Chapter 20: The End

Lucius sat where he had been placed. Around him celebration roared, the air thick with voices that had been transformed from screams of terror and fury to shouts of pure joy. Mothers and fathers drew their children close and couples found each other in the crowd, relief flooding faces as they embraced.

He clenched his hands and breathed deeply, trying to still the shaking that had started to take over his body. But when he closed his eyes, he could only see death: a knife burying into his son's chest and a pile of rubble swallowing his lover.

Leaning forward with a moan, he gripped at his hair. Lucius needed to do something; he could not just sit here.

Somewhere a few tables over there was talk of searching for survivors. Luicus was on his feet and pushing people out of his way in moments.

"I'm in," he declared with no ceremony. The wizards and witches looked at him dubiously; they weren't thrilled he was here with them and they seemed less pleased that he wanted to go digging around for survivors.

"RIght. That's what we need. Death Eaters," a witch on the other side of the table from him snapped.

"You need the help. Will you really refuse?"

"I think we're all fairly willing to tell you to —"

"Let him."

Lucius cringed and turned to face Arthur Weasley. Arthur met his gaze evenly, but Lucius could feel the weight of all the ways he had tormented the other man pressing down on him. And here he thought he could not have sunk any lower.

"Are you kidding, Arthur?" the witch exclaimed.

"No, Tonks. Malfoy has someone he's looking for as well." Arthur moved closer and Lucius refused to blink. "These are new times after all. Right, Lucius?"

"Of course," Lucius murmured, suppressing the anger that wanted to build. At this point, he would snog Arthur if that got him what he wanted.

"Your funeral," Tonks sighed. "Fine, Mr. Malfoy. Take the dungeons with Sturgis and some house elves."

Outwardly, Lucius nodded and swept away; inwardly, he began a steady stream of four letter words. He had Imperioused Sturgis Podmoore three years ago and landed him in Azkaban. And given the quick clipped steps that were following him, Podmoore had not forgotten this.

Lucius was trying to figure out his next move when someone grabbed ahold of his shoulder. He spun round and had his wand out in seconds. But Podmoore simply stared at him.

"Listen," Sturgis soothed. "I just wanted to say I'm not going to attack you when you're back's turned or anything. So I don't need you jumping for your wand every time I move. We've got a task and I mean to do it. If you were serious then you'll do the same."

"Forgive me if I fail to believe that," Lucius growled.

"We aren't all Death Eaters, Malfoy. And I've lost friends down here I want to find too."

Lucius stared at the other man, weighing him and finally nodded brusquely. They headed to the dungeons without another word. Lucius had no interest in Sturgis, the dungeons, or the house elves but he was fairly certain Arthur's stepping in for him would not extend to his choice of location. They wanted him out of the way and with someone who would not let him get away with anything.

Lucius dragged himself up from the dungeons after hours of work. It had seemed like an eternity, like penance. The scale of the war was made clear with each body they found. Lucius saw his friends and enemies lying cold and still as he worked beside Podmoore. And he was clearly not the only one given the sighs and moans that he heard from his coworker. There were a lot of kids as well and Lucius quickly realized the only reason he was not weeping was because he no longer had any tears to cry. He recognized students from his visits to the school; he recognized the children of his friends; he recognized his son's friends.

Each body was given to a house elf that transported it back to the Great Hall. A makeshift staircase had been made of rubble and masonry so it was easier for the nimble elves. They had helped in the battle and now volunteered, continuing to serve witches and wizards even after a time like this.

So they worked until neither wizard could continue physically or emotionally. When Lucius emerged it was early evening and his spirits had fallen with the sun. He knew how many survivors they had and had not found, and now before him he could see the dead lined up, surrounded by candles with the living paying their respects.

Malfoy did not want to know, but he had to know. So he joined the slow moving line even though the only thing he wanted was to bathe and sleep. Several times he thought he was going to be sick as he thought he saw her. But it was always another witch and he did not see her.

Nearing the end of the procession someone else caught his eye, however: Severus Snape. Malfoy broke out of the line and rushed to his friend's body, kneeling beside it as he felt his legs go weak. Severus had been nearly guaranteed survival. Lucius's eyes sought and found the cause of death in the form of the repeated puncture marks on Severus's neck and torso. Lucius did not realize he was crying until he saw his tears falling on the lifeless figure.

Harry had been with the Weasleys when Bill commented on the vigil behind Harry.

"Poor bastard's found out."

Harry looked behind him and received a jolt as he saw a shattered looking Lucius kneeling beside Snape's body. He had completely forgotten that Draco's father had survived.

"Can't help but feel sorry for him," Charlie agreed. "He's lost more than most of us probably."

"We should tell him, Harry," Hermione suggested quietly. "We should tell him how Snape died."

Harry nodded and then headed to Lucius.

"Mr Malfoy?"

Lucius looked up to see three faces he had never wanted to see again. He looked back to Severus without a word.

"He died nobly," Hermione began, her voice quick with nerves. "Voldemort betrayed him. And Snape had been working all this time to help save Harry."

This was not what Lucius wanted to hear.

Hermione jumped back, surprised at how quickly Malfoy could get to his feet. Lucius pulled himself up to his full height, glowering.

"Well, how good it is that Mr. Potter is still here to save the day," he snarled in his panther-esque voice of before the war. "Do explain how you know all of this."

Hermione looked at Harry and Ron quickly now realizing the obvious flaw in their approach.

"Because," he continued, "it would appear you could have saved him but chose not to."

"We couldn't kill Vodelmort until—" Harry began.

"Have you not swallowed up enough lives, boy?!" Lucius roared.

"They died for a good cause! They died for Harry!" Ron shouted back.

"No, boy! They died because of Harry. He killed them."

"And you're only alive because that Death Eater witch begged your life!"

When the yelling had started, Charlie and Bill had hurried over to the group; they now physically dove in as Lucius lunged at Ron. They were able to hold him back, but only just.

"How dare you talk about her?!" Lucius had needed an outlet for his pent up fury and these children had given him one. He felt so much hate, mixed in with grief: hate for everything that had made his life like this.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione were pale and Hermione was shaking slightly as more Order members came running.

"And why are you here, Potter?" Lucius continued. "Do they know who saved you? Or were you counting on being resurrected twice?"

Harry stared at the floor not wishing to make eye contact with anyone now.

"Let him go," Harry murmured.

Bill and Charlie were too surprised to respond but Lucius yanked his arms free. He knew what he need to say and how to get what he wanted.

"That's true?" Hermione asked, stunned.

Neither Lucius nor Harry answered but Lucius stared at Harry, daring him to deny it; Harry did not.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, still staring at the floor.

"Your apologies will not bring back my son or my friends," Lucius hissed back. Then he turned on his heel and swept out of the Great Hall.

In the hall, Horace Slughorn caught up to him. Horace had always like Lucius, one of the first "Slug Club" members. The Death Eater thing was unfortunate but Lucius had always done well for himself.

"There are baths and cots down the hall. You should rest, Lucius."

Malfoy nodded and headed in the direction Slughorn indicated. There was a short line for the ten minute showers but Lucius was too broken down to complain. Once the warm water hit him he nearly dropped to sleep on the spot. He had not rested in two days. But he managed to drag himself out of the shower and to the cot he was assigned. Lucius fell asleep immediately, thinking before he slipped away that if someone put a knife in his back while he slept it would be a favor to him.

Lucius woke to someone telling him there was food if he wanted it. He could see the sun had risen fully, making it round 7 am.

"Any new survivors?" he asked in return.

The man looked sympathetic. "A few. They're still working at moving all the rubble."

Lucius nodded and followed the man to breakfast. As they passed by a window he looked out to see the courtyard mostly cleared, a sight that nearly broke his heart. If Mircea was not one of those few…

And she was not. No one ran to him and no one called his name. This made Lucius Malfoy think. He nibbled at his bread and he thought. Mircea was not coming back. Mircea was gone. He had seen her fall to her death, had seen her crushed beneath the rock. And he could not bear living like this, living in a world where all he loved had died, where all he valued was gone, and where he as surrounded by those who hated him.

"Master?"

Lucius startled and found one of his house elves standing beside him.

"Yes?"

"May I help wit the other house elves, Master? I am here for that."

"Do whatever you like," he replied flatly. "You're free now."

"What?" Hizzy gasped in disbelief.

"What do house elves matter to a dead man?" Lucius asked hollowly, looking on his person for any fabric he could give her. Not finding any, he transfigured his remaining bread into a handkerchief.

"Master? What does this mean?"

"It means that I am going to take my life," Lucius answered. It sounded so permanent and real, saying it aloud to someone else like that.

"Master! You mustn't!"

"Enough! My last order to you before giving you this," he waved the handkerchief at her, "is to forbid you from interfering. I do not wish to live and a house elf certainly will not stop me." Then he tossed her the white patch of fabric.

Her giant eyes filled with tears but she hurried away, leaving him as he had ordered. He as a bad master, but he was still hers.

Malfoy sat again. Today he would breathe his last, this he had decided. But before this he wished to remember some good. He looked at a clock that had been set up by the headmaster's table which now lay cracked in two after being used as a shield. One hour: in one hour he would die.

Mircea would later state that she only had flashes of memory from the end of the battle. She remembered Lucius screaming, and the feel of his shield wrapping around her; it was like being wrapped in his embrace, so full of warmth and of him. She remembered falling, the floor dropping out from under her, and turning in the hair. She remembered the shield shattering on impact with the ground but breaking her impact so she did not break her back as she otherwise would have. She did not remember losing her wand but noticed its absence when she could not protect herself. And that was the last thing she remembered.

After that it was a void until she felt air touch her face.

Mircea gasped, sucking in the air and beginning to claw her way free. Voices shrilled around her and she roared to life in a last desperate attempt to survive. The voices were not human but were familiar and she felt many small hands digging and pulling her free. Someone said someone's leg was broken but nothing made sense beyond her leg hurting terribly. She was given water and she gulped it down. Then someone else ran to her and snapping their fingers; the world snapped back into place in a shock of pain and clarity. Mircea's broken leg and concussion had been healed.

Looking around her, Mircea saw herself sitting in the courtyard of Hogwarts with a band of house elves surrounding her. She rubbed grit from her face and tried to figure out how she was not dead. To her left she saw a crevice formed by several stones jammed against one another. It chilled her heart to think she had been in there, buried alive. If there were any memories of this time, she did not want them.

"Mistress! Oh Mistress, do listen!"

Mircea turned her attention to the house elf yanking on her sleeve.

"I don't keep house elves. You're confused."

"No, Mistress. It's Master Lucius!"

Mircea's attention was fully captured.

"Lucius…. Is he alive?"

The house elf's eyes filled with tears. "I don't know, Mistress. He was so sad that you and Master Draco were dead. And then Master Snape…"

"Snape's dead?" Mircea gasped. She was surprised to feel her eyes filling with tears, but Snape had always been there and always been on their side.

"Oh do listen! It may already be too late!" the house elf squealed.

"Too late for what?!"

"He's going to die!"

Mircea stumbled to her feet, gripping the rocks beside her for support. "How do you know this?"

"He told me he would take his life! I cannot stop him! He ordered me!"

"How long ago?"

"Nearly an hour."

Mircea felt adrenaline coursing through her, restoring her. "How do I reach him?"

"Not magically. You must run. Here." Hizzy placed a long finger against Mircea's forehead, and Mircea could see the route she had to take play out in her mind. She stooped quickly and hugged the little elf before turning to run.

Mircea ran full bore, deciding a dress was stupid and transfiguring it into trousers. She reached several impasses that had been dealt with through ladders and ramps, and she stumbled over them in her haste to reach the Great Hall.

But the images in her mind directed her and she did not get lost or turned around in the lower depths of the school.

After what seemed like far too long, Mircea saw the final room before the Great Hall.

She nearly cried when she saw another makeshift staircase of rubble; her hands and knees were raw, which did not bother her at the moment, but they made climbing so much harder.

Lucius must know she was alive. He could not die, not now.

She began to scream his name, a call and a plea rather than the scream of panic she had grown so accustomed to.

She climbed and she called for him.

Lucius had breathed the first syllable of the spell when he heard it. Somewhere in on the edge of his hearing he could hear Mircea calling for him. It was as if her ghost was calling.

But then he heard it again and it seemed more corporeal, more grounded in reality.

He jumped to his feet, upsetting the bench he sat at alone with a loud bang that drew the attention of those near him. Lucius spun about wildly, trying to see if that voice was simply in his head; if he were hearing her now he would surely have to kill himself.

He couldn't tell now. There were too many people talking.

"Shut up!" he roared, bringing his end of the room to silence. Almost everyone at his end had noticed his comatose state and had given him a wide berth, so when he jumped to his feet for no reason and began yelling, they did as he said.

"Lucius!"

That was very distinctly and truly a real voice.

"Persephone!" He rushed forward a dew steps trying to follow the sound like a dog on a scent. He was seated about midway down the length of the room so it was hard to tell where her voice was coming from.

"Lucius!"

Lucius Malfoy shoved people aside in his scramble to get closer to the far end of the room. He was becoming certain that was where her voice was coming from.

"Persephone!"

"Lucius!"

He knew now her voice was coming from somewhere behind the Headmaster's table and rushed towards it.

Entering the Great Hall was like emerging from hell into the day. There were people there, no one was fighting, and somewhere in this room Lucius Malfoy was seeking her. Mircea scrambled to her feet after the rough climb and pulled herself to her full height, scanning the room as quickly as she could. She had stopped yelling, panting instead, but she knew the sound of his voice like a song.

"Persephone!"

The excitement in his voice thrilled her and their eyes locked.

Vaulting the shattered table, she ran to him, hardly noticing that the other witches and wizards cleared a path for her.

Lucius ran with all that was left in him and threw his arms around her, lifting her off of her feet and spinning her in unguarded joy. He set her down and took her face in his hands to see her, to never stop looking at her dark, lovely eyes.

But Mircea had other plans and she fiercely pulled him to her in a deep kiss. She smiled through the kisses as Lucius responded with the passion she had always loved.

This was a truly unique vision for the survivors in the Great Hall. Not only had Lucius Malfoy started acting truly insane, but he and this Death Eater stood kissing in the center of the Great Hall. Lucius Malfoy, the cold hearted bastard, was clearly completely in love.

This was hardly the end of their conflict. Not everyone was pleased that they had lost loved ones while a Death Eater couple had survived. But they were given pardon and placed under protection at the Leaky Cauldron. Neither cared; they were together and safe.

Five years later, the dust had finally seemed to settle.

They had married in the gardens of Malfoy Manor as soon as marriage licenses were being issued again.

They did not have children and knew without discussion that they never would. Draco had been enough.

In the new Ministry, Mircea had been granted the job she had always wanted. She worked in the International Magical Cooperation division, as one of several heading the Eastern relations sector.

Each night, she returned to her husband, Lucius Malfoy, who now ran an Apothecary and Potions Shop in Diagon Alley that was based from their home.

On occasion a note would be left for her saying he had been called into the Ministry. The first time this had happened she had turned up armed for a battle and insisting he be released at once. But he was not there as a prisoner; he was there of his own free will, and for pay no less.

Lucius had overheard officials arguing over whether Pious had been Imperioused or not while waiting for Mircea at the Ministry. Without thinking, he had scoffed at the very idea. The officials had questioned his reaction and a long discussion had ensued that made it very clear he could be a valuable asset to the Ministry clearing up who had been Imperioused and who had not.

It was a job for a snake and a lapdog so Lucius had pressed his advantage, insisting on pay and secrecy. His loyalty to any one Ministry would have to be gained over time; no more would he ingratiate himself at the drop of a hat.

On their fifth anniversary, Mircea returned home to a deeply pleasant night spent over dinner and in their massive marble bathtub, the one she had washed him in all those years ago. Curled up together in the attic, which they had refurbished into a master bedroom, Mircea rested her head on his chest, listening to the thud of his heart.

"I have something for you as well," she said, turning to face him.

"Oh?" Lucius grinned. Her presents often resulted in naughtiness of one kind or another.

"Close your eyes."

He felt her naked skin over his as she leaned across him and took his right arm in her hands.

"Open them."

He opened his eyes and looked at their forearms, turned out to face him. The Dark Marks had faded away completely in the five years they had been married. Now only a network of faint scars showed they had ever been there at all. He hadn't noticed until she had pointed it out just now.

He pulled her to him, kissing her fiercely. Mircea smiled and kissed him back.