Chapter 18: Battle at Hogwarts

Mircea felt the rough hand grab her arm and she twisted away violently. The horrible message still rang loud in her ears, even as she blasted away the Snatcher as he made another grab for her. It was a distraction but the voice echoed around her head, filling her with a constant sense of the Dark Lord above her or behind her.

"I know you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."

"Damn lying snake," she spat out loud, responding to the cajoling of Voldemort by laying snare spells for a nearby troll. "Damn useless prudery," she continued at a louder volume, earning her a sour look from several witches and wizards fighting beside her. She had been barred from black magic; it was the one skill she could uniquely bring to the fight and they were too squeamish to allow it.

Mircea dodged the troll as it fell, sending her back into the shadows of an exploded corridor.

"Give me Harry Potter," the lie picked up where it had left off in her memory, "and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you shall be rewarded. You have until midnight."

And Mircea could still see, her eyes shut tight, how all eyes had turned on her. All those accusing looks. They had expected her to turn on them, even now, even after fighting off the Carrows and Snape with them. She had raised her hands, in defense of herself and in fear for her life in the growing tension, and the moment had been broken by some Slytherin girl shouting her head off about handing over Potter.

That still confused her, she thought, pushing back further into the safety of the darkness, hoping to think on this for just a moment. Snape had given her such a look when she appeared with those hiding in the Room of Requirement. Their eyes met and she knew he had always known she would find a way in, but she could not read his reaction to this at all. There was a flash of confusion and then worry and then he and the Scottish woman were fighting.

But all this reflection had caused Mircea to drop her awareness of what or who might be in the dark with her. Something heavy collided with her forehead and she fell to her knees like a stone. The world spun and she fought hard to stay conscious and not throw up. Someone was talking to her in the dark and Mircea tried to hear what it was they were saying.

"And you thought no one knew. But I knew. I knew from the moment of my return. You stank like him, and he stank like fear. But that is Lucius Malfoy." The growl in the voice and the lack of robes made it all too clear who this was: Fenrir.

Mireca started to feel about for her wand. Somehow it had gotten away from her and she was too disoriented to properly fight him wandless. Panic rose as she heard soft laughter and looked up to see her wand in Fenrir Greyback's hands. Her mind calculated very quickly; he could not use her wand and this enormously decreased the danger. But he was blocking her way and he still had her wand. Should she get around him there would be no way of surviving in the battle.

"Now… I will take every last thing from him I can."

Mircea felt panic rising. "We're on the same side."

"I am my own side, witch."

He lunged and she had no space to evade him. She felt him grab her neck and she tried to scream. In response he lifted her off her feet and slammed her back into the stone beneath them. She gasped for air and managed to kick him off of her. Stumbling to her feet, now in complete panic, she scrambled out of his reach. Laughter bounded off the narrow hall as she burst back into the edges of the war torn courtyard.

Fenrir came after her with alarming speed, grabbing onto the back of her dress and yanking her off her feet. Mircea managed to grab onto his arm, causing him to stumble over on top of her and softening her fall. But Fenrir on top of her was exactly what she had been trying to avoid. With a roar of laughter he bore down on her, ripping at her skirts with claw-like nails. She kicked out again, but he caught her legs and pinned them under him. He pressed his face into hers and she could smell blood on his breath.

"Stupefiy!"

Mircea was so shocked that for a moment she did not move, even as Fenrir shot into the stone ceiling above them. She rolled away in time to prevent him from crashing down on top of her and faced her savior: a round-faced girl in brownish blonde curly braids.

"Thank you," Mircea gasped,not caring that she had been rescued by a child.

The girl nodded and then summoned Mircea's wand. It flew into Mircea's hand and she grinned in spite of everything. A pillar exploding nearby cut her reunion with her wand short though and she ducked behind some rubble. When the dust cleared Mircea began to look for the girl and could not find her. Jogging around a corner, Mircea looked down with cold shock; the girl lay some distance away, a sickening dent in her head. Behind her she could hear Fenrir stir and she cloaked herself completely, too stricken to flee or fight.

He rounded the corner on all fours and headed straight for the body. Mircea raised her wand but someone screaming nearby drew her attention. Hermione Granger hit Fenrir with his second stunning spell of the night. A crystal ball from above finished him with a thump of finality.

Mircea fought to catch her breath and stop shaking. Looking herself over, she was a horribly sad mess: her hands were shaking so hard she could hardly control them, her dress was hanging open in giant holes, and she could feel another large tear in the back of the dress. She wanted to rest and recollect; they were more outnumbered than she had expected them to be and the fighting was harder than she had hoped. Everything had happened at once, just like the last war. Except unlike the last war she was now fighting her way through a school with a ton of people she didn't care for at all to get to the one person she cared for most.

The gates exploded with force and a fountain of giant spiders gushed into the grounds.

"Oh well fuck this," was her first thought and she uncloaked herself, fleeing into the school. She jammed herself behind a statue and tried to catch her breath. She let her head rest against the cool marble, noticing that it was slippery under her skin. She lifted her head to see blood smeared across the flanks of the griffin she was hiding behind. Maybe she could just lie down and pretend to be dead.

She smirked very slightly; that was survival thinking. She had to keep reminding herself that she needed to do more than just survive. She was here for a reason and she certainly would not be here for anything short of Lucius.

Her mind drifted back to the feeling of waking in his arms. She closed her eyes and for a moment was not here, trying not to die. Trying not to be raped. She still shook at the thought. Blocking it out of her mind, she was now resting her head against Lucius's shoulder in the slope of his neck. He held her tightly — protectively and possessively — and rested his stubbly chin on the top of her head. One of his hands toyed with her curls.

"Here! There's one of ours here!"

Hands were grabbing Mircea and she shoved them off angrily. "I'm fine!" she spat, furious at the interruption and mildly embarrassed.

The man who had tried to help her opened his mouth angrily when something caught her eye behind him. She threw a shield up, shoving her "assistant" down with one hand. They were covered in a fine dust as the knives cast by the attacker were eaten up in the shield. She let go of the man and her stared at her for a moment; only then did she realize it was Potter's werewolf and she recoiled reflexively. He glowered in return before he spun around and gave chase to the attacker who was now bolting around the corner.

So tired. Mircea rubbed at her eyes, and brushed the metallic powder off of her skin and clothes, quickly mending the holes in her borrowed dress. It was going to catch up with her. She would make a mistake again and then… no more mistakes.

Lucius openly cowered.

Mircea had not been where she should have been and it had been taken out on him. He was even worse off than he had been before, now sporting cracked ribs (the Cruciatus Curse) and a burn across his calves he was trying to surreptitiously heal (the Blasting Curse). He was lying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, at the foot of a moldering old bed, and trying not to cry out in pain as he pull his trouser leg away from his singed left calf.

Voldemort faced the only unblocked window, rolling his wand in his fingers and staring out at the distant bursts of light.

Lucius silently healed the burn as well as he could, causing it to scab over. It would scar. That may have bothered him before, but now… all the people in Hogsmeade had been sent to the front of the battle. He knew she was out there somewhere, either fighting or dead. The band burned into his ring finger seemed to push him to dare when he would rather stay silent.

"My Lord…"

The words were out before Lucius could realize he had said them. He could feel all of the blood leaving his head.

"My Lord… please…"

The snake eyes turned on him. "She has left us both, Lucius. It is not my concern if this costs her life."

Lucius allowed himself to slump over against the bed. There had to be something he could do, something he could say to get himself down there. For if she was fighting he wanted to fight with her, and if she were dead he would surely want to die.

"Aren't—aren't you afraid, my Lord, that Potter might die at another hand but yours? Wouldn't it be. . . forgive me. . . more prudent to call off this battle, enter the castle, and seek him y-yourself?"
"Do not pretend, Lucius. You wish the battle to cease so that you can discover what has happened to this traitor. And I do not need to seek Potter. Before the night is out, Potter will have come to find me."

Lucius knew now was the time to shut up. The realization that his only attempt to find her had failed pounded down on him. He fought desperately to not cry; Lucius refused to let Voldemort take something as personal as this grief.

Desperately he cast his mind about for something else to think of, somewhere he could escape to. He had to think of something more positive… which in itself sparked a memory.

"A Patronus Charm can still be useful. There are things you do not want on coming close to you, Dark wizard or not," Mircea stated. They were walking hand in hand through the labyrinth in the gardens. Above them the moon shone boldly, full and bright, reflecting off of the last melting piles of snow. The rain had washed much of the snow away but here it still clung to the earth in wet heaps.

"I suppose so. It just feels so good to have no need of doing so," Lucius smirked. He caught Mirecea giving him a dubious look and he felt his ire rising."Yes?"

"Azkaban?"

He blushed a little, his hand dropping hers and moving to his neck subconsciously. The memory of it made him feel so cold. "That would be one of those times. Yes."

"I'm sorry…" Mircea seemed to regret bringing up Azkaban. She looked about her and her eyes landed on her wand, tucked up her sleeve. "What is it?"

"Azkaban?"

She rolled her eyes. "No! Your Patronus."

"I'll show you yours if you show me mine," Lucius whispered silkily to her; this was much more the kind of conversation he enjoyed. She grinned at him in return and he pulled out his wand. He simply could not resist finding out personal details about her; he had always been horribly nosy and she was so full of secrets he was dying to uncover.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A larger than life badger materialized from his wand, looking more solid than was possible in the moonlight. Mircea immediately bent to pet the ghostly creature, which of course responded very positively to her presence. She scratched behind it's ears and it nuzzled her chin with it's pearly snout.

"He's lovely…," she cooed over it. "It suits you."

"Yes," Lucius snapped bitterly. "Black, white, and hunted for sport." He flicked his wand and the badger disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared.

He watched as Mircea turned sad dark eyes on him and he interrupted before she could express her pity for him. He did not mean to do it; he did not want her to look at him with that sadness but he felt so full of bitterness at how much he no longer had. She really was the only thing he had gained in so very long. Lucius bent to kiss her, responding physically to his internal ramblings, and she kissed him back though when they parted Mircea gave him a look of amused confusion.

"You promised," he said, giving her a clipped smile.

"I'm rather curious what memory such a strong Patronus is attached to, though," she needled. "I don't expect it to be of me, but I'm dying to know."

Luicus smiled down at her. "I'm sure you would make an enchanting Patronus, my love. That however is the memory of my son's birth. A strong happiness like I had never known before."

"Well, may that happiness always be with you, Lucius Malfoy."

"Let us hope so. And now," he disentangled himself from her, "do show, Persephone."

She quirked an eyebrow and raised her wand.

"Go and fetch Snape."

The order jarred him so much he nearly screamed in fright, completely lost in the world of his painful memories.

"Snape, m-my Lord?"

"Snape. Now. I need him. There is a — service — I require from him. Go."

Frightened, stumbling a little through the gloom, Lucius left the room. As he pushed through the tunnel, tears clouded his vision. His son's birth was no longer the stuff of Patronuses; it was a reminder of just how much he had lost and what he could still lose yet.

Lucius had never completed a task so quickly in his life. He had found Snape, told him to go to Voldemort, and then promptly joined the battle. It was hard to run with the skin so tight across the back of his legs and it was hard to breathe with his broken ribs but he knew he could not lose this moment.

The only pleasure he had in this fight was in seeing the looks on various faces as he blasted away Snatchers, Death Eaters, Ministry workers and anyone who dared to cross him. The children seemed outright stunned and the adults only seemed slightly more lucid. But they all stayed out of his way.

In one moment he saw, and lost sight of, long sand colored curls disappearing up a staircase. He ran harder than he had in some time only to be greeted with the very bottom set of the moving staircases. From the way they were swinging out violently and without warning he knew it could take him hours to find her, if he could even make it up one staircase. He stood there, defeated and panting.

"Lucius!"

Lucius cringed at the sound of Bellatrix's voice. This was not what needed to happen right now.

"Come!" she ordered. "We're to return to the Forbidden Forest."

"I'll go nowhere with you!" he snarled at her.

Bellatrix only sneered at him.

"She's alive, Lucius," his former sister-in-law taunted. "Alive and a traitor. Just like her parents. And she will die like a traitor. The Dark Lord will ensure it."

"What?" Lucius could not make sense of what Bellatrix was telling him. The words seemed to hold no meaning.

"She is fighting with Potter, Malfoy! And every Death Eater fighting for the Dark Lord will be hunting for her blood once I tell them!"

Lucius pulled back to slap her, but Yaxley caught sight of them and intervened.

"Enough of your petty fights, both of you!" he shouted, wrenching Malfoy's arm back before it could fall. "It's nearly time! Withdraw to the forest as you were told!"

Bellatrix grinned, which was worse than her anger. She knew she had won this exchange; she had scared and angered Malfoy and it was clear he had not known of Mircea's treachery until now. She turned away from him with an air of triumph and blasted her way through the crowd. Yaxley grabbed hold of Lucius' collar before he could move one way or the other, pushing Lucius in front of him.

"Just for good measure," Yaxley snarled. "Wouldn't want you to get lost like your lady."

Lucius knew that if he wanted to stay alive and be with Mircea he would need to find a way to join her in the castle. Sadly, this meant following Yaxley was his best option; he couldn't fight off the other Death Eater and it would probably attract Bella's attention, who he would then have to fight as well. Not to mention, Lucius's odds of remaining alive were much smaller if he were left in the castle on his own. So with a quick and sorrowful scan of his surroundings, Lucius allowed himself to be prodded out of the castle between Yaxley and Bellatrix.

But Lucius also knew whose side he now needed to prove his loyalty. The cluster of Death Eaters made their way, blocking and countering spells with all of the skill and speed of long years and necessity, out into the courtyard. Lucius fired no spells but countered and aided whenever he could without Yaxley or Bella noticing. And every once in a while, he would make eye contact with a bewildered Ministry member or Hogwarts teacher or student and would see they knew exactly who had aided them.

On the edges of the forrest they stopped fighting altogether and jogged into the trees.

"What clearing?" Lucius panted, his side aching fiercely. He needed to heal the bones but he continued to forget.

"Weren't you told?" Bella cackled, with malevolent delight.

"Who cares?!" Yaxley barked, angry at the continual bickering. "We're here!"

Voldemort stood in a clearing with other Death Eaters and the half giant groundskeeper bound behind them all. Bodies were lying among them, arms crossed deliberately. Voldemort turned his cold eyes on them and smiled mirthlessly.

"How good to see you all again," he whispered. "Are we all here?"

"All but Severus," someone volunteered.

"And Mircea," Bellatrix chimed in, unable to keep the glee out of her voice. "Though we now know where she is, My Lord."

"Oh?" Voldemort's tone was icy.

"She is fighting beside Potter. She has betrayed us."

Lucius fought to keep eyes open as the Dark Lord wheeled on him, certain that now he would die. Instead he felt his body go completely rigid and he toppled backward, now staring wide eyed at the night sky, completely Petrified.

"Leave him there. It is time."

Mircea had found some tolerable companions — a rotund Slytherin professor and a student or two — to fight alongside and they had managed to work their way into the Grand Staircase. The stairs had seemed to guess at what was going on and would swing out at crucial moments, dropping the floor from under Death Eaters or allowing them to be blasted off of landings. Steps also swallowed those fighting for Voldemort whole, spitting them out on the other bodies rained down, ending the yells with sickening crunches.

When the announcement began, Mircea screamed so loudly, a wordless shrill of fright, that those with her clapped their hands over their ears. She felt her knees give way and someone supporting her weight, preventing her from falling from the landing behind her. She had thought she had escaped his voice and now is echoed within her brain.

"You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. You have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured. I would request you send me back my witch; that snake is marked as mine and should she not return, Lucius Malfoy will not survive the night. I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you…"

Mircea's heart thudded so hard she felt a little sick. Whoever had helped her was doing so no longer and the students with her were staring at her wide eyed. There were more words, about an one hour ceasefire, but neither she nor those near her were paying attention any longer.

The Dark Mark showed clearly on her forearm and she could feel it burning there. Her eyes swept the column of the stairwell and took in at least ten wands trained on her above and below, waiting. Mircea knew there was nothing but empty space behind her and that she would not survive a fall like that. When she turned her attention back to those on her staircase she noticed the professor looking at her closely.

"I am no snake," she whispered. It drew her back to some time during their few blissful weeks together…

She had prodded Lucius into showing her his Patronus: a badger. She was struck immediately by the fact that badgers were known for their ferocity and protectiveness, which in her experience fit Lucius perfectly. These attributes were the only reason they had made it this long as a couple: his protectiveness of his son had gotten them into this and his fierce affection had kept them together. When Mircea had mildly commented on the suitability Lucius had given her the now expected bitter response; not that she was judging him since she responded in kind to many things. And, continuing to surprise her with his willingness to open up to her, he had shared his Patronus memory, which had melted her completely. Mircea had no desire to have children but Lucius's ability to love made him stand out like a beacon amongst the Death Eaters.

He had insisted on seeing her Patronus as well and soon a silvery mongoose scurried up to Lucius.

"Well aren't we full of irony," he drawled with a genuine smile as he gently rubbed its back. "The snake killer."

"Yes, I've rather tried to keep that quiet," Mircea replied mildly. "It doesn't look good."

"And the memory?"

"Why should I tell you?"

Lucius stood with a grin as the mongoose faded away. Mircea tried to remember how he looked at that exact moment; he so rarely grinned like that and it was gorgeous.

"Then it's about me," he purred.

Mircea tried to snort derisively. "That's a rather pompous assumption."

"Prove me wrong," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her.

Mircea could not help but smile. "This is it," she said almost in spite of herself.

"That doesn't make sense…"

"Don't be thick," she teased. "Not this exact moment. This… being in your arms. Specifically waking up in your arms."

Lucius pulled away to look her in the eyes. He seemed to be analyzing if she meant what she had said.

Mircea took his face in her hands. "I would not lie about this Lucius."

Another grin, a rarity for there to be two in one day, grew over his face. He kissed her in response and rested his forehead against hers.

"I will protect you until the end, my little snake killer."

"What was that?" Slughorn asked, tightening his grip on his wand and motioning kids behind him. He was afraid that a hex could blow them all off of the stairs.

"I said, I am no snake," Mircea declared with more force, raising herself to her feet.

Closing her eyes she breathed deeply and cast the most difficult spell there was at that moment.

Slughorn watched as a slivery mongoose took shape at her side. He couldn't help but smile slightly. He watched the Dark witch kneel and pet the ghostly animal, tears beginning to clear paths in her dirty face as it faded away under her touch.

"Miles," Slughorn shattered the silence with his commanding voice, causing the students to jump, "you and I will escort the lady to the Great Hall. I'm sure that's where people will be gathering for the coming hour."

The oldest boy nodded and they walked down the stairs with Mircea between them. But the journey was slow and tortured for Mircea, since every few feet there was something that needed to be done. There was an endless line of people who needed medical attention and bodies that needed to be moved. Mircea set herself to sending bodies to the Great Hall; she was not the person for medical care, as Lucius had once made very clear, and she needed to be doing something that would settle the suspicion that followed her like an odor. Soon enough the suspicion eased into acceptance and she was tasked with some outer corridors. Hands were needed and hers were there; those on Potter's side would have to be stupid to refuse the help. Fortunately there was not much clean up to be done where she was, though she did notice that Fenrir was nowhere to be seen among the dead (very unfortunate in her eyes), and she returned to the Great Hall about twenty minutes into the hour.

Upon entering the Great Hall, Mircea placed herself in a corner, not expecting any attention or care. However, the roving healers noticed her and a young adult witch approached Mircea.

"You should let me look at your head," the witch stated, sounding uncertain and wary.

"My head?" Mircea had no idea what she was talking about.

"There's a lot of blood."

Mircea put a hand to her head and when she pulled it away she saw her palm was covered in a sticky patch of blood. She had used a quick charm to do up her hair and had not noticed as she moved bodies.

"How did that happen?" the witch asked as she motioned for Mircea to sit on the risers lining the Hall.

"Fenrir Greyback."

The witch looked terrified for a moment. "We need to get you different care then," she stammered.

"No," Mircea huffed waving off her fear. "He didn't bite me."

"Then what…"

"He tried…" Mircea trailed off. It was oddly hard to say. "He was after something altogether different than blood."

The witch stared at her for a moment and then shocked Mircea completely as she grabbed her in a hug.

"I'm so sorry."

Mircea fought back the urge to shove her and the urge to burst into tears, both sparked by the unexpected physical contact and sympathy. She did not move at all though and the witch released her as quickly as she had swept in.

"Well… Let's fix this up and never think of him again. Should be able to heal it without even a scar."

Mircea jerked a little at the word scar. "Thank you."

"You are welcome," the witch smiled at her. "Need anything else?"

Mircea shook her head. "No. I just need some time to think."

"Well then," she looked at her watch, "you have about 20 minutes."

Lucius had spent a long hour lying, frozen completely, staring up at the night sky. Despite everything it was a beautiful night and the clear sky and stars reminded him painfully of Mircea. He allowed a few tears to leak out of his frozen eyes, before forcing himself to think straight.

She was alive and out of his reach. He would not be allowed to go very far from hand now that he was a bartering piece for Mircea's return. And she would certainly be smart enough to not return, or so he hoped; he'd kill her if she were stupid enough to come back. So he needed to find some way to get to her, some way to get into the school. Following her pattern, he had allied enough people to have someone vouch for him, and the announcement had made it clear what Mircea wanted. Maybe they would spare him since she had decided to help him.

The more he thought about it the more sense that made.

But here he was, Petrified and unlikely to move as the minutes ticked away. Potter was not coming and if neither Potter nor Mircea came, Lucius was likely to die before the dawn came. Bellatrix had certainly speculated along the same lines as she walked by him, patrolling the clearing. Other Death Eaters had been sent further out in pairs to look for signs of Potter's coming.

What Lucius needed was for something to so change the tide that Voldemort could not avoid going into the school. What Lucius needed was…

"HARRY! NO!"

He could hear the giant yelling and every inch of his body fought to sit upright. And by no small miracle, he was released; his eyes landed on Dolohov, who quickly turned away from him. Lucius struggled to his feet and hung back as far as he could be and still be able to hear and see what was happening. In the time this took him there was more yelling and then the Dark Lord stood poised across from an impassive Potter.

The hair on the back of Lucius's neck prickled. There was something wrong with this; not just morally which was all but irrelevant by now, but with the way this was playing out.

"Avada Kedavra!"

And then the clearing exploded.