A/N: This is the last main chapter of the story. My next update will be the epilogue, so keep an eye out for it. Thank you all for reading and reviewing. Your support has been wonderful.

If morning echo says we've sinned
Well, it was what I wanted now.
And if we're the victims of the night
I promise you I won't be blinded by the light.

--"Angel of the Morning" written by Chip Taylor

Chapter 30

It was clean. Death wasn't supposed to be so easy to clean up. It should have been a mess. An awaiting pile of decay left for the living to see and handle and cry about, but it wasn't. Even the smell was wrong. The smoke didn't quite cling to the nose like that of charring flesh. It was familiar, more like wood and paper than a once living being.

Draco stared out at the sun, a creeping sliver of gold. Dawn was a strange time; the sky cut in half, as though down the middle by light and darkness. When the sun climbed higher and took the night, its rays would land directly over the courtyard. And what little mess remained would be completely cleaned from the face of the earth. Not even lengthy, body-shaped soot marks would remain.

The humans had faired more fortunate than these poor scorches on the ground. Or, that appeared to be the case. Though at least a few Death Eaters had been seen to fall, none of their bodies had been recovered. Draco had a feeling that Annalisa had something to do with that. The Order had suffered two serious injuries but no fatalities. This was no grand miracle. By the time they'd found the location, Annalisa's vampires had already started to push the intruders out. Soon after the wizards arrived, a full retreat had taken place. Mere minutes after Darien had crumbled away.

"It's going to be a warm day," Lupin said, as if to himself. The man was crouched down onto the ground, staring at pile of ashes there. He reached in and pulled free a thin gold chain with a little ceramic rose attached to one end. All that remained.

"Who was she?" Draco asked.

Lupin stood straight, dusting off the worn knees of his pants and holding the little necklace out as if he didn't know quite what to do with it. He shook his head. "I don't even know what side she was on. You've a better chance of knowing than me," he replied. He sighed, pocketing the piece. "I suppose we can ask the other vampires this evening. Get a full list of the identities of the deceased."

Draco nodded. "Then you're going to have a meeting with them?"

"We've arranged one, yes. Annalisa, was it? She's thankful for our participation last night, so she's permitted us a meeting with her family."

"What about?"

Lupin followed Draco's gaze, finding the divided clouds. "We want to insure that the local vampires are not going to be following any Dark Lords in future decades." He smiled, as if that was somewhat of a vain request. "And, yes, Draco, we probably will discuss Hermione as well."

Draco felt his body tense. He'd had just about enough of people reading is mind, even if it was in a less literal sense. "What about her exactly?"

"With her," Lupin corrected. "I suppose we'll find out where she'll be staying from now on. If she's intent on rejoining her parents in the future. If she'll still be helping us with the cause. . .There's much to be discussed."

Her future. Draco hadn't really thought of that, and he honestly didn't want to begin now.

"What made you change your mind about her?" A sneer was pulling at his lips. "Last I heard, you and Potter were discussing Hermione's trustworthiness."

Lupin bit his jaw, holding back the hint of a smile. His hands hung uselessly in his deep pockets. "I've always trusted Hermione," he said, his voice soft. He chewed his lip a moment more. "But there are a great many vampires, as I sure you can attest to, who would be more than willing to use such a trusted friend against us. And they have the power to do so.

"We had gotten word of some violent exchange between Death Eaters and vampires moments before a rather panicked Harry and Ron literally showed up at our doorstep with Hermione. Those three, they're a force to be reckoned with. And they're damned convincing."

Draco frowned. "It would take something terrible to divide them," he noted, almost bitterly. It didn't help his mood to see the male subjects of their conversation approaching, looking pummeled and yet overly energetic from the evening's events. "She'll stay to help Potter."

"We'll see," Lupin replied. He waved at the boys before turning back to Draco. "Draco, you're tired. How would you like to come back with us? We have safe houses, places where you can stay hidden, if you'd prefer."

"I want to stay here. She's sleeping here, isn't she?"

There was no reason to ask the name of the 'she' in question. Lupin shook his head, pushing a loud sigh from his nose. "Yes, of course. Annalisa put her up for the day. I'll show you to her room."

He should have known that she would be given a room alone, but, for some reason, the pure civility of the small, rich quarters was unsettling. Though he knew that he was below the surface chambers, the bright green and gold décor of the bedroom made him believe, if only for a moment, that he was in a normal home, a human home. Hermione had even left the two lamps aglow, spilling their golden, if meager, light on the lively colors at the center of the room.

The door shut and locked behind him, Draco stepped up to the canopy bed, pulling back the sheer, yellowed curtains. It was darker inside the cushioned sanctuary. He smiled at her serene face, pressed into the pillows as she slept on her stomach, arm curled beneath her head.

He kicked his shoes from his feet and washed his face in the basin at her bedside table.

"Take off your clothes," she whispered. "You smell like blood."

Draco turned to see that she was, in her own sense, awake. Her tired eyes were barely cracked open, as if the light around her was an afront, and she had not moved her body in the least, though her lips were now parted. Without hesitation, Draco slipped out of his clothing and laid down beside her, not bothering to steal the thin cover over her body. Even beneath the dirt, the day's heat would catch up with them. He tucked an arm beneath his tangled blond hair and tilted his head to the side so that he could see her.

"Closer," she breathed.

He turned onto his side, gently laying a hand over her. She slid her arm beneath his and shifted so that she was pressed against him, her head on his collar, the blanket separating their lower bodies. Her embrace was gentle, needless.

"Are you hungry?" Draco asked.

She blinked, looking up at him with bright brown eyes. "I don't think I am," she said, surprised. She smiled softly. "I'm glad you're alright. I was afraid they'd hurt you."

"You should feed, Hermione."

She shook her head, forcing his chin to nestle on the soft brown curls at her temple. "Go to sleep," she said.

Draco ran his fingers down her spine, staring out at the curtain behind her body. "What's wrong?" he asked. He felt his throat tighten, some pain there, building. He tried to swallow down the sentence. "You're acting strange."

She didn't respond at first. Then her arm tightened around him. "I lost you."

"And you found me again."

Hermione shook her head. "You're tired. Go to bed, Draco."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," Draco snapped.

She kissed his chest gently. "I care about you," she whispered. "Sleep."

Draco felt her pulling at his mind, filling in the gaps Darien had left. His body relaxed in an instant, and he was unable to keep his eye lids from surrendering to her wishes.

He dreamt of the sun. She was there, as well, in it, smiling, laughing. They were in school, and younger, and different. It was a pleasant lie. It told him that he'd been kind when he bumped into her in the hall. That she'd blushed when he returned her notes in class. That they'd spoken and those around them didn't care. Didn't say a word. That he'd touched her bushy hair and found it endearing instead of annoying. That he'd thought of her friends as competition and not enemies.

And they both had heart beats. That was special, too. That was different.

"This is a dream," Draco said.

She nodded, looking out at the rest of their potion's class. They were alone. No teacher, no classmates, simply a cauldron, stirring itself as they stared down into its simmering contents.

"Yes," Hermione answered. "It's a dream. It's how I wish it could have been. Of course, it's entirely wrong. But that's why it's a dream."

Draco smiled to himself. "In school. . . You didn't find me the least bit attractive?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm afraid not. I've always found that the people whose company I enjoy are the most attractive of all. And, truthful, I highly disliked you. I found you despicable, actually."

"My, isn't dream-Granger brutally honest," Draco snorted.

She grinned chidingly at the use of her last name. "And you didn't think the same of me?" she pointed out.

"Oh, I hated you with a bloody passion," he said, proudly. "Hated you even more when I started to find you attractive in fourth year. Damn traitor known as puberty. Thought your were even more dangerous then."

Hermione laughed. She turned to face him and her humor faded away. "I'll miss you, Draco. I never thought in a million years I'd ever say that. But it's true. There are so many things that I'll miss. But I never thought that you'd be on that list."

"This is just a dream?" Draco asked, confused. He released a breath at her nod. "So I can say whatever I like? Without consequence?"

Hermione frowned. "I wouldn't if I were you."

He shook his head. "I. . . I wouldn't ever say it out there. Because it's wrong to." His fingers caressed her cheek, lifting her face up so that she was forced to look at him. "But here, I can, can't I? I can say that I think I love you."

"You know that isn't true." Hermione pushed his hand away from her skin, cupping it in her own. She cocked her head to the side, pity in her eyes. "Every man loves the first woman he makes love to."

Draco raised a brow. "That was 'making love'?"

She snorted. "The last time was."

"Thanks for clarifying." Draco pulled away from her, taking a step back. "So you're not going to say it back."

"I'm not going to hurt you anymore," she replied. "And that falls into the hurtful category."

"Then what the hell do you call the feeling I'm having right now?" Draco snapped. He scowled at her, turning away. The classroom door was open. He could see Potter and Weasley walking by. "Is it because you'd rather have them?"

"I need to tell them goodbye, Draco." She touched his back. "I'm not going to hurt you anymore."

Draco turned to find her missing and his world yellow, a sickening color of bile that was slowly burning through shape and form. He blinked, alert at once, and realized that he was staring into the bed's curtain. He retracted this arm, which lay over the bare mattress beside him, and sat up. He gave confusion only a split second to wreck its havoc before slipping off of the bed and into his pants.

The hallway outside was quiet, empty of answers, so he ran up the staircase instead, and slammed into a form at the top. Annalisa's cold grip held him in a steely vice. She stared at him, as if searching his face for some hiding answer.

"Hermione?" he asked, without thought.

Annalisa didn't release him, her lips a steady line of red that was as unmoving as her brow. Finally, she opened her mouth.

"You're responsible, you and the girl. I lost my favorite son because of you," she said.

Draco's gray eyes narrowed, and he pushed himself even closer to her. "Did you do something to her? Tell me!" he demanded.

Annalisa's lips turned up, ever so slightly. "Nothing that she did not ask for. You still don't understand, do you? She's a murderer."

Draco shook his head. "Are you insane? It was my idea to poison Darien--she didn't have a part. And unless you're completely unhinged, you know the only reason we did what we did was to stop your son from murdering us!"

She straightened slightly. "No, boy, she didn't kill Darien. You're her victim. She's murdering you." One of her hands released him, its fingers running along the pinkened scars marring his neck. "Bringing you closer to death, drop by drop."

"You're full of shit."

Annalisa raised a brow. "Darien didn't explain it to you, did he? He didn't tell you why he chose you?"

Draco felt his body tense. "What's that got to do with Hermione?"

"We don't tell the world all of our secrets. Especially our weaknesses." The vampire ran her fingers through his hair, looking at him with wide, maternal eyes as if he were a small child. "We are so strong, our kind. And yet there are so few of us. You've probably never wondered why, but there is, indeed, a reason. Our kind cannot reproduce like humans, neither can we simply make more of our own at every whim. That is why we call the ones we turn our children. Because children are not chosen. They are picked for us, by some higher process."

"I don't understand." Draco struggled against her hold. "Let me go. I need to see, Hermione."

"Sometimes," Annalisa continued, "a vampire sees a human and the blood sings, he knows at once that the person is his child to be. Darien saw you several years ago and knew at first sight that you were his son. But he chose to wait until the time was ripe before taking you. With Hermione, it was a surprise to him. Rarely does a vampire have more than one potential child within a decade or longer. Darien chose to sacrifice her and continue with his original plans. He didn't realize that you were so attached to humanity, to the girl."

Draco blinked in confusion. "But what if she hadn't been. . . What if she'd not been a 'potential' when she was dying? I thought that was all it took, feeding her his blood."

"Do you remember Darien's human caretaker? She was not his daughter, so Darien never tried to take her blood." Annalisa frowned. "When we take the blood of a human who isn't our child, we kill them. Or, if the exchange is extreme enough, we turn them into an undead thing, an empty husk. No light, no soul. That's why it is so very important that a vampire only take from their own children."

"But. . ." Draco held his breath as he reached out for Hermione, screaming in his mind for an answer. "Hermione isn't. . . She doesn't take that much. She wouldn't try to kill me. She's learning to control herself."

"It doesn't matter, Draco." Annalisa loosened her grip on him. "You're not meant for her. She knows as much. And if you're not hers, sooner or later, you will die."

Ron wanted to push the tears back. They didn't do a good job, he thought, of showing his anger. And that's all he wanted to show. He didn't want them to see how broken he felt.

"This isn't right!" he snapped. "Nothing you can say can change my mind on this. Malfoy doesn't deserve this--he doesn't deserve the right to live! Not over you of all people. . ."

"Ronald. . ." Hermione reached out, but Ron slapped her hand away.

"No!" he shouted, nearly stumbling in his haste to move away from her. He turned his glare on Harry. "Come on, man! Surely you see how stupid this is. This is Malfoy, we're talking about!"

Harry looked down, unable to meet his best mate's eyes. "I'm staying."

"Fine!" Ron wiped his eyes. "Fine. Do whatever you like. I can't stop you, but I bloody well won't be here to watch."

The red-head's feet slapped against the stone staircase as he stomped away, leaving his two friends in silence.

"He's not wrong, Hermione," Harry finally said.

She held his hand, ignoring the skulls lining the wall, watching the pair with hollow eyes. "You'll do it though," she said. "Please, Harry. I need someone to watch over him. It's going to be hard at first. Painful."

Harry released her and pulled free his glasses, wiping them. "You love him."

"I'm not sure. There's something. I care enough to stop what's happening," she said. She closed her eyes, her brow wrinkled in anguish. "I can't be the reason for his death, Harry. He saved me too many times. From myself. This is the least I owe him."

Harry wrapped his arms around her. "To be so smart, you're awfully stupid at times," he breathed into her hair. "Goodbye, Hermione."

The catacombs were hidden, just outside the walls of the castle, but their entrance was easy enough for Annalisa to find. She took Draco by the hand, leading him down the stone staircase that hugged the tomb's wall. They were not in complete darkness. There were torches at the bottom, held high in their brass stands at every corner of the sarcophagus. Harry stood at its head, watching it, as if he expected the coffin within to open.

"She's there?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded. "Sleeping," he said. His voice was hoarse, as if out of use. "For about an hour now."

Draco winced, the muscles of his body cramping in unison. He collapse to the stone floor, using his clamped teeth to ground out the groan of pain in his throat.

"Hurts," he said.

"You are feeling withdraw. Her body wants nourishment," Annalisa said. She put a hand on his shoulder, but didn't help him to his feet. "The pain you feel will not go away for quite a while. Not until the connection between the two of you has grown thin. I'm confident that you will survive it, however."

Draco stayed on his knees, staring at the stone box before him. "How long? How long will she stay that way? Forever?"

"No," Harry said. He sighed, as if regretting the answer. "Until you're safe. When the bond between the two of you is severed completely. That's what she said. She promised she'd be able to wake again. One day."

"Do not fool yourself," Annalisa chided. "The bond between the dead reborn and the living is very strong, the strongest, in fact. She may never wake in your lifetime. But, she will wake in mine. I will take care of her when she does."

Draco shook his head, his jaw set. "No, this isn't happening. I won't let it. She doesn't deserve this."

Harry stepped in front of him, blocking his view. "No, she doesn't. But it is happening. And her last wish is that you learn to live without her, and that I see to it. Don't you dare go and prove her a murderer, Malfoy. I mean it."

"Then this is it?"

Draco didn't hear the answer to the question. His mind was occupied by a reassurance. It wasn't in words or in pictures, but he could feel it there, a connection. His heart confirmed it; she'd be there, in his mind. It was why she'd never said goodbye to him. When he slept, he'd see her. And she'd see him back. She'd live through him, always.

And he would allow it. It was the least he could do. She had, after all, saved him.

End Notes: I hope you've enjoyed this story so far. Please feel free to tell me what you think. I'll be putting up the epilogue soon.