARMUS" at the top of his voice right at Voldemort's head, and the Dark Wizard only just managed to swat the spell away in his surprise. The whole battlefield froze to stare at him in disbelief as he stood there, very much alive and seemingly unharmed.

The first thing that happened was a wave of confused yelling amongst the Order, with some people shouting in shock, and others whooping with delight. Hermione's hand clenched down on his shoulder so hard he was sure to bruise. Then the Death Eaters began to react. And it was not what Draco had been expecting at all. About fifteen or so of them were scared shitless. They had truly believed that their lord had vanquished the boy, and now he stood there looking absolutely fearless and ready to fight. They panicked, trying to run away from the melee, and meeting the wall of centaurs behind them. Some started to disapparate away.

Others, the inner circle mostly, launched into battle with furious energy. Everything became a blur of hexes and spells as the two sides once more engaged in the blood bath.

"Where's Harry gone?" Hermione yelled into his ear fearfully. And sure enough, when he looked around Potter had completely disappeared. He swivelled his head a bit, but when a stinging hex flew by his ear he decided it was time for them both to get into a better position.

"I'm sure he's fine, Hermione," he yelled back, before he grabbed onto her hand and started to tug her towards the Entrance Hall. The battle was slowly moving up the hill towards the castle, and he wanted to get the best defensible spot for them. As they made their way through the archway, both of them were blasting spells back and forth, even as they kept their other hands gripped tightly together, palms sweating but still clinging on. A crashing sound rang out on their left, and they saw a large giant blunder his way towards the battle, aiming for a group of Death Eaters who were attacking Hagrid.

"HAGGED," the hulking figure moaned loudly. Draco winced as the giant was attacked viciously by spells, and pulled Hermione further away despite her protests. By the time he managed to coax her inside to where it might be safer away from all the horrible things emerging from the forest, the battle was well underway in there too. He had shot a nasty spell towards Dolohov when Hermione tugged on his hand to pull him towards where a few of the Weasleys were fighting – he could see the mother and daughter, and there were a couple of the obviously older brothers as well as one of the twins. They were working perfectly as a family unit together, and he thought it a good idea to join them, since they would all certainly protect Hermione with their lives.

An explosive blast of stone blocked their path and they both dodged quickly to the side. They took a moment to get their bearings, before Hermione once again spun them around towards the Weasleys. Suddenly he felt rather than saw her stop dead in her tracks, and he actually ran into her back a bit.

"Oof, Hermione, what's wr-" Draco froze too.

He stared ahead of them, a sinking sensation making his gut cramp up with nervous anger. He felt his palm sweat and his wand almost slipped from his grip. Hermione was panting a bit with fear as she looked ahead of them, and he felt her squeeze his hand. He tried to squeeze back a bit, but all his focus was consumed by the sight of the man standing before them, blocking their path with a sadistic, crazed grin. Draco had never felt such a wave of hatred in all his life.

With one quick motion, he tugged Hermione backwards so that she was standing behind him. He raised his head proudly and faced the monster who had raised him to be just like himself, savagely pleased that he had failed. He met the monster head on with a cold, murderous smile.

"Lucius."

….

Woah. Another Cliff hanger. I'm so sorry. I'll update sooner this time though, because I'm on a break from work! We are really reaching the climax here. What will be the aftermath? Please review!