Part IX (THE END)

Harry woke to someone pounding on the dormitory door.

“UP!”

He rolled over. For one confused moment, he had absolutely no idea where he was.

Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway in a tartan dressing gown, wand already in her hand. “Everyone up. Immediately. Robes on. Shoes. Wands.”

Ron bolted upright. “What happened?”

“Great Hall. Now.” Something in her voice ensured nobody asked another question.

Five minutes later, Harry was descending the stairs with several dozen frightened Gryffindors.

The corridors were full. Hufflepuffs came from one direction. Ravenclaws from another. Slytherins emerged from the dungeons. Nobody seemed to know what was happening.

Harry saw frightened first-years clutching one another’s hands. A Ravenclaw girl was crying. One of the prefects kept insisting everything was all right in a voice that made it perfectly clear everything was not all right.

Hermione found Harry and Ron near the entrance to the Great Hall.

“Do you know anything?”

“No.”

“McGonagall wouldn’t tell us.”

“Me either.”

They entered. Every student in Hogwarts seemed to be there. The doors slammed shut. Dumbledore stood before the staff table. He wasn’t smiling. The room became silent.

“Shortly after midnight,” he said, “we received credible information that Lord Voldemort intends to attack Hogwarts.” The silence broke into hundreds of frightened whispers. Harry felt Ron move closer beside him. Dumbledore raised his hand. The room became quiet again. “We believe the attack is imminent.”

Harry’s fingers tightened around his wand.

“Messages have been sent throughout Great Britain. Aurors, Ministry personnel and others willing to defend this school are already on their way.” Dumbledore paused. “But Hogwarts is some distance from many of them.”

Harry understood before Dumbledore said it.

“We may not have that time.”

Hermione inhaled sharply.

“Students in their fifth year and below will be evacuated to a secure location. Your Heads of House will provide instructions.”

Someone shouted: “What about us?”

Dumbledore looked toward the older students. “Sixth and seventh years will assist the staff.”

The room erupted. McGonagall shouted for silence. Dumbledore waited. “I am not asking any of you to fight.”

Harry frowned.

“You will be placed in groups around the castle and grounds. You are observers. Nothing more.”

His expression hardened.

“I cannot emphasize this sufficiently: do not be heroes.”

Several people looked at Harry. Harry noticed. “Why is everyone looking at me?”

Ron muttered: “Can’t imagine.”

Dumbledore continued. “If you see anything suspicious, you will cast Periculum directly upward. A red signal will alert the staff. You will then withdraw toward the castle.”

His eyes swept the room.

“You will not investigate. You will not pursue. You will not attempt to engage.” Dumbledore's gaze landed directly upon Harry.

Harry looked offended.

Hermione whispered: “He’s definitely talking to you.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

A set of side doors clanged open. Another voice cut through the room. A dull, but strong monotone. “We are not entirely unprepared.” Snape stepped forward. Dumbledore turned. Something about his expression changed.

“Severus?”

“We know their approximate numbers.” Dumbledore stared at him. “We know their intended points of entry. We know which groups have been assigned to each objective. We know several of their fallback positions, the methods they’ve been training to breach the outer protections, and which attacks are intended merely as diversions. Unfortunately, our spy was caught, but managed to barely escape with their lives. Unfortunately, I believe this is why the attack is happening now.”

Now Dumbledore looked genuinely dumbfounded. “How?”

Snape was silent for a moment. “I have a spy.”

Harry’s head snapped up. Something happened inside his chest. No. Impossible. Harry knew he shouldn't hope. He did, anyway.

Snape continued. “Someone successfully infiltrated the Death Eaters and has been providing me with intelligence for some time.”

Harry couldn’t breathe. Hermione looked at him. She’d realized it too.

Ron hadn’t. “Blimey,” he whispered. “Who?”

Harry didn’t answer. Hope was a dangerous thing. Suddenly his heart was hammering.

Please.

Snape’s expression was unreadable. “The information provided by this person has disrupted attacks, exposed safe houses, identified collaborators and allowed potential targets to be moved before the Dark Lord’s forces reached them.” He paused. “The number of lives saved is difficult to calculate.”

Harry barely heard him. Please.

Snape looked toward the doors he entered from. “That intelligence was obtained at considerable personal cost.”

The door opened. Someone limped through.

Harry stopped breathing.

He sar her platinum-blonde hair, first. Her filthy robes. One sleeve torn, and dried blood ran from her hairline down the side of her face. She was walking badly, favoring one leg.

There were bruises Harry could see even from across the Great Hall. She looked exhausted. She looked terrible. She looked beautiful.

She looked alive.

“Dracena!” Harry whispered.

Ron stared. “No bloody way.”

Hermione covered her mouth.

Dracena stopped, standing beside Snape.

For the first time in months, Harry Potter looked at Dracena Malfoid…

…and she looked back.

Everything disappeared from her face.

The Great Hall. Dumbledore. Snape. Hundreds of students.

For one second there was only Harry. Harry was already moving. He didn’t remember deciding to.

“Dracena!” She barely had time to turn before he reached her.

Harry stopped inches away. He wanted to grab her. He wanted to scream at her. He wanted to ask what had happened to her face. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to know why she’d destroyed him.

Instead, what came out was: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dracena stared at him, dumbfounded. “Because I’m a spy, Potter.”

Harry blinked.

“Being a Spy generally works better when nobody knows she’s a spy." she said, matter of factly.

“You could’ve told me!”

“No, I couldn’t!”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a terrible liar!”

“I am not!”

Dracena stared at him.

Harry thought about it. “All right, sometimes.”

“Harry, you once tried to conceal something from McGonagall by standing in front of it.”

“It nearly worked.”

“It was on fire.”

Ron made a strangled noise behind them.

Dracena’s mouth twitched. Harry stared at her.

That expression. That voice.* *It was her. Actually her. His eyes filled before he could stop them.

“Dracena…”

Her expression softened. “Harry.”

He stepped toward her. She stepped toward him. Harry stopped. Something inside him wouldn’t move. Months of grief didn’t simply disappear because he’d been given an explanation.

Dracena saw it. The hope on her face collapsed. “Oh.”

Harry hated himself immediately. “No. Dracena, I…” he tried to lurch forward.

“It’s all right.” She said.

“It isn’t.”

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t.”

Her face closed. Harry recognized that too. The Malfoid mask.

“Later,” she said.

“Dracena…” “Later, Potter.”

Then she looked toward Dumbledore. “We’re going to stop Voldemort tonight.”

She glanced back at Harry. “Would you like to help, or are you planning to spend the evening moping?”

Harry stared, then, despite everything, laughed.

Dracena smiled.

They were assigned the eastern grounds. Harry thought this was ridiculous.

“It’s completely lit.”

“That’s presumably the idea,” Hermione said.

Lumos charms floated above the grounds at regular intervals, illuminating the lawn almost to the forest. Nobody could approach unseen. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Dracena stood together near an old stone wall.

Dracena leaned against it.

Harry noticed. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m observant too, Potter.”

“Seriously.”

“So am I.”

“Should you even be out here?”

“No.” She said.

Harry frowned.

Dracena sighed. “I told Madam Pomfrey I was going to bed.”

Hermione stared. “You lied to Madam Pomfrey?”

“Granger, I spent several months lying to Lord Voldemort. I can manage the school nurse.”

Ron snorted.

Hermione didn’t. She was looking at Dracena.

Dracena noticed. “What?”

Hermione folded her arms. “You called me Mudblood.” The humor vanished.

Dracena looked away. “I know.”

“You said people like me wouldn’t matter when things changed.”

“I know.”

“You showed me the Mark.”

Dracena touched her sleeve.

“I know.”

Hermione’s voice trembled. “I thought you meant it. I really thought you meant it.”

“I needed you to.” Dracina said, shakily.

“Well, congratulations.”

Dracena flinched.

Hermione immediately looked guilty, But Dracena nodded.

“No. That’s fair.”

They were silent for a long moment.

“I hated it.” She said, looking away toward the forest.

Hermione looked at her.

“Every. Time.” Dracena swallowed. “I kept telling myself they were only words.” She looked down. “They weren’t.”

“I had to use things that were true.”

“What does that mean?” Ron asked.

“Professor Snape taught me that the best lies are built around truths.”

Harry listened.

“I really had been angry with Hermione. Jealous, really. I really looked down on Muggles. I really thought Potter was insufferable sometimes.”

Harry almost smiled. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Dracena grinned at him for a moment, then continued.

“I used all of it. Every ugly thought I’d ever had. Every argument. Every moment someone made me feel ashamed of my family.” She looked at Hermione. “And I turned them into something worse.”

Hermione’s anger had softened.

Dracena stared at the grass. “I felt filthy.”

Harry said quietly: “Then why did you do it?”

Dracena looked at him. For a moment Harry thought she’d become angry. Instead she looked tired. “My father.”

Harry stiffened. Dracena noticed.

“No. Listen.”

Harry listened.

“I overheard him speaking to Voldemort.”

Harry’s hand tightened around his wand.

“Voldemort wanted Father to use me against you.”

“What?”

“He wanted me to get close to you. Poison you, or curse you. Lure you somewhere.”

Harry stared.

“Father said no.”

Everyone was shocked. Dracena smiled sadly.

“He told Voldemort I wasn’t a resource. That I hadn’t taken any oath. That if Voldemort wanted Harry Potter dead, he could do his own killing.”

Harry didn’t know what to say.

“I was proud of him.” Dracena’s voice cracked. “God, Harry, I was so proud of him.” She wiped her face angrily. “And then the next morning I read about a man who’d been murdered by Death Eaters.”

Hermione listened silently.

“My father knew him.” Dracena swallowed. “And I started thinking.” Her voice cracked. She looked toward Harry. “If Father could stand in front of Voldemort and say no for me…”

Dracena barely held back her tears “…then why couldn’t he say no for anyone else?”

Harry understood.

“I still don’t know the answer.” Dracena looked at him. “I still love him.”

“I know.”

“I still think there are things he’s right about.”

“I know.”

“I still think you’re wrong about him sometimes.”

Harry nodded.

“Probably.”

That surprised her.

“But I knew people were dying.” She looked at all three of them. “And I knew I was in a position to do something.”

Harry’s chest hurt. “So you did.”

“I tried.”

“You did more than try.”

Dracena looked away. Harry stepped closer.

“You wish you could have told me.”

“I couldn’t.”

“I know that. Still.”

“I hurt you.”

“Yes.” he said. She flinched.

Harry continued. “But I understand why.”

“That’s not the same as forgiving me.”

“No.”

Dracena nodded.

“We don’t lie about not knowing.”

Harry stared at her.

Their promise.

“I don’t know yet,” he said.

“All right.” She said.

“But…”

Harry stepped closer. Dracena looked up.

“I think I want to try.”

Her eyes filled. “I’d like that.”

Harry reached for her hand. She let him take it.

“I’m sorry too.”

“For what?”

“For thinking the worst of you.”

“You were supposed to.”

“I know.”

“For hating me.”

“You were supposed to.”

“I know.”

Dracena smiled through tears.

“Stop saying that.”

“Then stop saying things I know.”

She laughed. Harry did too.

Dracena looked at him.

Harry noticed.

Harry looked at her.

She noticed.

“Oh,” Ron muttered.

Hermione elbowed him.

Dracena leaned forward towards Harry…

Every light went out.

Darkness swallowed Hogwarts.

Hermione immediately shouted:

“PERICULUM!”

Red light shot upward.

Then the night exploded.

Shouts. Spells. Screaming.

Green. Red. Blue. Gold.

The grounds filled with people.

Hundreds.

Then THOUSANDS.

Harry couldn’t understand where they’d come from.

Dracena could. “Disillusionment charms!”

The outer field erupted with figures.

Death Eaters. Far more than anyone had expected. The first Hogwarts defenders were overwhelmed almost immediately.

Harry saw students disarmed. Staff surrounded. Somebody shouted for everyone to fall back. They couldn’t. They were surrounded. Within minutes, the grounds belonged to Voldemort. Harry and Dracena had been separated from Ron and Hermione.

The crowd parted. Voldemort walked through. Several Death Eaters followed. Harry raised his wand. Dracena stood beside him.

Voldemort smiled.

“Harry Potter.”

Harry said nothing.

“How appropriate.”

He looked around at Hogwarts.

“Do you see it?”

Harry glared.

“The old world ending. The new world rising. My world.”

“Do you practice these speeches?” Harry interrupted.

Voldemort stopped. Dracena made a tiny choking noise.

Harry shrugged. “You always seem to have one.”

Voldemort’s smile vanished. “The world will remember tonight.”

“Over my dead body.”

The smile returned. “Oh, Harry.” Voldemort raised his wand. “I’m so glad you said that.”

Harry attacked first. Of course he did.

Dracena swore.

Voldemort was faster. Harry blocked, and then countered.

Voldemort moved

Harry dodged and moved

He fought bravely. And stupidly.

Voldemort kept giving ground.

Harry followed. Dracena saw it before Harry did.

“Harry!”

Too late.

Voldemort smiled. Harry realized. *Trap. *Three Death Eaters moved behind him.

Harry spun. For one terrible second his instinct screamed: Attack.

And suddenly he thought of Dracena. "Potter, 'do something' is not a plan."

Harry smiled. Voldemort’s expression changed.

Harry retreated, and moved sideways.

One Death Eater fired a spell. Harry ducked.

The Killing Curse glanced off Voldemort's wards and struck another Death Eater.

Harry shouted, "CONFRIGO!"

The trap collapsed into confusion.

Dracena saw it. Despite everything, she grinned. “About bloody time, Potter.” she said to herself.

Then Voldemort attacked. The duel became something else.

Harry couldn’t beat him. He knew it. Voldemort knew it. Voldemort drove him backward.

Harry stumbled. His wand came up.

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”

“EXPELLIARMUS!”

Harry's spell met Voldemorts. The spells collided. Harry screamed. The force nearly tore the wand from his hand.

Voldemort pushed. Harry pushed back.

The point where the spells met began moving toward Harry. Slowly. Inch by inch.

Harry planted both feet. His arms shook.

“No.” Voldemort smiled. The green light of the Killing Curse inched closer.

Harry’s vision blurred. “No.” he whispered.

Closer. He could feel heat on his face.

His knees buckled. He thought of Ron. Hermione. Hagrid. His parents. Hogwarts.

Dracena.

Out of nowhere, a hand touched his.

Harry gasped in surprise. Another hand closed around the wand. Platinum blonde hair brushed his cheek.

Dracena stood beside him. “Move over, Potter.”

Harry almost laughed. “Little busy.”

“I noticed.”

She pressed herself against his side. Her fingers wrapped around his.

For one strange instant, the battle disappeared. Harry could feel her breathing. Her heart hammering. Her hand trembling. She was terrified. Dracena Malfoid was absolutely terrified, and she was here anyway.

She turned her face and kissed his cheek.

“Together?”

Harry looked at her. “Together.”

They pushed. Harry's spell topped retreating.

Voldemort’s smile disappeared.

Harry felt Dracena’s hand tighten. He didn’t know where his magic ended and hers began. Didn’t know whose strength he was feeling. Didn’t care. Everything outside them dimmed.

The screaming disappeared. The battlefield disappeared. There was only Dracena beside him. Her shoulder against his. Her fingers around his. Her breath against his cheek.

Six years. A robe shop. A train. A duel. A broom. A hippogriff. A photograph. A bathroom. A Christmas present. A thousand stupid arguments.

Harry pushed. Dracena pushed with him.

Harry's spell lurched forward.

Voldemort’s eyes widened. “No.”

A little closer…

“No!”

Dracena screamed. Harry screamed with her. “EXPELLIARMUS!”

Voldemort's spell shattered, and his wand ripped from his hand. It flew high into the air.

For one perfect second, nobody moved.

The horizon lit up. Hundreds of spells streaked across the grounds.

Aurors. Ministry forces. Witches and wizards from across Britain.

The reinforcements had arrived.

The Death Eaters broke into a run.

Harry barely noticed. His wand fell from his hand. Dracena caught him. Or Harry caught her.

They ended up holding each other.

Harry laughed. Dracena started crying. Then Harry did too.

“You’re horrible,” Harry whispered.

Dracena laughed through her tears. “I still love you.”

Dracena stopped. Harry looked at her. Dracena touched his face. “I love you, Harry Potter.”

Harry smiled. “Yeah.”

Dracena frowned. “Yeah?”

Harry laughed. There she was.

“I love you too, Dracena Malfoid.”

“Better.”

She kissed him.

The battle continued around them.

People shouted. Spells flashed. Somewhere behind them, Ron yelled something Harry couldn’t hear and Hermione told him to shut up.

Harry didn’t care. For six years, Harry Potter and Dracena Malfoid had argued about nearly everything.

They would undoubtedly continue doing so, But that could wait until morning. For now, Harry kissed the Slytherin girl he’d once been absolutely certain he couldn’t possibly like.