Author Note: Another short chapter. I'm doing my best! Only one more chapter left after this one. Leave comments to have input into the ending. DDD
At the sound of the voice declaring Harry Potter dead, everyone inside Hogwarts castle who could still stand ran outside, wands drawn in a mass vibrating with fear and disbelief. Professor McGonagall, Ron, and Hermione barely had time to call out in horror at the sight of Hagrid carrying Harry's limp body when the entire crowd was struck with a silencing spell.
With quiet tears on her face, Hermione clung to Draco's hand with both of hers. His heart was drumming, mind racing, eyes flicking over the mob that had invaded the courtyard with the Dark Lord, looking for his parents.
They were more haggard than he had ever seen them, but alive, at the front of the mob near Hagrid and the body. Draco spotted them just as Hermione broke from her stupor of grief and pulled the hood of Draco's robe over his too-conspicuous hair, hiding him.
But Narcissa had already seen him. Draco saw recognition flash across her face. She took Lucius's by the elbow and squeezed it, almost a pinch, a nod passing between them. Her eyes narrowed as she peered through the distance at Draco.
They were scheming something.
No. What were they going to do? Had the Dark Lord figured out Draco was master of the Elder wand? Were they going to turn him in to save themselves? They'd already lost him to Hermione. They knew that. Now that he had made his choice, what would theirs be?
There was no more time to think. The silencing spell wouldn't hold. Filled to the brim with anguish, Ron broke through the Dark Lord's magic with just his will and his voice, a savage cry tearing out of him, raising a shout of defiance from the rest of the crowd. For a moment, the Dark Lord's taunting was overwhelmed.
And then Longbottom was running at him like a brave fool. The Sorting Hat was there too, flung onto Longbottom's head, and set aflame.
Before anyone could react to that, reinforcements were arriving, grown witches and wizards roaring and streaming onto the castle grounds in support of the Order and the students.
Most astonishing of all, as the fighting was recommencing, Longbottom bounded to his feet, throwing the hat aside. In its place, a sword was flashing in Longbottom's hands. He hefted it and smote off the head of the green, murderous demon of a snake.
The horcruxes – they were gone. The Dark Lord was a wizard as mortal as any other.
But Potter was gone too. His body was no longer lying at the feet of the Dark Lord as he fumed and snarled.
Hagrid was howling for Potter, but now the air was thick with Centaurs' arrows and with flying creatures diving and scratching at the surviving Death Eaters as they fled.
Not willing to find out whether that Buckbeak creature could tell which side he was on now, Draco hauled hard on Hermione's arm and chased after the rest of the mob streaming into the castle.
Inside, the fight raged on. Ron was battling the same werewolf that had lusted after Hermione and mauled Lavender Brown. Dora was standing over Remus's cot defending him. The Dark Lord was fighting Kingsley, McGonagall, and Slughorn all at once.
Draco had lost sight of his parents outside. They must have run off home, whatever scheme they had now frustrated. Of course they had. He assured himself of it as he knelt by Longbottom to treat his burns with the healing wand.
"That was brilliant, Longbottom," Draco was saying. "I'm not sure you understand how vile, how wicked that thing was – "
He couldn't finish. Silence had fallen over the hall. It was not the Dark Lord's spell this time. It was Potter, not dead but standing on his feet, alert and alive and squaring up, Draco's hawthorn wand still in his hand.
What was Potter's plan, now that he'd risen from the dead? He circled the Dark Lord, mocking and taunting, revealing Snape as a traitor to the Death Eaters. Armed with nothing but the hawthorn, Potter was challenging the Dark Lord to a duel, speaking freely of a secret flaw in the plan.
Knowing the flaw was Draco himself, Hermione gasped and took his hand, pulling him into the shadows, away from where he'd knelt by Longbottom. Her whisper was low but fervent. "We need to get you out."
He shook his head. "No. That's not it."
She stamped her foot but kept her voice to a whisper. "Draco, he'll just kill you once he knows about the wand's allegiance. It won't buy Harry more than a minute's reprieve," she argued.
"Potter has saved my life too many times already to just give me up like this. He wouldn't call me out now without a reason – without a plan," Draco said, not able to look at her as her hands wrung his. "It's alright. I trust him to have a plan."
Her whisper was more tremulous, pleading. "No. Harry hates plans. He doesn't believe in them anymore. Please – you have to go. Draco..."
And then it happened. Potter stood in the centre of the Great Hall, all eyes riveted on him as he told the Dark Lord that the Elder wand wouldn't work for him because it hadn't actually been won from Dumbledore by Severus Snape.
Potter said it. "The true master of the Elder wand was Draco Malfoy."
The Dark Lord's face was blank with shock, but he was quick with a simple solution, his only solution. His lip curled as he said it, as if he had been planning on it all along. "I can attend to Draco Malfoy."
"You will not."
The crowd gasped in unison as Lucius Malfoy stepped into the fray, pale and slick and silent as a ghost. He had slipped behind the Dark Lord, grasped his wrist, and twisted his arm high behind his back, the Elder wand pointed up into the dark, enchanted ceiling.
"Malfoy, you idiot, how dare you – " The Dark Lord couldn't finish, his voice choked with rage and pain. His red eyes scanned the room for an ally. Wormtail was long dead. Snape was dead and treacherous. Bellatrix and Dolohov had died hours before. Yaxley, McNair, Rookwood, Fenrir Greyback – he saw their bodies strewn on the floor. Of his inner circle, there was only Malfoy left, now turned against him. Flanking him on each side were two other lapsed Death Eaters: Gerwin Goyle and, still shaking with fresh grief for his lost son, Virgil Crabbe.
Goyle clamped a meaty hand around the wrist of Voldemort's free arm to keep him from clawing at the air. Crabbe was not so controlled, lurching in front of his old master, scowling back into his red eyes before spitting with sharp, practiced precision on one of his bare grey feet.
"You will do nothing more to our children. I stood by helpless once as my son good as died for you, Tom Riddle," Lucius shouted over the Dark Lord's shoulder. "Now that he is restored to me, I will be damned to hell if I ever do it again."
"Get him, Harry!" someone with a decidedly Weasley sounding voice cried out from the crowd.
"Yes, do as you like, Potter," Lucius agreed. "And if you can't kill him without striking me down at the same time, so be it."
"Dad, no," Draco called, rushing out from behind Hermione just to be caught in his mother's arms.
"Trust us, darling, please," she said as Hermione grasped his hand again.
Potter raised his arms for calm. "It's alright, everyone," he said. "I'll duel Riddle fairly, and I'll win. And he won't ever lay a hand on any of you ever again. Unless – unless he wants to give himself up, surrender the wand, and go immediately into Kingsley's custody."
Riddle shouted a scoff. "Mercy is not yours to offer, Potter. I despise it. I would rather die."
"And you will," Potter said. "See, after Draco Malfoy disarmed Dumbledore, I overpowered him. It was weeks ago. I took his wand from him." He twitched the hawthorn wand. "So it all comes down to this, doesn't it? Does the wand in your hand know its last master was disarmed? Because if it does...I am the true master of the Elder wand."
"That is not how these things work," the Dark Lord raged, panting in pain as Malfoy continued to hold his arm against his back, the stiff tendons and ligaments strained almost to breaking.
"Maybe not with ordinary wands," Potter allowed. "But the Wand of Destiny is no ordinary wand, is it?"
"Who ever heard of being immune to a curse simply because it's from your own wand?" Riddle cried. "None of this is how anything works. You can't change all of wandlore as if this is some massive book you've got tired of writing and you're looking for a quick way out of it, Potter."
Oddly unperturbed, Potter just shrugged. "Then go ahead and try me. Unless you'd rather go with Kingsley, that is."
He answered with another anguished snarl.
"Right. Then let's have at it," said Potter. "Whenever you're ready, Mr. Malfoy..."
Lucius thrust the wraith forward, sending Tom Riddle stumbling across the floor. Potter waited while he found his feet. The Elder wand was raised, the green flash of the killing curse flying toward Harry Potter for the second time that day.
An instant later, Tom Riddle was dead.
—-------------------------------------------------
Narcissa hadn't let go of Draco when Tom Riddle fell limp and dead to the stone floor of Hogwarts Great Hall. Instead, she had thrown her arms around her son's neck and wept into his shoulder. With one arm, he returned her embrace, and with the other, he held fast to Hermione's hand until she tugged at it.
Potter, of course she should be with him at this moment, after everything she'd done to get him here. With a sigh, Draco let go of her hand.
Lucius joined him and Narcissa, all of his feelings bright and blazing on his usually cool face. He clamped his hand on the back of Draco's neck and pressed their foreheads together. Narcissa stayed pressed between them, happy enough to laugh.
"Here you both are, at last," she said. "One soul again."
Draco slung his arms around his parents and let them kiss his face and hair.
"Let's be off," Narcissa said after a moment. "There might still be some stragglers to turn out of the Manor, but after that's done, we can have a night of peace all together in our home once more."
Draco frowned. They were moving too fast, still too wrapped up in themselves, not thinking of any of the other hurting, weary people around them. "Wait, Mum," he said, rooting himself to the ground. "What about Aunt Bella's body? We can't leave it here."
"I'll see to Bella's burial."
Narcissa whirled around, her eyes wide. "Medie?"
Andromeda had arrived. She had reunited Teddy with his parents and he was sat on the cot with Remus, lying next to him fiddling with the buttons on the spell-blasted cardigan. Now Andromeda faced her youngest sister for the first time in years. She had traded her wand with Tonks again, and she met Narcissa with the Black Sororal Triad concealing wand in her hand. Draco pressed the healing wand into Narcissa's grip, sliding Hermione's old wand out from between her fingers before nudging her forward.
"Thank you," Narcissa began, breathless, bowing her head. "For taking Draco in when there was nothing I could do to protect him. Thank you forever, Medie."
Andromeda raised her arms. "It's been a pleasure, Cissie. Now come here."
The sisters held each other and Lucius took Draco by the arm again. "That's enough, don't you think? Your mother needs rest. We'll be off as soon as she's finished with Andromeda. So take your leave of whatever friends you have here. Quickly."
Draco pulled away. "No, Dad. I'm not coming home tonight."
Lucius set his jaw, swallowing hard. "Very well. I understand. I had hoped for swift forgiveness, but if you need more time – "
"It's not that, Dad," Draco said. "It's Hermione Granger. I don't know how much Mum has told you, but it's not like I told Riddle at all. Hermione isn't a conquest. She's my family now too. I'm not leaving her tonight, or ever. But I can't bring her home to the Manor. Not yet, not after what happened to her there."
Lucius hung his head. "This is my fault too. I drove you to her by making your own home unlivable."
Draco straightened his posture. "If that was true, I would thank you for it. But something much greater than fear of the snake brought me to her. And I'm staying wherever she is." He dropped a hand on his father's shoulder. "I love you, Dad. And I will see you again soon. When – when my wife is properly rested and ready."
Without waiting for Lucius's reaction, Draco darted off into the crowd. Neville stopped him to shake his hand in thanks for healing his burns, Luna paused to tell him she could tell even through the floorboards of Malfoy Manor that his parents weren't as nasty and they seemed, but as quickly as he could get away, Draco was storming about looking for Hermione.
He found her alone, sat at a dining table with her head pillowed on her arms. Harry had gone back to Gryffindor Tower to sleep. Ron had gone looking for him to bring him back to the Burrow with the rest of the Weasleys. But he hadn't come back, having settled into the bed next to Harry's to get some sleep himself. The boys hadn't worried about Hermione, confident enough in Draco by now to trust him to take care of her.
Draco slid onto the bench beside her. She didn't move even as he took her in his arms and lifted her head from the table. She was profoundly asleep, looking too weary and delicate to have possibly survived all of this. The woman was a miracle, and he brushed his lips against her cheek. "Love, you can't sleep here," he whispered.
She heaved a great sleepy breath. "Take me home, Draco."
"I will," he promised, smoothing her hair with his palm. But he wondered what he meant by it. Whether they trusted him now or not, Potter and Weasley wouldn't want to see him sleeping with Hermione in their tower. Stars knew how she'd react If she woke up to find herself unexpectedly in his old Dungeon dormitory after this ordeal. With all the tumult in the castle, the lake might be leaking into the Dungeons by now anyway. No, they couldn't stay at Hogwarts.
As for the countryside, Andromeda had gone into the courtyard to recover Bellatrix's body and bring it home. Taking Hermione to stay in the same cottage where she was laid out seemed like a terrible idea. There was always London. Draco didn't know where the Grangers' abandoned old house was. It must have been ransacked by now, anyway. Maybe all they could hope for was another night in the grimy, drafty, feral-cat-filled refuge of Grimmauld Place.
Hermione had fallen back to sleep in his arms, her nose against his chest, her breath warm and steady. The chaos of the battle had died down enough that people were beginning to notice them, whispering behind their hands about what HE was doing here with HER, and why was Harry Potter putting up with it. It amused more than bothered Draco. But as he gazed down at Hermione's face, her skin still smudged with dirt and soot, her lips parched and open, a new anxiety was mounting. How would he take care of her? She deserved everything and he had nothing to offer her that wouldn't trigger her very worst memories.
There was a hand on his back, and a tender voice in his ear. "Darling, I don't mean to interfere. But do take this. Carefully now." It was Narcissa passing him a handkerchief wrapped around something heavy and hard, a large iron key. "Think of it as a wedding present. It's a portkey to our cottage in Normandy. Take your – take your wife there, and let her rest until she can't bear to rest anymore."
Draco blinked, his eyes shiny, no pride only gratitude. "Thank you, Mum."
He took Hermione's hand as she slept, and uncovered the portkey between her palm and his.
He'd never used a portkey with someone else helpless in his care before. The landing in Normandy was fast and tricky. He wound up falling hard and skidding across the rug in the bedroom of the cottage, twisting onto his back in the air before landing, taking the impact himself instead of her.
In his arms, she flinched and murmured, but didn't wake up.
Panting on the floor, he rolled over to kiss her forehead, speaking to her anyway even as she slept. "We did it, love. We're home."