Once Snape released his rigid grip on her arm, Ginny found it hard to stand, her vision clouding and her head wobbling on her shoulders from the utter dizziness of how fast everything had changed; she was having trouble keeping up. He sent his Patronus galloping elegantly through the gates towards the castle, and as her eyes followed its peculiar shape into the dense fog, she jumped at the loud crack of Disapparation just behind her. Snape had left her alone. Snape, the one that had been undercover for Voldemort all this time, the one that Harry saw kill Professor Dumbledore with his own eyes. Snape had saved her, and killed thirteen Death Eaters and Voldemort’s pet snake in one fatal blow.
‘Quiet, Miss Weasley, we’re very short on time!’
His words echoed in her ears, confusing her. Had he had a plan all along? Had he been biding his time, cursed to live amongst murderers? What had he had to do in order to keep his cover, how many people had he had to torture, to kill? Hopefully just the one, she shuddered in remembrance.
Her eyes attempted to focus as several lit wands began bobbing eerily in the gloom, growing brighter as their conjurers came into view. Her relief to see familiar faces was mirrored tenfold in the faces of her brother, Hermione, and Professor McGonagall as they hurried to allow her access.
“Ginny!” Ron pulled her into his long arms with little effort, practically dragging her toes along the ground. He was so tall now that her face rested against the middle of his chest as her arms wrapped around his lanky figure. Hermione threw her arms enthusiastically around the two of them. Once they had decided that she was solid and unharmed, they released her from their grip and Ron pulled back to examine his sister’s face.
“Oh good, now Mum won’t have to murder me after all.”
Letting out a hollow giggle, she couldn’t bring herself to smile. The effort in stretching her lips across her face in an expression of joy was too painful once she realized that there were two faces missing that she desperately needed to see.
“Where’s Harry? Where’s Drac–” she cut herself off, suddenly aware that she hadn’t told any of the trio the name of her newfound love.
“Drake?” Ron scoffed, taking a step back, his facial expression the epitome of revulsion. “Is that your new nickname for the ferret?”
“Harry figured out it was him,” she breathed, an observation that hardly needed verification.
“We ran into Malfoy right after Harry got back from meeting with you,” Hermione spoke up, and Ginny tensed as she realized that Harry must have been furious to have seen him here, his broken heart only fueling his rage. “Malfoy kind of told us himself.”
She looked up into the older girl’s face, expecting some kind of admonition. Instead, what met her gaze was hesitant acceptance as Hermione gave her a slight smile.
“He seems so different, still kind of a prat, but different. He… he really seems to love you,” she rounded the words of the last statement reluctantly, much to the incredulous look of disbelief developing on Ron’s face.
As he opened his mouth to counter the remark, McGonagall cleared her throat.
“I am very glad that you’ve returned to us safely, Miss Weasley,” she spoke in a tight voice, her eyes glancing skyward every so often and her eyebrows seemingly permanently drawn together in worry, “but I believe it would be more advisable to finish this reunion safely inside.”
The three of them nodded, and proceeded to begin the hike up to the castle, following the Headmistress’s lead. After walking silently side-by-side for a moment, Ron was the first to speak.
“You-Know-Who left a Portkey for Harry to take if he wanted you to live. Malfoy kind of was hanging on to Harry when he grabbed it,” he said sullenly with his eyes kept on the ground.
Ginny’s mind had started to cloud over again as these words processed themselves into her brain, and her throat suddenly tightened to an excruciating degree. Her next breath was labored, and she gasped as she clutched her aching chest. It took all of her effort to keep her feet moving and not collapse right there. Looking for a distraction, she glanced to her left and saw Hermione also watching the ground as they walked, tears leaking silently down her face. The lump in Ginny’s throat would make her words sound strangled, but she had to ask questions; learning about the impending doom of two of the most important men in her life might be easier than dwelling in her brooding thoughts on what could be happening right now, or what may have already happened.
“Does anyone know where the Portkey took them?” she choked out as a few hot tears teetered over the edge and splashed down her cheek. She wiped them away angrily.
Their uncomfortable silence answered her question.
“How did you get back here?” Hermione abruptly changed the subject, looking over at her with her eyebrows contracted as if the thought had just occurred to her. “None of us could figure out whose Patronus had come to give us the message that you were here.”
“Um…” Would they believe her? “Snape, actually.” She saw Ron recoil violently in the corner of her eye and plowed on before she could be interrupted, the words flowing more easily now that the focus had changed to a new topic. “Once I was brought in, You-Know-Who handed him his snake, and then left me there. Then Snape tricked all the Death Eaters in the room into drinking this poisonous mead, and then killed Greyback with the killing curse. Then he sliced off the snake’s head–”
At these words, Hermione sharply inhaled as Ron’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. They had stopped walking.
“Was there anything special about the blade he used?” Ron’s voice cracked in his effort to keep it steady.
Ginny thought about it. “I don’t know, but I thought that it was really weird when the snake’s dead body seemed to scream before it fell.”
At this, a bizarre shriek escaped Hermione’s mouth as her face lit up with a huge grin. She then threw herself at Ron, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “He was in on it all along! The last one!” she cried, calling McGonagall’s attention to their absence fifty yards behind her.
“Blimey,” Ron sighed, smiling into her bushy hair. “I reckon Harry and Malfoy might have a fighting chance after all.”
Feeling very outside the loop, Ginny started to get frustrated. Seeming to notice the mounting annoyance on his sister’s face, Ron pulled Hermione’s arms away from his neck, his eyes bright above the deep, purple circles beneath them. The smile that painted his face looked unnatural, as if he were out of practice.
“I’m sorry Ginny, but I’m not sure if we’re supposed to tell you about this. Just know that this is very good news. Where’s Snape now?” Ron shifted the spotlight from his lack of information in an attempt to ease her with his cryptic words.
Ginny let out a loud and exasperated breath through her nose, pressing her lips together in aggravation at his dodge. “He just told me that we had very little time. Then he killed the snake and took me here; he Disapparated before I could ask him anything.”
“Do you think Snape’s gone to help them?” Hermione cried excitedly.
“What about Severus Snape?” McGonagall’s curt voice suddenly cut in sharply as she had finally backtracked to their huddle to see what the whooping was about. The light of her wand shifted to each of their faces in an attempt to absorb and interpret their sudden mood shift.
“Professor!” Ron’s face became even more animated as his excitement shone through. “Snape’s a double-double agent! He’s really been on our side all along! He’s just gone to help Harry and Malfoy!”
McGonagall’s stunned features and lack of speech revealed that she had not been included on any such plan involving Snape, but before she could speak, a crack was heard back at the gates. The four of them exchanged surprised looks. All at once, they began running back to the entrance, the Headmistress pulling ahead of them, surprisingly springy for her advanced age.
“It’s Malfoy!” Ginny heard Ron yell, and her heart leapt to her throat, though she couldn’t yet see him from behind the other three bodies in front of her.
She tried to shake the fog from her mind, creating a numbness to block out the horror of all she had witnessed that night. The haze made everything dream-like, as if she could wake up at any moment. As they drew closer, she was able to glimpse a peak between Ron and Hermione’s shoulders, but she was hardly ready to believe her eyes in her state of mind. Watching Draco stumble through the gate McGonagall enchanted to open for him, Ginny realized that he was alone and looked about ready to collapse. His stormy eyes were blank, void of any of the intricate layers of frosty grey she had come to love, his pale hair was thick with dirt and his face was streaked with grime. She thought she even saw tear-tracks through the filth down his cheeks.
“It’s done; Voldemort’s gone,” he said flatly, his voice reflecting the emptiness of his eyes.
“Where’s Harry?” Hermione’s soft voice shook and Ginny looked over to see fresh tears streaming down the girl’s face, her hands covering her mouth, bracing for the impact.
Watching his face carefully once the question had been asked, she saw the torture of what must have happened cross his features. He kept his eyes closed, his eyebrows contracted in what looked like physical pain as he took a deep, ragged breath. Unable to answer, his silence did the job for him. The clouds were rolling into her mind once again, numbing her, and she swayed on the spot.
“NO! HARRY!” Hermione screamed at the top of her lungs, and Ginny could only hope that Harry could hear her, that he would come to her call.
The hysterical sobs now coming muffled from Ron’s chest as he pulled Hermione into his embrace triggered the growing lump in Ginny’s throat, and her own tears began to spill freely down her face as a loud whimper escaped her mouth. She saw McGonagall standing outside the group, her expression of deep sadness betraying her years. Then she looked to Draco, who looked lost as he watched Ron and Hermione comfort each other. She walked up to him unnoticed, sliding her hand into his. He tore his gaze away from the pair and looked upon her with astonishment, his words seemingly stuck in his throat as he stared at her in awe. The emptiness in his eyes that had scared her a moment ago seemed to fill at the sight of her, and a flood of emotion swelled within the rings of silver.
“I’m… so-glad… you’re… safe,” she choked out as she reached up to touch his face, gazing into his tormented eyes. The foggy grey orbs searched hers for some kind of relief, as if the memories stored behind them were too much to bear.
“I tried, I really tried, but I couldn’t. I never wanted–” He struggled to finish a complete thought, and she could hear the struggle to keep them from cracking.
“Shhh, I know,” she whispered, knowing her own words would shake again if her voice rose any more in volume. She took her pointer finger and placed it against his cold lips to silence his pitiful and unnecessary defense, then shifted her hand to again cup the side of his face; his eyes closed at her touch. Her heart then throbbed painfully, each beat banging hard against her chest as she realized that he had been with Harry during his last moments. She knew with certainty from the bottom of her soul that he would have done everything in his power to try and save him; the Draco Malfoy she loved would never have left Harry Potter to die, no matter how great the rivalry.
“Thank you for helping him,” she whispered.
He then pulled her tightly into his arms, protectively stroking her tangled mass of hair as her tears continued to flow, his chin resting against the side of her head.
There were no words that could describe the surmounting remorse that built in her chest. Her last words to Harry had ruined his world. If she had only known– maybe she could have just pretended for those last few moments that they had together. She could have told him that she was being silly, that he was the one she truly wanted. If this horrible end had always been his fate, decided for him before he was even born, then what difference would it have made if he had left them with the peace of thinking she was his? Fate was cruel.
Her thoughts as well as her cries, softened by the comfortingly familiar smelling fabric of Draco’s robes, drowned out all other sound, and it wasn’t until she heard Hermione screaming once again that she was torn from her mental self-destruction. The shrill noise wasn’t the same hopeless sound that the girl had emitted minutes before, so full of despair that Dementors from hundreds of miles around had surely felt a surge of hunger, but an enthusiastic replication of happiness. It couldn’t have been actual glee; Ginny could hardly believe that there were any such feelings left in the world. Before she had pulled away to seek out the source of the disturbance to their bereavement, she felt the hum of Draco’s chest against her cheek as he spoke.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
His words were just above a whisper, so full of astonishment that she pulled back just enough to glance up into his face. What was left of the flush in his cheeks had disappeared, making them void of all color, and his eyes were wide as if he were staring at a ghost. Draco’s arms dropped away as she finally turned to see for herself, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves and try and clear out the haze readying to numb her to whatever horror was coming next.
Through the mist, the ghost stepped into their field of vision. Surely a ghost, though the earth-bound entities weren’t usually so solid, so colorful, so– alive.
“Harry,” Ginny breathed, and she felt Draco stiffen behind her.
Though all eyes were on him, he only had eyes for her. Even as Hermione ran forward to fling her arms around his neck, he held Ginny’s gaze, his lips pressed into a tight line of restraint as he stared at her from just a few feet away. She became conscious of the strong hands that had snuck up and wrapped around each of her shoulders, and seemed to notice them at the same time as Harry. His emerald eyes glanced momentarily away from hers to take in the protective stance of the man behind her, the man that had tried to save his life. She saw the conflict, his eyebrows contracting in subtle devastation as her hurtful words that spoke of someone else were confirmed, and she wanted nothing more than to go to him, to ease the suffering she had caused.
Her feet started forward, but her movement was hindered by Draco’s tightened grip. As she glanced back at him, he seemed to realize that he was holding her back, and quickly dropped his hands. The look that he gave her then held so much disappointment that she paused.
“You still love him,” he stated, his voice back to the deflated tone it held when he had first arrived back at the castle.
“Yes,” she confirmed, and his eyes narrowed as they searched hers. She gave him a small smile. “Not like I love you.” She brought up her hand to again rest it against his cheek, his eyes closing in hesitant relief. One of his hands came up to hold hers in place, and he turned his head to kiss her palm softly before she withdrew and turned away.
As she approached the trio, the very air began to radiate tension electrified by Harry’s staring, his eyes intensified by the display of affection. The thought that Draco had kissed her hand to mark his territory crossed her mind. Hermione and Ron edged away, Hermione catching Draco’s arm to steer him back towards the castle. His lip curled instinctively at the Muggle-born witch’s arm pulling on his, but he said nothing and allowed her to drag him along.
“They just need a moment, Professor,” she muttered softly to get McGonagall to head back with them. “We’ll expect you in five minutes, Harry,” she called.
The slightest of nods was given in their general direction, though Harry’s eyes never left Ginny’s. Her heart began to beat faster, her hands clammy. Was he angry? Was he crushed? Would he try and kiss her again? She found herself unable to decipher the blazing passion in his eyes, the determination in his face, and she became more nervous with each silent second. She cleared her throat uncomfortably.
“I– we thought you were dead. Draco seemed to have seen you die,” she whispered.
He stiffened at the sound of the name, and she flinched.
“He tried to save me from dying, but he stole my life all the same.” He finally spoke, and the hardness in his voice made him seem ten years older, forced to grow up through unspeakable terms.
She bit her lower lip, hardly knowing what to say to that.
“We just talked about this, Harry.” She finally broke eye contact, unable to bask in the green spotlight he cast upon her any longer; she looked at the ground instead.
There was silence for a moment.
“You were actually the one that saved my life,” he said, his voice softening to a more recognizable tone, that of the seventeen-year-old boy she loved.
Her eyes flew up to meet his.
“Me? What did I do? I was off being kidnapped,” she almost snapped. Why did that remark make her feel so riled?
He smiled, which fueled her anger further.
“He was inside my head again, like at the Ministry,” he started.
The memory of sharing with each other what it had been like to be possessed by Tom Riddle came to mind. They had just started dating, and were telling each other secrets, experiences they had never told anyone else. Her first year at Hogwarts had been a nightmare, but Harry had understood. He had been the one to save her then. She could never remember what it was like to have Tom inside her head; she had always blacked out, waking up somewhere else with no memory of what had happened. Harry, on the other hand, remembered every excruciating detail. He had tried to describe to her what it felt like to share his mind with so much evil, to have wanted to give in. He had looked so ashamed.
“He remembered how he was forced out last time, and he tried to block my memories. He almost won, Ginny.” He whispered her name in that same shameful tone she remembered.
“But once I remembered you, he started to suffer. I could feel it in my heart; I could feel him writhing in his pain, our pain. He lost his focus, and then he couldn’t touch my memory of you. It hurt so much to think of you, but I could feel him tearing away. He couldn’t stand it.” Pausing a moment, he took a step forward and took her hands in his. “So, you saved me,” he said simply, shrugging his shoulders as if it were obvious.
She eyed him warily, her hands rigid in his.
“We’ll call it even,” she said slowly.
He shook his head, a light smile playing on his lips. “I owe you my life.”
“You owe me nothing. You saved me, I saved you. We’re square.” She pulled her hands out of his grip, her head spinning.
His eyes were hard again. “I won’t give up on you, Ginny. My love for you saved the world; don’t you see what that means? We belong together.”
“Don’t I get a say in what I want?” Her voice began to rise in pitch.
He paused, struggling with something. “I can’t force you to be with me. I’ll just have to wait for you to realize that you love me more. You may think he’s changed now, but he comes from bad blood. When you finally see his true colors, I’ll be waiting, ready to pick up the pieces.” Now he almost sounded smug.
“How can you say that?” she cried, “He’s done so much good! He saved my life! He’s nothing like his father. I… I see myself marrying him someday.”
Harry’s face fell, all smugness wiped away. “How can you know that? You’re only sixteen!”
“I feel it in my heart, I know that we’re meant for each other,” she said softly, a sting developing in the corners of her eyes at having to admit this feeling to him of all people.
“I see.” His eyes darkened to a deep jade. “Well, if you want to associate yourself with a traitorous name like Malfoy, I can hardly stop you.”
The stab cut deep into her heart, and she felt like she was gaping in offense at a stranger. How could someone like Harry Potter be so deeply rooted into his prejudice? And then she knew that it had nothing to do with the Malfoy family and all of their dark deeds, it was merely the fact that Draco had won, and Harry had lost. The intense desire to win had been implanted in him since birth, awakened by the knowledge of the successes and popularity of his own father. He had rarely ever lost, even against the darkest wizard ever known. The loss of his heart had truly crippled his ego, and against Draco Malfoy nonetheless, salt to the wound.
“I know you don’t believe that. I know that you can see the good in people.”
He shook his head again, seeming to close his ears to her words. “He’s bad for you, Ginny. I can feel it. He’ll break your heart.”
“He would never do that,” she growled fiercely, her eyes blazing.
“How do you know?”
“Please, just try.”
He gave her an exasperated look before checking his watch. “Damn, it’s been fifteen minutes. We’d better head back.”
Holding back tears of defeat, she nodded, suddenly feeling as if he was giving up on her. She should want him to give up on her; she shouldn’t feel this sudden surge of anxiety as he turned away.
“Harry, wait,” she whispered softly.
He stopped, but didn’t turn. The tears would not win this time, and she continued to blink them back, forcing the urge to let go deep within her gut. She stepped closer to him until she was directly behind him, and then hesitantly reached out to wrap her hands around his shoulders, resting her cheek against his back. He was soaked to the skin, and smelled of sea salt. Small pieces of ice that had frozen to his robes crumbled and melted beneath her touch, and she pressed her body to his with a fleeting desire to warm him.
“I can’t believe you did it. I’m so proud of you. I’m so happy that you made it back to us,” she mumbled against the wet fabric of his cloak.
She could feel his body expand as he filled his lungs with air, and then deflate as he let it escape with a deep sigh. The muscles in his back tightened and moved as he allowed his head to hang, then reached around with his left hand to grab her right, placing his firmly over hers and holding it in place on his shoulder.
“I love you, Ginny.” She could feel the rumble of his quiet words against her cheek as he spoke them.
“I love you too, Harry,” she responded automatically, knowing that it wasn’t a feeling she had to think about.
His left hand then lifted her right hand off of his shoulder and over his head, bringing her arm around so that they now stood side-by-side, hand-in-hand.
“But not enough,” he sighed, then set his legs in motion towards the castle, pulling her forward as well.
Her hand felt awkward in his. Certain curves and crevices were in the wrong places, there were calluses that she wasn’t used to, and his skin was rough; she realized whose hand she was comparing his to.
“Tell me everything that happened,” he started after a moment of silence, hardly a command but more of a plea.
As they walked back, she recounted her tale, and then prompted for his. When they were within view of the castle, she tugged her hand back, and he didn’t resist. Glancing sideways, she saw the hurt in his eyes as he stared at the ground. This wouldn’t be easy for a long time.
Once they’d pushed their way through the front doors, a deafening and enthusiastic cheer met their ears, chorused by the mass of students assembled in the hall. Hands grabbed the pair and pulled them into the celebrators’ throng. The air pulsed with relief and happiness until both Harry and Ginny were grinning from ear to ear. Now that their own miserable disposition was beaten and drowned by the pure elation radiating from each smiling face presented to them, they were able to realize the amazing truth of that day: Voldemort was finished.
Author notes: We're almost to the end! I'm so happy to have gotten such a positive response; it makes me want to write more!
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