Author's Note: I am tired, so I don't have much to say in this author's note. Oh, well.

Chapter 94

I pull open the door to the hospital wing, thankful to finally be out of the Great Hall.

There had been way too many people, and all of them were far too happy for my liking. The war isn't even over yet. Voldemort isn't the only Dark wizard out there—there are plenty of Death Eaters left, roaming free. Aunt Bella, for example, wasn't among those who were captured last night. Neither were Mulciber, Macnair, Nott Sr., my father… and many more.

"Draco—"

I turn and lift a finger to my lips, shushing her. It's very quiet in the ward, and I want to see what the outcome was between Blaise and Daphne.

"What did the spell do to him?" I whisper as I step into the room.

Hermione follows me inside and closes the door quietly. "I'll tell you later," she replies.

We move toward Blaise's cot silently. Daphne is sitting on a chair, hunched over the side of the sickbed. My eyes zero in on their hands—she's clasping one of his hands in hers. But I'm pretty sure that this contact was initiated by Daphne, not Blaise.

"What were they like?" Hermione whispers from behind me.

I glance back. "Honestly?"

She nods.

"At first, it was amusing," I say, turning back to look at them. "I'd never seen Blaise so frustrated. He was practically obsessed—he tried everything on her."

"I heard that she wouldn't take the bait," Hermione says.

"She's a smart girl. She knew his reputation."

"What happened, then?"

"People expected him to give up and move on after a while, and when he didn't, they started to believe he was really in love with her. And eventually, she thought so too."

I pause.

It's strange to think back on that year. I'd spent most of it in agony—I was given the insane, impossible task of killing Dumbledore, and it didn't help that Hermione looked even more beautiful to me than she had the year before.

I was terrified of the feelings that swelled in me whenever I saw her, whenever she so much as glanced in my direction. The looks of disdain and dislike hurt me much more than I ever would have admitted—than I ever will admit.

Blaise's activities concerning Daphne were wonderful distractions, at first. It really was amusing to finally see him so frustrated in an arena in which he typically excelled.

"It became a bit painful to watch," I say quietly. "Painful because I knew that the feelings were so real on her side and so false on his. Everyone else thought that they were a perfect couple."

"But you knew otherwise, of course," Hermione says.

I nod. "Of course."

"And then what happened?"

I turn around to face her. "And then, inevitably, he got bored of her."

She bites her lip and looks at the sleeping forms of Daphne and Blaise, and I can guess that she's feeling sympathy for the Slytherin girl.

"Don't worry, Hermione," I say. "We're tough when it comes to emotions."

"Outwardly, maybe. But deep inside?" she responds.

"Good point. Looking at her, you never would have guessed how broken up she was about it."

"How did you know, then?"

"Pansy told me everything, whether or not I wanted to hear. Naturally, she told me all the things that Daphne had said to her."

Hermione reaches over and takes my hand in hers, and I meet her eyes.

"I'll never get bored of you," she says reassuringly.

"That's good to know," I say with a small smile. Then I turn back toward the cot and say, "Blaise?"

No response.

"I know you're awake already," I say.

"Draco, shh—" Hermione begins.

"It's okay," Blaise says. "He's right."

"How long have you been awake?" Hermione asks, stepping to my side. Her small hand tenses slightly around mine, and I wonder if she's feeling guilty for choosing me.

"He woke only a few seconds ago," I say.

"Always attentive, you are," Blaise says.

And it's true. I noticed that his breathing was no longer deep and even. After almost six full years of rooming together, I know the subtle difference between his breathing when he's awake, and when he's asleep.

Then I notice that he seems to be attempting to pull his hand out of Daphne's grasp without waking her. I can't help but feel sorry for her.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asks him.

"A lot better," Blaise says. "Whatever she gave me worked very well… and surprisingly quickly."

There's a silence.

"So this is the welcome I get?" I say, grinning. "Shouldn't you be happier to see me?"

He chuckles. "Glad to see you made it out of there in one piece," he says.

He finally slips his hand out, and Daphne sits upright instantly, looking around alertly.

"Draco, you're alive," she observes.

"Why the tone of surprise?" I reply.

She only smiles.

Then the door to the ward opens, and all of us turn our heads toward the entrance. The youngest Weasley is standing in the doorway.

"Hermione," she says. "I thought I'd find you here."

"Little Weasley. What do you want?" I ask.

"I was talking to Hermione, not you," she says.

"Did you need something?" Hermione asks.

"I just wanted to talk to you about… something."

Hermione looks up at me and smiles. "I'll be right back, then. Okay?"

She starts toward the door, but before she can release my hand, I tighten my grip on her and pull her back, drawing her in for a kiss. As soon as our lips touch, I wish I could keep her longer, but I know she wants to talk to Weasley. I smile as I release her.

"Okay," I say, in response to her previous statement.

She smiles back at me before leaving the room.

I turn to see Blaise and Daphne staring at me.

"You…" Daphne begins. "I've never seen…"

"Disorienting, isn't it?" Blaise says to her. "I was rather shocked when I first forced it out of him, too."

"Shut up, Blaise."

"I'm surprised at you two. You both fell for a Gryffindor. I never would have thought…"

"It had nothing to do with her House," Blaise says.

"Yes, of course. I'm just… surprised. That's all."

"Did you make up an excuse for your absence from home?" I ask her.

"I'm… thinking about it. My parents were still gone when I left, so I didn't have to say anything. And Astoria… she wasn't really much of a problem."

"I don't understand how she turned out so thick," I say.

"Daphne took all the brains."

"Well, she got the looks," Daphne says.

I shake my head but don't speak—it'd be better for Blaise to jump in here. And he doesn't disappoint me.

"Don't say that, Daphne," he says. "You're beautiful."

"Right, I forgot," Daphne begins.

I hold back a sigh. Judging by her tone, what's coming next isn't going to be pretty.

As expected, she says, "You only dated beautiful girls. But wait, you didn't like to call it dating, did you?"

"I'm sorry," Blaise says.

"As you should be."

After a brief pause, I ask, "Do you two need some more time alone?"

"No," they both say simultaneously.

I chuckle and move to sit on the other side of Blaise's cot. "All right, then. So, what did that snake hit you with?"

"I'm actually not sure what the spell was. But Madam Pomfrey said that there was a snake-like creature inside me."

"Disgusting."

"It's dead already. She said she'd remove it in the morning… what time is it?"

"Not past eleven," I reply.

"You should probably be heading back then, Daphne," Blaise says.

She looks at him, hurt. "Do you want me to go?"

Mate, say no.

"I think it'd be best for you if you just left."

Fuck.

Daphne nods jerkily and gets to her feet. I have to do something.

"Don't, Daphne," I say.

"He's right. I should go," she says in an even voice.

But I can tell from her rigid stance that she's holding in an outburst. And perhaps some angry tears.

"Could you give the two of us a minute?" I ask her. "And don't leave—I still have something to tell you."

"Don't ask for—"

"I won't," I say. "It's not another favor. Just don't go, yet."

"Fine," she says.

She exits the room without another word, and the door shuts behind her quietly.

"Don't—"

"It was a bit ungrateful of you, dismissing her like that. She saved your life," I interrupt my best mate.

"I don't want any misunderstanding between us," he says. "She was holding my hand, mate. I'm not about to let her think that there's a chance—"

"Why are you doing this?"

His eyes narrow. "Doing what?"

"You do care about her. Why are you so intent on pushing her away?"

"Because I don't care enough about her. If I let her back into my life, I'll just hurt her. And I've already done quite enough of that."

"But you wouldn't have to hurt her," I say. "You actually care about her now. You've changed since your days at Hogwarts. You're not the same—"

"It doesn't change what I did to her."

"No, but—"

"Draco, why are you doing this?" he interrupts me. "Why are you trying to convince me to try it again with Daphne? Are you trying to relieve yourself of a guilty conscience? If so, there's no need."

"I don't feel guilty about Hermione," I say truthfully. "That was her choice, not something you or I could have changed. I'm doing this because you're my best mate, and your happiness—fuck, Blaise, are you really going to let me keep going? I feel like a bloody Hufflepuff."

Blaise laughs at this.

"Glad you're amused."

"I almost died for you. The least you can do is entertain me," he quips.

"I almost died for you. You should show me a bit more gratitude," I reply.

We share a smile.

Then I say, "Look, mate, at least consider it. The brooding hero type just doesn't fit you. And I might have to disown you, on principle."

He chuckles. "Since when was I ever brooding?"

"Don't deny it," I say.

He only shrugs. But a moment later, a devious grin creeps over his features.

"I don't like that look on your face," I tell him.

"My happiness is important to you, yes?"

I sigh. "You're never going to just forget about that, are you?"

He shakes his head, smiling. "What if I said that my happiness is entirely dependent on Hermione's?"

"Don't—"

"I'm not going to let it go. We both made it out alive—you have yet to tell me how the hell you managed it, by the way. But I expect you to at least try to open up to her."

"I just—"

"At least talk to her about your mother, if you're absolutely set on never talking about Russia."

"Fine. But you have to forgive yourself for what you did in school. It's been a long time, and you've changed. Daphne's forgiven you."

"I don't think so."

"Do you think she would have saved you if—"

"Just trust me on this one, Draco. I know more about girls than you do."

"You just want an excuse to keep piling on the guilt. Ask her yourself," I say.

"Don't even get me started on guilt, Draco. Just look at yourself."

"It's not all guilt," I say. "I'll admit that that's a big part of it, but it isn't the root of my problem."

Blaise frowns. "Then—"

"Stop trying to analyze me."

"Fine. Just—"

The door opens, and we both look toward it. Blaise stops himself midsentence—Hermione's striding into the room toward us.

"Why'd you two leave Greengrass just standing outside? How rude of you," she reprimands teasingly.

"Are we good, then, Draco?" Blaise asks me, ignoring Hermione's statement.

I glance back at my mate and sigh. "Fine."

"Are you boys okay?" Daphne asks—she'd followed Hermione back into the ward.

"We're fantastic," I say.

Hermione's fingers weave between mine, and I look up to see her smiling down at me. I squeeze her fingers gently.

"Daphne… maybe you should stay," Blaise says.

"Did Draco talk you into this?"

"I reconsidered. It'll be safer for you and your family if they follow you over."

"They would never come."

"Then leave them behind," Blaise says. "You never believed in that cause, anyway."

"Just because you could turn your back on your family doesn't mean I can do the same to mine."

"Those words sound familiar, don't they, Blaise?" I say.

Blaise sighs, and Hermione looks at me questioningly.

"Daphne," Blaise says, "Draco said almost exactly the same thing to me three years ago, when we had our fight. He's here, now, even though he cares about his family. Don't do what he did."

"You couldn't wait until I was gone to say that, could you?"

Blaise shrugs. "You know you were wrong."

"Yeah, but you were, too," I say.

"What exactly happened between you two?" Hermione asks.

Blaise and I exchange glances.

"We'd rather not get into that," Blaise says. "Daphne, my point is that you have a chance to stay. You'll have my support. I've got their trust, here."

"For what it's worth, I'd speak for you, too," I say.

"I wouldn't vouch for your family, but you I could speak for," Hermione adds.

Daphne looks between the three of us before finally returning her eyes to Blaise. "I can't just leave them," she says. "They're my family, whether or not they've chosen the right side."

"I've been right where you are," I say. "But look at where I ended up, regardless."

"Don't you feel guilty for abandoning your family?"

"Yes."

"Why did you do it, then?"

My eyes stray to Hermione before I can stop them, and she smiles faintly at me.

"For her?" Daphne asks.

I glance in Daphne's direction, and then I look pointedly at Blaise, making sure that Daphne gets my unspoken response: wouldn't you do the same for him?

"Greengrass, I understand the importance of family to pure-blood witches and wizards, but beliefs and morals are important, too," Hermione says. "I don't think that you ever believed in what Voldemort was doing. Otherwise, you'd probably be a Death Eater already. That means—"

"Don't try to understand me, Granger," Daphne cuts her off. "I don't know you, and you don't know me. I don't want or need your advice."

"Watch it, Daphne," I warn her.

"It's fine," Hermione says.

Daphne shakes her head. "I can't get used to seeing you—you, of all people, defending a Muggle-born."

"Then don't look," I say.

Hermione squeezes my hand, and I look up to see that she's shaking her head, clearly trying to tell me that it's okay—she can overlook it.

"Daphne, just consider staying here," Blaise says, getting back to the main topic. "It'll be better for you. Voldemort's dead anyway, so you shouldn't have to worry too much about your family."

Then there's a light cough, and I look in the direction of the sound, alert.

"That's Frank Longbottom," Blaise says. "Madam Pomfrey gave him some Dreamless Sleep Potion to let his mind get some proper rest. He might be waking up, now."

"Where's Longbottom, then? Neville Longbottom, that is," I say.

Blaise shrugs. "He was still here when I fell asleep."

"Abbott—the Hufflepuff girl—she convinced him to go back and get some sleep," Daphne informs us.

I get to my feet and start toward Frank Longbottom's cot. Hermione doesn't release my hand and follows me over quietly. Just as Blaise surmised, the old man is awake, and his eyes fix on me.

"You look… just like your father did when he was younger," he comments.

I nod in response.

"Neville said that you never gave him anything," he says. "The memories…"

"Are in my safe-keeping," I tell him. "Do you want them back?"

Longbottom shakes his head. "Those were duplicate memories. No need."

I glance back at the others and suddenly wish that I could be alone with Longbottom for a few minutes. I want to ask him about Aunt Bella, to hear what she was like, the things that she did…

"Hello, Mr. Longbottom," Hermione says from beside me. "My name is Hermione Granger—I was in Neville's year, at Hogwarts."

"Yes, I've heard your name," Longbottom says. "You're the brilliant Muggle-born witch, aren't you?"

She smiles. "I wouldn't say brilliant."

Then there's a loud bang from outside, and all heads turn in the direction of the door, surprised and alert.

Dean Thomas throws the doors open.

"Death Eaters—attacking London—broad fucking daylight—"

"Damn it," I mutter.

I wish they'd all been trapped in the meeting room. If they captured about two hundred people… then more than half of the Death Eaters in England are still roaming free. How could I have not known about any secret passageways out of the place?

"We have to go," Hermione says urgently. "It'll be a massacre."

"Is there any way I could convince you to stay here?" I ask.

The look she gives me leaves no room for doubt.

"That's what I thought," I say resignedly.

"No—Blaise, lie back down!" Daphne exclaims.

I look in his direction to see Blaise pushing himself into a sitting position. Daphne is pressing down on his shoulders, trying to get him to lie back down.

"Mate, you're seriously injured," I say. "Don't—"

"I know my limitations," Blaise says.

"Look, I'm just going to want to keep an eye on you if you go. It's enough that I'll be worrying about this one, here," I say, gesturing toward Hermione.

"Blaise, don't you dare go anywhere," Hermione tells him.

"So I'm just going to lie here and be useless?"

"You'll be even more useless to us if you go out and get yourself killed. Stay put," I say.

I head for the doors. Thomas is gone already, presumably to spread the news to more areas of the castle.

"Daphne, are you coming?" I ask.

"I… don't want them to see me on your side," she says.

"Stay here and keep an eye on Blaise, then. I get the feeling that he's going to try something stupid in the near future," I say.

Hermione and I hurry out of the room and down the hall toward McGonagall's office—I can't pass through the boundary around the grounds, so we'll have to Floo out.

On our way there, Potter intercepts us.

"I was just going up to look for you," he says.

"Was there any reason for this attack?" I ask him.

"Not that we know of."

We move quickly into the Headmaster's office and through the fireplace, emerging from the chimney of a small shop in Muggle London. We exit and find ourselves in the middle of a battle zone.

Order members are far outnumbered on this narrow street, and I don't like the thought of just how outnumbered we are as a whole. But it's clear that members of the Order of the Phoenix are better duelists. Most are taking on several fighters at once.

I wonder if the members at the Dark Lord's table are here somewhere. I know that Rowle's dead. Are the other ones out here, fighting, or are they hiding and trying to regroup?

Who's calling the shots, now? Aunt Bella would be the obvious choice, but this… this massive mobilization… it just doesn't seem like her style.

I fight alongside Potter and Hermione for a short while, but the appearance of Greg and Vince's fathers draws me away, and I chase them down to the next street—I want to get an idea of exactly how many of the men at the Dark Lord's table are free.

I catch up with the two large men and duel them simultaneously.

We're going to need reinforcements. And if many Death Eaters made it out of the meeting room alive, we'll need a lot of support. Where will that come from?

I remember how reluctant Dorian Langley had been when he agreed to join the Death Eaters. Perhaps he could be convinced to support us. Voldemort had even implied that Langley had received Shacklebolt before. I could pay him a visit…

But first, I have to deal with these two oafs.