Chapter 24: The End Commeth

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ginny gathered Harry, Ron, and the boys, while Hermione woke up Luna and the other members of Dumbledore's Army. Somehow, they didn't seem surprised to see her at their bedside at 5:00 in the morning. It just came with being at war. They knew they'd be called to action soon enough.

Thirty minutes later, they found themselves in the bathroom above the Chamber of Secrets, crowded and trying to avoid hitting each other in the gut with a loose wand or deadly elbow.

"What the hell are we doing here?" screeched Cho Chang, who seemed mad that she hadn't been able to put on make-up in time. If Hermione hadn't told them they'd be attacked in less than twelve hours, nobody would have bothered rushing.

Hermione cleared her throat and stood on a broken toilet that had been flipped on its side. "We're here to protect the school. You-Know-Who is on his way. The professor and the Order of the Phoenix have been informed. Sort of."

A large collective gasp made her pause and roll her eyes. Ron hit his wand against the tile wall, shutting them up. Hermione gave him a curt nod, a thank you for reclaiming their attention, and continued with her impromptu speech. She really wished she'd had time to write down some inspirational drafts before having to speak.

"I've come across some research on Salazar Slytherin that leads me to believe Voldemort is here to physically reclaim the Chamber of Secrets."

Neville fainted and hit his head on a stall door. Ron snorted and went to help him up, sitting him on one of the toilets till he got his footing back.

"You have all been trained," shouted Harry. "I believe in your abilities and in your desire to defend this school. We are all that stands between Voldemort and whatever is inside there that he hasn't been able to open before."

"What's her involvement in all this?" asked Moaning Myrtle, who hung in the far back, ecstatic to have company but annoyed at the world as always.

Everyone looked to Hermione, who blushed and lowered herself off her broken toilet seat soapbox. "I am a werewolf," she admitted. Again, a smaller collective gasp made her pause. "Oh shut up. You all knew that. You all read the bloody newspapers. Voldemort turned Draco Malfoy during the summer and I was collateral damage. But, we somehow evolved into exactly what he was looking for. We are honest to goodness mates, probably the first in at least a century, and he needs us for something involving whatever is inside there."

"So you have no idea what he wants?" asked Neville, still woozy in his stall. "How do you even know he's after the Chamber of Secrets? He could be after a kitchen elf for all we know."

Everyone went from looking at Neville to glaring at Hermione. "Salazar Slytherin was the last recorded person to domesticate werewolves, and the only one to alter their ability to shift. This place is the only thing Slytherin left behind and the only thing of his Voldemort's ever showed any interest in, besides Harry."

Ron shrugged. "It makes sense. It's a leap. It's true he might just be after a kitchen elf but, well, it's an honest conclusion."

Harry took his chance and stood on Hermione's vacated toilet seat soapbox. "It's up to us to defend this location. The Order doesn't know this is the target. Voldemort won't go straight to it, to avoid suspicion. He'll thin the forces then charge here when Hogwarts is conquered. If he's desperate, he'll come here himself but he'll never come alone. He's corporeal now."

He laid out plans and went over attack spells. Meanwhile, Hermione practically crawled her way back to the room she once shared with Draco. It was the first time she'd even stepped onto the same floor as her room. It meant she'd have to think of him again, miss him, and she knew the pain might just be enough to kill her.

She stumbled into her room, blinded by the light. She hadn't realized that she'd left the sconces on. Her bed seemed welcoming but foreign. This wasn't home without Draco. She headed to the bathroom to take her first bath since her show to Fred and George, when she heard the rustle of sheets in the dead quiet of the floor.

She held her heart, accidentally digging her fingernails into her bare skin. She nearly shifted out of fright.

She held the knob to Draco's room with soft fingers, terrified of what she'd see on the other side. More than anything, she was afraid her mind was playing tricks on her, a side-effect of being ripped from her mate. She almost wish she were, for chance she might see even a ghost of him again.

She opened the door and gasped at the sight of his back, his hair, his right foot hanging off the mattress.

"Draco," she whispered, dragging her weary legs toward his bed. She held onto the bedpost but she nearly slid down the post from exhaustion. Having him so close again made the pain dwindle just a bit, but the damage seemed done. She fell at his feet, waking him.

He sat up quickly and pulled her onto the bed. He held her face in his hands, gently urging her to wake. "'Mione, it's me," he said, a small smile on his lips. "I'm here. I'm really here."

She gasped, reawakened by his electric touch. She pushed him off and pulled her wand from her cloak. "Get away from me. Who are you?"

"It's me!" he shouted. "I was a wolf until you walked through your door. How did you do that?"

"I wasn't able to turn back myself until I thought of you and laid to rest. But how did you even get here?"

"I came through the floo at Grimmauld Place. It's been taken over, as planned. I torched the floo after me and crashed into McGonagall's office. She locked me in here till she could figure out what to do with me, probably."

"They know you're not working with them?"

"I don't think they know I'm gone. The wolves just aim for the blood. They're led by Blaise, who can't tell a dog from a cat. They're coming straight here though. We've got five hours at the most."

"Did you find out where they're coming from?"

"They're walking right through the front door, Hermione. They have someone on the inside who's going to get to McGonagall. The headmistress can lower the spells around the school at any time."

Hermione cursed and sat back down on the bed, staring at her hands on her lap. "He's after the Chamber of Secrets, we think."

He nodded. "I think so too."

"You're filthy," she mumbled suddenly, too tired to worry about war just that second. The pain was dwindling. Its sudden absence numbed her body and mind. She collapsed into his torso, wrapping her arms around his bare skin as though they'd never parted.

He caressed her messy hair then started to pull off her wrinkled blouse. "I know. God, Hermione. It feels like I haven't slept in months. Another day without you and I'd have fallen dead for sure."

She moaned, vibrating the skin just above his bellybutton. He tried not to laugh. The elation of seeing her again was cutting the exhaustion to bits and he was desperate to bring her back to life too. He pushed her away from his torso and rested his forehead with hers.

"You'll wake up, won't you, love of mine?" he whispered warmly, caressing her face with his dirt-stained fingers.

She nodded and opened her eyes, gasping again at the surge of energy she felt. "I'll wake for you."

He pulled her up onto her feet and held her as though they might begin to waltz right then and there. She laughed for the first time in what felt like years.

He walked her back towards the bathroom. He practically had to carry her. He set her down on the toilet and pulled open the shower door, making sure the water fell hot enough to ease their aches.

When he turned back around, she was standing and pulling off her clothes with much difficulty but no shame. He was usually the nudist among them. She looked up at him as though asking for help. He went to undo the buttons on her skirt, smirking at what they might have if they lived to see tomorrow. He spent a good minute trying to undo her bra until, finally, she just turned around so he could see what he was doing.

He pulled her into the shower and shut the glass door. She still leaned on him for strength but her eyes seemed to liven. He kissed her then, as passionately as he felt. His fingers traced her spine, stiff reminders of their past. She shivered but her eyes begged him to pull her closer, hold her tighter.

"Are you real?" she whispered, taking the soap and running it all over his face. He laughed.

"I'm real, love. Can't you feel me?"

She giggled. "On my thigh, yes. Honestly, Draco. We've been practically beaten half to death. Can't you hold your cock back for at least a little while?"

"I haven't seen you in a long time! It's not like you aren't used to seeing my little friend at full attention every other hour I'm with you."

She sighed and turned the soap to his abdomen, which was smeared with layers upon layers of dried mud. He wasn't nearly as attractive to her at that moment as she was to him. It took some time to get him clean. They should have hurried but time was different when they were together. There was nothing outside that room. The hallway could be on fire. They'd still dry themselves off and curl up in bed like the pictures of the century-old werewolf bones, spooning quietly one last time.

They tried to fight their heavy eyelids but it was as impossible as the task that awaited them. And, without another ounce of strength left in them, they fell asleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Draco woke first. The screams had penetrated their stronghold, followed by hurried footsteps and the sounds of exploding portraits. He knew the battle was beginning but he didn't wake Hermione. He looked for his clothes, a white shirt and black pants, and hurried out the portrait hole.

He turned back to the portrait of Liam and gave him a nod. The boy instantly understood and answered in a squeaky voice, "I'll make sure she's safe."

"Don't let her out, if you can."

"The new password?" asked Liam.

Draco sighed and whispered to the canvas' ear, "Lullaby."

Liam nodded and wished him luck. Draco felt around his pockets on his way towards the loud bangs. It seemed silly to go running into the middle of a battle wandless and wearing Hermione's bunny slippers but he barely noticed. The halls were empty but, as he lowered down to the first floor via the shifting stairwells, now aflame, he heard the screams get louder.

A large group of first years was being ushered to safety (whatever that meant) by Argus Filch, who seemed more batshit crazy than usual. He was yelling something about someone named Stonewall but nobody, possibly not even Filch himself, paid him any mind.

Draco watched them disappear through a secret passageway. He thought it'd be safer to get them out into the grounds, not lock them up out of sight for who knows how long but he might as well have been wearing Harry's cloak. Nobody cared that Draco Malfoy was back at Hogwarts or that he was attempting to fight the Dark Lord in bunny slippers. They passed him by as just another sensory explosion on their way out of the flames.

"Why do they always have to set things on fire?" mumbled Draco to himself as he climbed down the final stairs into the melee. Werewolves were everywhere, with a few scattered witches and wizards in-between, trying to fight them back. They might as well have tried to stop a stampede with their bare hands.

He gently lowered himself onto the marble floor. Again, nobody seemed to notice him. The wolves, however, did everything possible to evade him. He felt like he could have walked through them, among them, and been safe.

He smirked and took a step into the carnage. An explosion in the distance sent one of the students in his direction, making him crash down onto his side. They stepped on his right leg as they ran away but the adrenaline didn't let him feel the full pain yet. He knew something had to be fractured.

He cursed to himself and gulped down, trying to remember why he had to be strong and brave and loyal. He looked up at the stairs leading to the third floor, still clear. He could still turn back, still go rest with her until the world finished ending. But he also knew she could never love a coward, no matter what their bodies demanded.

He turned back to the war. The sounds of explosions in the distance and the crash to the floor seemed to have temporarily deafened him but he shook his head and it seemed to slowly subside. The sounds of the other wizards were muffled. Two seemed to be speaking to him, pulling him up off the ground towards a section in the back, but he knew what they were, could feel it as he felt Hermione. They were Death Eaters.

He growled them away and continued through the mess towards Harry, who was being sheltered by three teachers. They held back at least five wolves, all aiming for throats.

"Malfoy, get out of our way!" shouted a member of the DA. Draco didn't know his name because he was a Hufflepuff but he moved out of the way nonetheless. Harry had protection, seen and unseen. He was born lucky. There was no point going there. Draco had to keep them away from the stairs, away from the upper floors where the first years and Hermione hid away.

He punched out one Death Eater before it could shift. The wizard fell down, unconscious, while Draco quickly nursed what he suspected was a broken knuckle. He looked around frantically for something else to hit, someone to save, but he had come into the battle yet and no one was aiming at him. He was supposed to be a Death Eater. No one had given the others the memo not to trust him.

Anyone else only saw the scrawny, scared little blond boy in the corner. They were after a wolf, not Draco. In the battlefield, there were no celebrities, no news articles or money to save you. There was the fight and the best fighter, the smartest fight, always won. It wasn't even a matter of righteousness. God would not smite down the Death Eaters simply because Draco finally realized who the good guys were. His reward for the late realization had been Hermione, not his life, and even she had been temporary.

Turn, Draco, the voice in his head whispered. It'll be okay. I'll be there with you if you can't turn back. You'll just die alone if you fight as a human.

No, replied Draco to Hermione, who still slept. I won't risk it. You can't follow. This is my test.

The voice seemed to laugh but Draco knew she was crying. He knew it as clearly as his next course of action.

And he turned.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Reviews are better than counting down chapters. The End Commeth...