This Bitter Earth

by Ikorous

Control isn't the only thing Draco Malfoy has lost. But he will get it back. He will get everything bac

24. TWENTY FOUR

A/N: A small reminder that Draco is left handed and Hermione is right handed. Just a fun fact to keep in mind. I know this chapter moves VERY fast, and I did my best to include as much as I could in the ten minute time frame that this happens in. Hopefully it turns out okay…

A HUGE thank you to the long suffering Bree and SheekMartin for betaing this chapter. Bree read I think four different versions of this? And SheekMartin had to deal with me going back and forth on things a dozen times over. Clap for them. I am not an easy person to deal with.

CW: Once again, our dear friend Death. Also this one gets a little gory. Okay, I won't lie. It's pretty damn hardcore on the gore. Hopefully you haven't just eaten.

Soundtrack: "Riptide" by grandson and "Without You" by Ursine Vulpine

TWENTY FOUR

.

Draco's knee fucking hurt, but he stood tall, making himself a pillar of stone, refusing to let an ounce of his discomfort show on his face. He didn't have a plan. He didn't have anything but the vinewood wand he took off of Potter as he stood in front of the Dark Lord.

But he had Granger, tucked behind his back and holding tightly onto his hand, and he wasn't letting go.

The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed, the slits of his pupils flaring then receding. "Yours?" he said softly. Dangerously. "Is this not the creature you claimed to be training in my service? You knelt at my feet and promised she was your way of delivering Potter to me. What use is the Mudblood to you now?"

Shit. Another thing he'd have to explain to Granger when all of this was over. But… she was a smart girl; she would understand. As long as he lived long enough to talk to her about it, that was. Draco didn't dare look back at her though and kept the Dark Lord squarely in his sights where he could easily see his Master's thin lip curling and fingers twitching around the elder wand.

Still, Draco didn't move.

"You will have a place at my side and the highest honors." The Dark Lord swung the wand wide in demonstration as he continued. "Your family name and wealth will be restored. Anything you want will be yours. Just give her to me."

Draco had never been particularly brave and there was a clear reason why he was sorted into Slytherin, but standing here he could not deny the fact that he did not want to die. And he didn't want what came after either. He was a Malfoy and that should have meant a long life in the lap of luxury, but here he was instead, on this burning battlefield, because of her.

Because she hadn't left with him when they had the chance. Because she wanted to fight for someone else. Because she… Because she was his. And the life he wanted, the one he fucking should have, was with her.

And like the true Slytherin he was, Draco was willing to do whatever was necessary to get that. He said anything, he said everything.

So Draco bowed his head.

"I have done all that you asked of me, My Lord," Draco said through gritted teeth. His arm ached under his mark. He could feel the snake moving under his skin, compelling him to obey his master's command. Draco ignored it and went on. "I brought you Potter. He is the key to this, not the wand. Kill him and victory is yours." Granger's palm flushed hot against his hand. "You will have the world, I just want her."

The Dark Lord took a few quick steps, agitation clear as his long fingers twitched against the wand that didn't belong to him. He was tired, wearing down and Draco wondered how long he could keep this going for. "You swore to obey me! As one of my Death Eaters—"

"That I am," Draco admitted, nonchalant. "But I'm a really shitty one."

Granger gave a little gasp and jump behind him, but squeezed his hand tighter. There was no going back, but now, Draco didn't want to. He had fought hard to keep Granger with him when he should have been trying to go with her. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

"Maybe you should have a few more job requirements for your new recruits other than just a pure bloodline. Or at least choose from families that aren't known for lying to get what they want, if you're looking for servants for all eternity."

The shock that was slapped across Lord Voldemort's face was almost comical. Draco curled his lips into his most indolent sneer.

"But I meant it when I told you—" Draco gripped Granger's hand harder. "She is mine."

Smoke blew between them from one of the patches of fire and as it cleared, Draco saw the Dark Lord's face had twisted in anger.

Good. Angry people made mistakes.

Draco knew that better than anyone.

"You will die for your betrayal!" Lord Voldemort's voice rippled with rage and Draco felt Granger trying to move from behind him. He yanked her roughly back, making her stumble into him. The Dark Lord noticed the movement and his red eyes shone like fresh blood. "And so will she."

Draco's blood froze in his veins. He barely had time to raise the vinewood wand before he cried out in pain, doubling over at the sheer shock of it. His left arm had been half numb ever since the forest when he crucio'd Potter and took the curse upon himself, but not enough to stop the terrible sensation of something moving under his skin.

Draco held out forearm to see… his mark. It was active, and stronger than ever before. The skull's jaw hung loosely open and the snake extended all the way out, slithering and tangling in the blue veins of his wrist. Draco gritted his teeth as the skin bulged out, snagging on the scales as the snake coiled around his wrist, constricting until he felt his pulse pounding under the branded snake.

He let out a hiss of pain and Granger slid from behind him, grabbing onto his collar and face. "Draco!"

She sounded worried, but Draco just snarled and pulled away from her.

"Draco, please!" Her sweet voice broke through to him and Draco lifted his eyes to meet hers. "What's happening? What's… Oh Godric…"

The snake slithered onto his hand, pushing hard against the blue veins that ran down into the dips in between his fingers.

"Get back, Granger!" he said as he bit back a groan. Draco could feel a cool sheen of sweat break out on the back of his neck.

She looked back up at him and for a moment, Draco could see himself reflected in her big doe eyes. He was pale and every muscle in his face strained, white blond hair stuck to his forehead. Then her hand was on his cheek. He saw it before he felt it then watched as her expression softened. "It… It'll be okay. We'll find—"

She stopped talking as his arm jerked, shooting out towards her.

That was… but he didn't…

It did it again and this time Granger looked down at it curiously.

"Draco?"

Draco looked down at his arm, the snake was almost covering his hand, pushing the length of its body down and around his fingers.

"Oh, please no," Draco said weakly and the vinewood wand, the one he had watched Granger use for years, snapped in his hand, the two halves falling uselessly to the ground. "Fuck, no—please, NO!"

His hand shot out and narrowly missed Granger who was now just standing there because… because she trusted him.

"Granger," Draco's mouth went dry and he felt his throat closing in fear. Granger looked back up at him as he was a rune she couldn't quite translate correctly. He saw his arm stretching out again. "Hermione—RUN!"

But Granger, this fucking sweet, innocent, pure girl, reached out for him, to take his hand, to run with him.

Draco watched his black veined hand reach for her again, watched as it passed her outstretched hand, clawing at the air until it reached her neck… and closed around it.

Granger's eyes widened with fear and her hands flew to her throat, dropping the hawthorn wand. "Drac—" was all she got out before his fingers cinched and her air was cut off.

Draco grabbed his arm, ignoring the pain when his hand closed over his mark, and pulled, trying to recall it back to him while Granger grasped at his fingers, scratching them until they bled. His precious pure blood dripped over Draco's pale skin, but nothing stopped his hand from squeezing harder, tighter, until Granger's movement slowed to where she was just hitting his hands. Her strength, her incredible, unbreakable strength, started to wane.

"NO!" Draco growled, actually growled and started hitting his own arm, beating it with his fist to try and break his hold or even break the bone, anything, so he would just stop hurting her.

Granger's face had turned red, too red, not that shade he loved, but a darker one, and Draco felt his heart beating faster and faster, knowing hers was slowing…

It took him too long to realize that the Dark Lord was laughing at him. That fucking snake-face bastard was laughing.

"Bring her to me, Draco, and I'll spare her life."

Like hell he would. This whole shit of a mess was that fucker's fault and Draco would be damned before he let the Dark Lord lay a hand on his girl. He felt the soft give of her neck under his hand and saw her lids starting to fall over her burnt cinnamon eyes.

This wasn't a choice. It wasn't because how could he ever make a decision between her and… there wasn't anything else. Just Granger.

She was all he had and he couldn't lose her.

That had been the problem all along. He'd lied to her, hurt her, cursed her, and all because… because he couldn't let her go.

Draco hung his head, and saw… his old hawthorn wand on the ground between his and Granger's feet where she had dropped it.

He wasn't as talented with his right as he was with his left, but he didn't really have a choice and held it out above the wand, summoning it to please, please come back to him… just one more time.

And it did.

Draco didn't waste a single second, the thought was there, it always was, and all he had to do was press the tip of his old wand into the skin of his forearm like he had so many times before.

"Crucio."

It was blinding, pure shock waves of agony pouring forth from his wand and shooting into his body. Draco pushed the curse to its limits. His arm was shaking, vibrating with the power of the curse as the nerves lit up. It made his fingers twitch and tighten, then… loosen, just a little. His hand couldn't hold on as the curse rolled through him.

Draco ground the tip harder, sweat broke out on his forehead and rolled down the side of his neck, sliding along the veins standing out there as he roared, pushing his magic and his body to the limit.

But as long as he held himself there, Granger wasn't pushed to hers. She had broken one of his fingers, leaving it dangling at a crooked angle and was pulling somewhat successfully at another. Granger hadn't given up, and neither would he.

Black dots danced in front of his eyes, leeching the color from his vision, and Draco felt the white marble walls in his head cracking, starting to crumble as the curse worked its way through him, farther, deeper.

"Drac—" Granger rasped. "Draco, stop."

No. He didn't say it, unable to unlock his jaw from where his teeth were wedged against each other. Instead he just pushed his wand in deeper, his muscle hard and straining as the snake writhed and flailed and the skull screamed in silent agony.

Good. Fucking good. He was glad they were hurting. He wanted to hurt them more. Draco had always held back from cursing his mark directly, but now dug his dark wand right into the eye socket of the skull and heard Lord Voldemort hiss in displeasure.

Could that old fuck feel it? Draco's lips twisted. Even better. He let everything he was feeling fuel the curse. All the hate, all the frustration and turmoil in him, he turned it into pain, into what it had really been all along.

Then Draco felt… something…

No, that wasn't right, he felt… nothing.

Oh shit.

The curse recoiled, pulling back out of his body and into the wand without his command.

"What the…" Draco cast again at his arm.

Nothing happened.

He tried over and over, but there were no sparks and no pain.

His arm fell from Granger's neck, loose and limp.

Then his body collapsed.

"Draco!"

For a few suspended seconds, he couldn't feel anything. Slowly it came back and Draco was looking up from what he assumed was the ground and saw Granger's face hovering over him. She was saying something, but he couldn't hear her over the ringing in his ears. The color had gone from the world, everything looked like it was covered in ash.

Granger looked scared, her big eyes went wide and Draco felt his heart give a heavy thump.

And everything came rushing back.

He could see Lord Voldemort raising the elder wand high, readying a strike.

Draco gripped his old hawthorn wand hard, but again, it didn't work. Or at least, he didn't. When he had cursed his arm before sometimes his magic would give out afterwards, but… this felt different somehow. It felt like something had… snapped.

Well, he might not be able to cast, but it could still do one thing. Draco grabbed Granger and hauled her over him. His left arm was, thankfully, his again, at least for the moment. Still, he didn't want Granger anywhere near it. Even if it was useless now. But if he couldn't control it, neither could the Dark Lord and right now, that was good enough for him.

Granger landed beside him with a pained huff and… and where she had just been in front of him, Draco could see Potter, crouching on his hands and knees across from the Dark Lord. Saint Potter scrambled to his feet, Gryffindor's sword in hand when Draco saw the resolution as their eyes met. Maybe because they were… fucking hell—working to achieve the same end, Draco knew what to do, how to… help.

Godfuckingdamnit.

He had said anything, everything, and this… this was certainly something.

Gripping what was once his wand, Draco raised it one last time. The Dark Lord's nostrils flared and Draco watched as green light started to spark at the end of the elder wand, making the Dark Lord's slit-like pupils contract until there was almost nothing in his eyes except the color of blood.

That's when Draco threw the wand.

It tumbled through the air, handle over tip and Draco held Hermione back as she rasped out in a shout, "HARRY!"

But the Dark Lord was watching the wand fly past him, his snake face falling and looking more human than Draco had ever seen it. The last horcrux was gone and he was mortal again. Potter was fighting back this time which meant maybe… Maybe he could actually do it.

Maybe… Draco could get everything he wanted. He pulled Granger closer to him, shielding her with his body while pushing his face into the caramel colored curls on the top of her head. He could smell the smoke and ash, but underneath was still her sweet scent of cinnamon and vanilla. Still his girl.

And she would be. Forever.

Just as soon as the Chosen One finally chose to fucking do something.

Potter dropped the sword, readying to reach out for the wand. The Dark Lord spun around, hissing out a curse arcing the elder wand in the air so that the green light flung out from it the same second Potter's hand closed around the hawthorn wand.

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

That stupid fuck.

Potter barely got the word out before he saw the curse shooting at him and just stood there… looking like some tragic hero as the killing curse hit him squarely in his chest. It lit up his eyes for a moment, turning them a bright, vivid green. He looked more… alive than he had in weeks and Draco almost expected the curse to just bounce off Potter.

Maybe Granger had been right all along and he really was the Chosen One.

Then… the light faded out of Potter's eyes. His broken glasses slipped off his nose and hit the ground.

Draco held Hermione painfully close to him and felt his heart beat against her once, twice, and on the third thump…

Potter fell.

.

"HARRY!" Hermione screamed again, this one tearing out of her bruised throat.

The world should have stopped spinning, it should have been shocked to silence, but instead of everything slowing, it seemed to speed up. Spells shot overhead and shouts of curses and cries filled the air while Hermione just… sat there. Stunned. Staring.

Sobbing.

No. No. Godric, please, no… Not—

"HAR—" Her voice gave out the same time Draco grabbed her again, holding her back from crawling towards… towards…

She collapsed against Draco's chest. Tearing open at the braided leather of his ripped brigandine, Hermione buried her face against the white shirt underneath. His arm wrapped around her, holding her there as her mind went… blank, spinning in place, unable to conceive what she had just seen. The only thing she could think of, could feel, were Draco's scars against her face.

They were soft, so soft it was hard to believe violence had caused them. That… Harry had caused them.

Harry…

"It's okay, Sweetheart," Draco murmured, running his hand up her back and to the base of her head. "I've got you." She tried to shake her head, but found that Draco was holding it in place. It took her a moment to realize he was doing that so she wouldn't look up and see Harry. See his… body.

"Harry Potter is dead!" Voldemort's high voice shouted out and Draco pushed her head harder into his chest and covered her other ear with his hand. Even so, Hermione could hear as Voldemort began to celebrate his… victory.

"You all saw it! I was the one to kill him—I, Lord Voldemort! It matters not who is the master of a wand. I am the master of you all and you will submit—" Hermione's bruised and bloodied heart beat with a fresh wave of anger. "—or die."

She fought against Draco's hold, glimpsing a giant swatting his club at an Auror who's head sprayed a thick mist of blood before she felt Draco push her head harder into his chest. Between quick breaths, Hermione heard the furious thumping of his heart. Strangely calmed by this, she stopped pushing against his chest and curled her fingers into his shirt, feeling her nails rake over one of the familiar dented scars.

Hermione heard Draco's pulse speed up as he fisted her hair in his hand. Why? She wasn't trying to get away from him now. She… she had nowhere else to go.

Harry was gone and she had promised him… Even if she hadn't, Draco should know by now that she wouldn't leave him. Not now, not ever.

But Draco was still scrambling back, barely balancing to stay upright as he hauled her along with him, kicking his long legs out to get away from—

"Starting with…" that high, cold voice seeped through Draco's hand over her ear, "you."

"NO!" Hermione shouted, using all of her strength to wrest herself from Draco's hold. She threw herself across his chest. She had no wand, nothing to defend herself with other than her own body, but her Gryffindor courage wouldn't let her back down. And more importantly, Hermione didn't want to. If Draco was going to die here then… then…

She had lost Harry. She had lost her parents, and Crookshanks, and friends, and teachers and… and after everything… Well, dying next to Draco exactly didn't seem like losing to her.

But it wasn't the victory she'd envisioned either.

Voldemort laughed, his thin lip curling up over his starkly white teeth. "Move aside, Mudblood. You are nothing without your Deathstick, but he is still one of mine."

"No! I won't!" Her voice shook, but not with fear. Hermione had never been less afraid in her life. The creature in her chest prowled, waiting for its chance to strike. She could feel its claws digging into her with each step, felt the rumble of its roars bubbling in her chest, she could feel the heat of its fire in her heart.

Voldemort's slitted gaze bore into her, but Hermione just stared right back. She felt Draco moving slightly behind her which caught Voldemort's attention, his eyes flaring briefly.

"Give it to me." For a moment, she thought Voldemort was talking about her. It wouldn't be the first time a purist referred to her as an 'it' instead of a person. "Give it to me, Draco, and I will make your death painless."

Curiosity got the better of her and Hermione cast a look back at Draco who was… Good Godric…

Draco was holding the elder wand. Harry must have disarmed Voldemort with his last breath. In the immediate aftermath, the elder wand would have gotten strewn somewhere in the rubble, waiting for…

For her.

That was her wand.

For a moment, Draco held it up, looking like he was about to give it to his Master then she saw Draco smirk nastily in the way she knew he saved for when he had a particular kind of torment in store. He had used to look at her like that.

"Make it slow, Master," Draco spat sarcastically. "I want to watch her use this on you."

He grabbed her wrist, pulled it forward, and shoved the elder wand into Hermione's hand.

When he looked at her, all of the malice slipped away and his eyes shone like freshly polished silver. "Be a good girl, Sweetheart, and fuck him up for me."

Hermione didn't think, she didn't have to, she just knew. The creature inside her burst forth from the tip of the wand, roaring, stomping, and slashing its tail through the air as the flame-wreathed chimera lunged at Lord Voldemort.

He fled from it, pushing his loyal Death Eater out of his way and jumping aside so the flames merely singed his robes. Hermione focused on bringing the beast around, gentle nudging with her wand coupled with a firm resolve eventually made the chimera turn, the fire crackling and spitting as it stepped in a puddle of boiling blood.

Voldemort turned back to them, his eyes landing not on Hermione, but on the wand in her hand. He gave them a wide berth, recognizing the power in the wand and the danger it posed.

"You think that will stop me?" he called out and Hermione was about to retort when she noticed Voldemort wasn't looking at her. "I don't need a wand to kill you. Your three days are up, Draco. Now you will obey me whether it is your will or not."

The red sun shone over the warring battlefield and through clearing smoke Voldemort's lip curled again, this time in a sickening smile and Hermione's concentration faltered as Voldemort opened his mouth, letting out a terrible hissing voice.

Parseltongue. He was speaking parseltongue, but… to what? Nagini was dead and there weren't any—

She didn't get a chance to follow her train of thought before Draco started shouting. "Shit! Fuck!" He was pushing himself back again, but this time, away from her. "SHIT!"

The mark on his arm had come alive once more. The skull opened wide as the snake slithered under his skin. Draco started clawing at it, tearing his skin in thin strips as the snake struck, sinking its fangs into the blue veins at his wrist.

"FUCK!" Draco yelled, pain tingeing his voice and driving it roughly from his heaving chest. Hermione watched, helpless, as this time the snake didn't curl around his arm to control it, but to kill it, to kill him. Draco. And turn him into…

"Granger," Draco panted, holding his mark tightly, but Hermione could see the black ink sliding up his arm through his veins, staining his marble white skin. "Granger, look at me."

She tore her eyes up at the sound of his deep, dominant voice, to find his, pain and fear shining brightly in his silver eyes.

"You've got to do it."

"No." She shook her head violently, knowing what he was talking about, but not allowing herself to even think it.

"You don't have a choice," Draco gritted out, wincing as the venomous ink carved its way over the thick vein that ran along his bicep. Hermione swallowed dryly, it was moving fast. Very fast. In just a few seconds it had already slithered over his shoulder and she could see it underneath the white shirt. Hermione tried to summon up everything she knew on counter curses or antidotes, but none of it applied to this. What was the use of spending half her life buried in books if she didn't even have the time to think!

"Now," Draco said in that deep tone she loved and Hermione felt a rush of anxious frisson run down her spine.

"No!" she repeated, louder and more desperate. "You always… you've always given me a choice and I'm not—" Hermione shook her head feeling her curls move against her face as she trembled. "I'm not going to…"

"You're right, you've always had a choice, but I never have. Not until now and… I'm making it, Granger. I don't… I don't want to hurt you. I won't. But you… you have to stop me."

"Draco," Hermione could do nothing to stop the tears from filling her eyes now. "Draco, please… Don't do this."

"It's done," he gasped. The inky venom was sliding up his neck and Hermione felt like she had been struck by the snake too. What else could be causing his blinding pain in her heart, in her soul? "I've been damned all along, you've just never been able to see that. But now…" he gritted his teeth. "I don't want you to see what happens next."

People were still fighting around them, still dying. Hermione could see Neville, wand lost in the melee, picking up a broken suit of armor's arm and swing it at a snatcher who fell and thankfully, did not get back up. He hadn't been a Death Eater, he wouldn't turn into… but Draco would, unless she could figure out a way to stop it.

"I don't care!" She sounded like a petulant child, but right now that's what she felt like. It wasn't fair! She had done everything, everything she was supposed to do in this bloody war. It wasn't fair that the one thing she wanted most was going to be taken away from her!

And that she was going to have to be the one to do it.

"Yes, you do," Draco's voice turned softer, but was still strained. He took his hand off his darkening arm and placed it on hers, encircling the elder wand. "You love me, and that… that makes everything I had to do worth it. But, Sweetheart—Hermione—"

His hand fell from hers and she knew there wasn't much time left. For him or for… them. Seconds were slipping away, quicker than she could count, than she could think, and if she just had a few more of them she could figure this out but… every moment she spent trying to think her way out of this just brought them closer and closer to—

"There's only one way to stop being a Death Eater…" His eyes softened from hard granite to hazy grey. "And I want out."

Out.

Out.

Out.

Hermione blinked, and all the messy thoughts she had been stacking up in her mind, making little pathways to conclusions and ideas that rivaled the Room of Requirement, all suddenly slid into place. Organized. Neat.

"Out…" she repeated.

Hermione looked down at Draco's mark, bleeding poison feely into his bloodstream, and clenched the elder wand so hard she felt the wood give under her touch. Dumbledore had said, long ago, that Draco would have to want to be saved to stop being a Death Eater. For the first time, that was what he was asking her for, and with the elder wand in her hand, Hermione had the power to do it.

"Hold on, Draco," Hermione took a deep breath and grabbed his hand with hers, intertwining their fingers with no plans to let go. Not now, not ever. "I'm going to get you out."

"Granger…" Draco said her name in a low warning tone.

Hermione ignored him, aiming the elder wand down at his arm and spoke the incantation Draco had taught her so she could use it on him. And by Godric, she was.

"Ignis Infernalis."

.

Draco had thought crucio-ing his arm was the most intense pain he could possibly feel.

Well, that was wrong.

Fiendfyre was worse. So much fucking worse.

A curl of curse flame licked at his skin and Draco roared until he tasted the flecks of blood forced out of his torn throat. His eyes were screwed shut, trying to block out—fuck—trying to block out anything he could, but he could still see the light from behind his lids and the pain… there was no escaping from the pain, if he could even call it that.

He had a few choice words he wanted to call it. It was excruciating. Torture in its purest form.. Cursing his arm would hurt, yes, but then it would go numb. This just kept going, kept burning. Deeper. Farther. It felt like he was dying except for the pesky fact that he was still fucking alive.

Draco forced his eyes open to see Granger—Hermione—concentrating hard, her brows pulled together over her big, doe eyes and her lip in between her teeth, biting down hard. He could almost imagine she was just sitting an exam in a classroom if it wasn't for the fucking agony she was causing him.

Good thing he was used to burning for her.

"Fuck," he gritted out. "FUCK!"

"I'm sorry, Draco," Granger whimpered, not taking her eyes from his arm. "Just a little more."

She was… Holy fucking shit. Hermione wasn't just burning his arm, she was burning his mark. The fiendfyre crackled against his skin, strong and hot enough to make the snake writhe and the skull scream silently under his searing flesh. They looked to be in just about the same amount of pain he was in.

Good. He wanted them to hurt.

But he wasn't sure how much more he himself could take.

Granger had said just a little more, but fucking hell… It couldn't have been more than thirty seconds the fiendfyre was touching his skin, but it felt like an eternity in hell.

Even with his color-bleached vision he could see the brightness of the flames, dimming even the daylight around them. The battle was too dark to see with the flames so close to him and even the image of the Dark Lord directing his Death Eaters to gather around him faded in the blinding light. The flames burned white hot, almost like starlight, except instead of being far off in the distance, it was right fucking there, searing deeper into him every second until it felt like it was burning his very soul.

It had been hell feeling the venom work its way up his arm, eating away at his veins and spilling out from the holes it created and it was just as painful to feel it recede down his arm again and slithering back to the black brand it had originated from.

The skull was splitting, a deep crack running down its center until it fell away into two pieces and as the layers of his skin peeled and curled back, the ink started to bubble and boil as Granger brought the flame forward just a fraction, but it was enough to make Draco break out into screams again.

He only stopped when his lungs deflated, giving out on him and leaving him breathless and collapsing onto the broken stones behind him. Sweat or tears dripped down his face, catching in the rough hairs that had sprouted along his jaw in the last… shit. How long had it been since the morning he said goodbye to Hermione on the beach?

"Don't you dare give up, Draco," Hermione's voice was strong, but pained. Draco saw her wince and a tear slipped down her face, landing on their clasped hands. "You can do it, Draco. I believe in you. I've always believed in you. Just… Don't leave me."

It would be easier to leave my own heart than you. He thought he said it, but when he opened his mouth there was no air in his lungs to use. Draco felt his head fall to the side, his mind going as blank as the marble walls inside it as the pain lit him up from the inside out.

He let out another pained bellow, his head thrown forward with the force of it.

Somehow, over the sound of his own screaming, Draco heard Granger whimper painfully. The flames flickered for a moment, but she just bit her lip harder and forced them back down on his arm.

The snake twisted and curled, folding in on itself as it hissed and spit, thrashing its head around in its final death throes.

Draco clamped his jaw, so hard it shook. Drops of liquid falling down from his face and mixing with Hermione's tears on… oh shit. He had been holding her hand this whole time. No, not holding, clenching. Her fingers were already bruising purple, he tried to let go, tried to make his hand bend to his will, but the muscles were seized up and he couldn't stop it before he felt her hand break in his.

Granger cried out and her control slipped for a moment, making the fiendfyre burn hotter.

Draco's skin had turned red and raw, the flesh burning away as the snake under his skin contorted as the flames reached it.

And it began to burn. He watched, not believing it as his flesh cracked and curled back, searing off the last remnants of his dark mark.

Her scream turned to one of joy and Draco blinked his eyes hard, trying to clear them enough to see… See…

Nothing.

His mark was… gone.

Gone.

There wasn't much left of the flesh on his arm either, but he didn't care.

He was… He wasn't a Death Eater anymore.

And it was all due to her—his brilliant, beautiful, stubborn as fuck, but he wouldn't want her any other way, girl.

"Hermione…"

Draco looked up, meeting her big doe eyes and saw her smiling down at all the pain, all the loss, all the death, Hermione smiled. For him.

He felt his own lips begin to curve up when a high, cold voice sounded through the smoke.

"What have you done?!"

.

Hermione turned over her shoulder to see Voldemort looking at her in horror and fury. He started to move towards them, but stopped when his Death Eaters did not flock to him. Whispers darted back and forth from the people surrounding them.

"Did you see?"

"It can be removed!"

Death Eaters were rolling up their sleeves, looking between their marks and their wands.

"It is a trick!" Voldemort cried out to them, voice tight and high. "Do not believe what the Mudblood has done!"

A few Death Eaters shrank back at the sound of their Lord's voice.

A few started to run.

"No! Do not flee!" Voldemort called to his supporters. "Fight for your Lord! Protect me!"

Those two words seemed to stir the battle back into motion. Kingsley stepped forward, shouting orders and Hermione watched as Aurors and Order members began to chase down the fleeing Death Eaters. The few that did choose to fight were shaken, their decision made out of fear instead of conviction.

"Take them! Don't let them get away!" Kingsley shouted motioning for Order members to move in formation. They spread out, grouping up in pairs to apprehend and take down Death Eaters.

Voldemort let out a shriek of rage as a few Death Eaters threw down their wands when faced with a large number of Dumbledore's Army. "KILL THEM, YOU FOOLS!" he shouted. "They are but children!"

But he was wrong. There were no children anymore, the war had seen to that. She felt pride stir within her as she watched her fellow classmates stun, incapacitate, and bind the Death Eaters who had attacked them. Then something tight and painful struck her so hard in the chest she thought for a moment she had been hit by a spell.

Harry had taught them how to do that. In their lessons as part of Dumbledore's Army, the group she had pushed him to form. Hermione looked over to the broken archway he had fallen beside and the tearing in her chest deepened.

"Grang…" Draco panted heavily beside her. "Hermione…"

"Shh, don't try to talk right now." Hermione blinked away tears as she turned and saw what she had done to his arm. The flesh had burned away where the black brand once was and all that was left were a few curled pieces of charred skin peeling back to show twitching raw muscle underneath.

She tried a few healing spells, but knew they wouldn't work. The damage she had caused was from cursed fire; it wouldn't be solved by mere triage methods. Draco needed a real Healer. Hermione looked around quickly hoping to see Blaise, but it was impossible to locate an individual in the throng of people. She didn't even know if Blaise was still… here.

She didn't know if he was still here. Until she had proof Hermione wasn't going to entertain any other options. Not that she had many herself. Hermione didn't know what else to do other than cast a small cooling charm and wave her wand slowly over Draco's arm to hopefully relieve a bit of the pain. Her hands, one burned from the blowback and one broken from Draco's hold, were shaking. "You'll be okay," Hermione said, biting back tears. "We'll… we'll find someone to heal you and..."

Draco shook his head, a damp lock of white blond hair fell in between his eyes. "Hermione, listen to me," he said in a raspy voice.

"You meddlesome Mudblood!" Voldemort hissed, stopping a curse that was headed for him wandlessly. His eyes shone violently and he stalked forward, waving his fingers to clear his path to them. Harry dying seemed to have given Voldemort back some of the strength he had lost, but even with it, the elder wand was still hers. Hermione gripped it tightly in her burned palm as he bore down on her. "You will pay for that, but first, give the wand to me."

Hermione's heart thudded in her chest, but it wasn't cold fear that spread through her, it was courage. It was strength. It was rage.

"Never," Hermione bit out. "You will never have this wand and you will never win this war. Surrender now, and you might be shown the mercy of having what's left of your ruined soul sucked out so you don't have to live with it anymore."

"Valiant," Voldemort said dismissively. "Still fighting even when the cause is lost." His slit pupils narrowed until they were almost lost among the blood red of his eyes. "The prophecy has been fulfilled. There—" he pointed a long-nailed finger to the broken archway, "is the proof. I have already won—Harry Potter is dead!"

She calmored forward while Draco tried to pull her back towards him. She only got to her knees, but it was enough that she could raise the elder wand up in front of her.

Voldemort scoffed, but she could see him tense from agitation. "I tire of your insolence. I do not wish to spill any more magical blood, but yours is full of Muggle filth. It is no shame to see it returned to the dirt from whence it came."

Hermione let out a furious scream as light shot out from the tip of her wand. It was at that same moment that Draco pulled her back against him. Why was he stopping her?! She fought against him, but there was something pulling on her, something that wasn't Draco. She could feel him, trying to tuck her into his side and shield her with his body. Hermione tossed her head, finally getting her hair out of her face enough to see two stiff hands clinging onto her upper arm.

An inferius had a hold on her, their glazed eyes staring back at her out of a partially melted mask. Adrenaline pumped into her brain, kicking it back into action. She fired off spell after spell at Voldemort, but the inferius stayed latched onto her arm and made every jet of light miss its target.

"No one can stand against me!" Voldemort proclaimed as Hermione kicked at the reanimated corpse. She could see others rising and… there were too many. They wouldn't be able to stop them all. It was as if the battle was starting all over except this time, they were down almost half their fighters while Voldemort was raising his.

No no no no! They couldn't lose! Not like this, not when—

Hermione screamed in pain as the inferius' grip dug deeper, the nails breaking the skin and sinking bony fingers into her arm. She tried to hold on, but… she dropped her wand and it rolled away among the rubble.

"Get the FUCK off her!" Draco growled and Hermione felt him release her. She fell backwards as Draco, face pale with fury, lunged forward, tackling the inferius to the ground.

Hermione gasped a lungful of smoke-tinged air as its hand was ripped from her and started looking for the elder wand. Draco was frozen for a moment while he looked down at it. Did he know who it was? Then the inferius reached up to try and claw at his face. Draco's arms were too long and she watched as he lifted the Death Eater up by the mask and bashed its head against a rock.

"Don't—"

It landed with a wet thud.

"Fucking—"

Hermione could see the raw muscle clenching on Draco's burned arm.

"Touch—"

She looked away as flecks of grey brain splattered on the surrounding stones and blood shot out of the melted mask.

"HER!"

Draco ripped the mask off, pulling away the skin with it to leave only a shattered skull to leak onto the ground around him.

He was breathing hard and blood dotted his face like freckles. Hermione watched it bleed down his pale skin, looking like red veins in marble.

"Hermione—" he forced out from his heaving chest. Hermione's hands flew to her mouth to cover her scream as Draco fell forward, catching himself, but not before his burned arm gave out under him and he cried out as he collapsed forward.

"Draco!" she shouted and scrambled towards him. Hermione reached him as he was turning over. She pulled him into her lap, cradling his head in her arms. She did her best to wipe the blood from his face, biting her lip to stop herself from wincing every time her broken fingers brushed over his cheek. "Oh Draco, I'm so sorry."

"I'm not," Draco breathed out heavily and Hermione gave a strangled sob when she saw he was weakly smirking up at her. "Not for any of it."

And for a moment neither was she. For the smallest second, it didn't matter that they were surrounded by death and destruction. It didn't matter who they had lost or who was winning. It was just them.

Her and him. Like it should be.

Like Draco always said it would be.

And she wanted it. That. This.

Draco. Always just Draco.

She smiled back down at him, the pain in her hand unfelt. There was no room in her to feel anything except—

"You cannot stand against me!" Voldemort's high voice pierced from across the courtyard and Hermione turned to see him raising up his arms, commanding dozens of bodies to move once more. With a cry he pulled them up again and they began to shuffle forward, reaching out for anyone around them, regardless of what side they were on.

"It is futile to resist the power of Lord Voldemort!" he went on and Hermione watched inferi swarming and pulling people down to the ground. "Throw down your wands and bow! Bow to your Lord!"

Hermione saw some people still trying to fight back and recognized wild, red flames shooting towards a shambling group of inferi. Ron was marshaling members of Dumbledore's Army, forming them back into defensive stances and preparing to push forward, but there weren't enough of them and with different people casting fiendfyre it was beginning to get out of control.

Hermione pulled her wand away from Draco's arm to send her fiery chimera back out into the field, but at that same moment someone yelled "They're closing in!" and chaos erupted. No one seemed to know what side it came from, but what had once just been a rabble of mindless creatures were now organized and moving.

Voldemort was herding them all in, making quarters too close to summon fiendfyre without casting friendly fire. Order members and Aurors, Death Eaters and Snatchers were all pushed together until they were too close to fight. A group of students tried to retreat back into the castle and were swarmed by the rising corpses blocking their way. Thinking quickly, Hermione sent her chimera in their direction, allowing a few of the students to break free before the line of fighters got dangerously close to Hermione and Draco, blocking her spell as they were driven in closer to Lord Voldemort by his army of the undead.

"You will ALL bow to me!"

Hermione felt Draco tense in her arms and pulled him against her. Voldemort spun around, addressing Death Eaters and Order members alike, "Have you had enough?" The inferi stopped moving, holding everyone in a tight circle around Voldemort who turned and met Hermione's eyes with a gleeful gleam. "Whosoever pledges themselves to me and brings me the elder wand will be spared. You need not die on this day. Live! Live by serving me."

"COWARD!" Hermione shouted, half choking on the smoke from burning bodies. "Are you too scared to face me yourself?!" She lifted her arm, the handle of her wand pressing against her burned palm and sparking when she shook from the rough feel of it.

Voldemort grinned wide, his snake-like nostrils flaring with excitement. "I have no need to. I have already won." He stretched out his hand as someone stepped forward.

Hermione's heart sunk deep within her as Neville walked out from the crowd and sank down to his knees. Harry's body lay next to him, sprawled over broken stones. He reached out and closed Harry's eyes. "I'm sorry, Harry. This is what has to be done."

She felt Draco reach out for her, taking her hurt right hand so gently in his right that it was hard to believe he had been the one to break it. But he hadn't meant to, she knew that, and she would have had every bone in her body broken if it meant that Draco got to stay with her. Even if it was just for a minute more, which… might be all they had left.

The slim ring of steel on stone made her turn. Neville was on his feet, limping forward, the sword of Gryffindor in his hand and glinting in the morning light. His face was set, resolute. Blood was leaking down his brow and he was missing one of his prominent front teeth, but Neville stood strong, tall, and proud.

"You dare to stand against me? Lord Voldemort, the master of death?" Voldemort narrowed his eyes until they were slits of red once he realized Neville had no intentions of submission.

"Yeah," Neville pulled the sword up in front of his blood-caked face. "I dare."

The sword sliced cleanly through Voldemort's neck, severing his head and causing a thin spray of blood to shoot into the air. His head fell sideways from his body, hitting the ground with a solid thunk.

Blood ran down his severed neck, creating a pool where his body slowly crumpled to.

Hermione stopped breathing. She could barely register the sound of cheering, of people shouting orders, and spells starting to fly again. For the first time, it felt like her brain was moving too slow to keep up with everything that was happening. This had all happened so fast, in just a matter of minutes, but… Voldemort was dead. It was done which meant… they had more than stolen seconds. They had… won. And she, she had Draco. Her Draco.

Finally and, forever.

He was wounded and panting, but he was here, with her, in her arms. They had made it. They were alive and now they could be together. Just like she always wanted.

Hermione tried to stop her eyes from welling with tears as she watched Order members jumped back into action; stunning, stopping, and even tackling Voldemort's supporters to keep them from getting away.

She kept staring at the fallen body of Voldemort. She almost expected it to keep moving, twisting around like a snake's, but it lay still, bleeding and incredibly… human.

Tears were streaming down her face. They… they had won, but… now that they had, it made everything feel more real. They weren't events unfolding to an inevitable end anymore. She looked around the battlefield, still burning and covered in broken debris. But most of all she saw the bodies. They were… they were people, just a little while ago. People who had given their lives for… for this. Hermione felt her throat closing up.

Harry…

It was almost too painful to think about and for once in her life Hermione wished she could force her brain to stop. Just stop. Please. Don't make her think these thoughts, don't make her feel these things… She stared at Harry, looking so much like he had every night in the tent when he slept. Could it really be the same person who was laying on the ground now?

She blinked the tears out of her eyes and forced herself to look away. Her eyes snagged on the elder wand in her hand.

But she didn't want it. Not like this. She only wanted…

A pained groan jolted her from her thoughts. Draco was pulling his long legs under him while cradling his burned arm to his chest. Hermione winced as she saw the red flesh pull tight as the muscles underneath flexed.

"We need to go, pet," he panted, gritting his teeth as he tried to get to his knees. "We can't stay here."

Hermione looked around, her eyes snagging on the only other person who was still.

Harry…

"...We need to go," Draco repeated, but she barely heard it. Some childish part of her expected Harry to sit up, try and flatten his hair, and say it was all a ploy. Her hope hadn't died, not yet, but Harry…

Harry had.

Hermione looked away, not allowing the tightness in her throat to choke her just yet.

"Hermione… Please."

She felt Draco's unburned hand pass over the back of hers and trembling, Hermione turned her palm up, slotting the handle of the elder wand into his palm. Even with the world's most powerful wand in his hand, Draco still didn't let go of her.

"Keep charming your arm," she murmured, pressing the wand back against his raw flesh. "I'll be right back. I just…" She didn't look at Draco. She couldn't. If she allowed herself to meet his rain grey eyes, she wouldn't be able to stop the tears from falling from hers. "I just need…." The words were harder than she thought to say, and she gave up. She didn't have to fight anymore, but what she felt right now was the furthest thing from peace.

"Granger, I can't—" Draco stopped talking, but when Hermione refused to meet his eyes she gradually felt Draco's hold soften, his hand sliding almost supportively up her arm to wrap around her shoulders. Then, he gently pushed her forward. "Say goodbye. Then we'll go."

Yes. She'd like to leave. Be anywhere but here. But first, or… last… she wasn't really sure what order things should go in anymore. Hermione started to pick up little thoughts as she made her way forward. Get to Harry. Say… she stumbled, catching herself on a gargoyle. Hermione pushed on. Say what she needed to and then…

Then go with Draco and… be with him. It was that thought that kept her going until she got to Harry, and fell kneeling in front of him.

Neville had closed his eyes, which would have made it look like he was sleeping if his… body wasn't carelessly tossed on the ground. Hermione bit her lip, letting the pain of it ground her as she crouched beside him.

"Harry…" she said softly, as if she didn't want to disturb him. "Harry, I'm sorry."

Hermione brushed a bit of blood off of his cheek and tried to push his hair out of his face, but it just fell messily back over his scar.

"You did it," she said tearfully. "You won. I hope…" Hermione trailed off because… she didn't know what to hope for now. The war was over, they had defeated Voldemort. Everything she and Harry had worked for had happened. And she felt awful, because deep down, there was a part of her that said it wasn't worth it. That just wanted her best friend back. That didn't care about any of this because Harry didn't get to care about it anymore. He didn't get anything now. "I hope you're happy. You deserve to be," she finished, not knowing what else to say.

And she did. She hoped that wherever he was now, Harry was resting, happy and content with the life he lived and looking down at her, green eyes bright.

Hermione blinked back hot tears as she looked up into the daylight breaking through the few wispy clouds.

"Harry!" Ginny was running in their direction, tears streaming down her face. Behind her trailed Luna and Mrs. Weasley, each bruised and dirty, but alive. Something about that fact comforted Hermione, but she was too tired, too hurt to puzzle through it completely.

They were alive and so was she. And so was—

"HERMIONE!"

Hermione spun around. Across the courtyard two Aurors were dragging Draco backwards.

She didn't even think, her body was still running on adrenaline from the battle and she was running, eyes locked on Draco's as he snarled at the Aurors who were hauling him to his feet.

"Stop!" Hermione yelled. She had to get to him. She had to get back to Draco. Now.

Her foot slipped, sliding in the blood that had leaked from Voldemort's decapitated body. Hermione reached her hands out to stop herself from falling and cried out as her weight landed on the broken one.

"HERMIONE!" Draco's voice echoed across the expanse between them. "Get your fucking hands OFF me, motherfu—"

Someone was touching her, lifting her back up to her feet. She didn't even turn to see who had helped her, but when she tried to move forward the hands were holding her back. She didn't have to turn to know who had her, the furious expression on Draco's face told her.

"LET HER GO!" Draco pulled against the Aurors, struggling as tried to control him. "DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HER, WEASLEY!"

Hermione turned and looked up at Ron's face, covered in a mix of ash and blood.

"Tell them!" she shouted at him. "Ron, tell them Draco is on our side!"

"Our side?" Ron exclaimed. "Hermione, he sold Harry to Voldemort!"

"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF OF HER OR I'LL MAKE YOU WISH YOU WERE LAYING INSIDE WITH YOUR DEAD BROTHER!"

One of the Aurors punched Draco in the jaw, snapping his head to the side and Hermione lurched forward, screaming, "Stop! Stop it! You're hurting him!" She needed to do something and fast. Hermione turned towards Ron. "Please, please, Ron. Tell them. Tell them Draco isn't…"

"I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, WEASLEY!" There was no more cool impassivity on Draco's face, it was full of cold-blooded murderous rage. His grey eyes stormed, locked on hers until one of the Aurors enchanted ropes to wrap around Draco and he roared as they spun around his burned arm.

Hermine pushed against Ron, pain flaring in her broken hand, but he held on. "I've told you, Draco isn't on our side," he said in a low voice. "Hermione, they'll take you too if you try to stop them! Can't you see that I'm trying to help you?"

It didn't matter. If this was Ron's help, she didn't want it. She couldn't let them take Draco, not when she just got him back. Not now that… He wasn't a Death Eater anymore! He was her Draco. She'd fought for him and she'd won!

They'd won. Her and Draco. Just like… like she wanted it to be. Hermione flung herself against Ron, using every bit of her strength left to dislodge him.

"You're welcome." Ron let go of her and Hermione lurched forward, tangles of curls falling in front of her face. When she pushed them out of the way, she ran forward a few steps and then stopped.

There was no one there.

The spot where Draco had been a moment ago showed signs of a struggle, but the space was empty.

The shock of it knocked the breath from her chest. Her empty, aching chest.

Draco wasn't there.

Hermione rounded on Ron, pushing her wounded hands into his solid chest hard enough to knock him back a few feet.

His face reddened under his freckles and Hermione couldn't stop herself from going after him again, but this time Ron was ready for her and knocked her hands away when they collided with his chest.

"Where did they take him?" Hermione demanded.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Ron fired back at her.

"Where did they take Draco?!" she shouted, not caring that her voice broke or that her hand was shaking. She had lost Harry. She couldn't lose Draco too. "You tell me right now, Ronald! Where?!"

Ron pursed his lips, looked down, then glared up at her. "Where do you think?! He's a Death Eater, Hermione. He sold people to Voldemort. He killed them. Malfoy belongs in Azkaban for everything he did."

Hermione's blood ran cold. "But he…" Her breath was coming in short gasps now. "He didn't want to! He only did them—" Hermione's head spun so fast she felt lightheaded. "…For me."

Ron snorted in disgust. "He still did them."

"I can't believe you!" Hermione shouted, her voice rising in anger. "Harry would have—"

"HARRY'S DEAD!" Ron erupted, his face turning a dark shade of red. "I'd think you'd be a bit more upset about that if you were really his friend! So don't tell me what Harry would have done or wanted because what he wanted was…" The steam died out in him and Ron ran his hand over his face, pushing it into his hair and letting loose a windfall of ash that had been trapped there. "He wouldn't want us to fight. So I'm not." He shooks his head slightly. "Not with you."

Hermione stood stock still as Ron headed back to the gathering crowd around Harry's body. She looked around her for anyone who could help or tell her more, but all she could see was the aftermath of the battle. The more real everything became around her, the less she was able to distinguish one feeling from another until they all blurred together in a buzzing thrum of…

Nothing.

Hermione felt numb, even the growing lump in her throat didn't hurt much anymore. Neither did her burned and broken hands, nor the dozen cuts and bruises she had gotten during the battle. Hermione looked out across the courtyard where she'd last seen Draco, fighting to get back to her, her eyes stared straight ahead, dry and unblinking. She didn't feel any of it because in order to feel, she needed a heart.

And hers had been taken from her.

The war had been won, but Hermione… she had lost.

She had always thought winning, fighting, meant she would get to be with Draco in the end, but if the war was over…

Hermione looked up, staring at the newly risen sun filling the victorious battlefield with blinding daylight and lifted her chin, swallowing down the tears and hurt and anger she was feeling. She'd need it all now.

Because it wasn't over.

It wasn't over.

Not until she said it was.

.

A/N: I mean… my only excuse for snatching away that happy conclusion is it's not the end yet? I have no idea if that makes this any better.

Maybe eat some ice cream. Or an entire cake. I don't fucking know. ?