The Strongest of Us All

Do we know how to get the message across

We turn the lights off to find a way out

No time to get through to grasp what was lost

Don't turn the light off and leave me in the dark

Hey, I'm pleading, my soul is bleeding

I don't wanna be left alone, not when I'm right next to you

What are you thinking, it's so misleading

Is it not for me to know, I think it's just hard for you to show

We never spoke in the words that we want

We turn the lights off to find a way out

We've never chosen to keep what we got

Don't turn the light off and leave me in the dark

So hard for you to show

Why is it hard for you to show?

I thought it would be nice to lie down and close my eyes

It never occurred to me that I'm all ready asleep

Don't be the one to let it go

Don't be the one to be alone

Don't be the one to be alone tonight

Hey, I'm pleading, my soul is bleeding

I don't want to be left alone, not when I'm right next to you

What are you thinking, it's so misleading

I don't want to be alone, I don't want to be alone

No one wants to be left alone

~Trapt

Chapter 8

July 23, 2002

"Voldemort?" Harry asks, even though it really can't be anyone else.

"Voldemort and all his Death Eaters," Dumbledore says grimly. We're standing in his office, along with all the other members of the Order and some Aurors who have tagged along with them.

"The shields around Hogwarts won't hold much longer. They did their job, which was basically to warn us of incoming attacks and give us various statistics," Mad Eye growls. "We've got a group of roughly 100 Death Eaters. Which is more than enough to beat us if we don't get working right now."

Dumbledore nods grimly and turns to Professor McGonagall. "Go down to the Great Hall and tell the prefects to take all the Fourth Years and under down into the catacombs near the lake. Tell them to stay there no matter what happens. Tell all the older students to ready their wands and report to their Head of House."

"There's more," Snape says raggedly. "Voldemort and his Inner Circle are coming in a different way. A different direction. They want you and Harry dead." He swallowed with difficulty. "They want to prove the Prophecy wrong."

I clutch Harry's hand tightly. No way. Sorry Voldie, but you are not killing Harry.

Harry nods though, unsurprised. "I knew this was coming... he can't stand me being alive. I'm his constant sore point. I prove he's not invincible."

"So what's the plan?" Tonks asks angrily, her now-purple eyes flashing. "We attack with a bunch of students and hope for the best?"

"No, you attack with a bunch of students, I go kill Voldemort, and then we hope for the best."

Everyone in the room turns to look at Harry.

"You can't be serious," gasps Mrs. Weasley. "Harry... you can't..."

"Quite right," one of the Aurors boasts. "He's just a kid."

That boils my blood. "Just a kid my ass!" I burst. The Auror is very surprised. "He's faced off with Voldemort three times. He's got more magic in his thumb than you have in your entire being. Why do you think Voldemort wants him dead? Haven't you heard the Prophecy? He's the only one who even has a chance at killing Voldemort." There are rounds of wincing every time I say his name.

"Draco's quite right, though a little riotous," Dumbledore says seriously. "We all know what's at stake." His gaze turns to Harry. "You know what you have to do."

Hold on a second! He's not going by himself is he? Oh...

"Wait a second! Yeah... yeah, I think I'm getting a thought here. Yeah that's definitely a thought. Wait! Now I think I'm getting a plan..." The entire room is staring at me again. "Uh, sorry. But Harry isn't going alone. Especially since there are Death Eaters missing. What if they're with Voldemort? No one can handle 20 Death Eaters all alone, not even you Harry," I add, feeling a bit traitorous. Harry's not going alone. Even if I'm the only on who goes with him. But hopefully I won't be.

Dumbledore's staring at me evenly. "So what do you suggest?"

"Ron, Hermione, Harry, me, you, Mad Eye, and the Gryffindors. That leaves one house, not to mention the rest of the Order, for each unprotected side of the castle. The Death Eaters won't attack from the south side because of the lake."

"What about water-walking charms, or boats?" one of the Aurors suggests.

"No, water-walking charms are draining, and boats too slow or obvious. That's why they won't attack from the south."

"You're still students," Mr. Weasley protests.

I begin to plead a little. "I know we're only seventh years, but we are some of the most powerful wizards on the planet. There are adults who can't accomplish what we have!" I try to subdue myself. Not going to help anything by getting hysterical right? "And it's really just back-up for Harry. So we've nothing to lose and everything to gain."

Mad Eye's the first to speak. "You applied to the Auror academy boy?"

I blush. "Ah, no sir."

"You should." He nods at Dumbledore. "Sounds like a plan to me."

His gaze moves all around the room. "Tonks, you've got the Ravenclaws. Snape, the Slytherins - what's left of them. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the Hufflepuffs. The rest of you divide yourselves up or come with Harry and I."

They're listening to me. Actually listening. I'm in a state of shock and euphoria. But it lasts about two seconds before I remember what's going on.

Ron looks wistfully at his parents. "See you later mum, dad."

They're trying to look confident for him. "Love you Ron." It's kind of eerie. What if that's the last time they say that?

We all march quietly down the stairs, stuck in our own thoughts. There's a large popping sound and Mad Eye shouts, "The shields have broken!"

Things can't get much worse. Gods, Harry, don't leave me now.

We wait in the front Hall while Mad Eye rounds up the Gryffindors. The other houses are filing off into the castle with unusual seriousness. Neville looks pale but determined, and Dean and Seamus are making half-hearted jokes, their arms wrapped around each others shoulders, with Ginny trailing behind them looking nervous. Not that I blame her. Parvati and Lavender just seem surprised that dear old Professor Trelawney didn't manage to predict this. Which, ironically enough, seeing that the Prophecy came from her, she might have after all.

Dumbledore leads our group out of the school and onto the front lawn but Harry winces and clutches his scar, pointing up past the school. "He's up there."

We look to where he's pointing. The top of the hill between the Quidditch Field and the Forbidden Forest. A relatively unused area. Why there?

"Are you sure?"

He nods, wincing. "I see parts of what he's seeing. He's happy... because he knows this is it. This is the Final Battle." He turns to look at us each in turn. "If Hogwarts falls... there will be nothing else to stop him."

My hand reaches for his. It's cold but steady. We start to walk towards the hill; Dumbledore, Mad Eye, and the Gryffindors follow us slowly. Most of us are marching to our death. I see Ron hug 'Mione briefly, and Ginny stare wistfully at Dean. The look that says, 'if we live through this, I'm telling you what you mean to me'. I can only hope she gets the chance.

We march silently up the hill, the silence intense and nerve-racking. I have an urge to run. I think everybody does. This little twinge that shouts, "Maybe you can save yourself." But I know I would never be able to run far enough and fast enough. That's just the way it is.

It's fairly dark tonight, the sun peeking just above the treetops of the Forbidden Forest. It's a clear sky and the stars seem irrationally bright and happy looking. As we come nearer and nearer to the spot, my heart begins to thud loudly. Will my father be there? Or is he one of the cloaked figures below? Is he all ready dead? And my Aunt Bellatrix. She was always high up in Voldemort's circle. She went to Azkaban for her crimes. As much as I hate her there's a small part of me that respects her for it. She never lied about what she was. She never tried to make excuses for the horrible things she'd done. Excuses... are horrible things. It's as if people think words can help whatever's happened. Kind of like apologies. I've never been a big believer I apologies. Some things are just too hateful to be forgiven through words. Dark thoughts for dark times.

The hill isn't terribly tall or steep. We have a decent view of what's happening down below. The Aurors and the Order seem to have organized the students well enough. The west side of the castle isn't doing so hot though. The entire Ravenclaw tower has been completely destroyed.

A group walks slowly out from the forest in the edge of the hill. Not slowly because they're scared. Nope. This is the kind of slow I was good at. The slow that tells everyone I'm the big guy, the head guy, don't mess with me. The bully walk.

We all stop walking simply because Harry has. Technically Dumbledore is our leader but now we've all turned to Harry. The cloaked figures whisper amongst themselves, laughing and chattering.

Do you realize that tonight you might die? I want to scream. Do you realize what you're doing? How many of you have families, how many of your faces would I recognize? How many of you went to Hogwarts? How many eat and sleep and laugh just like I do? What changes a person from us to you?

A single figure walks forward, breaking from the pack, their steps measured and sure. They push their hood back, the movement theatrical and deliberate.

It's gruesome. How is this a face? So pale and bloodshot. The eyes are slits of red with black pupils, gleaming even in the semi-darkness. The mouth and nostrils are slashes in the skin. They look like unsealed wounds, not any I've ever seen. There's no hair on it anywhere. And it radiates intelligence more than anything. It seems cruel and violent and evil but more than anything you can tell it could outsmart you, outthink you. I begin to breathe faster; in, out, in out in out inoutinout... This is Voldemort. This is Voldemort. This is the thing that has terrorized and killed so many. This... thing.

"Harry Potter," it wheezes, the two long slashes moving about. I'm morbidly fascinated. I can't look away from it.

"Tom Riddle," Harry says calmly.

The figure in the cloak hisses. "I rose far above Tom Riddle long ago."

"No," Harry answers simply. "You never really did. You will always be Tom Riddle."

He is not pleased with this answer. "Tom Riddle was the first of many stages. He was inferior. Inadequate. I have changed. Progressed. Evolved."

Harry looks mildly thoughtful. "And yet you still feel inferior. Inadequate. Because underneath all the ceremony and extravagance, underneath all the power and magic you still feel like a Halfblooded orphan from nowhere. You never left Tom Riddle behind. He is the one who made you what you are. You are Tom Riddle."

A strangled sound escapes his lips before he can stop it, but he recovers quickly. "It's nice to know you've thought of me boy. It seems I've haunted your waking hours as well as your dreams. But I always knew you were smart Potter. Possessing you for those brief moments was always interesting as well as rewarding." The slits in his face contort into a semblance of a smile.

"You have become strong Potter. Not stronger than me but certainly stronger than I thought you could. You're quite the accomplished Occlumentist. Strong enough to keep me out except for those horribly vulnerable moments."

"You would know," Harry interjects smoothly. "You've had a few yourself."

An outraged cry spring from the Death Eaters but they are silenced as Voldemort surprisingly enough, begins to laugh. "Very true boy, very true. And you were always so ready to spring upon them. It was luck you never found anything of use." He pauses to look down at the destruction behind us. "Look where all this has gotten us Potter. If you had just died like you were supposed to, none of this would have happened. None of those people would be suffering."

Don't believe a word of it Harry.

"Because a great many would all ready be dead."

That's it, don't believe.

Someone screams then, agonizingly. But Harry remains untouched by it, still as calm and as ready as he was when we first started to talk. If Voldemort had hoped to unease him with this talk, he's not getting anywhere. And I think he knows it.

"Maybe not. But I do know that this time you will die. And as the others die they will think of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the supposed savior of the world who let them down, who let them all down, who just couldn't kill one person and fulfill his destiny, fulfill the prophecy that dictated his whole life. They will scream your name in anguish, Harry Potter, because you could not save them."

There is a moment of tense silence.

"You always were one for pompous speeches," I say caustically, ignoring the gasps that arise. Fuck being polite. We're here to kill each other! I won't have him talk to Harry like that, freaking him out. "And if they curse anyone it's sure to be you."

I scan the group of Death Eaters behind him. "And where is dear old dad? I look forward to fighting him personally. Perhaps Aunt Bellatrix."

Voldemort's gaze shifts to me. "Young Malfoy," he says silkily. "I am surprised to see you here. You always had so much... potential."

My gaze narrows. "Potential for bowing and scraping and being your lapdog? I'd like to think I was a bit better than that."

"So you'd rather be Potter's?" He laughs softly. "Love makes a lapdog out of someone more than fear ever will."

I tense. Something in his words rings true. I can't...

"Draco stands as my equal," Harry declares proudly. "As do all those who fight with me. It is you and all your Death Eaters that are beneath me. Beneath everyone. You're scum." His eyes blaze black and I step back beside him. It starts.

The Final Battle.

"Petrificus Totalis!"

"Crucio!"

"Serlecia!"

"Melismus!"

The spells fly rapidly back and forth, dark and light magic coming from both sides. Some of our side are using the Unforgivables. They're allowed in combat like this.

We haven't paired off yet, haven't even really moved from where we started. Most of the curses are neutralized when they hit others going in the opposite direction. We've formed groups around Voldemort and Harry. By some unspoken rule they are fighting only each other and we aren't going to interfere.

"Stupefy!" Harry rolls out of the way easily. They were warming up to it now, throwing curses and hexes back and forth, testing each other.

"You're a boy playing at hero," Voldemort snarls, his face terrible in the lighting. "You haven't power like mine."

"Oh you're powerful, that's true enough. But how'd you get there? Through Dark Magicks that you all but sold your soul for. Through betrayal. Through bribery and possession and cheating. You don't deserve your power. You don't deserve anything." Harry looks the part of the hero now. Black hair whipping about in the unnatural wind, eyes burning with righteousness.

Voldemort laughs, deeply amused. "Oh, it's just like a Gryffindor to lecture me when I'm about to kill him! Your Gryffindor morals won't help you now."

Harry smiles. And it's a terrible thing. It made a mockery of everything that a smile was. The corners of his mouth turned up and he was amused, oh there was no doubt of that. But you could cower under that smile.

"I know," he says simply, his eyes briefly glowing with green fire. And then things started to become serious.

All those near Harry and Voldemort stop their cursing and hexing and antijinxes and watched as they traded spells back and forth, flashes and beams of multicolored light.

" 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord will not... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...' " Harry intones grimly, the travesty of a smile still placed firmly on his face.

"It's rather funny you know. I never could quite figure out what that 'power' was. The same power that lay beyond the darkest, thickest, strongest, most wonderful and most terrible of the doors in the Department of Mysteries. It's saved me so many times, and yet there isn't quite a word for it. There doesn't need to be. It just matters that it's there."

"And isn't it strange?" he continues. "That the seventh month is dying again?"

The spells were coming faster now, the two of them locked in a desperate dance on which hung the fate of the world. Voldemort is angry, aggressive, and nearly flickering with the power he was giving off. Harry is slower and steadier in comparison. Careful.

"It took me a while to figure out... that that power had nothing to do with anything. Not when it comes right down to it."

Harry. Harry, what are you doing? What could --

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Mercutius!"

Snnnnnap. A harsh crackling sound fills the air, and a cry goes up from all the Death Eaters.

"Priori Incantatem..."

Voldemort's spell had met Harry's in midair. A gold cord tied the two wands together, until a thousand beams shot from it and trapped them inside. A gilded cage in which to die. The Death Eaters had seized their chance and were raising their wands.

"Drustasias!" Dumbledore booms. A large blue shield appears around Harry and Voldemort. Hisses rise up from Voldemort's side. They had lost their shot at him.

"It's all up to Harry now," Ron murmurs.

It was happening again, like the last time the two dueled. Only this time surely, one would die.

Please, God. Please, whoever or whatever calls the shots up there, let this work out ok. Please.

At Hogwarts below the battle still raged. Cries and screams rent what should have been nighttime silence. Fire burned out of control and the smell of blood invaded everything. The stench of burning flesh where the fire had caught up to victims... I wanted to retch. My stomach turned and all I could do was stare as the two greatest sorcerers in the world dueled.

I stare at Harry. The smile was gone and his face was set. He seems... calm. Serene. He had known this was going to happen? He had planned this. Harry had a plan!

After this I'm going to beat him till he cries, I thought resolutely. Or maybe snog him senseless. Perhaps a little of both. I feel the knot in my chest loosen a little. This was going to be all right. This was going to be fine.

A spell whizzes by my ear. Cursing, I cast a quick shielding spell on the people around me, hoping it would reverse any hexes. I can't fight worth shit right now. I send a few curses towards the crowd below but my heart isn't in it. Right now my heart was fighting Voldemort.

I love you, you completely insane asshole so you better not fucking die on me!

"Foolish boy," Voldemort seethes, his red eyes glowing brightly even amongst the beams of light. "This won't last forever. And then what? I kill you."

Harry laughs. He laughs, he actually did.

"He's gone stark raving mad," Alastor gasps. His arm begins to twitch and his magical eye rolls around nervously.

The hand that Harry held his wand in is trembling slightly. "You've certainly become a little less creative with your threats since I last saw you." His left hand slides into his pocket. "And I must say you're very wrong about that. Dead wrong. Because I am going to beat you, at your own game."

Voldemort's eyes narrows. "And what game would that be Harry? Nothing short of a Killing Curse can stop me. And your wand seems to be a bit... useless right now."

God he's smug. Smug and self-righteous and so in control.

Then Harry smirks. My god. That's my smirk. Methinks Harry has something very devious planned because that is the Draco eat-shit-and-die smirk. That's the trademark smirk and by god you better be using it for something good. When did you pick that up anyway?

"A wizard duel is wizard against wizard, wand against wand as well you know. And my wand is a bit useless, true." And Harry whips his hand out of his pocket. "And the game I'm going to beat you at... is your certain disregard for rules." His eyes glint green again. "Because this isn't my wand."

And I watch the understanding dawn in Voldemort's eyes, the comprehension and the fear and a little bit of pride. You did this because of me, he thinks, and he's right. Harry would go against what he is to beat him. It was downright Slytherin. Well-deserving of the smirk.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The second wand in Harry's hand sent out a beam of violent green light, striking Voldemort on the forehead. And at that point several things happened at once.

Alastor Moody fell to the ground, his magical eyeball rolling around fiercely.

Ronald Weasley killed Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hermione Granger took a slash to her side and dropped to the ground, the blood pooling rapidly around her feet.

A great flash of red light engulfed Harry.

And Voldemort was dead.

They would call it the greatest moment in Wizarding History. The defeat of Voldemort at the hands of the people's martyr. Which would have been fine with me really, except to be a martyr means you have to be dead.

It was the wand. The wand that saved him and killed him. He ordered it from Mr. Olivander, asking for a wand nearest to his. The best he could do was to give him one of ash with a completely different phoenix's feather. It was near enough to his to kill Voldemort with, but in the end it was simply too different. It backlashed.

They couldn't save him. A killing curse backfire is like a potent poison entering the blood. Mr. Olivander would tell us helplessly that he'd explained the risk.

"Harry seemed to think it was worth it," he added meekly.

Was it Harry? Was it worth it?

Stupid Gryffindor courage. I hate it. Stupid hero-complex. Stupid Harry who had to die.

The effects of Priori Incantatem dissolved quickly, the light fading quickly into the darkness. The only light came from the moon, which shown brightly down on where Tom Riddle's body lay.

The battle was over. The Death Eaters knew it. We knew it. They could go through the motions of fighting back, but what was the point? Futility.

"Voldemort is dead!" Ron cries, overjoyed and foolishly happy.

Hermione blinks owlishly, clutching her left arm in her right. "We won?"

"We won," I hear Tonks say evenly. "But at what price?" When had she come up onto the hill? Hell, she could have been there the whole time and I wouldn't have known. Metamorphmaguses. Sheesh. What a word, for starters.

I run towards Harry, too happy to be angry, too relieved to be worried overmuch. He sits up to look at me, blood running down his face in little rivets.

"Hey there," he croaks.

"Hey yourself." You're alive! You're bloody fucking alive! You killed Voldemort and you saved all our asses. You are the most powerful wizard in the world.

"God I love you." I lean down to kiss him quickly, earnestly. "I love you."

He leans forward, slumping onto me. "I love you Draco." He lifts his head to look at me. "You'll never forget that right?"

I dimly hear the shouts and cries behind me. I feel the gentle tickling of beneficial spells being thrown over us. I hear cries of "Plysis" and other spells I've never heard of. I hear someone yell, "It's not working!" The Weasley girl?

A little redness trickles from the corner of Harry's mouth. I wipe it away, unconcerned. He watches as I look down at my fingers, not really understanding what I'm looking at.

"He's dead. 'Neither can live when the other survives.' So... He's dead. And your not supposed to be." I sound like a bewildered child that doesn't understand where the sun goes when it sets. I hear crying. Quiet weeping and loud sobbing and high-pitched wails.

Reaching up to brush my hair out of my eyes a bit, his hand shakes. "I'm not dead, ma chrisha. Not yet." He sees the devastation in my eyes. "He lived for all the wrong reasons Draco. Hate. Hatred for others, and himself. When he died... he wanted it. A part of him." His breathing is labored. His face blurs, shimmering and breaking in crystalline patterns.

I blink. My last memory of him will not be this hazy picture of his face. The tears roll down my face and I hold him tightly against me, wishing against wish that I could stop this. He talks to me; his words growing slowly quieter and raspier. I kiss him. Our last kiss. Our last words. Suddenly so many memories have become 'the last'.

Harry isn't here anymore. There's no more DraconHarry. No more HarrynDraco. It's gone. He's gone. And so is our happy ending. All that's left is the scent of death and the ashes floating in the wind.

This is where the story ends. With Harry Potter lying still and cold in my arms. The Boy Who Lived Who Finally Died. Irony. It's a great thing really. More like the Boy Who Lived Who Finally Died When He Finally Had Something To Live For. It is a little long I suppose. But clearly true. Cruelly true.

For about two minutes there I thought about picking up my wand where I'd dropped it. Using Avada Kedavra on myself. I loved him more than I loved life right then. Suicide. But stupid Potter can't let me do anything right, can he? Bloody stupid last words. "Anyone can do death Draco, but not everyone can live. Living is for the strong. You and me, we were strong."

And I'm still strong damn it. I'm still strong.