The room she was in was cold. The walls were black stone, the floor cold marble. She wore a long black gown, her back exposed, her Dark Mark flashing in the light. Before her stood her Dark Lord, his wand poised, his back straight. Around them stood the children of the Deatheaters, all watching in awe as their teachers demonstrated. "For every action there is a reaction. The same goes for every spell, ever hex, ever curse you command." The Dark Lord's voice carried over the silent hall. Hermione held herself erect before her newest students, facing her Dark Lord, blatantly staring into his eyes. "I may be your Headmaster, but Lady Malfoy is our finest teacher, and you shall follow every direction she gives as if they were my own. Is this understood?" His eyes pierced the hearts of the students in before him. There was a murmur of acknowledgement, barely a whisper of their agreement.
"Answer your Lord!" Hermione's voice boldly rose over their whispers.
"Yes, My Lord!" They stood straighter now, their bodies unwilling to disobey.
"Very good, very good indeed." He turned to Hermione, lowering his wand and stepping towards her. "Hermione, my dear, I will leave you to your lesson." He nodded his head to her and she lowered her own in response. He offered her his hand and she gladly took it, feeling his grip harden as he grounded himself with her strength. She walked with him to the door, handing him off to one of the many Deatheaters that guarded the Halls of Hogwarts. As the doors to her classroom slowly swung closed, Hermione turned to face her students.
"Welcome to Hogwarts. My name is Professor Malfoy and you shall address me as such. This class is Dark Arts Level 4, if you are in the wrong class, I suggest you leave now and find Professor Currige who will advise you on the best course of action. If you will all take your seats." She waved her wand and desks appeared in a semi-circle in the room, all facing towards her desk at the front of the classroom. She moved to her desk and began pass out the syllabi for the year. The students waited patiently for their syllabi, each taking theirs from the pile as it passed weightlessly by their desk. Hermione sighed as she went through the syllabi, answering each question, demonstrating when necessary, and as the class wore on, she found herself increasingly weary, increasingly drained. It was as if her magic was slowly draining away. It was a feeling she dreaded more than death itself.
He was pacing in his suite, his arms crossed over his chest, the air puffing over his lips as he breathed heavily. He was trapped here, trapped in his alma mater, trapped in a place he once called home. His only solace was in the peace he found with his wife, the calm he found in her arms. It was a calm that was fast dissolving into nothing. Even as he walked the length of his study, staring out the window for moments at a time, just wishing it all could have come out differently, he found himself lacking something, lacking the resolve to do what he knew he must.
"Sir, the Dark Lord summons you." The Deatheater at the door poked his head in gingerly, as if expecting a hex. Draco turned to face him.
"I shall attend him shortly." He nodded once at the man before the Deatheater silently nodded back and disappeared. Draco turned back to the window, looking out over the grounds, staring out over the castle and into the forest, simply wanting to run. He turned on his heel and tore out of his study, through his suite and out of the Tower. He was in the Great Hall now, standing before the Dark Lord, kneeling in worship, head bowed in reverence.
"Draco. You and your wife are happy here, yes?" His voice was smooth and calculated.
"Of course, My Lord. We're more happy here than we have ever been." His eyes were trained on the cold floor, the unyielding stone beneath him.
"Good, I'm pleased." He drank from a goblet placed on the arm of his throne. "It's been a year since you moved back to Hogwarts, is that right?"
"Yes, My Lord."
"And how long have we been in peace with the Light?" He drank again, his lips smacking over the rim of the goblet.
"Almost three years, My Lord. The most recent treaty was signed just over a year ago." He chanced a glance at Lord Voldemort. The man looked frailer and frailer with every passing day.
"I see." He cleared his throat. "You are as of yet unaware of this, Draco, but some time very soon, a new leader will rise among us. She shall be the most powerful witch of our age, and she will succeed where I have failed. The woman I am referring to is your wife." The Dark Lord's eyes pierced him as his head snapped up, staring blatantly into the face of Lord Voldemort.
"I don't understand, My Lord?"
He motioned for Draco to stand. "For the past year, I have been training Hermione, molding her into a leader for our people, a beacon for the Dark." Draco moved cautiously forward. "You have not been to a meeting in some time Draco, it seems your class schedules are always conflicting. No matter, I have not summoned you to the meetings of late for several reasons, one of them being that you are far more useful here than out in the field. However, had you been to those meetings you would have seen that your wife, my dearest Hermione, sits here, on my right hand. She has gained the respect of the Deatheaters, the respect she now rightfully deserves. You must understand Draco, that when she succeeds me, when she takes her rightful place on this throne, you will be sitting where she is sitting now. It will be up to you to protect her, as she protects me." The Dark Lord smiled fondly of some memory Draco knew not of. It made bile rise in his throat. "I want you to rise with her, Draco. I want you to shine as brightly as she does now. For that purpose, I have decided to offer you a place by my side." He gestured to his left, the empty seat glaring at Draco from the dais. "You must follow in your wife's footsteps Draco, you must take your rightful place by her side. Together, you shall be unstoppable."
Draco stopped moving. His mind refused to comprehend exactly what was happening. It was as if time had stopped as the words slowly sank into his consciousness. His eyes met the Dark Lord's as he knelt, following some path he had not yet seen. "I will do as you command, My Lord." He bowed his head and let his eyes slip shut, the burden of this decision weighing heavily through his body.
"Draco, please. Come and take your place." Draco looked up and saw the Dark Lord motioning for him to sit beside him. Slowly, he stood and moved to the empty seat, his body rigid and tense. "There is a meeting in a few moments, take that time to grow accustomed to your new place." As he took his seat, Draco felt his body grow even more stressed, even more stiff. The time was drawing close, and now he could not see where to go. It was then that the Great Hall doors opened and the Deatheaters began to pour in. He felt his heart sink.
Hermione moved silently through the halls, her feet falling soundlessly on the stones. She passed many followers as she walked, each bowing their head in reverence. Nodding in response, Hermione let her feet carry her onwards, forward to the Great Hall. As she entered, she noted that the meeting had already begun, but movement stopped as she arrived in the room. Each Deatheater summoned fell to their knees, humble in their devotion. They parted as she walked to the dais, rising as she passed. She almost froze at the sight of her husband on the Dark Lord's left. When she reached the dais she knelt before the Dark Lord, taking his hand in hers and pressing it to her cheek. "My Lord."
"Hermione, please rise and take your seat. There is much to discuss." She stood and moved to her seat, feeling Draco's eyes on her forcefully as she sat. The Dark Lord addressed the assembly. "As you all can see there has been an addition to our meetings. You all know Draco Malfoy do be a dedicated follower and the beloved husband of my darling Hermione." His hand touched hers and Hermione bowed her head. "The time has come. This peace with the light has reached its close. It is time to act." He moved to stand, his body shaking with the effort. Hermione moved to take his arm, to guide him, but he waved her away. "I have not yet told you why I asked Hermione to sit beside me, neither have I told you why you have seen less and less of me in these past years." Hermione damned the consequences and went to him, taking his arm in hers and holding him steady. He glared at her and accepted her help. "As you all can see my body is failing me. The power I have gained is slowly eating away at me, at my body. For this purpose have I given Hermione the seat beside me. She has ruled beside me and has helped me in most dire times." The Dark Lord faltered in his step and Hermione clutched him to her, holding him upright. "The time has come for me to pass, for this body to cease in existence, for Hermione to take her rightful place. It is time for Hermione to lead us to victory over the Light, for our power to reign supreme over all!" He clutched his side as pain splintered through him. Hermione began to turn him to the dais, but he held strong. "Draco, please." He held out his arm and Draco moved to take it, holding the Dark Lord up with his strength. "Hermione, kneel before your Lord."
Hermione cautiously let the Dark Lord go, trusting in Draco to keep him upright. He's so week, so fragile. He won't be able to perform the spell. Everything we've worked so hard for will be lost! Her eyes never left his as he gradually drew his wand. Hermione breathed steadily, waiting for the spell to be complete. The Dark Lord was waving his wand around her, chanting, the words pouring from his mouth in a strain so concrete that nothing could stop it now. It's going to work; it has to work. I won't let him sacrifice everything for nothing! His wand was pointed directly at her now, green light spouting from the tip as the Dark Lord's voice rose with the power of the spell. Hermione felt all eyes on her, but one she felt stronger than the others. She shifted her gaze to Draco, letting her fear shine through her eyes, letting the hope she felt for their triumph pour out of her as the spell began to weave into her. The green light wound around her, twisting into her, piercing her as it wove into her own magic. She felt it tearing into her, felt pain blister in her soul. Someone was screaming, their shrieks piercing the silence of the hall. It took her only a moment to realize that the one screaming was her. Trying to breathe, trying to draw in some kind of breath, Hermione felt her body ripping, felt her magic tearing as the Dark Lord's power drew into her, the spell completing as she collapsed. Her breath was ragged, her body weak as she began to adjust, her senses attuning to their newfound power.
"Hermione…" The voice was weak; barely a whisper, but she'd know it anywhere. Before she could stop herself, she was on her feet, moving to the Dark Lord, holding him as he crumpled. As she cradled him in her arms, his hand touched her face. "Darling Hermione," he choked on the words, "it is your time now. You must lead them on. You must guide them. It is up to you now to drive Harry Potter and the Light from this land. It is time for Deatheaters to rule." His voice faded, his body shaking with each breath.
"My Lord," she spoke with tears, "don't leave us." She felt him dying, felt his breath leaving. "Please don't leave us."
"I trust in you, Hermione. Finish what I started." He coughed as he began to fade faster. "I will see you again." Hermione clutched him to her as his body went limp, his hands falling to his sides, eyes sliding shut for the last time.
Draco knelt beside his wife as she held the Dark Lord. He didn't know what had just happened, didn't know what he was supposed to do, didn't know where to turn. It was only moments ago that he had been given the chair on the Dark Lord's left side, and now. Now he was to sit on his wife's right. Now he was to protect her from the very people he had been working with for the past three years. He breathed deeply and spoke. "Hermione?" She didn't answer. He watched as she clutched the body and wept, openly displaying a caring for the Dark Lord that no one had ever shown. "Hermione, there are things that need to be taken care of now." He tried to compartmentalize, tried to hold his emotions in check. "We must arrange for the burial." She froze. He didn't know how long she stayed that way, but when she finally moved, she let the Dark Lord's body slip from her arms, placing his arms across his chest as she did so. He watched her stand and flick her hand, watched as Deatheaters surrounded the body and lifted it with reverence and care, moving it from the Great Hall to an antechamber. She then moved to the throne and took the Dark Lord's seat, her eyes moving out over the crowd.
"Our Dark Lord has left his power to me, and with it I hope to follow in his footsteps and complete his task. I ask only that you follow me as you did him, and that you trust in his judgment and his respect of me." She breathed heavily before continuing. "There shall be a ceremony tomorrow in honor of our Dark Lord. He shall be entombed in the Chamber of Secrets and it shall be transformed into a chamber worthy of his power and significance. It shall begin tomorrow at sundown." She held out her hand to Draco, beckoning him to her. "Draco, please take your place beside me." He took her hand in awe, took his seat in silence and looked out at the Deatheaters. "You are all dismissed. Tell the students that whomever should wish to pay last respects to our Dark Lord are welcome in the Chamber of Secrets. Goodnight."
The Deatheaters bowed and filed out of the Great Hall, leaving Draco and Hermione in utter silence. Draco turned to face her. "Why didn't you tell me?" She didn't answer. He took her hand in his, gripped it hard. "Why didn't you tell me about all of this?" He was angry now, rage flowing through him as reality set in.
"Because I couldn't. I couldn't tell you about this because our Dark Lord did not want me to." Her hand covered his as she faced him, tears in her eyes. "He was training me Draco, teaching me everything he knew." She inhaled a sob. "He was a great leader, Draco, and a great man. He knew his body was not lasting, he knew that someday he would have to give up all that he had become. He chose me, he gave me his power!" There was a smile on her lips now, a smile that Draco suddenly dreaded with all his heart. "I have been given a great gift, Draco. He passed all his knowledge on to me, and I will use what he has given me to bring a new day to the Deatheaters." Her smile turned to a sneer, her joy to anger. "I will crush the light with this power, and I will return the Deatheaters to the revered power they once were." Her breath came heavily, her body pulsing with her new power. "It is time for a change, Draco. It is time that our enemies know that we are powerful, and that there is no stopping us." She kissed him then, her lips bruising in the harsh press of her lips. He couldn't help himself as he kissed her back, his passion for her growing as she straddled him. Even as his mind reeled with the revelation that he was losing her, Draco lost himself in her. He loved her, and there was nothing he could do to stop her decent into madness.
Harry was waiting in the kitchen, his tea cold, his mind rampant with things that could have gone wrong. The Order was assembled, the time set, and still he was late. He was never late. "Harry, where is he? Could something have gone wrong?" Ginny was beside him, her hand on his arm.
"I'm sure he's fine." He turned to look at her. "I'm sure he just go caught up."
"I knew we couldn't trust him! He's a Deatheater! We never could trust him!" Ron threw his hands in the air and began to pace. The other Order members began to fidget.
"Everyone calm down. He'll be here, and I trust him! Without him we would have lost this war long ago! We would have lost Hermione!" Ron stopped pacing and fingered the chain around his neck. "Be patient Ron, I'm sure he'll come." At that moment a faint crack of apparation sounded beyond the door. The creak of the front door echoed through Grimmauld Place as they waited. Harsh footsteps fell on the old wood floor before Draco Malfoy stepped into the kitchen.
"I'm sorry I'm late." He discarded his cloak over the last empty chair and poured himself some cold tea, downing it in one gulp. "I have news."
"You always have news. Whether it's good or bad is what we're wondering." Neville crossed his arms and glared at Draco. Harry glared at Neville.
"Look Draco, if you were a few minutes late, that wouldn't have mattered, but today, if you hadn't noticed, you're three hours late. We were beginning to think you weren't coming." Harry stood and clapped Draco on the shoulder. "What's the news, good or bad?"
"Well I have good news…" There was a collective sigh of relief. "But I also have bad news. And the bad news is by far the worst news I could ever bring." Harry watched as Draco breathed, noticed his red-rimmed eyes, the drawn look of his face.
"What's going on, Draco?" Harry tried to remain calm, but there was a feeling of dread deep in his gut.
"Good news first?" Everyone nodded. Draco smiled weakly. "Well you'll all be happy to know that the Dark Lord has been extremely weak for the past year, so weak in fact that he's taken on a successor, someone he can depend on, someone he trusts more than he trusts himself."
"Well, what's the significance of that?" Draco glared at Seamus.
"The significance is that if I had been able to get to you sooner then we could have taken him down!" Draco's fist banged hard on the table, rattling teacups and saucers. He breathed deeply. "That, however is not the better part of the good news."
"Well do tell us!" Ron's sarcasm was laced with venom.
"Ron." Harry tried to maintain order.
"I'm getting to it, Weasel." Draco smirked at Ron before continuing. "Just yesterday, the Dark Lord gave me a seat by his side. He told me that soon there would be a leader for the Dark unlike any other. He said that I would have to protect them as they do him. This declaration and offer was followed by a gathering of all the most honored Deatheaters." He met Harry's eyes. "Hermione was there." He blinked back what Harry thought were tears. "Apparently the Dark Lord has been holding meetings with her on his right side for the past year and not summoning me to those meetings."
"So you really don't know—"
"Shut up and let me get to the point! I haven't been summoned to those meetings because I was more useful teaching the new students at Hogwarts than out in the field. I've been teaching the new students how to fly, as a Seeker would, as you would Harry. The Deatheaters have an army of flyers that have been trained by me, and you remember how good I was." There was a gleam, a memory in Draco' eye then, a memory that Harry shared. "So, this meeting was on the heavier side of things. Hermione arrived and took her place beside the Dark Lord on his right, I was on his left." He sat then, pouring more cold tea and drinking it in gulps. "I didn't know what was happening, I couldn't stop what was happening." He choked before breathing heavily again, his words clipped and tense. "The Dark Lord is dead." The room was silent. Harry couldn't believe what he had just heard.
"I'm sorry, did you just say that Voldemort is dead?" Draco nodded. Harry began to smile. "Draco, that is probably the best news you could have ever brought us!" With a wave of his wand there was champagne on the table, glasses popping into existence before every Order member. There was stunned silence before an eruption of laughter and shouting, followed by pouring and drinking of champagne.
"I'm not finished." Harry barely heard him. "I'M NOT FINISHED YET!" Draco's voice boomed over the din. "Compared to the bad news, that is hardly a good thing." Harry put his flute down.
"What exactly is the bad news, Malfoy?"
Draco stood. "He transferred his power to his successor. Now she is more powerful, more deadly, than the Dark Lord ever was! She was the most powerful witch that ever existed, and he gave her everything! He tutored her, taught her everything he knew, and then he gave her all of his magic! The bad news is that had I been able to get to you sooner, to tell you that he was weak, then we could have destroyed him forever! We could have ended this stupid war in one swift blow!" He was raging now, his anger flooding out of him in terrifying bursts. "The Dark Lord may be dead, but his successor is going to reign terror and death over this land like you've never seen before!" He collapsed into his chair. "I thought I could save her, and now she's going to destroy us all." Harry watched the tears stream down Draco's cheeks, watched the pain carve over his face. He knelt beside him.
"Draco, who is his successor?" He shook his head. "Draco, I need you to tell us who he gave his power to." Draco turned his eyes to Harry, piercing him with his anger and sorrow.
"Hermione. He gave it to Hermione, Harry!" He was sobbing now. "He took her, and he corrupted her, and he mangled her into exactly what he wanted!" Harry gripped Draco's shoulder, feeling his own tears begin to flow. "All I wanted was for her to be safe, for her to be protected from the evil that Voldemort was, and now she's become that evil!" Everyone in the room was weeping now, realization dawning on them that hope was almost gone. Draco clutched Harry, his rage melting into agony and grief. "I've lost her Harry. She's going to use his power to destroy us all, and all I can do is stand by her and watch her do it." He crumpled, defeated, into Harry's arms. Harry held him, felt his heart break with Draco's as the time to act drew on him. Finally, when Draco's sobs had subsided and his breath was no longer ragged, Harry released him and stood, facing the Order. He breathed heavily and spoke.
"It's now or never. We must strike while she is still unaccustomed to her new abilities." Harry gripped Draco's shoulder, staring him in the eye. "We can still save her, Draco. We can still bring her back to us." He turned back to the Order. "You all know what we were planning, now it's time to speed it up. The original attack was planned on Malfoy Manor, and with a little luck, maybe we can still use that plan. Draco, can you get Hermione to the Manor? Can you keep her there for a weekend?" Draco nodded. "Good. That's when we'll move. Neville, get the robes. We have manufactured Deatheater robes so that we may pass as Deatheaters once we are in the Manor. The Dark Mark will be the trick, however. Draco, you're going to have to open the gates for us when we arrive."
"That'll never work. I'll create an entrance for you through the woods. The gate is too heavily guarded. Even when Hermione wasn't the Leader of the Dark the Manor was heavily defended. Now, with her new power, Deatheaters will be posted at every entrance. The woods are your best bet. I'll tear a hole in the wards the day of. I can't do it sooner or it'll be noticed." Draco waved his wand over the table and the champagne disappeared, and in its place was a three-dimensional map of the Manor. "Everyone look closely. The main gate is here, that's where the wards are the most powerful. Guards will be posted here, here and here." Draco gestured to each of the places. "You will have to be extremely careful…"
The meeting went on for another four hours before Draco finally left, leaving Harry in charge of further preparations. The attack was set for the coming weekend. Draco was going to ask Hermione to come back to the Manor for the weekend to spend time with him away from all the war and preparations that the Deatheaters were making. He had no doubt that she would come. Harry wrapped up the meeting with a speech about how it was all going to work, and how they would get Hermione back. He, however, was not so sure. He knew that if this plan was unsuccessful he would have to take the final step and destroy Voldemort's power. No matter the cost.
She lay in her bed, the moonlight playing across her face as she waited. It was almost three in the morning, and he was still locked away in his office grading papers. Then the door clicked and she breathed easier. Wrapping herself in her sheet, Hermione slipped from her bed and into his bedroom, silently watching him as he dropped his cloak and clothes. "Draco…" He jumped slightly before calming.
"Hermione, what are you still doing awake? I would've thought you'd have been asleep ages ago." He moved to her, his chest glinting in the dim candlelight.
"I missed you." She smiled up at him. Her lips met his then, arms weaving around his waist and dragging him against her. He let his hands run through her hair, tangling in them as he molded his mouth to hers.
"I love you." It was whispered against her lips, but she froze. Pulling back she looked him in the eye.
"You really do love me, don't you?" Her hand touched his face.
"Of course I do." He smiled. "I think I've loved you ever since that first stolen kiss back in school." He pulled her close, inhaled her scent. "I've loved you ever since you stayed with me through the night in the hospital wing, since that morning that I woke beside you and you kissed me before you left." He kissed her neck softly. "I have loved you ever since you held me in your arms, ever since you showed me what no one else had." He pulled away and looked into her eyes. "You showed me kindness when I thought no one ever could. It was you that stopped me from killing Dumbledore, Hermione. I couldn't do it because I knew that somewhere there was still hope, still light shining in the darkness. I knew then that no matter what happened, no matter how horrible things got, that I would love you for the rest of my life." He kissed her then, his lips gently pressing into hers, body moving into hers as they stumbled towards his bed. Her arms around him, legs entwined, they lay together, and Draco couldn't have been happier. And then the gravity of reality slipped into his mind. When they lay together in the early morning, her head resting softly on his chest, he spoke. "Let's get away." She rose onto her side, facing him and staring at him questioningly. "This weekend. Let's go to the Manor, just for the weekend. I just want to be with you, alone, away from everything that's happening now." He tucked her hair behind her ear. "Let's just get away."
"Draco, you know I can't just leave. There are things I have to take care of. Plans have been set into motion that I need to oversee—"
"I don't care about the plans, Hermione!" He took her face in his hands, kissed her, branded her lips with his. "I just want to be with you, have you all to myself, just for a few days. Is that so much to ask?" Her hand covered his as he stared at her.
"Alright. We'll go to the Manor this weekend. I'll have to bring some protection though. Things have changed, Draco. I can't do whatever I want anymore. I have responsibilities, duties, things that have been left unfinished for too long. I must begin to mend what has been broken. There is much to be done." She pulled away from him and stood, wrapping his sheet around her as she made her way into the lavatory. Normally he would have followed her, would have run his hands over her under the spray of the shower. Today was different. It was Thursday. They would be leaving tomorrow for the Manor. Hermione was right. Things were different now. Things were very, very different.
Friday came all too soon for Harry's taste. The Order had moved into the woods just beyond the Malfoy grounds and set up a campground. They'd been here since Wednesday. Everyone was on edge, and there was nothing he could do to ease it. It was Friday afternoon and Harry had a growing sense of dread in his stomach, a growing sense of unease that would not rest.
"Aren't you going to eat?" Ginny came up behind him, placing her hand on his arm when she reached him. He turned to look at her.
"I'm not hungry. We still have a lot of work to do before tonight." He looked back to the woods, his eyes staring at the barrier. "The wards start just there. That is where Draco will create a tear. It's going to be tricky. The tear will be narrow enough so as not to draw attention, but wide enough for two people to step through. It's going to be very difficult."
"Don't worry. I'm sure we'll be fine." Her head rested on his arm.
"I'm not worried. I'm terrified of what's happened to Hermione. I just don't know what to expect from her now." He pulled away from his wife and moved into their tent, closing the flap softly behind him. Sinking into their bed he took off his glasses and covered his eyes with his hand, fingers digging into his temples, pushing his migraine to the back of his mind. "I don't want to have to kill her."
Hermione was awake early on Friday morning. She and Draco had finished preparing for the weekend away the night before and everything was settled. They would return to Hogwarts on Monday when their new suite would be prepared. Hermione had given specific orders that their new rooms were to be in Dumbledore's old office. The view of the grounds was superb from the windows, and it was more than large enough to accommodate them. They were to be given one bedroom and two studies. Everything was to be taken care of and arranged by the time they returned. She left McNair in charge. Her entourage of Deatheaters included Crabbe, Goyle, Fenrir, Lestrange and his wife Bellatrix. She would much rather leave Bellatrix behind, but she did like having the woman close, if only to watch her every move.
They would be traveling by apparation to just beyond the gates of the Manor where they would enter the grounds using their Dark Marks. Her protection detail was small, but effective. Fenrir Greyback was her most loyal, aside from Draco, and she felt his presence anywhere other than by her side was a waste. At the meeting before they left she had offered him her left side. He was honored, of course, as one should be when given such a gift. Now he followed her everywhere. It was comforting to have someone guarding her at all times. Now, as she went over the final preparations with Fenrir, Hermione felt something she had never felt before. There was a pulling in her, a dragging sense on her mind. It was if she was apparating, and yet not. Her hand gripped Fenrir's arm as pain wracked her mind.
"I don't care what he promised! I don't care how helpful he's been, Harry! Don't you see that this a trap!" Ron was pacing before her, and yet she was not herself. Suddenly she spoke.
"Please Ron, please just try to be patient, try to see that this is a good thing! If he wasn't helping us, we wouldn't have the information we have! We wouldn't know that Hermione is safe!"
"Oh she's safe, alright! She's safe married to that FERRET! For all we know Voldemort is still alive and this is all just a great trick to get you to the Manor so he can kill you! Use your brain Harry!"
"I am, Ron! I'm trusting Draco! He's earned it! You don't know what he goes through every day! You don't know how he feels!" Her voice was not her own. It was Harry's, and it was angry.
"And what does he feel! He married her because his precious Dark Lord told him to! He married her because he didn't have a choice!" Ron was bright red now, his anger enforcing his voice as he raged. "You had a choice, Harry. You could have said no to this treaty all those years ago! You could have saved her then. You could have put a stop to this when you were told that she was to be given up! I didn't have to lose her! She didn't have to go." Ron was sobbing, and Hermione…no Harry was suddenly filled with guilt and grief. Hermione was disgusted. She tried to scream, tried to get away, and found that she could not leave. And then Harry spoke, and her words flowed from his mouth like air.
"You're so pitiful, Ronald. I'm more powerful now than ever before! I have more magic in me than ever before!" Ron was staring at Harry, horrified by what was being uttered. Hermione could feel the confusion in Harry's mind, but she couldn't stop herself now. "You and your Order don't stand a chance against me! I am Lord Voldemort and I am going to kill you!"
She was being ripped, apparating again, yet not. There were strong hands on her, holding her still, pressing her into a wall. "Lady Malfoy! Lady Malfoy!" Slowly a face swam into her vision, blurred at first, but clearing with each passing moment.
"Fenrir, we are in great danger."
Draco was pacing in their suite at the Manor. Time was running out, and night was falling. He grabbed his wand and moved swiftly through the halls and corridors of the Manor, weaving through the serving quarters and passageways, trying not to be seen. It was easier than he thought. There seemed to be no one on guard, no one to stand in his path. It was strange, but not unusual. They could just bee on the other side of the property at this moment. He shook away his uncertainties and continued on his route. When he was out of the Manor and weaving through the grounds, Draco felt a prickling on the back of his neck, like he was being watched. Ducking behind a particularly large fern, he crouched, waiting. It seemed he waited for ages, but only moments passed in silence around him. When he finally moved from his hiding place, he felt that same prickling, but dismissed it and treaded onwards. As he neared the woods on the edge of the grounds, the small winding path leading into them taunted him with memories. Blinking away tears he entered the forest, walking the path steadily towards the gazebo. Once there, he moved just beyond the trees. He could see the Order there, their encampment just beyond the wards. Thankfully they could not see him, or they would have seen a nervous wreck about to fall to pieces. Breathing deeply, Draco stepped through the wards and into the campsite.
"Bloody hell, Malfoy!" Weasley was closest and saw Draco step out of nowhere first. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" He was clutching his chest and breathing heavily.
"Oh, if only." Draco smirked before making his way deeper into the encampment. Harry and Ginny came out of their tent and greeted him, Harry with more warmth than the others. "Harry, something's off."
"I know." He took a deep breath before continuing. "We had a bit of an experience earlier today." His eyes shifted between his wife and Weasley. Draco began to feel queasy. "We believe that the connection between Voldemort and myself still exists. Not only that but I believe that it's become stronger since his magic joined with Hermione's. I believe he's still very much alive, and he knows we're coming."
Draco looked at Harry blankly, his eyes not really seeing, or believing. Slowly, he let his eyes travel over the ramshackled group of Order members who'd turned out. Everyone was here. Ginny Potter gripped Harry Potter's arm tightly, Neville and Luna Longbottom linked arm-in-arm beyond. Seamus Finnegan and Justin Finch-Fletchly stood together, yet apart, beside them. Cho Chang sat defeated on a stool by a fire, Fred and George Weasley holding identical poses behind her. Beyond them were the older members of the Order. Mad Eye Moody stood with Minerva McGonagall, each of them clasping their hands before them, waiting. Flitwick was there as well, though hardly noticeable beside Hagrid. Poppy Pomfrey stood beside a slouching Horace Slughorn, trying to get him to drink something. There were so many others here, so many people that Draco never knew, didn't even know their names. There were so many willing to fight, to die, for what they believed in. He met everyone's eyes, holding them for the briefest of moments before moving on, pressing onwards. Finally, he turned to his left, directly beside him, and met the eyes of Ronald Weasley. "Let's take a walk." Before he could answer, Draco turned on his heal and strode out of the camp and into the thick of the woods, thankful for the crunch of boots that followed him.
They walked in silence for a few moments before Draco paused and looked back. "Do you love her?" The words surprised him as they left his lips. They were not exactly what he had intended to say to the Weasel, but he bit his tongue.
"Of course I love her!" Draco flinched slightly at the heightened baritone of Ron's voice. Then it grew soft. "I'll always love her."
"Then why didn't you stop her?" He didn't know why he couldn't stop. He didn't know why he was breaking into Weasley's mind, into his heart. He was opening wounds that had no right to be opened ever again. "Why didn't you keep her where she belonged?" He was screaming now. He couldn't stop it. "You could have stopped her! You could have protected her! She loved you, she wanted you, she was happy!" The distance between them had begun to shrink as Draco raged. "None of this ever would have happened if you'd protected her when you had the chance!" His hand lashed out, shoving Ron backwards.
"Now hang on a minute—"
"No! You failed her! This is all your fault! It was never me that could save her! It was never me she loved!" His face had grown hot, his eyes burning with liquid fire that ran down his cheeks. Draco felt his hands fist into Ron's shirt, shoving him hard against a tree, screaming at him still. "She's gone, and it's all your fault!" Before he could control himself, his fist flew backwards and nailed Ron square on the jaw. He was drawing back for another swing when Ron thrust himself against him, forcing him to stumble backwards and into the dirt. They rolled, both yelling, both raging over what they had lost. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Ron pinned Draco beneath him, holding him tight against his chest.
"Easy Malfoy. Calm down, just breathe." Ron's voice was soothing, something that Draco had thought he'd never think of the Weasel. Draco's breaths were heaving and hard, tears streaking through the dirk that had caked on his face in their scuffle. "Just breathe." Soon he was sobbing, clinging to the arm that was wrapping over his chest and arms. Soon he was no longer fighting. Soon he was only grieving.
"She's gone." The words choked out of his throat, the air gasping out after them as he tried to breathe.
Ron's other arm came around him once more, no longer gripping him for dominance, but holding him snuggly against his chest in an embrace that was never thought to ever occur. "She's not gone, Malfoy. She's not gone." They were silent then for minutes that passed as if they were years. When they finally rolled away from each other and stood, their eyes met. "You know Malfoy, she never would have stayed if she didn't love you." He wiped blood from his chin. "She loves you, Draco. It was always you." Ron stalked back to the camp, leaving Draco to follow silently in defeat, knowing that what he said was true.
"Are you sure, Lady Malfoy?" Fenrir was beside her in the woods, searching diligently for the Order's encampment.
"Of course I'm sure. It was as if I was Harry, and yet not. It was strange." They came through a cluster of trees and Hermione knew they had arrived. "They were here, not ten minutes ago." She spun around to face the Deatheaters behind her. "Find them!" She watched as swirls of black smoke dissipated and intermingled with the trees. Holding her ground, she waiting. They were here, she knew it. She just couldn't quite place them. Then she felt it. There was a familiar presence behind her, one she knew and yet did not know. Hermione directed her wand up into the sky, the silent spell shooting through her wand and into the thickening clouds. Soon, the Dark Mark would overwhelm the sky and every Deatheater would come to her aid.
"Now!" She knew that voice. But it was too late. Suddenly Order members surrounded her, wands pointed at her, shaking in the hands of their bearers, anger blazing in their eyes.
"No body move." It was Harry. Hermione's eyes flicked to his, matching his power head-on. She smiled.
"Hello Harry." Her voice dripped with malice. "It's been a long time."
"Not long enough Tom."
"Clever boy." Hermione's wand twitched in her hand. "I'm surprised the brightest witch of your age couldn't figure that out. Although, she was quite overwhelmed with everything that I put before her. She really has performed her job spectacularly." There were explosions in the distance, screams and spells sounding through the forest in a chorus of echoes and silence. "More will be coming. There will always be more, Harry. Nothing you can do about that."
"I know, Tom. But if you want to kill a snake, best cut off the head." His wand was raised, but his hand shook. Hermione's smile widened.
"What're you going to do, Harry? Kill me?"
Draco watched from beyond the tree line. Fenrir lay dying at his feet. "Avad—"
"Avada Kedavra." He didn't even look at him as he whispered the killing curse. His eyes were fixed on Hermione and the blinding power that surged from her. "I'm so sorry Hermione." He stepped out of the trees. "My Lord." He bowed his head slightly.
"Hello Draco." Hermione's back straightened, but Draco didn't miss the slight tremble in the hand that hung by her side. "I must admit I'm a little surprised. I thought you above all were my most loyal. Pity."
"I'd like to speak to Hermione. I know she's in there." He was moving closer, closing the distance between them with every step. There were fewer Order members surrounding them now, the majority having gone off to assist in holding the remaining Deatheaters back.
"She's gone, Draco. She died this morning. I felt her whither away inside me, felt her resolve weaken and perish like the filthy Mudblood that she is." Her voice was shaking, the tremble in her hand having moved up into her arm.
"No, you see that's where you're wrong, my Lord. You see, while I watched Hermione slowly become the perfect Deatheater, while I watched her dissolve into what I thought was defeat, she waited, and saved her strength. While you twisted her and mangled her into the perfect vessel, the perfect being of power for you to control, she let you. And that is why you're losing your control now. I'm sorry my Lord, but the reign of the Dark has come to an end. And this time, we're going to make sure you stay gone." Draco raised his wand, directed it straight her Hermione's chest. He watched as the tremble in her arm became a convulsion that wracked her whole body. "Harry, be ready."
"I'm ready, Draco."
Hermione looked between Harry and Draco, the resolve within her crumbling at the sight of their conjoined power. A nervous cackle escaped her lips. "You'll see, Draco. You'll be sorry!" Their wands began to glow, white hot light piercing her heart and burning its way through her body. All she could see was the white light that enveloped her as their silent spell grew. The Order added their power, each member pooling their energy into their wand, the white light intensifying with each passing moment. She screamed in agony, her eye meeting Draco's before she collapsed before them.
Draco watched as those who had disappeared to fight the Deatheaters joined the remaining Order members. So few had returned. Still, their power overwhelmed Voldemort, their pure, white light piercing his blackened soul, encasing it and ripping it apart. Just as the spell ended, Hermione's eyes met his and he saw there what he hadn't seen in years. And then she was on the ground, a crumpled mass of limbs and defeat. "Stop!" He dropped his wand as he ran to her, pulling her into his arms and cradling her there. She was breathing, her eyes searching, hands clutching his dirty shirt with hardly any strength at all. He found himself smiling. "Hermione."
She stopped shaking slowly, her eyes finding his and holding them. Gradually, her hand moved over his face, lightly tracing his cheeks and jaw. "I love you." His hand found hers on his cheek and gripped it hard, holding it like a lifeline. But then she wasn't looking at him anymore; her hand wasn't holding his anymore. Sluggishly, her eyes slid closed, her hand falling limply by her side. He felt something inside him break.
"No." He shook her. "No, no, no, no, no. Come on." He shook her again, cupped her face in his hands, hauled her against him, cradling her lifeless form in his arms. "Hermione! Come on, Hermione." He pressed his lips against hers. "Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me." A hand on his shoulder made him freeze.
"It's alright, Draco. Just breathe." Draco gripped Ron's hand in his, holding it on his shoulder while his tears overflowed, dropping heavily onto Hermione's cheeks. He watched at Ron reached out and touched Hermione's cheek, wiping away the tears, letting his hand rest on her neck. Draco let his eyes slide shut. He tried to breathe.
"Wait." Ron's hand left his shoulder. Draco's eyes snapped open. He watched Ron press his fingers into Hermione neck, feeling for her pulse. Then Ron's eyes met his, a bubble of joyous laughter ringing from his mouth. "She's alive." He clapped his hand on Draco's shoulder. "She's alive."
Author's Note: Hi everyone! I'm sooooooooooooo sorry for not having posted sooner! Work has been crazy busy and I just haven't had the time. But, I'm glad to have finally gotten this chapter out. (Any thoughts on it by the way?)
For a while, I thought this was going to be the last chapter, but I guess not. I do know that the next chapter will be. I have a few other stories that need attention, and I know I have a lot of requests for a second chapter of "The Assignment" so I should probably get on that. Anyway, please review and let me know what you thought! I know I thought that the 'battle' part of this chapter was a little rushed, but I really didn't know how else to write it. So please, please, please tell me what you think! I'm dying to know!
-The Crimson Sheath.