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Chapter Fifteen

Fated Failings

"He meant well," Hermione said with a shrug, frowning as she tightened her fingers over Draco's. He still hadn't moved, yet, though his eyes—his silver eyes—were open, and he was responding to them. Already he seemed to be adjusting to the blood faster than Hermione had.

Just as she'd said was likely.

Harry sat on her other side, clasping her free hand in both of his. He still didn't fully understand all that had happened while they'd been separated—it had only been one, bloody, day, after all!—but he was relieved that Hermione was acting much more like herself than he'd witnessed since this began.

How their lives had gone so sideways in a handful of days was beyond him.

"It was only because I screamed that we had to run," Draco said, his tone so low from exhaustion Harry was surprised they could hear him. "If that hadn't happened, if I hadn't been such a mess, they might have listened. They might've seen reason. But with how it would have seemed—"

"So . . . if I have this straight . . . ." Harry paused, taking one hand from hers and rubbing the tips of his fingers against his aching forehead. "You thought they'd be kinder to her if you shared her condition?"

"That was the hope, anyway. But after it actually happened, I realized they would have turned on her, because of how it looked." Draco nodded, a weak smile on his lips. "I was trying to be noble."

Harry couldn't help himself as he shrugged, smirking. "First time for everything, I suppose."

Laughing, Hermione let her head fall down against her best friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Harry."

He turned his face to look at her. "For what?" he asked, wide-eyed and confused. "Nothing that's happened has been your fault."

Offering a half-nod, she said, "Well, yes, that I understand, but . . . . It's like every plan we tried to make failed. We used to be better at this, didn't we?"

Harry turned his face away, his gaze dancing over the walls of the Room of Requirement as he thought on her words. "Actually . . . ." He couldn't help but laugh. "No. We've been bloody horrible at it. We planned things, and sure, they'd go wrong, somewhere, but we'd just find a way to go with it. That things happened to work in our favor was just sheer, dumb luck."

Another laugh sounded from her, but was just as quickly quieted by Draco's low, thoughtful words as he said, "Maybe it wasn't luck."

Leaning around Hermione, Harry met Draco's gaze. "What do you mean?"

The other young man blinked tiredly a few times before he answered. "Well, what if failing at what you planned was the only way to succeed at what you needed to do?"

"Like it was fate," Hermione said softly.

Draco nodded. "Like it was fate," he echoed, his voice edged by that same crystalline sound, same as hers.

"It makes sense, actually." Harry nodded, chewing on his bottom lip a moment as thought. "I mean, you get struck with this malady, not only did you survive, but you've gotten stronger. But it happens so close to the one person who knows anything about it?"

She couldn't help a derisive snort at that. "So all of this was supposed to happen this way?"

"Well, I don't know if this precise way is it, but . . . ." He met her gaze, his brow furrowing behind the wire rims of his glasses. "But you're supposed to be here. You're supposed to confront Lucius Malfoy and whatever comes of that is what's supposed to be."

Hermione bit the inside of her lip, silver eyes welling suddenly as she shook her head.

"Hermione?" Harry was in a panic that he'd upset her, suddenly. "I'm sorry. What's—what'd I say wrong?"

"Harry, if . . . . If you're right, doesn't that mean that everyone we lost was supposed to die to bring this about? I'm not sure I can handle that."

Draco shifted, trying to sit up, and she released both of their hands as she whirled to face him, fully. Slipping her hands beneath his shoulders to help him, she fretted.

"Draco, what are you doing? You shouldn't—"

"Potter doesn't mean everyone was supposed to die."

The two watching him so cautiously exchanged a surprised glance.

"He meant was this is what has to be because everyone died, not that everyone died to make this happen." He shrugged weakly. "If your friends had lived, this probably wouldn't have happened to you in the first place, right?"

She nodded, sniffling.

"There you go."

"Never thought Draco would back up something that came from me," Harry said with a grin.

Draco smirked, parroting back Harry's earlier sentiment. "First for everything, I suppose."

"So then all that's left to do now . . . ." Her voice trailed off as the silver in her eyes gleamed—a quick flaring of light, but Harry noticed it. More troublingly, he saw it reflected in Malfoy's eyes, as well. "Is to finish it."

"Wait, wait." Harry held up his hand in a gesture of caution. "What, exactly, is going to happen when you face the Malfoys?"

"We're only going to speak." Hermione's expression was grave as she lifted her chin. "We're going to tell them the truth of what they thought they knew, nothing more."

"Our voices will do the rest," Draco tacked on, his face grim, to match hers.

"I really don't understand," Harry said, looking from Hermione, to Draco, and back. "Please explain this to me."

Hermione met his gaze, holding it for a time as she remained silent. Shifting forward, she pressed her lips to his. Before he could react, she leaned back again, her eyes sad as she cupped her hand to his cheek.

"I'm so glad I know you're going to be spared," she said in a whisper. "As we say. We're going to speak, nothing more. But our voices. These strange voices we have . . . . They will tear open the memories resting within their pure blood. Our voices will show them that what we say is true. And then—"

"It will be over," Draco said, his gaze distant as he nodded. "Those who . . . those who survive will share what happened here. The rightful memories will spread in a way that will spare lives, not rend them. Our work will be done."

Harry's eyes shot wide. "Wait! So you're telling me your voices are going to kill people?"

She looked to Draco before answering. "Only those who refuse to change."

He turned his attention to Draco, as well. "Your parents might die, and you'll be the one to do it."

"Potter, this is what has to happen. There is no other way."

"Isn't there?" Harry couldn't believe he was having this argument with Draco Malfoy, of all people in the Wizaring world.

"No! After all this death, all this chaos? Our words—the only truth that's ever mattered—is the only way to set things right. Things have to start new!" He shook his head, frowning sadly. "The only ones who can carry on the legacy of our world are those willing to accept what really happened. The ones willing to change."

Harry squeezed Hermione's hand, forcing himself to understand what he was hearing. "That's why you spared Thayer."

She nodded.

He didn't want to ask, but after his conversation with the very-recently-reformed Dark wizard, he had to know the truth. "Did you kill Fenrir?"

Hermione shook her head. "That was Mr. Malfoy." She glanced at Draco. "Sorry, I'd rather you not hear it this way, but he did. I remember clearly, now."

Draco's expression was blank. "I've always known what that man was capable of," he said, his hollow voice soft.

"Mr. Malfoy thought he only needed one of us to fulfill his silly prophecy." She rolled her eyes as a humorless laugh escaped her. "He kept me, and disposed of my lesser. His words, not mine. Although . . . ." Hermione shrugged, and both young men nodded in agreement.

"Okay, that's another thing—what is this prophecy?"

"In the time of greatest need—" She started.

"In the time of saddest destruction," Draco continued. "Those of the silver eyes will again walk amongst us."

"Carrying within them our greatest secret, so long forgotten."

A chill ran down Harry's spine as Draco and Hermione looked at each other, speaking the final line in unison, those crystalline voices mingling. "Their knowledge will reshape the world."

He forced a gulp down his throat as he nodded. "Tell me."

Blinking, Hermione shook her head, seeming to orient herself. "I'm sorry, tell you what?"

Harry's brows shot up into his shaggy hair. "This great secret."

She frowned. "Promise not to act any differently toward me once you know."

A confused frown pulled at his lips. "What?"

"Just promise," she insisted.

"Fine." He really didn't understand what she was getting huffy about with everything going on around them. "I promise not to treat you any differently after I hear it."

Nodding, she exchanged a quick glance with Draco, and then started talking.

"Here!" One of the witches ran up to Narcissa, a dark cloak in her arms.

Narcissa took the cloak, looking from the other witch, to the bundle of fabric, and back. She was almost certain this was the same cloak Miss Granger had worn when last they'd seen her.

"Where did you find this?"

"Right inside the castle's entrance."

Nodding, Lady Malfoy didn't even bother with a word of thanks as she whirled on her heel and started for where she'd left Lucius' side. He and a few of the wizards had torn the Gryffindor common room to shreds, already, and were now examining the brickwork along the staircases to the dormitories. He was determined to find their escape route as the others scoured the lower floors.

"Lucius," she said his name in a hissing whisper, leaning around the bend in the wall that led into the stairwell. "Lucius!"

Shoulders slumping, he glanced at her. "Yes, my heart?"

She held up the cloak. "Look!"

Frowning thoughtfully, he stepped away from his examination. He descended the steps, eyeing the cloak. "Is that—?"

"I believe. It was found discarded by the doors. I think—"

"They've left the castle!" Expression souring—how much time had they lost looking inside—he bolted down the stairs and past his wife.

The men who'd been assisting his search looked to her in question.

Delicate eyebrows drawing up in surprise, she stepped back and made a shooing gesture. "Well, go! Assist your Lord!"

"Of course, Milady," one of them said, as they all nodded and scurried out to follow Lucius.

Sighing, she shook her head. Draping the cloak over the sofa, she gingerly seated herself on one of the plush cushions and folded her arms. Honestly, part of her had thought it folly to show the discovery to Lucius.

But then, she feared him learning of it, learning she knew of it, later on. She puzzled over her own response. She didn't want him to find Miss Granger. She wanted him to find Draco, but if the two were so insistent on staying together, it was unlikely Lucius would find one without the other.

Biting her lip, she looked toward the window. She couldn't believe what she was thinking, even as the whispered words escaped her.

"I wish we had never won."

As soon as she'd spoken, she jerked, looking about the room. Her shoulders drooped in relief as she confirmed that there was no one around to hear her.

The last thing she needed now was anyone reporting her sentiment to Lucius. But she could not help herself. Winning the War felt less and less like a victory with every passing hour.

Harry gaped at Hermione. He expected her to look angry, or sad, or . . . something. But no, she simply sat there, staring at him, awaiting his reaction.

"Oh, my God!" He finally managed, scooping both of her hands into his. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. All those times that everyone—"

"Stop it," she said with a small laugh. "I said no differently!"

"You're right, of course." He shook his head, frowning. "Sorry, sorry. It's just . . . it's a lot to take in."

There was a moment of silence between the three of them as the silver-eyed ones let him take some more time with what they'd just told him. Shaking his head, he turned to look at Malfoy. Draco watched him with the same subdued, expectant look Hermione had. Already, though, the color—well, what little color he normally had—was back in his cheeks, his gaze was clearer, and he was sitting up straight on his own strength.

As though Hermione had somehow refined the process within herself, making his transition quicker.

"Your parents won't be able to accept this." He was starting to believe them—there was no other way—but he still couldn't grasp that Draco was okay with losing his parents after everything they'd all been through. "They won't be able to change. You know that!"

Draco nodded, swallowing hard as he forced a smile. "I have to hope that maybe they can."

Hermione and Draco shot to their feet as one, startling Harry.

"What—what is it?"

"They've left the castle," Hermione said, her gaze on the door.

Draco nodded again. "We have to move now."

Harry jumped up to follow them. "Move where?"

"The Great Hall," Hermione and Draco—unnervingly—answered as one.

Before Harry could respond, she turned to face him, catching one of his hands in hers. "It's time. And it has to be there."

Draco opened the door, speaking over his shoulder. "They'll all hear us. Every single one of them."