Undefined

Chapter 38

Rebirth at Dawn

Light - wonderful light and warmth and Draco thought he must be far, far away; certainly he was not where he'd fallen the night before. But no, pain like traveling needles on the underside of his skin suddenly made him realize that this wasn't another realm but that he was, in fact, still very much alive. He opened his eyes, and heard a bird chirp a soft, melodic tune; a wonderfully normal, rational sound after an evening of unspeakable darkness and death.

He rubbed his eyes and exhaled deeply as he slowly sat up, his body screaming in protest. He looked around and noticed Voldemort's remains lying in a heap a few feet away. Draco stood very slowly, feeling like a very old man, and walked to the tussling robes, bending down to examine the broken remains of the once omnipotent being. Yes, Voldemort was dead, looking surprisingly more alive in death. Draco kicked the mass, then again, and again, until he was screaming at the top of his lungs and laughing hysterically.

"Draco?"

With the sound of that voice, Draco turned, half-expecting it to all be a dream. There Harry stood, very bloody, thoroughly exhausted, his clothes disheveled, torn and covered in mud and grime and other bits of unrecognizable mixtures of solids and liquids. Draco studied Harry as though he were a very peculiar piece of artwork; not sure if what he was examining was in fact tangible and in front of him, or rather one of those silly paintings that shift and transform with a turn of the head.

"Harry?"

"Yeah."

Draco rubbed his face slightly, realization sinking in like a lead weight. "You lucky bastard."

Harry smiled and laughed his first real, truly liberating laugh; it was as though the weight of the world had been lifted from that laugh, and for the first time, he sounded carefree and light. Draco ran to him, pulling him into a crushing hug, despite the protestations of his body. He only meant to hold on for a few moments before pulling away and asking the millions of questions buzzing in his mind, but he didn't. He held on a bit longer, making sure the boy before him was alive and breathing and intact; he squeezed tighter on Harry's midsection, feeling his familiar contours, feeling his face hit that familiar crook in Harry's neck when he rested his head on his shoulder.

"Christ, Harry," Draco said, squeezing impossibly hard, his eyes stinging.

When did that happen? he wondered, then gave in, letting every bit of his fear and grief from the previous night spill forth. He broke into uncontrollable sobs, chest heaving for breaths as he clung to Harry, who was crying just as fervently as Draco, until neither knew where one ended and the other began.

They meandered slowly back to the castle, taking care not to step on any of the heaps of bodies strewn about, their lifeless faces gazing towards the heavens, a myriad of colored robes blowing in the breeze. Draco stopped suddenly when he saw a familiar face. Crouching, he saw Neville's empty eyes staring upwards unseeing, but quietly peaceful. Nearby, Bellatrix was sprawled on the ground, a crumpled grotesque mess, which was a result, Draco was sure, of Neville's wand. Draco closed Neville's eyes before moving on.

Most of the clumps on the ground, Draco noticed, were fallen Inferi. Ron would be pleased to see this, Draco thought before a slight pang in his stomach told him he couldn't be sure Ron would be happy to see anything; Ron may very well not be alive. Pushing the thought away, he felt Harry stumble slightly next to him and Draco pulled him closer, throwing his arm around his shoulder protectively. He wanted very much to ask who was alive. Ron? Hermione?

He stopped when he saw a pool of platinum hair spread amongst blood and earth. His father's body lay eerily empty, devoid of everything and anything. Draco leant down and pushed his father's robes gently off his body, his eyes resting on a glint of silver on his lapel. Wordlessly, he removed the small pin in the shape of a serpent with those blood red eyes, which had entranced him so long ago, and pocketed it.

"Father," he said, nodding slightly and turning back to Harry.

***

A thunderous cacophony of voices and laughter spilled from the Great Hall when they opened the doors and stepped into the Entrance Hall. Everything certainly seemed brighter, Draco noticed, as they turned. No sooner had Draco noticed groups of individuals from every House sitting clumped together at the tables, when a tremendous shriek and a faint flutter drew his attention to the table nearest them. And then, he saw Hermione rushing towards him, her hair streaking wildly behind her, her arm wrapped in gauze, a great cut on her forehead and cheek. She threw her arms around Draco, nearly knocking him back into the Entrance Hall.

"Hermi--"

"We...thought...you...were...dead..." she blubbered, sobbing uncontrollably.

He shushed her, soothingly patting her back, while trying to politely spit out a gob of her hair from his mouth. She held fast, her small body wracking with sobs so violently, Draco feared she would pass out. He spotted someone else move towards them, and exhaled deeply; there was Ron, ambling towards them. He seemed rather broken and empty, yet the look on his face indicated that any strained animosity or untold awkwardness between them had withered and died away. Ron grabbed Draco's hand from Hermione and shook it viciously, his jaw set as though trying to keep himself from sobbing.

"Thanks, mate," Ron said, shaking Draco's hand very hard, a tear forming in the corner of his eye. "Thanks."

"No bother," Draco said.

"Don't cry, Hermione," Draco said, more to keep himself from blubbering like a fool at the sight of the three of them alive. "You have to loads to tell me."

"Like what?" Harry said, shoving his hands into his pockets and walking out the door.

"I dunno," Draco said, finally prying Hermione free and handing her over to Ron. "Why don't you start by telling me about your night?"

"Longest night of my life," Harry said, sounding thoroughly exhausted.

"You have to admit," Draco said, slinging his arm around Harry's shoulder as the four of them walked towards the huge oak doors, "it was memorable."

Harry laughed again with that weightless, free, intoxicating laugh that made Draco's insides soar with happiness, as they ambled outside to the sunshine and warmth, making a point not to look at the carnage yards away, heading towards the crystalline lake that shimmered so beautifully in the light.

"What about the others?" Draco asked, sprawled against a tree, with Harry resting between his legs, his head on Draco's chest.

"Most made it," Harry said, a gust of wind lapping the lake against the shore. "Moody didn't. He and Rodolphus took one another out."

"No, I took Rodolphus out," Draco corrected.

"Well," Harry said, turning slightly to face Draco, "unless Rodolphus turned into a non-transparent ghost able to brandish a wand, then you didn't finish him off."

"Good point. Who else?"

"Bill didn't make it."

"Ginny?" Draco asked, remembering his father's intended Killing Curse.

"She's in the Hospital Wing, but she'll be fine," Harry said, yawning. "Seamus didn't make it, nor did Dean."

"Lovegood?"

"St. Mungo's," Harry said shifting. "Along with Ernie Macmillan, Tonks, and Charlie. Snape made it."

Draco snickered. "'Course Snape made it. He's too damned mean to kill."

"Most of the teachers are fine, save McGonagall."

"Christ," Draco said.

"We thought you'd been lost as well," Harry said. "After I...well, after all that, you were just lying there, completely cold and still..."

"Yeah," Draco said, "I kinda lost it for a bit."

Close to the lake's shore, Hermione and Ron were kissing gently, their passion palpable as her lithe frame crumpled willingly beneath Ron and they rested on the soft grass.

"Yeah," Harry said, but neither said any more.

There would be a time and a place to discuss everything that had transpired the previous night. How they'd faced the Dark Lor...no Voldemort side by side, and how Harry'd finally managed to kill him. Draco would detail too, his side of events, how he'd felt his very soul ripped from his core only to be violently replaced as he thought of the only person he'd ever loved, or ever could love. And how, he realized not for the first time, Harry'd saved him that night.

Draco slid his hands around Harry's torso and pulled him close, kissing his forehead. Harry turned and faced him, pulling him into a fervent kiss, until their bodies twisted and Draco lay on top. He pulled away momentarily, and looked once again at Harry, savoring the feeling that he was indeed warm and breathing beneath him, and wouldn't leave, wouldn't flee, wouldn't sacrifice what they had in order to save the world. He lowered his head and met Harry half-way, their lips and tongues mingling and Draco never thought their kiss had ever felt so passionate, so light, and so innocent. And with that kiss, Draco knew it was almost as though the previous night shrouded in all that darkness and shadow hadn't happened. The sun did much more than illuminate and warm the earth that day; it marked the very dawn of his life, full of second chances, promise, hope, optimism and, most importantly, Harry.