A/N: This chapter is an interlude between Part I and Part II of the story as well as the first time jump in the story. For now, assume that everything in Deathly Hallows occurred per canon, any deviation will be addressed in the story. As always Review!Review!Review!

Disclaimer: Quotes in this chapter from the Iliad, the Art of War, and Ralph Waldo Emerson. I do not own Harry Potter.

There man's courage is best decided. Where the man who is a coward and the brave man show themselves clearly: the skin of the coward changes color one way and another, and the heart inside him has no control to make him sit steady, but he shifts his weight from one foot to another, then settles firmly on both feet, and the heart inside his chest pounds violent as he thinks of the death spirits, and his teeth chatter together: but the brave man's skin will not change color, nor is he too much frightened, once he has taken his place in the hidden position, but his prayer is too close as soon as may be in bitter division.

He thought it was a lie. No person, no matter how brave they may be, could have walked into this battle without fear wedged in their chest. Sure, you could forget it for a moment when the rush of the moment and the need for survival outweighed the pure terror derived from the situation.

Now though, when he had a moment to simply lean against a wall with a hole about 10 feet long, he was overcome by it. Fear.

All that work. All that time spent sneaking and sending information as discretely as he could, and it was still going to shit.

He'd thought, perhaps foolishly, that light should have been able to easily trump the darkness of the other side. Taking in the turmoil and ruin around him, he wondered, not for the first time, if anyone was actually winning in this war.

He felt cheated as he saw person by person fall. For all the faults and barbaric nature of being a Death Eater, they trained like hell. They were furies in battle, and it took a mixture of decent skill and pure luck to take them down.

It was because of this that the Death Eater ranks were largely untouched, while the Resistance had already lost more than they could have afforded too.

So in short. It had all gone to shit.

When, where, how; that remained up for debate.

If anyone had asked him, he would have said it all went to shit the moment Tom Marvello Riddle stepped foot into Hogwarts for his first year, because in all honesty, it had all gone downhill since then.

Honestly what was Dumbledore thinking?

He pushed off the wall and turned the corner to enter another ongoing fight between Resistance members and pureblood supporters.

He dodged another stray spell. He'd scarcely stopped moving since the battle had started. The more he moved, the less likely anyone would spot him, on either side. He threw up shields, moved Order members discretely out of the way of stray spells, and when there was no one around he had knelt beside the fallen and healed those who could be saved.

It made for messy work, and he was already half-dead on his feet.

But he didn't want to stop and rest for more than it took to catch his breath. If he did, his mind would catch up to the rest of him, and he'd be forced to remember details about all that was happening all around him.

Crabbe is dead. Crabbe is dead. Crabbe is dead.

He couldn't focus on that. He couldn't focus on how Hermione had screamed out for him, at the risk of exposing him. He certainly couldn't focus on the rush of emotion that had come from simply hearing her voice again when it wasn't riddled with the pain of torture.

He'd helped her then. Helped her as much as he could. Distracting her mind, numbing part of the pain, protecting her thoughts.

It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

He'd shoved his thoughts away to continue on as he'd forcefully pushed himself back into the battle.

He entered an empty hall and weakly propped himself up on the side. His head pounded, and he felt the telltale signs of dizziness beginning to overtake him. He ground his teeth and pushed his own mental barriers up against it.

Not now. Not yet.

It was during this familiar mental battle that the Dark Lord's voice hissed and echoed through the castle.

"….come and face me….."

The pounding in his head increased, and he lost against it. He vaguely felt his body drop to his knees as the visions clouded his senses.

They always had the worst fucking timing.

The art of war is of vital importance to the State. It is a matter of life and death, a road either to safety or ruin.

Ruin.

It was all she saw as she took in the scene before her. Hogwarts, the place that she'd found her heart and built herself up piece by piece with every brick of its looming towers was a shell of the place she'd fallen in love with at 11.

She'd felt angry when the battle had started. Fury like no other as she dashed with Harry and Ron on the mission for the final Horcrux. Then, as the chaos had threatened to claim them all, it was only fear that she could detect in her chest.

If she took a moment to simply stop and take a breath, she was assaulted by everyone that had been lost and the distinct feel of burning fire.

Fiendfyre.

Draco.

She'd barely stopped herself from running straight into his arms. The last she'd seen him had been Malfoy Manor.

She shivered instinctively at the thought and resisted the urge to clap her hand over her scar. She'd wanted to say something; tell him that he'd done what he could. Her mind was safe. Safe because of whatever protection spells he'd managed to cast over her.

Instead, she'd seen him for a second and then the Room of Requirement was on fire.

He'd left so soon after that. Quiet and quick as he disappeared back into the mess of spells whizzing by them.

She swallowed roughly and tried to focus on the task at hand.

Voldemort had issued a respite.

Bury your dead.

Her eyes darted back at the room filled with the fallen and the injured. She turned to her right and helped set a 5th year Ravenclaw's ankle back into place. When she finished, she looked around to see if she could help anyone else with less grave injuries.

There are so many, and we've barely dented the other side.

"Mione."

She turned to look at Ron, unsure what state he'd been in. His family was cracking. Fred had been seriously injured and Percy…Poor Percy, finally reunited and apologetic was gone…

She bit her lip and realized Ron didn't look devastated. Rather, he looked panicked.

"What is it Ron?"

Ron shuffled from side to side.

"Where's Harry?"

Merlin Harry you didn't…

She rushed out from the Great Hall with Ron hot on her heels. How could Harry have left? She blindly shoved passed people until she neared the front. Panting she looked around at the painful division between the two sides.

No one was firing a single spell.

They were both waiting.

Ron's hand wrapped around hers, and she squeezed back gratefully. She took that moment to scan the others, trying and failing to spot any one of the two boys whose names were ringing in her ears.

Harry. Draco. Harry. Draco. Draco. Harry.

Draco.

She couldn't see them, either one of them. The implication of their absence was not lost on her, but she ignored it. Draco and Harry were fine. They were fine.

They had to be.

A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is brave five minutes longer.

Draco blinked and immediately felt the cool stone pressed against his cheek. He pushed himself upright, unhappy to find that he had in fact passed out completely on the floor. Though his discomfort was little compared to horror of what he'd seen.

Hearing footsteps approaching, he sprung back to his feet un able to prevent the groan from falling from his lips at the sudden movement.

The footsteps neared, and a figure appeared at the other end of the hall.

He let out a sigh of relief.

"Blaise."

Blaise quickened his pace till he stood in front of him. "Draco." He paused, his dark gaze dragged over him. "Are you alright?" The question was hesitant, even though the answer was obvious, but to ask it anyway was expected.

He ignored his friend's concern. "Blaise I need you to help get people out of here."

Blaise frowned. "Why? Did you…Did you see something?"

"Just grab Theo and Pansy and force people out of here. Stun and drag them out if you have to, but Blaise, I'm serious, get them out."

"Draco." Blaise moved closer, his hand came to rest on Draco's shoulder. "You're not making any sense. Even if I try to get people to leave now, what makes you think they'll listen?" There was fear in Blaise eyes. Good. It meant he knew he was serious.

"I don't care how." Draco said stubbornly, pulling at strands of his hair. He let out a sigh. "If you see a high-ranking Order member then…tell them everything. Tell them about me and maybe then they'll listen and help out."

"Draco…"

"Now Blaise, everyone that you can, get them to leave."

Draco turned but stopped with one last command, "And don't come back Blasie. Go with them."

He stepped away and turned to head toward the castle exit. His heart was drumming and the beat of it was ringing in his ears. He couldn't stop to think about what he'd seen. Instead, he forced himself to focus, for once, how to prevent it.

Dead. He'd seen them all dead.

He shuddered before stopping at the end of the hall.

Before him was a figure lingering among the rubble of the abandoned hall. He carefully approached the hooded figure. His wand was in his hand with his knuckles white around it.

The figure shifted, drawing his head up and dislodging the thick hood from its spot atop his head.

"Goyle." He said stopping a few feet before him.

He wasn't sure what to say. He'd left him too quickly after the room, eager to put distance between the waves of heat and surrender himself to the adrenaline that had prompted him to join the battle once more.

Goyle stared at him blankly, his eyes empty. For a moment, he wasn't even sure if Goyle was aware he was in front of him.

After 17 years of knowing one another, this is how it ends.

Greg cleared his throat. "I'm done."

He blinked. "What?"

"Draco." Goyle stepped forward, "I'm done. I'm not going back. I…I can't do this anymore."

He tilted his head to the side and watched as Goyle's expression shifted from blank to panic to set determination. Was he finally seeing real Gregory Goyle and not the one who buried his head in the sand and waited for others to tell him what to do?

He met the other boy's, no man's, gaze and nodded once. "Go, but Greg." He cleared his throat, "Run fast and far."

He swore he saw a small smile stretch on Greg's face before he turned and promptly disapparated.

He let out a breath before resuming his race out of the castle. He almost envied Goyle and how easy it was for him to cut ties and go. He didn't dwell on it long though. He had other things to focus on right now, such as how he was going to make sure things really didn't go to hell.

Hermione felt the exact moment that Draco joined the masses outside the doors to Hogwarts. A shock had gone through her body, and her pendant had burned slightly. He refused to meet her gaze, but she kept her eyes trained on him.

He was wobbling as he walked, slightly off balance with a pained expression on his face. She felt his despair as he continued moving easily between the others. He'd seen something, and based on his behavior, it wasn't good.

Her heart clenched as her throat seemed to close, refusing the passage of air. Her feet had inched toward his direction without her even aware of the fact. Ron's sharp intake of breath from beside her jolted her back to awareness.

Her eyes drifted, and she saw Voldemort and his procession enter the cleared area before the castle entrance.

"Harry Potter is dead."

He couldn't be.

Harry.

She'd just seen him. An hour ago he'd been by her side.

She closed her eyes after catching sight of the limp body in Hagrid's hands.

Harry.

One of her first real friends.

Her brother in all but name.

She put her hand over her mouth to contain a sob.

He'd been alive. Breathing. Fighting.

He couldn't be gone now.

She felt a pair of eyes on her, and through blurry vision, she saw Draco shake his head slightly. It was such a miniscule movement that she was sure she would have missed it had he not drawn her attention to him to begin with.

She frowned and then her eyes widened.

He wasn't dead.

Draco continued to move like a ghost as everyone around them stood frozen at the horror of the scene before them.

How could Draco know Harry wasn't dead? Even more concerning, she chewed her lip, what was he doing?

In retrospect, he should have been able to predict it would all come down to Longbottom making a scene. After knowing his classmates for the past 7 years, he shouldn't have needed to prophesize that.

He almost admired the boy for his bravery.

Almost.

Then he watched as the scene played out as he'd envisioned it.

Potter had slipped away. Chaos had ensued. Then, just as the two spells met in the field, he watched as the Dark Lord cast a second spell, this one more wild in nature. He disillusioned himself and stepped into the clearing and cast a nonverbal spell that sent Potter flying to the right just as the Dark Lord's spell threatened to overtake him or rebound on them both. He had seen how that would have ended, and it was not a pretty sight.

He took a breath, hoping to calm his heart from racing right out of his chest. He glanced in the direction he'd sent Potter flying, and in seconds, he'd apparated.

When the world was righted, and he was steady on his feet, he looked around and found the limp body of Harry Potter not far from him.

He hesitated before approaching him.

You saw what would have happened if you did nothing. Now is not the time to lose your nerve.

He took in another breath and stepped forward.

He was interfering now. He had no way of knowing how any of this would turned out, but in the moments since he'd seen that vision, he'd been formulating a plan.

Something had gone wrong.

Somewhere along the way, the Dark Lord had figured out Potter's plan, and immediately formed a contingency.

Regardless of the moves made now, Potter had to be alive and with the Order when they undoubtable regrouped.

He was vaguely aware of Voldemort yelling for Dolohov to disarm Potter and bring him back. He could hear shouts of the battle resuming, though he imagined most were retreating now.

He bit his lip and noticed Potter stir slightly. He was still conscious.

With a sigh, he dropped the Disillusionment charm and then disarmed Potter swiftly.

He knelt back down and placed his wand back in Potter's hand. He barely had time to re-apply the Disillusionment Charm before Dolohev was there and disarming Harry himself.

He watched as a ruthless smile overtook the man and just as he was about to lift his arm to fire another spell, Draco placed his wand on the other's temple. The spell was too risky for him to perform non-verbally, so he found himself speaking aloud.

"Obliviate."

He moved through Dolohev's mind with practiced ease, stringing together visions of Dolohov disarming Harry, but unable to stop him from escaping. When he was satisfied that there were no holes in the string of thoughts, he moved behind Dolohov and promptly stunned him. He dropped his Disillusionment Charm.

Potter blinked up at him.

"You…why..."

"You've got bigger things to worry about than me. Now keep quiet." He hissed. Or you'll get me killed.

He knelt down and began, healing some cuts and bruises while stopping blood flow from deeper cuts.

Harry continued to gap at him. When he was satisfied that Potter was not in danger of keeling over, he stood.

He caught Potter's gaze. They stood there taking in the other. Cuts and scrapes, dried blood on their clothes and skin, they both looked like hell.

Opposites. Both set up to play parts they'd never chosen and never wanted.

Potter's eyes softened, and he cleared his throat.

"Can you get back to the Order?" He asked.

Harry sat up, nodding faintly, though the protest was clear on his face.

"Today is lost Potter." He said harshly, "Stop and think."

Potter grew solemn at that and nodded weakly.

Draco let out a breath as he watched the other disappear from sight. There. He'd altered the course and made a move.

He stared at the wand in his hand.

Hopefully it was the right one.

The moment Harry's body flew away to the side, the eerie quiet that had settled over the wrecked battlefield dissolved.

She blinked, and it was like she'd woken in the midst of the chaos of war once more.

Voldemort was shouting out orders, and members of the Resistance had quickly fired off spells.

We have to retreat.

She stumbled away, frantically trying to travel in the direction she'd seen Harry's limp form sail toward.

Her breath was coming in short pants, gasping she staggered to a halt.

In. Out. In. Out.

You're no use to anyone if you're too busy hyperventilating.

She blinked as her vision sharpened.

That's when she realized she could no longer see Draco.

Shit.

She turned rapidly from side to side, scanning the crowd for a familiar raven haired or blonde head. The panic swelled in her chest.

She dashed forward, not particularly minding where she was stepping. Her foot slipped on the rubble, and she fell between two large boulders.

"Godric." She hissed.

Slowly, she tried to stand only to immediately fall.

As gently as she could, she rolled her pant's leg up and examined her foot. Her ankle was already swelling, and a thousand curses were on the tip of her tongue.

She fumbled for her wand, crawling toward where it had slipped from her hand during her fall. When she'd finally grasped it, she heard voices nearing her.

She burrowed back between the boulders for shelter and waited. If the voices belonged to friends, she would reveal herself. If not, she'd better hope she could heal her ankle before they sent a spell flying at her.

"Narcissa you must leave."

She snapped her head.

Sure enough, she saw Narcissa Malfoy was moving through the wreckage heading toward the school calling out for her son.

Draco.

If his parents couldn't find him….

No. She wouldn't think like that now.

She focused on Narcissa, who was still frantically knocking away rubble using her wand, clearing a path as she shouted for her son.

She could not recall a time she'd seen the cold woman so disheveled. Her robs were dirtied from the dust of the rubble, and her bangs had fallen into her eyes as she'd practically run through the danger with one target in mind. Draco.

"Narcissa."

Hermione saw Lucius came into view and grab his wife by the arm. Narcissa ignored his grasp, easily detaching herself and continuing her panicked search.

"You've betrayed the Dark Lord. You must leave."

Hermione frowned. How had Narcissa betrayed Voldemort?

"Not without our son." She snarled, "Or have you forgotten him in your idiotic dedication to a mad man."

"Narcissa." He hissed, though a grimace marred his features. "Leave, and I will find Draco."

Narcissa once again fought her husband's grip. She seemed about to continue to argue when the two both stiffened as a third figure joined them.

"Cissy."

Hermione stiffened. That voice. That same voice that belonged to the woman, who so frequently starred in her nightmares.

Bellatrix.

Lucius moved in front of his wife, placing himself between the two. Bellatrix stepped forward, and she was greeted with the sight of the mad witch. Her dark curls were wild around her face, accentuating the already crazed gleam in her eyes. Bellatrix sneered at her sister.

"You've betrayed us Cissy."

Narcissa straightened, channeling every regal fiber in her body to appear as straight and firm as a rod. Her face, which had only moments ago showcased the anger and fear of a mother, was now impassive and cold. An Ice Queen. And Hermione found that she admired the woman. She was strong in her convictions.

Bellatrix laughed. "Will you not defend yourself then?"

Narcissa did not speak.

Lucius; however, seemed distressed at the situation. His eyes darted between the two sisters as he contemplated how best to take control of the situation before it spun dangerously out of control.

"We must return to the Dark Lord. He will offer judgement." He finally said.

"There is only one judgement for traitors Lucius. Do not be weak." Bellatrix sneered.

Lucius's jaw clenched, his hand hovering to his side.

Hermione noticed the bulge in his rob. A wand.

The Malfoys were wandless at the beginning. How had they gotten hold of some?

Hermione found she was enraptured with the scene before her. She was no longer aware of herself, in fact, she was hardly certain if she was still breathing as she waited for one of them to make a move.

Suddenly, Bellatrix's wand was out and spells went flying. She saw flashes of white as Lucius pushed Narcissa to the side.

Then, it seemed to slow as green shots flew before her. Above the whistling of each spell, she made out someone screaming, 'No.'

Her eyes flickered to Narcissa, who seemed to be struck by two shots of green at once. She stumbled for a moment before dropping to the ground.

She clasped her hand over her mouth, slightly aware that the points of her fingers were wet from tears that were streaking down her face.

Bellatrix was cackling at the scene. Lucius seemed stunned, unable to do anything.

Her eyes tore away from the scene toward the source of the shout she'd heard earlier.

Draco.

She caught sight of his light hair as he stumbled toward them. His eyes were wide in pure disbelief. Then he was running, shouting something she couldn't make out. He slowed as he dropped before his mother's body. His hands were stretched out as though to touch her, but were withdrawn quickly back to his side. He dropped his head down. She watched numbly as his shoulders trembled, and he practically fell over Narcissa, his whole body quaking.

Her heart shattered. Every shake in his body was riddled in desperate grief.

His mother. The one person in the world he was willing to sacrifice everything for.

Lucius gripped Draco's shoulders as he knelt down beside him. His long blonde hair curtained them both, before she made out Draco nodding stiffly. Lucius straightened and pulled Draco up with him, whose head lifted.

For a moment, his eyes caught hers. The shock forced him to freeze, and for an eternity they just stood staring one another down. Then there was the unmistakable twitch in his jaw.

She mouthed an apology, but he quickly looked away. He turned from her and stiffly walked through the wreckage until she couldn't see him at all.

He was gone.