"It was Malfoy that disarmed Dumbledore that night," Harry said, standing still covered in fiendfyre soot outside the ruined Room of Hidden Things. "So it's Malfoy that Voldemort needs to kill first if he's going to get the Elder wand to work."
For a moment, no one spoke, the distant sound of battle growing steadily louder.
"The Elder wand," Draco said at last, "the Deathstick. It's rightfully – mine?"
Ron snarled. "See? He hasn't changed at all. Malfoys are after power. That's it. And now we've gone and told him exactly how to get it."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione snapped back at him.
"It means your dear hubby's going to scarper off and try to get the Elder wand for himself," Ron said.
"He won't have much of a choice, will he?" Harry interjected. "Once Voldemort figures it out, all he has to do is call Malfoy with the Dark Mark and – "
"No," Hermione said, both of her hands clenched around one of Draco's. "We'll stay here. And we'll find Tonks. If she's come with Andromeda's Triad wand, we can use the three of them together to repel whatever calls Voldemort tries to make. We have to. As long as Draco is alive, and the wand isn't working right for Voldemort, Harry has a chance at beating him."
"But maybe Malfoy's the key to winning this," Harry said. "I'm no expert on your fairytales but doesn't the wand make its master invincible or something?"
Ron unclenched his jaw, his shoulders falling, knowing the answer already.
"No. In the story, the first brother gets his throat slit when the wand is stolen from him," Draco explained. "The wand can't be beaten by another wand but its master is still just a mortal person, vulnerable to anything you can do to them without a wand."
"Otherwise Voldemort wouldn't have needed to plant a bunch of horcruxes," Hermione finished.
Draco frowned. "Plant a what?"
There was a rumble outside, the castle walls shaking as they came under attack again. Dust was sifting down onto everyone's heads from the joints in the ceiling as the old stones ground together. The four of them fell back against the wall as Fred and Percy Weasley came running down the corridor, shouting and laughing, glowing with the thrill of chasing after invaders making their way up from the lower floors.
As they came, another voice – loud and high – was calling too. "Draco!" It was Pansy Parkinson, waving her arms. "Draco, what's left to do? Goyle said you were – "
Before Draco could answer, Fred had spun around to face the shouting. Percy didn't recognize Pansy from when she'd been a third year while he was Head Boy, but Fred knew her. She was that nasty Slytherin girl who helped Umbridge break up the DA. And now she was back for more, was she?
Draco saw the good humour on Fred's face morph into a different kind of glee. He was on the attack, raising his wand as Pansy advanced.
Without a sound to alert anyone, Draco leapt at Fred, tackling him into the opposite wall. Pansy froze in her steps and Percy was rearing up to fling a curse at Draco. "Who let a Malfoy in here?" he was shouting.
And then, as Harry would say later, the air exploded. A blast of stone and magic and shockwaves hurtled through the corridor.
Percy was the first one to catch his breath. "Fred!" Still on his knees on the floor, his ears ringing, Percy grabbed Malfoy by the scruff of his jacket and tossed him toward where Ron was labouring to sit up, holding his own head as if something had tried to rattle it off.
Draco rolled into Hermione instead as she reached for him. "Stop it. He's with me," she said.
Percy was past caring about him. Fred lay on his back on the floor, his eyes on the ceiling, his lashes dusty, lids unmoving. In an instant he was ringed by white, terrified faces.
"Come on, Fred," Ron said. "Please..."
Percy patted his cheek. "Freddie?"
There was a raspy, throaty clatter as Fred turned to one side to cough. "Oh, there you all are. I thought for a minute I'd gone blind."
Everyone let out a massive collective sigh.
"Help me get him up," Percy said, easing Fred to sitting. "We can't stay here."
With his arm slung over Percy's shoulder, Fred hissed as they tried to rise to standing. "Bad news, Perc. It's my leg..."
Ron swore as he saw the angle of Fred's foot. "Broken. Trust me, I know. That leg's broken."
"We've got to get moving anyway," Harry said. "They breached that wall for a reason. In a minute Death Eaters will be streaming inside."
Pansy bounced into their circle. "Downstairs," she said. "Pomfrey's got a medical station set up near the kitchens."
"What're you still doing here?" Fred tried to shout at her, his voice trailing into a coughing fit.
"Redeeming myself, obviously," she shouted back at him. "And if you had any sense you'd be thanking Draco for shoving you out of the way of that blast. Look, there's nothing but rubble where you were standing taking aim at me."
Everyone turned to see the debris, and just past it, Draco was sat on the floor. Hermione was holding his face, their foreheads pressed together. She was whispering so frantically to him that he took her by the shoulders and kissed her as if to stop her ranting. Her taut posture slackened and she melted into him, both her arms wound around his neck.
Fred swore. "Now I'm hallucinating. I must have REALLY hit my head."
"Oi, stop that and tell us if you're alright, Malfoy," Ron called.
"He's fine," Hermione answered in a clipped voice, getting to her feet. "And we're going to find Tonks now. Come on, Harry. With the Triad wands we can protect you too."
Harry huffed. "You know I didn't come here to be protected. But we do need to get everyone out of this corridor."
Percy had got Fred standing on his one good foot. All jokes were temporarily suspended as Fred gasped and groaned when they tried to hobble away.
Pansy ducked under his other arm.
Fred flinched away from her.
Pansy rolled her eyes and held onto him. "Do you want to wait around here to fight them off with a broken leg, or not?" she said. "You're clearly in shock. And I don't fancy being in this sweaty armpit of yours for long so shut up and let us get you sorted."
Across Fred's heaving chest, Percy grinned at Pansy. "Right then," he said. "No worries, Freddie. You're safe in the hands of Operation Redeeming-Ourselves now."
"What're you like?" Pansy said, clucking her tongue. But the trace of her smile was unmistakable as she and Percy set off together to make something right.
Harry gave a sharp nod. "So Malfoy and Hermione will stay here. Good. I'm off. Ron, go find Ginny."
"Like hell I will," Ron bawled in return. "I sent Luna after her before the fire. And you're not running off to kill the snake at the Shrieking Shack alone, Harry."
"I told you, the snake is too well protected," Draco added. "But if you're going there to help Snape make it out alive – "
"Help Snape?" Ron was roaring again. "Don't tell me we're off to rescue Snape."
"We have to. What if he tells them he didn't disarm Dumbledore and they need to kill Draco instead?" Harry said. "He's that kind of coward, isn't he?"
Hermione took Harry by both arms. "Not when it comes to Draco. He swore an Unbreakable Vow to Madam Malfoy. If Draco dies, Snape doesn't live past the solstice. He won't give Draco up, Harry. And that means you don't have to go."
Harry was staring past her, at the hole blasted through the wall. Wind was whistling through it, and everyone jumped when a giant walked by in profile. Harry shook his head. "Fred nearly died right over there," he said. "Any of us could have been killed in that blast. I've had enough of it. And then there's the sword. Remember what Griphook said? It must have been Snape who sent us the sword when we needed it most."
"Yeah, and he sent it to the bottom of a frozen pool and almost drowned you," Ron said.
Harry wasn't convinced. "I'm going anyway. And I'm not asking anyone to come with me." With that he turned and sprinted toward the stairwell.
Ron groaned but followed after him.
Draco and Hermione stood alone in the corridor, hand in hand again. He was raising his other arm to embrace her when a hex split the sky, visible through the hole in the wall, crackling like green lightning.
"Tonks," Hermione said. She hopped up to kiss him firmly and quickly on the mouth before they were off running toward the stairs themselves.
"Courtyard," Draco said as they hurried along. "Someone told her Lupin was dueling Dolohov in the courtyard and she ran down straight away. We overheard it while we were waiting for you."
"Dolohov," Hermione repeated, her voice husky.
"Yes, he's vile," Draco agreed. "Been out to get my parents for years. I take it you know him too."
She paused, as if collecting her feelings before she managed to say, "You know that purple scar on the left side of my ribcage. Right below..."
Draco knew the area well. Discoloured or not, it was some of his favourite skin of hers. Hurting it was utter perversion. "Dolohov did that?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Well, now I'm really looking forward to seeing him again."
The courtyard was carnage when they arrived. The hedges were spell-blasted and smoking. The fountain was smashed and spurting jets of swampy, smelly water. Worst of all, heaps of fabric and hair that had been living, breathing witches and wizards now lay unmoving in the gravel. Draco and Hermione crept between the wreckage, following the sound of a hideous, maniacal cackle they both knew too well.
Peering around a leafless hedge, they saw that Lupin was indeed dueling Dolohov. He lay behind an enormous crumbling urn, panting and sweating. The sleeve of his faded tweed jacket was burnt and torn open from wrist to shoulder. He'd been hit and was still reeling from it. Not far away, Dolohov was pacing, taunting, calling out crass insults and pretending to howl at the moon.
Tonks was nearby, trying to watch for Lupin over shoulder as she fought a duel of her own. Only her opponent wasn't the kind of duelist who could be ignored for even a heartbeat. It was the maddest, most murderous of the Black sisters: Bellatrix Lestrange.
Hermione's wand had been too rebellious for her and she'd made Narcissa trade her for Luna's. Hermione hardly noticed. But she did see that, for the first time in the years she had known her, Tonks's hair was just as black as Bellatrix's.
"Remus?" Tonks called out as the time grew longer since he had last sent a hex to counter Dolohov's.
Remus managed nothing but a small groan, trembling where he lay hunched on the ground, teeth clenched, growing weaker rather than stronger as he fought to get himself together as Dolohov began to close in on the urn.
"What do you think, love?" Draco whispered to Hermione in their hiding place. "Do we take their places, or do we try to unite the Triad wands?"
Hermione swallowed, her eyes cold and narrowed, staring hard at the wizard who had failed to kill her when she was a child running for her life through the Department of Mysteries only because she had silenced his spell. Now he was after Teddy's Dad.
"Triad," she said.
Draco pulsed his hand once over hers. "Love you," he said. But it was too much like goodbye and Hermione couldn't say it back.
They let go, springing out from behind the hedge, stunning spells flying. Their sudden appearance distracted Bellatrix as she swung Luna Lovegood's wand behind her head, shielding herself from Hermione's stun.
"How dare you raise your filthy Mudblood hand to bring the Battle wand against its mistress?" she wailed. Even with a light and airy wand like Luna's, Bellatrix was a master of the killing curse. She was only too happy to cast it three ways at once: one for her niece, one for her nephew, and an extra erratic and painful one for his Mudblood.
She spoke the incantation in a high, piercing screech. It tore through the courtyard as Draco veered out of Dolohov's line of fire and caught Tonks by the wrist of her wand hand. When Hermione grabbed her by the other hand, Tonks understood at once. Together, they cast the golden, impervious Triad shield spell.
The magical thrust forced Bellatrix's massive killing spell to a stop, thundering against it, deflecting it wide. It struck Dolohov at triple strength, flashing through him, withering the hedges at his back. His voice made no sound as his body fell with a thud, eyes lifeless and disbelieving.
Bellatrix wailed again. "Think you've turned the Triad wands on me, do you? Think this pretty shield, their most basic of spells, will be enough? Naughty, stupid, doomed Black family babies."
"Drop your wand, Madam Lestrange," Tonks called through the rippling, golden barrier between them. Her grim Auror authority was returning to her, strengthened by the sight of Remus lurching past Dolohov's corpse, coming further into the protective shield. "Drop it and lie facedown on the ground with your hands behind your head."
Bellatrix only forced a laugh. She repositioned her grip on Luna's wand. "I always told my sisters their brats would be the end of them. And now I'm telling you the same, Nymphadora. You've left your little one alone at home tonight, haven't you? With just your mum to protect him? What's his name again? Tubby? Toadstool?"
"You'll never find them," Tonks said in a low, even voice. "Drop the wand."
Bellatrix snorted. "Not find them? After you've brought the Triad concealment wand here with you? Andromeda's all but unarmed. So selfish of you, Nymphadora. Not at all like a proper mother to little – Teddy. That's his name. Great Auntie Bella knows it. Of course she does."
"You shut it and lie down," Draco snapped.
"Aw, does Draco love his baby cousin that much?" Bellatrix pretended to simper. "I will find him, you know. One more blazing brush fire should flush him out. And when I do – "
"That's enough," Tonks said, her officious calmness beginning to fray.
"Draco or Dora – which one will break the line and drop a wand to stop me from taking dear little Teddy into my personal custody? Who will you protect? Our family's future or the werewolf and Mudblood you've defiled yourselves with?" Bellatrix went on. "It will only take one of you, and though I am partial to the Battle wand, any of the three of the wands will do."
Tonks looked to Draco at her right, still holding the wrist of her wand hand. Hermione was on her left, unflinching as the spell coursed out of the Battle wand, obeying her every command. Remus lay wounded and exhausted at her heels. Why didn't he say something – tell her what to do?
What kind of equation could tell her whether to stay and protect these three people, or whether to surrender in the hopes of saving only two people – two who happened to be her mother and her son...
"Stop it!"
Everyone's head swiveled toward the new voice. It was Molly Weasley, her hair a sight, eyes small and icy, her wand drawn and pointed at Bellatrix.
"Your lot have damaged another child of mine," she said. "And before you strike again, I have come to stop you myself."
Bellatrix burst into more mad laughter. "You? You with your flabby blood-traitor's broken heart? Those are excellent odds. Square up."
Molly's first hex passed close enough to singe the matted ends of Bellatrix's hair.
Bellatrix squawked and looked as if she might run at her. It was terrifying enough that Tonks, Draco, and Hermione stepped back, shrinking the area of the shield spell, closing in around Remus.
Molly didn't fall back but surged forward with equal fierceness. Bellatrix fought for power and humiliation. Molly fought for her family, her children and their friends, her friends and their children, for little Teddy.
And as the Triad wands held their shield, Bellatrix Black Lestrange took a hex to the heart, and crumpled to the ground, one more wasted, fallen body in the ruined courtyard.
—------------------------------
By the time Draco and Hermione finished helping Tonks get Remus to the makeshift infirmary and made their way back to the Entrance Hall, Voldemort's voice had come again, announcing a momentary ceasefire before a final annihilation of everyone who opposed him.
"He's still alive," Hermione said, standing on her tiptoes, craning her neck to see through the weary, shuffling crowd. "And Harry must have survived going to the Shrieking Shack. But where is he?"
"There's Weasley," Draco said, tugging her along to where Ron sat with his family. Charlie had arrived and he was tending to Fred's leg as George capered around trying to take everyone's mind off the fact that Molly had just offed someone in the courtyard. She was worn out and very blue about it, her head drooping onto Percy's shoulder.
"Listen to Pomfrey," Charlie was saying. "If she says there's no Skele-gro left in the infirmary, you'll just have to stay off that leg until the bone heals the slow, non-magical way."
"In that case – now – now hear me out," Arthur was saying. "If we bandage the leg up nice and tight and coat it in good, stiff plaster – "
"Plaster? Like the mucky stuff that goes into making a wall?" Bill said.
"That's exactly it," Arthur beamed.
"Arthur!" Molly said, her head snapping up. "Didn't you learn your lesson with those disastrous stitches after your snake bite? NO Muggle medicine!"
"But, Molly, love – "
"No. Fred will just have to learn to sit still for a bit," she said, her arms folded. "It'll do him some good."
"Stars, I missed this," Percy said. Across the room, the pretty Slytherin girl who'd helped him bring Fred downstairs was milling around, looking lost and nervous.
"Hey. George," Percy whispered.
George crouched down at his side, a loose, dirty bandage tied around his hand but his eyes wide, ready for anything.
"Who's that bird over there? The one who helped with Fred. I didn't get her name."
George gave a grimace. "Pansy Parkinson. She caused us a fair bit of trouble our last year in school, but..." George's eyes grew even wider, catching Percy's meaning, realizing his brother's odd kinship with another sinner here at the last minute trying to make good. "But how about I invited her to come join us anyway, yeah?"
Pansy was settling in between Fred's outstretched wounded leg and Percy's seat when Hermione sat hard on the bench next to Ron.
"What happened? Where's Harry?" she said, her head bowed, trying not to attract anyone else's attention.
Ron was slightly green, as if he was about to be sick. He glanced up at Malfoy, as if considering asking him for some privacy. And then he seemed to give it up, not in an act of trust, but as if it just didn't matter anymore. Without a word, Ron stood up and led Hermione by the hand out of the Hall, into the empty corridor outside the headmaster's office.
He let go of her, gripping the knocker on the door for support instead. He took a huge breath. "Snape's dead."
Hermione reached for Draco as his breath rushed out of him and he slumped against the wall.
"Dead?" she said for him. "Just like that?"
Ron cringed like he could hardly stand to be in contact with his own brain, now full of such awful, fresh memories. "There was nothing we could do," he argued, though no one had accused him. "The snake – . They let it out of its bubble just far enough for it to bite Snape in the neck and he..."
Draco heaved, fighting not to gag. "It didn't try to – did it – eat – "
"No!" Ron shouted. And finally there was sympathy between himself and Draco Malfoy. "No, there were just two deep wounds to his neck. Punctures like with a medical instrument. It was an execution. Fast. So fast we couldn't believe what we were seeing until it was over."
Hermione eased Draco along the wall to sit on the floor. Ron crouched into front of him, still explaining. "But it wasn't so fast he couldn't send out his memories for Harry to gather up. We rushed back here to use the Pensieve on them."
"Well done, Ron," Hermione said, rubbing Draco's back as he leaned over his knees.
Ron shrugged one shoulder, refusing any praise. "Not really. I decided to keep watch down here while Harry went up to the office alone. And I reckon that's how he ditched me. He must have used the cloak and slipped right past me while I was stood here waiting for him."
"Ditched?" Hermione was sputtering. "Ditched?" Her voice was starting and stopping, words half formed as she worked to form a question, to make a new plan.
Draco raised his head, scowling. "Classic, Potter."
"It's no use," Ron said, his head in his hands. "Neville met him outside the castle. He was in the cloak on his way somewhere. Harry said he wasn't turning himself in, but – "
Hermione was shaking her head. "He can't..."
"Can't he? I dunno. I've been thinking," Ron went on, scrubbing his face with his hands. "All these months I've been thinking something I could never bring myself to say out loud. It started with you, Hermione, and how you always said there were probably seven horcruxes, like in all the most powerful arithmancy formulas. But even if we get the snake, it only makes six. I've been thinking that Harry – that maybe he..."
She choked out a sob, throwing her arms around Ron's neck, pulling his face into her shoulder partly to comfort him and partly to stop him from saying what neither of them needed to see in Snape's memories to know was the truth.
There was a seventh horcrux. It was Harry himself. And now he had gone to slay it.
Draco kept close to the pair of them, still rocked by his own grief for Snape, not understanding their grief yet but feeling its force, knowing to give it a little space before demanding to know anything about it.
Hermione spoke into Ron's collar. "He's got the Resurrection Stone with him. He said he was sure that was what was inside the snitch Dumbledore gave him. It's got to be good for something."
Ron was nodding as they came apart. "Maybe. Yeah. I dunno. Cheating death isn't really the point of the fairytale though, is it?"
Draco looked at each of their teary faces in turn, his own eyes stinging. "What's happened to Potter? What do we do now?"
Ron gave a sigh as Hermione turned to bury her face in Draco's chest. For once, she wasn't running, wasn't planning. All she could do was hold him, her body shaking in his arms. It was heartbreaking and he tightened his arms around her, pressing his lips to her hair. When he looked up again, over the crown of her head, his eyes met Ron Weasley's.
Ron was getting to his feet, going back to his own family. "What we do now," he said, "is wait."