Author's note: We pick up from our cliff hanger again here. This chapter was difficult to write actually. We are definitely winding down now in the story. I love all my reviewers; you help keep me enthused. Thanks for reading. As always, JKR is a big erumpent horn!

Last time...

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."

...

Draco shuffled more to the side to make sure that he was keeping Hermione protected with his body. They were still clasping hands behind his back, but he felt a bit more secure knowing that any hexes would hit him first. He had been morbidly anticipating this confrontation, but he would be damned if he allowed Hermione to become involved. He saw his father's eyes widen furiously as he glanced across at her, sweeping down to take note of the way their hands were entwined in each other's. There was no mistaking their relationship, he supposed, reluctantly admitting that it put her in even more danger, but not wanting to let go yet. Lucius looked like he wanted to vomit. His face flushed a dark, angry red.

"Draco," his father hissed, baring his teeth in a way that reminded him of a savage dog, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Draco sneered, almost wanting to roll his eyes in frustration.

"What does it look like?" he snapped impatiently.

"You dare betray the Dark Lord's trust in our family? You dare to sully the name of Malfoy?"

The three of them had to duck as a hex ricocheted and came close over the top of them. Hermione let out a little gasp as she saw that it had come from Bellatrix's wand. The crazy witch was decimating her enemies left and right, with no regard for who she was actually hitting.

"You destroyed our name long before I ever had a chance, Lucius," Draco spat, his wand shaking in his hand as he pointed it directly at his father's heart.

"I gave you all the privilege and wealth in the world, and you throw it back in my face. And for what? This mudblood whore?" His father was shouting now, spittle flying from his lips as he gestured madly towards Hermione.

"Shut up," Draco growled, inching forwards and jabbing his wand threateningly in front of him.

"Honestly, Draco, if all you wanted was some piece of muggle trash to open her legs for you, I could have arranged to give you one as a pet."

Draco fired a curse at the man, his blood pounding so hard it was like a drumming in his ears, blocking out all other sound. Lucius blocked it easily, throwing one back that made Draco stumble a bit. His father was lacking in many ways, but duelling certainly wasn't one of them. He was callous and unpredictable, and Draco felt the adrenalin of fear rise up in him as his mind whirled with how he could get the better of the experienced fighter. Maybe distracting him wasn't such a bad idea.

"Yeh? Well guess what? I've been in love with this particular muggleborn for years."

"Don't be ridiculous," his father shouted, "You're a bloody coward and a liar. Your mother made you weak. You would never have the gall to act so treacherously otherwise."

Draco saw the crazed look in his father's eye, and knew that he was succeeding in making the older man lose focus.

"You think so? Well I was strong enough to get her out of the mansion when Aunt Bella was torturing her," his father just gaped in response, his normally pale face reddening with confused horror at his son's revelation. Draco continued, hoping to push him far enough to slip up, "She's been living with me ever since. And I've been giving information to the Order all evening. I even lied about Potter being dead."

Draco listed off his betrayals very quickly, the skin above his lip sweating uncomfortably as he thought desperately of a way to get past Lucius and get Hermione to safety.

"You little piece of shit," his father hissed, as another hex shot past them and into the wall nearby, sharp fragments of stone bursting out in a cloud of dust, "You're a disgrace to the Malfoy name."

"Like father like son then," he retorted, but staggered again when Lucius threw another curse at him. He felt the spell hit a hastily constructed shield, and out of the corner of his eye saw that Hermione had raised her own wand to defend him.

"You are NOT my son," Lucius growled, before he spat at the ground between them, "I have no son."

Draco tried to slip a hex past the older man's defences, hoping that he was distracted enough, but Lucius batted it away just in time.

"How does it feel, knowing that your own son and wife both hated you? That mother killed herself just to get away from you?"

"She was sick," Lucius cried out with wide, traumatised eyes, clouded with a deep sense of denial. Draco was sure that he had loved his wife in the beginning, on some level. Even though the match had been arranged, he had some faint memories of them showing fondness, even slightly stiff affection towards each other when he was little. But that was before the man had begun his descent into sadistic madness.

"She was broken by your selfish ambition and brutality," Draco accused, firing another hex. Lucius blocked it easily and shot one back, which battered against Hermione's shield with a sort of tinkling sound.

"She chose her own ending. What a shame you won't have the same opportunity."

Draco only just managed to dodge the blast of green light that shot past his right ear. He had pulled Hermione down to the side with him the moment he saw the curse materialise from his father's wand. Even though he was sort of expecting it, he still felt a shiver of surprise that Lucius had used an Avada on him.

"Really? You're going to kill your only heir?"

"You are NO heir of mine, you shall receive nothing. Not now that you have dirtied yourself in the arms of your mudblood slut."

Draco just laughed cruelly in his father's face.

"And you know what? I don't give a fuck about your money!"

"You've certainly changed your tune," Lucius sneered, "But then again you were always a spoilt, pathetic child, and now look at you. You just grew up into a snivelling, pitiful wreck."

"Better a wreck of my own making, than being anything like you. How could you raise a child to be so hateful? Do you have any idea how hard it was to turn my back on what you taught me? How much strength that took?"

Lucius muttered something about 'weakness' instead of strength, but he was clearly concentrating hard to deflect the number of spells that Draco had started to aim his way after his little speech. His strategy seemed to be working, because his father was really struggling to deal out his worst. He was so outraged and filled with helpless fury that his spells were sloppy and more easily defended than they would usually be. Draco didn't bother kidding himself that it was because Lucius felt any spark of remorse for trying to kill his own son; it was purely because he was too incensed to focus properly on his duelling skills.

Draco felt a fierce determination as he snapped hex after hex at his father. The fight between them was well and truly underway. Neither of them bothered to exchange any more pointless words of hate or disappointment, they were beyond that now. He was trying hard to either disarm the man or stun him. It didn't even cross his mind to use any more severe spells than that. He would much rather see Lucius rotting away in Azkaban for the rest of his deplorable life than to be killed by his own hand. He had enough murder on his conscience without the blood of his father, no matter how much the bastard deserved it. His father seemed to have given up on the killing curse, since it was such a big drain on one's energy, and was using much more primitive slicing spells that would probably tear open Draco's insides if they got past his defences.

When he managed to knock his father back a step or two, forcing the man's own spell to rebound a bit and make a deep gash in his arm, he felt a swell of victorious adrenalin. He let his eyes dart quickly to the side to check on Hermione. His heart skipped. Draco had been so focused on his confrontation with Lucius that he hadn't even realised any other Death Eaters had approached. Not far from them, Kingsley Shacklebolt, an auror from the Ministry of Magic was fighting ferociously against two bulky Death Eaters, and Hermione herself was engaged in a savage duel with Dolohov. She seemed do be handling herself alright, dodging this was and that as the much larger man beared down upon her. Dolohov was cackling wildly, his rotten teeth visible in the wide stretch of his feral grin. He was continuously firing some hex that had a purple tinge to it, as if he were taunting her. And when Draco's eyes flickered to Hermione he saw her gaze on the Death Eater was steely with grim determination. She looked terrifying to be honest.

Draco's lingering shield charm only just held strong under the force of another blow from Lucius, prying his attention back to the fight at hand. It wasn't a good idea to let himself become distracted, and there were others nearby coming to help Hermione with her duel. Even dorky old Percy Weasley was launching himself in to help her with an animalistic growl, his wand flying around in a blur.

It took another few minutes for him to get the upper hand once more. He had to use some dirty tricks, casting charms on the floor to shift around the rubble and make Lucius lose his footing, and use a blinding hex to dazzle the other man with light. But he managed to bounce back a couple of Lucius's own spells in a row eventually, and grinned in triumph as he saw a deep cut slice across the man's chest. The older blond grunted in pain and doubled over. This was it.

Before Draco had a chance to stun him, he was momentarily distracted by a loud cheering from the other side of the hall. A number of current and past students who he recognised from Hogwarts were yelling and clapping their hands in triumph. Even Professor Sprout, who was normally quite a formal old lady in her beloved greenhouses, was whooping madly with delight. He followed their gazes and saw glimpses of little figures dashing in amongst the wizards, carrying utensils as weapons and screaming in little high-pitched voices. It was the house elves, storming into battle to protect their precious castle and its students. They were a sight to behold, that was for sure. Their cute, tiny bodies belied the ferocity with which they fought, using ancient magic that they held and rarely used for any task but cleaning and cooking, but which was more powerful than most wizards probably realised. He was pretty sure he saw old Dobby in there somewhere, running alongside a much older elf that was yelling out the name 'Harry Potter' like a sycophant, and there was the slight blur of a pink tutu as well. He heard Hermione gasp behind him and he could practically hear the squeal of pride she gave watching them take on these mighty wizards. These were dark humans who they would normally find so terrifying, and yet here they were standing up for what was right instead of cowering away in their kitchen. Draco could only agree with the sentiment on her face; it was magnificent.

But the momentary distraction of their entrance was devastating. Draco had looked away for a few short seconds while Lucius was injured, and in that time his father had spotted his weakness and exploited it. He felt the hex before he even saw it. A dull, constricting pressure hit his chest right between his ribs, the spell battering into his shield charm and crushing it. He was incredibly luckily that he did not cop the full force of the slicing curse. It smacked into him with bruising force, though, and in one split second he felt all the air sucked from his lungs. He became dizzy as his body flew backwards to land on the ground in a slightly unco-ordinated heap of arms and legs. His hand grappled in a panic at his chest, trying to draw in breaths of air, but he was badly winded. He was moving his mouth desperately but not managing to take in much more than very tiny puffs of air. He shot one or two silent spells towards Lucius to try and halt his onslaught, but his father wasn't stupid. He pressed his advantage, and soon Draco was using up all his concentration on just defending himself from the ground. His father had advanced a couple of strides, and Draco felt his heart pounding painfully against his fractured ribs as he tried weakly to stand up again.

When he finally made it back up onto his hands and knees, another spell battered him, and he was sent sprawling again, the intensity of the curse flaring up through his entire body and making him twitch on the ground with a cry of pain. He wondered dimly if this was it. After everything, was he just going to be brutally slain by his own father? Bloody hell, he hoped not. He clambered for his wand, but a third curse hit him just as he gripped it. He shivered on the ground, immobile.

Why doesn't he just kill me? He thought with a sort of detached curiosity, trying to shut away the pain in the back of his mind by wondering what made the older man want to play around with his conquest instead of just end this.

He managed to peer up at Lucius through the strands of blond hair that were drooping limply across his eyes from the sweat. His father was towering over him, his eyes cold with malice, and his lips curled up into a terrifying, cruel smile. The man looked so furiously excited that his wand was trembling in his blood soaked hand. He was physically shuddering with the thrill of torturing his own son. And yet there was a sweaty sort of insanity coming from him; he reeked of it.

Draco met his father's eye with stubborn confidence, secure in the knowledge that no matter what happened now, he had done everything he could do to become a better man. He had Hermione. And that gave him the fortitude to stare death head on now, knowing that it would be kinder to him now than it would be to Lucius one day. He hoped the man ended up in whatever form of hell death could imagine for him.

"Should I kill you now, or let you suffer some more?" his father muttered quietly, his voice sickly cold as he pondered his only child lying prostrate on the ground before him.

"NOOO!" Draco heard Hermione scream in anguish from where she had been fighting. She had obviously finished and turned to see this little tableau, of him sprawled out in front of Lucius, about to be murdered. He heard her feet pound on the stone floor as she tried to run over, but they had both drifted quite far away from each other.

Draco tried to hold his father's eye contact, willing him to ignore her in favour of following through with his kill, but it was a vain wish. The moment that Hermione screamed she caught his attention. His smiled turned from cold to predatory, like a child plotting revenge on some make believe enemy. It was a chilling expression.

"No! No, no no…" he pleaded weakly, but it was too late.

Lucius raised his eyes and Draco watched helplessly as he threw a powerful curse directly at the curly haired witch as she approached, completely unprepared for the sudden change in his attention. As he did, he kicked Draco hard in the ribs, sending him sprawling to the side, his body now facing where the witch was falling to the ground nearby. So that he would see everything. She was clutching a clearly bruised shoulder, the same way Draco had been sent down with a pummelling force, but thank merlin she was still breathing steadily. It had missed her chest.

Lucius stepped over his son and strode towards her, raising his wand menacingly. It all happened so quickly, but to Draco it seemed to last an eternity. He saw Hermione's eyes widen in shock, before flicking to his quickly and back. He desperately fought to get to her, managing to roll onto his stomach and drag himself towards his wand, which lay idly on the stone floor. As he did, he looked around for someone, anyone, to help them. But Voldemort was a ruthless machine, taking down anyone who got too close, while Bellatrix and some of her allies mopped up the rest with ruthless efficiency. No one was close enough to stop him.

Lucius was forming the spell loudly on his spiteful lips, bringing down his wand in a wide arc, when a piercing pop cracked through the entrance hall. In the split second before the slicing curse fatally hit Hermione across the heart, Tilly appeared out of thin air in her ruffled pink dress, launching herself forwards to shield the witch with her little body.

Draco watched in undisguised horror as the scene played out in front of him. As the whooshing air of the spell approached, Hermione took a loud, gasping breath of air, but then flinched at the unexpected apparition of the elf in front of her. A bright swathe of pink tutu and sequins burst to life, curling around her body in a protective embrace. The elf's big eyes were squeezed shut in terror as the spell hit her instead. When it did, there was a pause during which all three of them froze to watch her. Draco knew that it was all in his own mind, but time, movement and sound seemed to stop around them as he held his breath, the rest of the battle fading away into eerie stillness. Hermione could barely breathe herself, her face a picture of despair as the elf pulled back, standing up away from the witch. Tilly was clutching onto her belly, but no matter how hard he tried, from where he was lying Draco simply couldn't see what was happening.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lucius swear and raise his wand again to get Hermione properly this time. He managed to mobilise into action now that he had crawled most of the way towards his wand. He threw a silent curse upwards, not even really looking to see if it hit is mark, but heard his father groan in pain as he was knocked off his feet.

Draco heaved his way across the rubble towards them. When he finally got there, Tilly was blinking in surprise and holding her hand up to the light almost curiously. Her fingers were stained with blood. Hermione was crying openly, trying to check the elf, and holding her wand out with shaking hands. Tilly turned her big eyes towards him when he reached them. She looked confused.

"Master?" she squeaked questioningly, before her gaze became unfocused and she stumbled on her little legs. Draco caught her before she could fall, and gently lowered her to the ground.

"Tilly!" Hermione started to say in a tremulous voice, "You're going to be okay, let's just have a look at it, and we'll heal you. Make it all better."

They managed to prop Tilly up on Draco's legs, as Hermione encouraged the little elf to relax. She managed to prise her long fingers away from the wound, and they both simultaneously choked out a little gasp when it was revealed to them. The curse had created a deep gash in her chest; the blood had soaked through her pink dress and the fabric was singed around the wound. It looked bad. There was blood pouring out from the cut, far too much for such a little elf.

"Master…" she stammered fearfully, and Draco lifted his eyes from her chest to meet her gaze.

"It's alright, Tilly," he said in voice that he tried to keep calm, but sounded distressed even to his own ears, "We're going to heal you."

"S'not poss..ble," the little elf murmured, sounding tired and slurring her words a bit.

"Of course it is," Hermione stammered, her hands fussing over the wound as if totally unsure how to start, "Just like you healed me, remember?"

Tilly nodded her head, before letting out a little hiccough.

"I'd do anythn…for…Ms Hrm..nn"

"Tilly!" he said more loudly, cupping her face in his dust caked hand as she started to drift off. The feel of his hand softly touching her cheek made her eyes open again to peer up at him blearily. She spoke in a croaky whisper, and they could both plainly hear the blood gurgling, frothing up from her fragile lungs.

"Master -Tilly doesn't…want…clothes."

Her voice was getting more and more weak, and he could see Hermione trying frantically to stop the blood flow as she fished around in her bag for something.

"What do you mean, Tilly? I'm not going to give you clothes," he said quietly. Tilly was staring up at him, and although her eyelids were drooping and her pupils were unfocused, he knew she was pleading with him directly, trying to gaze lovingly up at him as she so often did.

"Please dn't…gve…me… clothes."

"Why would I give you clothes, Tilly? You're the best elf a wizard like me could ever ask for!"

"I don't want…to…leave you."

Draco felt his vision get blurry, and he tried to furiously blink away the tears that were clouding his eyes. He felt a hot aching sensation in his chest as if his heart was being clenched tightly in a burning fist.

"I'll never give you clothes," he promised heatedly, his voice thick, "You belong to me, and I belong to you. No clothes. Ever."

Tilly smiled then, vaguely, her wrinkly lips curling up just a little at the sides. She looked as if her dreams had just come true. Draco could smell the pungent tang of murtlap essence invade his nostrils, and through his tears he could just make out Hermione trying to dab some on the wound. But it wasn't working as it should. Every time the skin sealed over, it would tear itself open once more, making Tilly wince in pain all over again.

"No clothes," Tilly echoed quietly, her eyes drooping almost shut with a tender smile on her face. Her body seemed to slacken a bit against him, making him shake her gently and panic.

"Tilly!" he called again, not wanting her to slip away if there was something Hermione could still do for her. She murmured weakly again,

"Master…'m so…cold."

He could feel her tiny body shuddering, and he ripped off his Death Eater cloak, which was still draped over his shoulders, and nestled it in around her sides and on her arms where he could see goose bumps.

"It's wrong," he whispered, feeling absolutely distraught – hating the way the black, silky fabric looked around her petite form. How could he lay her down to die wearing that horrible thing?

"Draco…I can't…I don't think I can help her-" Hermione said with a little moan of anguish, and he blinked and looked up at her. There were tears pouring down her cheeks freely, and she was shaking her head with numb disbelief. He looked back down at the elf who was taking shuddering, rasping breaths in and out, only just holding on.

"I don't want her to go…not wearing this," he muttered despairingly, gesturing with resentment towards the soulless black material of the Death Eater cloak Hermione nodded quickly, a few teardrops falling off the bottom of her jaw and dripping onto Tilly like rain. She tugged a handkerchief out of her pocket, and then waved her wand with a gentle flourish over the material. It expanded into a little elf-sized blanket, which she then charmed to be bright rainbow colours in a patchwork pattern. It was perfect. Draco felt himself choke on a sob as Hermione performed a neat little spell that transferred the quilt into position around the elf. Tilly felt the beautifully soft woollen material against her arms and cheek, and she snuggled into it like a baby. Hermione had even cast a spell on it to make it warmer. Draco could feel its heat against his thighs.

"Mmmm…" Tilly let out the little moan of comfort, her body relaxing more and more into the little bed.

"No clothes," he whispered, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on the elf's forehead, "Never".

….

He felt like he was there for an age, cradling his little friend as she died in his arms. It wasn't until Hermione gave a loud gasp of surprise that Draco even remembered that he was huddled to one side of a violent battle between good and evil. It was like the fighting around him had become a distant memory, unable to penetrate his sorrow. Despite feeling so lethargic with grief, he raised his head too and was astounded at what he saw.

Lucius had been knocked unconscious by his vicious, last ditch attempt of an attack earlier. But he had eventually regained his senses and taken up his wand again. Unfortunately for him, he had pissed off the wrong group of magical creatures. Draco watched in numb disbelief as the house elves of Hogwarts marched on the petrified Death Eater.

It wasn't a pretty sight.

The first crack of magic knocked him to his knees with a wail. Then a little hand pulled back his blond hair in an angry fist, holding his head in place. A series of quick dashes flew past him, tiny elves casting their handiwork. The pale skin of his face was shredded by little cuts and gashes. Just like Tilly.

The elves were chanting, a dark hymn in a language that Draco didn't understand. They looked furious, out for his blood. Lucius was yelling at them in helpless rage, calling them "vermin" and barking orders at them as if he hoped they would obey a commanding tone. It felt like five minutes that they watched him being tortured by these creatures as revenge for the loss of one of their own, even though Tilly was not from Hogwarts herself. The illusion of the might of pureblood wizards was shattered beneath the power of a group of tiny little house elves. Finally they put him out of his misery. It took one twist of the hand around his neck to snap it. Lucius crumpled to the floor, nothing more or less than any of the other corpses littering the ground of the entrance hall.

As the house elves cheered their victory, more uproar to their left drew their attention as they hear Bellatrix scream in agony. It was chaos.

Draco looked over in stunned surprise as the slightly dour, rounded figure of Molly Weasley stood proud before the crazy witch, dealing the fatal blow that wiped the sadistic bitch from the face of the earth.

Draco felt numb. His father and aunt were just killed brutally before his very eyes within a few seconds of each other, and yet his heart still ached with grief for the tiny body of this dear little house elf, cradled in his arms, who had shown him a hundred times more kindness than any other person in his childhood.

He heard Hermione take in a deep sucking breath of concern as a figure became visible near them a moment later. It was all happening too quickly for him to take in. Potter had appeared in the centre of the Entrance Hall, standing opposite Voldemort in an age-old pose; a fight to the death. The crowd shuffled around, much closer to where they were sitting, and several hands reached down to help them up. Draco let himself be coaxed away from Tilly's lifeless body, knowing that there was nothing he could do now to help or comfort her. He turned almost blindly to the person who had helped him up and saw Blaise giving him a grimace of worry. He checked his friend over for injuries, and saw that despite being completely smothered in dirt and grime, his friend appeared okay. Draco clapped a hand to Blaise's shoulder in gratitude for the support, and the two friends stood close together as they turned to watch Potter. Hermione had been helped up by Ron, and she now stood between them, biting into her bottom lip furiously as she watched her best friend enter into what would most likely by the final confrontation.

When the others were distracted, he allowed his feet to shuffle a bit to the side to be near her. Reaching over, he wrapped an arm around her waist. Hermione was trembling with fear. He rubbed the skin of her hip soothingly, finding comfort in the closeness of their bodies in these final moments. It would all be over soon.

He barely listened to what Potter was saying, but he was impressed with how calm the boy sounded. He was so confident. Surely the boy-who-lived-twice must know something that they and the Dark Lord didn't. He was too self-assured. Too certain that this would all work out in his favour. He even had the gall to suggest that Voldemort should try to feel some remorse. What worried Draco the most was the bit where they spoke about Snape. It was clear that he had been involved in all this somehow, but both wizards were frustratingly vague on the details. He wished he knew where the old potions master was now.

Draco listened in confusion as they started yammering on about the Elder Wand. He felt a bit fuzzy with confusion at the strange topic. That was, until his name came up. He felt all eyes in the hall turn towards him briefly, and he shifted uncomfortably. Potter's voice was clear, ringing through the hall.

"…until I disarmed him yesterday evening at the Hog's Head. From that moment on the elder wand recognised that its owner had been beaten by someone else, and began to recognise that person as its true master…me."

Draco swore quietly under his breath. He could hear Blaise chuckle slightly beside him, and Hermione returned his embrace with a squeeze of comfort.

Bloody Potter, he thought with a grimace, wondering why the speckled git had to announce to the whole damn hall that he had beaten him. It was hardly a fair fight, he just shot a disarming spell at him the moment he entered the room. Although it did make his mind wander back to earlier when he had felt something wrong with his own wand. Maybe the shift in allegiance was something you could actually sense in the very feel of the wood itself.

Voldemort had clearly had enough of their discussion. His eyes had darkened with evil intent throughout the conversation, and he was beginning to shift anxiously in anticipation. The time for talking was definitely over.

Draco wasn't sure what he had been expecting, maybe some big impressive duel between the two wizards. But the reality was quite different. All it took was one single spell.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

The spells clashed brightly in the middle of the entrance hall, making the crowd flinch and gasp from the burst of light. But what happened next was almost unbelievable. Voldemort's own killing curse was driven back by Potter's simple disarming spell. It hit him square on and, before anyone could really take in what was happening, he had crumpled to the floor in a sprawling agitation of limbs, lifeless.

Voldemort was dead.

….

Not long to go now. Probably two more chapters. Please don't hate me. I actually got a bit teary writing this chapter… Please review. What are your hopes for the ending?