A/N: Thank you for reviewing! Welcome to all new readers—so glad to hear from you. To old readers, I cannot thank you enough for returning.

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Hope you find this one exciting!

Warning: Violence. Language.

Chapter 41: All This Time

Well, hell. This was the end.

Everyone was about to die.

Like a man standing on the deck of ship as it's bow is stretched forward into the expectant, grey arms of the frigid sea, he felt calm.

Perhaps it was the certainty of death. Perhaps it was that his mind was simply elsewhere. With her. Her distraction may literally be the death of him. Or her plans may be. He certainly did not like the sound of this one.

No one knew better than he how hard it would be to sneak in or out of Malfoy Manor, let alone both. Still, he had to admit that she was right in sending Neville. If they got out of there alive with the book, he'd have to trust him. Plus, Neville was pureblood. The wards would let Draco enter because of his Malfoy blood. And Neville, having never been there, wouldn't be detected by Bellatrix's pets or the Angels of Justice because of his pureblood.

They had a shot at least at things going smoothly, but he hated to think of her there without the map Neville had or the cloak Potter had. Moving dots with names moved along the halls of Hogwarts, allowing them to avoid crossing paths and leading them to unmarked secret passage way. But Hermione would have to stalk the halls alone. How on earth was a house elf going to help her? Oh well. If he'd learned anything it was that she was not to be underestimated.

Still, something in the plan did not feel right to him. Something was off. Maybe it was the bit about killing her. Then, if that worked, killing Harry Potter.

These morbid thoughts greedily consumed his entire brain as he walked mindlessly along the secret passageway. Roots stretched and dipped and embraced the ceiling in places. Stone floor in some places, in other place dirt. No light. It seemed to go on forever. So many day dreams could flow into his head in the distance between the school and Hogsmeade. So many nightmares.

He shook his head to clear it as they at last emerged from the underground tunnel through which they had been traveling. Neville cautiously opened a trapdoor above them and went, wand-first, to clear a pitch black cellar type area, Draco guessed by the scent and temperature. Along the passageway, Neville had been giving him apprehensive and disbelieving looks, but now he was more tentative than a mouse, looking more like his old self.

Draco emerged with him, setting him slightly more at ease, but Longbottom stopped him from lighting his wand tip. There must be silence. And no light. No wards. These could trip the alarms, attract attention. Bring dementors. Their cold. The memories they would bring.

"Where is my mother?"

They had to climb a set of stairs Longbottom brought him to as soundlessly as possible. The process was painstaking, each creak of wood deafening, but they rose, ready to attack, and entered Honeydukes Sweet Shoppe.

They pressed their faces against the cold panes of the shop's windows, trying to sense when the dementors were passing. With each soundless, yet ominous approach and black swoosh past, Draco felt drained. The two of them, shoulder to shoulder, shuddered and their teeth chattered from the cold inside and out. Together, they heard only no sounds in the village or the shop, not a mouse scurrying or crying babe, save the ticking of the clock, which was speeding away with unfair haste.

Once the creatures' pattern of movement was memorized, the two young men synchronized by gripping one another's fingertips in silence. Longbottom lifted a ward wordlessly and they stepped into a snowy, deserted street. With only a fraction of a second's hesitation, Longbottom grabbed a tight hold of Draco and Draco was careful to make the most fluid and exact apparition of his life. In the corner of his eyes, as the night began to lift its darkness, he glimpsed a pair of black figures gliding down a street.

With a jerk and a pop, they found themselves standing in the small home of Casus Malfoy, falcons stirring close overhead in surprise. A sigh of relief moved through them, letting go of one another as soon as humanly possible. They stepped forward, cautiously, waited for an attack, a trap. None came.

Draco reached forward and tapped the bird's legs, and it stepped backwards onto his hand. He held it like it was the sorcerer's stone. He savored the feeling of the life pulsating in his hands under warm feathers. Let its warmth seep into his fingers. Counted the taps of its little hear beating away.

Then, he pulled a piece of parchment from a nail and a coal pencil from a ledge. He scrawled a quick message as he instructed Longbottom,"You must not run. The dogs will chase you. Ignore the bear. Avoid the unicorn. You are pureblood, so inside you will be invisible to their security. I must send two letters. Inside, we will meet Knobby the house-elf who will take us through secret passageways to the library. We get the book Hermione wants. We leave."

"What are you doing?" Longbottom asked suspiciously as Draco rolled and fastened the two letters and attached them to Ares his falcon. "Letting Knobby know we are here." He ruffled his falcon's feathers a bit, affectionately, clicking his tongue. He flew through the window with a pleasant soft sound of wings pounding air.

They sat in the shack and waited. Again.

"If this the house of Casus Malfoy?" Longbottom asked.

"You know the story?" Draco's his voice constricted with intensity of the moment. Neville sat as if visiting, a bit of an awkward visit in a rather dank place, but awaiting tea nonetheless. Damn Gryffindor. So comfortable at the brink of the destruction, so eager to die for some cause. He'd not be risking his life at all if there were any alternative for he and Hermione to be safe. He tried to convince himself he was dead to the world anyway—so what did he really have to lose?

Still. The pain, the fear. Did Gryffindors not think of this? Was something miss-wired in their brains? He always thought it was glorified stupidity, their bravery. And so many got themselves killed, but all became instant martyrs. Martyrs. He mentally scoffed taking in the familiar room; they did not know the meaning of the word.

"Of course. I have the same heritage as you, you know?" Neville informed him. "Just because I don't kill mudlboods doesn't make me any less a wizard. Gran used to read me the story, growing up. Strange to be here. Feels so important, but eerie." He examined the room thoughtfully.

"I don't actually kill mudbloods, you know. Not being a commoner, or a Gryffindor doesn't make me a Death Eater. What kind of a Death Eater would be in love with a mudblood?"

"You really love her?"

"That's not really your business, is it, Longbottom?"

It was silent for a moment. Draco found him starring quizzically at him. "You know, I always thought you were a coward."

A small, sharp cry interrupted them. Ares had returned.

The blonde stood, hating everything about his life at that moment. "I am."

They trekked through the garden where he had chased Hermione months before, where he had played as a child, where his mother had picnicked with him for his second birthday. He heard the snorting of his bear, the neighing of his unicorn. He did not dare turn his head to look.

It was so easy for them. They stood to gain something from this war. What were they giving up? A shack on a hill? They could never know the happiness, the safety he had once felt in Malfoy Manor, knowing his family would do anything, anything, to protect him. Having anything he wanted. He had no need to make a name for himself; he had a name.

He spied the fountain and then, for the first time, something new occurred to him.

"Ciatrix Manet: the mark remains." It did, but not upon him any longer. He was free, not from his heritage, but from its burden. He walked a little lighter in the confines of the garden, remembering when Hermione had read those words under the golden eagle statue.

Even as she stared at it, the inscription changed: "It is of no consequence of what parents a man is born, as long as he be a man of merit."

She gave a small start...Before she could appreciate it fully, a new line of writing was being scrawled along the edge of the fountain. It replied: "Undeservedly, you will atone for the sins of your fathers."

And she had, of course.

His anger grew. And that made his steps stronger and his blood warmer. Neville followed silently, not paying attention to the scenery. They reached a slab of wall near a corner of the house and saw Knobby awaiting them. As they got close, the servant, looking even more nervous than usual, revealed a small elf-size opening.

"I swear you to secrecy." Draco snapped at the elf for its protection as well as theirs, lighting his wand and climbing inside the tiny opening on his knees. Neville followed behind him. On hands and knees like a slave, he climbed through the secret passageways of his own home, the ones he'd instructed the elf to use to save Hermione if the time came. His anger deepened to rage and he felt sick with it.

"The library is to your left, sir." a quiet squeak behind him informed. The scraping of their movements stopped.

"I must go in alone." He whispered to his companion.

"And leave me trapped like a rat in a hole? I don't think so." Neville objected. "How do I know you're not just going to try to weasel your way back in by offering me?"

"Wouldn't I have brought someone more important?" he retorted with impatience. "Potter for instance?"

He seemed to accept this logic. "Maybe I can help." The other young man offered.

"No." Draco insisted. "If I get caught, I may need to play along. I can't do that if I've got you with me. Besides, if I have to escape another way I could do it complete darkness. Wait here for me to return."

"And if you don't?"

Draco's throat constricted and his stomach turned.

"Leave quickly. Don't run." Neville nodded, obviously not liking the idea, but accepting it nonetheless.

Draco crept from the passageway and stood. It sealed behind him.

He was standing in the library. His constellation burned dimly overhead, the others cavorted and writhed. A great red-orange fire alone lit the room, throwing a trembling light upon its features. The words above the door glowed in it. In Libris Libertas. Never would it be so true.

He set out at once to accomplish his mission, and went to the place on the shelf where it might be. He thought with some unexpected humor that this mix of terror and joy was likely what Hermione felt each time her finger tips grazed the spines of books on a bookshelf. He smiled a little at that as in that moment he came to it, and he felt as though the fire was illuminating him a little too. He took it from the shelf and placed it inside safely his robes.

Then, he was disturbed.

There was a gentle tinkling sound and his breath caught in his chest. Wide eyed, he turned to an armchair by the fire. A hand with long, pale fingers replaced a glass to the small, circular table at its right. A hand he recognized.

"Father."

"Draco." The man spat. "You have come back to beg my forgiveness, appeal to me for your protection."

"No, father."

"No?" the man stood faster than Draco had thought he would, his staff in hand, his face furious, and his long, blonde hair askew. "How dare you enter this place!"

"This is Malfoy Manor. And I am a Malfoy."

"HA!" he laughed irately. "A Malfoy doesn't carry on with a mudblood behind my back! A Malfoy doesn't crawl on his knees through a servants tunnel, and most of all a Malfoy doesn't abandon his family!"

He could say nothing. All of this was true, and he expected it. He did not expect his father's sudden change in demeanor. Dejected.

"You left me alone." He said, pathetic. "Your mother is gone. Why would you leave me alone?" And Draco felt something rip inside his chest. His father who had risked everything for him, protected him, tolerated his shortcomings. He was afraid too. He wasn't some Gryffindor with dreams of invincibility. He was human.

"Father," he nearly cried like a child, but he could not ask for forgiveness. "I didn't want to leave you; please, let me explain. You're in danger, or will be shortly. Let me help you! I'm still your son."

"My son is DEAD!" he raged like a madman.

Draco's pale face stared at him in dismay.

"Or you will be shortly," came the whisper, along with the swift sound of wood scraping wood as Lucius Malfoy extracted his wand from his staff and pointed it at Draco who ducked behind a desk. It was blown apart, and papers flew like ashes fluttering from a disturbed fire.

Panting and shaking, Draco remained crouched behind a case as his father's voice drew closer.

"I'll make sure they kill her too, you know. And before they do, I'll make sure I ravage her the way you never had the manhood to do!"

"Avada Kedavra!" Draco was shocked to find the spell did not come from the older man, but from him.

For a moment, time was suspended as they looked at one another in astonishment. And a snap shot across the room, grazing Draco's fine cheek and shattering a glass lamp behind him. The warm blood spilled down his face and he retaliated.

It began. Quick. Draco moved with grace from his experience of practicing with Hermione. He was patient. Agile. Conserved his energy. His muscles ached, his lungs hissed with effort. His clothes felt heavier and heavier. His hair dripped sweat into his open wound, stinging. It stung his eyes and blurred his vision in an room already cluttered with dust and debris.

"You fight well," his father panted, impressed. It still had the power to fill Draco with pride, even as he shot a cruciatus curse at his son. The library was destroyed as they blew through it. Papers rained down around them. The oriental carpet was stained with blood, a constellation burned out.

Sparks, from a spell or fire, caught upon a huge velvet curtain. Neither noticed at first and when they did, neither had an opportunity to spare to put it out. In hardly any time at all, it spread up the walls. The room began to burn around them. Smothering them with smoke, cooking them alive. Dodging spells, Draco staggered towards the secret servant's entrance, knocking along it. It opened. Neville's hand reached up for him.

"Father!" Draco called, turning back, coughing and fanning his arm through the smoke. "Father, please come!"

The air and wall beside him cracked with a green streak of light. He felt its wind upon his face. It moved his hair. His father's stumbling figure came into view. He thought he was yelling, but could not be certain as the fire was devouring greedily and making a great din in doing so. His tall, grey silhouette was engulfed in the flames of the room.

Draco raised his wand to cast Aguamenti and extinguish the flames, but he saw his father's long arm pointing towards him, heard somehow the last syllable of the killing curse hurled at him or at Neville who was now at his side pleading with him to leave, desperately trying to put out the fire as well.

"You will not leave! You will not take him!" his father roared, charging at them. Neville rasied his wand to stun. But the Slytherin knew that the man was either going to kill Draco or burn alive unable to move, so without thought, without realizing even what he was doing, Draco aimed his wand directly at his father's chest and the spell disappeared into the haze.

Green light contrasted sharply with the yellow-red lips of the fire. In that instant, the hues met like the horizon. And the young men had leapt inside the tunnel for safety. It closed behind them with a grinding sound and thud.

"Evacuate the elves!" Draco ordered, and Knobby disappeared. They scrambled through on their hands and knees, scrapping away their skin. Draco felt dizzy from exhaustion and breathing in the smoke. He coughed now and then causing Neville to cast him nervous glances which he pointedly ignored.

Once outside, they were forced to walk while legs ached to flee. The sound of crackling fire was behind them. The bear whined, eagle screeched, horse screamed, and hounds bayed at the burning house as if calling for help. Draco so dearly wanted to take them with him. They would be safe, the fire contained and the boarders confined. The house would be ruins. He could feel the heat of it on his back. He did not look back.

As soon as they reached an apparation point, he grabbed hold of Neville who took them with a pop to the very boarder of Hogwarts on the edge of the woods. They sprinted until they were safely inside its borders. Clutching his side, Longbottom panted, "Do you have it?"

Draco produced the book from his pocket and replaced it with a flourish.

"We've got to meet Hagrid. He'll give us transport for you to get out of here." Neville Longbottom retrieved the map from his pocket and searched for Hagrid's dot, scanning for interference. "They are already in the hospital wing, with Harry." He announced and they were running again towards a dark patch of forest. Draco wanted to lie down and sleep.

The threstrals were grotesque, but friendly. A little uneasy at first around the beasts, Draco found they were partial to him and it had been so long since he'd felt the sky on his face. It felt pleasantly cool. He was high above the earth, away from all the threats and impossibilities. He felt nothing but the air whipping past him.

"We have to hurry." Draco informed his companion, though there was no need. He could not possibly fly any faster without falling off his broom, the lump. "He'll know soon."

"Voldemort?"

He nodded.

Shortly, they came to the window of the hospital wing and Neville helped Hermione and an unconscious Harry onto the threstral he had ridden. Snape's familiar figure handed Hermione a tiny vial of golden liquid. She nodded with understanding.

"Good luck." Neville called as they sped away into the pink and golden lights of the dawn. "We'll hold them off as long as we can."

He flew close to the girl at his side. She looked fearful. She trembled with the cold of flying and the fear of it. She used all the strength left in her body to keep Potter's form upright.

"Why don't we trade loads?" he offered. "I'll let you hold the book." He tried to be playful, teasing.

"There's no way I could pass him over without dropping him." she grunted.

"I should have taken him."

"No I'd much rather have him. I don't want to be anywhere near that thing to be honest."

"That's a first." He joked. She offered him a small smile. It was pathetic.

London came into view sometime later, and they looked for a place to land. Hermione seemed to be looking quite intently for a specific place. Morning burned on. It grew later. They circled an are of the city as closely as they dared. At last, she picked a place. The landing was a little harsh and they tumbled into an alley. Two teenagers dressed entirely in black one wearing a dog collar with metal spikes the other sporting several exotic looking face piercings, sat side by side, smoking. They stared at the trio in surprise.

"Man! Did you see that weird shit they were riding?" One boy said to the other.

The other shook his head and blinked a few times. "Mate, I didn't see anything. Where did they come from?"

Trying to support a semi-conscious Harry between the two of them, they reeled and lurched down to the street.

"You mean to tell me you didn't see those big black things?"

"You gotta quit smoking this stuff..."

A couple blocks down, Draco grunted "Where are we going?"

"Not far now." Then she added, "Uh-oh."

A police officer on his beat approached them.

"Just picking up our friend officer. He, uh, had too much last night." Hermione explained. The officer nodded, frowning a little and watching them closely as they passed by. At the end of the street, Hermione turned and dropped Harry on a bench a few feet down the lane.

Huffing, she placed her hands on her hips. Draco pulled string of her wild hair from her eyes.

"Draco, what happened?" she touched his cheek, seeing him clearly for the first time in daylight.

"My welcome home from my father."

She gasped, covering her mouth. "He knows?"

"He's dead."

"Oh Draco." She healed the wound.

"What are we doing now?" He changed the subject.

"I don't know," she bit her lip, looking as though she were going to cry.

"I thought you had a plan!" He tried to keep his annoyance from his tone.

"I did! I do. But I'm, I'm lost." And with that she collapsed onto the bench, really her friends legs, and dissolved into tears. Still frustrated with her, he knew they stood no chance unless she could think clearly. He certainly had no idea where they were going. He tentatively rubbed her back.

"Hermione!" Harry groaned.

"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry I—"

"I thought you promised I'd never have to see you again." A gruff voice said from behind them. Draco whipped around and Hermione stood, wands drawn.

"Put that away!" It was the man who had once helped them in London, the one Draco had given money to in Diagon Alley so long ago. "Is that?" He indicated Harry. Draco nodded.

"We need your help again." Hermione announced. He gaped for a moment, running his fingers through his thinning golden hair.

"Well, I'll be goddamned. This way!" he snapped. "And cast a spell to lighten him, for Christ's sake." Hermione did as the bellhop instructed and they stashed their wands, following him down the street.

"John isn't it? Draco asked, after several blocks of following his steps closely.

"It is. And that boy needs a doctor. It's your lucky day."

"How so?" Hermione inquired.

"I am doctor. Or was. Before I was a drunk."

"Are you a wizard?"

He shook his head. "My wife was."

"She's gone?" Draco inquired. John did not speak, but he felt the older man's response. "I'm sorry."

At last, they entering a raggedly looking flat. They could hear the neighbors fighting from outside. A dog barking down the street.

"John, can you do cpr?" Hermione said.

"Why?"

"We have to kill him and revive him." She nodded towards Potter.

"But isn't this—?" He began.

"If you're not a wizard," Draco objected, "Then how do you know that? And how did I see you in Diagon Alley?"

He opened his mouth to explain, but Hermione cut him off hastily. "We don't have time. John, I am Harry Potter's best friend and have to kill him and bring him back. It's the only thing that will break the curse keeping him weak."

"What if it doesn't work?"

"He'll die anyway. Will you do it?"

He nodded, his hands unsteady and went to a table to grab a bottle of scotch. He took a swig. "Lay him of the floor with a pillow." He instructed. The other two did so, Next, Hermione pulled a sword from her pocket and a staff, tossing them on the floor a few feet away. Draco also dropped the book with disgust. They seemed to make a heaver sound than they should have.

A wave of sickness enveloped Harry. "I'm sorry, Harry." She said, holding his head as he retched. "It will be over soon." But it was not clear if this was comforting to him; he passed out.

"The goblet?" Draco asked her, examining their strange mess on the floor.

She shook her head dismissively. "This is it." Then to John, "We must destroy these first, to give him strength."

He nodded, not understanding. Hermione took up the sword first, awkward with its weight, and readied herself to strike the staff.

She hesitated. Shaking her head, she tried again, but failed.

"Hermione?" Draco asked, concerned she was too tired.

"I can do it!" He shut up.

This time, the sword shook as she brought it to the floor with a clatter, not hitting the staff. She swooned, then shouted, "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!"

"No one said anything!" he protested. John looked at them as if they were both mad then took another drink.

She wept. "I have to destroy it, don't you understand? I have to!" With a swift motion, Draco, sensing something primal, seized the sword and broke the ancient staff in two as it released a terrible scream. He felt something roll through him, almost painful yet almost pleasant, like thunder. Then, everything was very still.

They looked frightened at John.

"No one will notice in this place." he commented dryly, watching this bizarre event unfold in his flat.

"Draco, let me, please." She asked of the next one. He handed her the sword, reluctant, but certain she would have her way and not wanting to delay by arguing.

Looking apprehensive, she raised the sword above her head and brought it down with all her strength as fast as she could upon the book. The front cover, old and thin, was pierced. No sound. No image. They looked at each other dumbly and she tried again. And again. and again. Hacking away at it.

Finally, he pulled her off.

"That has to be it!" She cried as he held her back against his chest. "That has to be it!"

Hope draining from him like blood quickly fleeing a wound, his knees sank them to the dirty floor. She covered her face and cried.

"It had to be it." He spoke mostly to himself as John paced. "Something from my family's connection to Casus Malfoy. The only thing we have is the cabin—"

"There isn't time to go back!" she exclaimed. "They will upon us soon. He'll sense it. All this for nothing. For nothing." That feeling of searching for something extremely important and realizing that no matter how long you persevere, you will not find it. This was what really happened at the end of story, a simple human mistake causes a catastrophe. If don't try to save the world, you can't be responsible for getting everyone killed.

"It's not our fault! We did everything right! It had to belong to Casus and only the book is related and the cabin goes back that far and the—" This must be what she felt like when she had a sudden stroke of brilliance stopped talking.

"And the what?" she asked, looking up at him.

His mouth gapped like a fish. He tried but could form the words. It was as if he could almost remember what he was saying, but not quite.

"Draco? What!"

He took her small hand in his. And could not believe it. All this time. Everything they had been through to get the book and all this time it had been right there!

"The ring."

"What?'

"The family ring..." he explained slowly, repeating what he'd heard so often in off-hand conversation "Goes back to Casus Malfoy." He barely breathed.

"Of course!" she leapt up, exclaiming. "That explains…of course!" She pulled it from her finger and flung it to the floor. Taking the sword up yet again, her hair falling into her face, tiny beads of sweat gathering in her lovely forehead, she swung and brought the sound of metal on metal and screaming to the flat once again. She collapsed with effort and he caught her. The air seemed less dense, the atmosphere lifted, her eyes seemed clearer than they had in a long time. He wanted to kiss her. He had the sudden feeling it was either the first or last time he'd kiss her.

"Shall we?" John asked, putting his bottle down determinedly.

Hermione nodded. "Wait! Drink this. It will help." She handed him the vial of liquid luck. He obeyed, trusting them or recognizing it.

"Right. Me first." she nodded.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Draco rolled his eyes. Then added before she could protest. "We don't have time."

"He's right. They will sense the curse." The pair looked at him quizzically. "I told you my wife was and my...but not me, so anyway, one of you will have to…"

"I'll do it." She insisted.

"Hermione," he began.

"It should be me. If Harry's going to die, it should by someone who loves him…odd as that's sounds. And I don't want you blamed for this. Ever."

"You have to mean it." He reminded her.

"I will." He nodded, stepping back. She tried it. Harry sort of choked a little.

"Damn!" She tried again and hit his small sofa. "Sorry!" He pulled her aside, his hand around her hip.

"We don't have time. I'm sorry." And with that, thinking of every time Harry had thwarted his happiness, thinking of all the misery his birth bore, thinking of his stupid smile and how the teachers fawned over him and of Voldemort, which was Harry's fault as well.

He killed Harry Potter.

Hermione dropped her wand. John was on him in an instant.

There was an unpleasant rib cracking sound with a few compressions.

Nothing.

There was no clock, but the counting of John sounded off each terrible moment.

Nothing.

"Renerverate!" Draco tried to help, hoping to send a shock through his body. Hermione nodded encouragingly.

Nothing.

"Please, the elixir"

A breath. Wondrous, like the first breath.

"Thank God!"

"Water!" They scrambled to aid him.

"Harry?"

"Hermione?" he answered clearly.

"How do you feel?" she asked. His green eyes opened widely, shone with life.

"Better." Collective sighs of relief filled the room. There was time to hope. John brought some water as Draco picked up Hermione's wand from the floor.

No time to waste. They would be on their trail and John's potion only lasted a day. "I saw you in Diagon Alley." Draco said. "You have any friends or family in the wizarding world?"

"They won't want to see me."

"I don't care. Do you have any? Any who would be safe?" He emphasized the word.

"My son."

"Who's your son?" Hermione wondered, guessing at something Draco had not yet deduced, not by a long shot.

"You won't know him."

"Who is your son?" Draco demanded.

"Remus Lupin." He answered.

"Remus John Lupin." She murmured.

The older man nodded.

"We know him." Draco said, recalling his werewolf former teacher. "He's a good man and a friend to Harry. They will all want to see you if you've got Harry. You must take him safely to the address Hermione is writing down."

Hermione hurried to do so immediately. They must leave. They must flee again. He had no idea where they would go.

At that moment, he looked down at her wand in his hand and for the first time he felt as if destiny, or maybe fate was a better word, was not only possible—it was fact. He had it within his power to do something very noble and stupid or something very, very bad.

Perhaps it was the bump on his head.

"We have to go! Now!" She scrambled to collect their things and cast him a most hurried expression.

"Hermione?" he asked calmly, turning their fate over in his hands.

"Yes?" she answered, giving him a curious look. He acted quickly, before her sharp mind to could catch up with him and she could defend herself. He raised her wand and watched her mouth open, as if in slow motion, not forming any sound.

The curse hit her squarely in the chest. She fell backwards, still.

A/N: Review to find out what happens next, please!