There would be rejoicing later for Ginny but she wasn't ready for it yet. Blaise ran up to her, eyes full of worry and anxiety, but she couldn't do more than stare at him. She could hardly believe the torment was over. But would it be over? Would she ever get over it? What Harry had put her through?
She melted into Blaise's arms naturally, and rested there, squeezing her eyes shut against the world. She was so small in his arms and for the first time she felt safe again.
"Ginny…" He was kissing her neck almost feverishly, and there were tears in his dark eyes. "I thought you were dead…I thought he'd killed you…."
Ginny was alive, but only just.
"What happened?" he cried.
Ginny stepped away from him, scared and white, and then took the knife from her pocket. It was clearly visible – there was blood on it. She stared at it almost blindly and then gave it to him. She watched him take it and then watched his face drop as the realisation kicked in.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry you had to do that, Gin."
She stared at him as he took her in his arms.
"Do you still love me?" she asked in a tiny voice.
There was no hesitation.
"Always."
She relaxed for the first time, her head against her chest. The shame and guilt and fear and exhaustion eased slightly, and all she could pray for now was that Blaise would never have let go of her again.
The gravestone read simply: Harry Potter.
Nobody would ever know Harry was buried here, in this Muggle cemetery. It was a private place, small and peaceful. Harry had no links to the village that over looked it, so nobody would guess. Hermione's grandmother was buried a couple of rows up.
Ron stood beside her now, and they both stared at the stone, hoping for answers it would never give them.
"Were you talking to Ginny?" Hermione asked him.
Ron looked up as if he was surprised to see she was there. "Yes," he said in a painful sort of voice. "She's okay. She hasn't stopped shaking though, and I hear her crying in her sleep almost every night. What did he do to her, Hermione? How could he…?" Ron broke off and looked away from her into the bright sky.
"He raped her, Ron," she told him nervously. "And h-he made her watch Luna die."
"Why Ginny though? Why do that to Ginny? I was there in that dungeon, Hermione, and I suffered - but physically, not like that…I mean, it's Ginny!"
"Maybe it's because he knew she loved him." Her voice was gentle.
Ron's voice was not gentle. "Well, that's stupid, because he knew how much we loved him too! Yeah, Ginny fancied Harry, but she wasn't one of his best friends! He knew how much you and I cared for him as well." Ron looked away again, when the emotion started spilling from his eyes. "Didn't he?"
"Maybe he just wanted to hurt the people that he knew loved him," she said, looking back at the name. "And he knew the way to hurt you the most was to hurt the people you loved."
There was silence except for the odd sounds of the outside world echoing around them.
Ron was the first to break it. "I don't understand it. How could things get so messed up?"
"I don't know," she answered truthfully.
"I don't get it. I mean, when I look at that grave, I'm sad, Hermione. Even after everything he's done, I feel I need to mourn for him!"
"Look at that grave and think of Harry Potter," she whispered intensely. "I do. I don't think of all that happened. I think of that goofy looking eleven-year-old boy with those brilliant eyes and kind heart, who never had a bad word to say about anyone and who was our best friend. Think of Harry, and be sad…"
"I just wish it were that simple," Ron breathed.
She did too. Because Harry's memory would always be tainted now. The old Harry would never be remembered by the world. That was why Harry's grave was buried out here, after all. So nobody would trash it.
"Life isn't simple," she replied after a moment of contemplation.
More silence followed until Ron broke it again.
"Have you given up yet?"
She didn't really want to answer. "No."
"Why do you even care about him?" he asked now, but there was a lack of fire in his voice.
"You'd never understand."
Ron considered her for a moment. Before, he would have argued and insisted for answers…but now…
"Will you be able to do it?"
"I have help," she told him.
Severus Snape was not a pleasant man to work with, but his attitude towards her had softened somewhat. She kept watch on him warily, but he didn't sneer even when she made some minor mistakes concerning the Potion.
"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" he asked her, after a moment. "You look tired."
"I'll survive, Professor Snape," she said, smiling grimly. "I haven't been sleeping well, is all."
"Understandable."
There was more silence.
"Professor Snape, why are you-" she began to ask.
"Please, Miss Granger. I appreciate you have a very curious mind and I have indeed been expecting this question, but could we leave it until another day, perhaps? One when both of us are not so exhausted?"
She nodded, but knew he'd probably never tell her why he was helping her to make this potion that would hopefully help her restore Draco's soul.
The Potion was finished, and it had barely been a week since Draco had been brought to the castle. He was staying in the old Ravenclaw tower temporarily. It was the safest place for him now; the old magic from Dumbledore would keep him in check for the mean time. Nobody was really sure what to do with Draco's useless body. Azkaban had been burnt down only the year before, and he was of no threat now as he was merely a lifeless doll.
They wouldn't let Hermione see him. She didn't try more than once, she didn't want for them to be too suspicious of her.
"I said I'd answer your question," Snape said now, voice reaching her just before she'd stepped out of the threshold out of his office with the vial in hand.
"Yes?" she prompted, back still turned to him.
"I did this because Draco was so much like his father, before Lucius turned bad. I've tried twice now to stop a Malfoy from turning into his father…but I've failed both times."
Hermione whirled around. "He's not his father!" she cried. "Despite everything, Draco's human! He isn't like that snake, Lucius! He isn't!"
Snape watched her with sadly deriding eyes that glinted in the flame of his candle. "You love him, don't you?" he whispered silkily.
"How can you love someone that's hurt so many people?" she asked, perhaps more to herself.
"The same way we love someone who has hurt nobody."
She stared at him, then stood and turned the doorknob. "Goodbye, Professor Snape."
"You know what you must do," he said in way of goodbye and only when he knew she was gone did he breathe, "Good luck."
She spent the next three hours trying to smile. Nervousness clawed at her but she had this all immaculately planned. She was in as public a place as possible – a press conference. Although she didn't say much (McGonagall did most the talking), she pulled all the right faces: grim, brave, determined, and sad. It all felt like a play. Ron and Ginny sat beside her, the three defeaters of the two Dark Lords, and Hermione knew that there was nobody except the regular guard and Draco in the castle.
Three hours later, Hermione slipped out to go to the bathroom. She checked herself in the mirror subconsciously, taking in deep breaths and wiping the sweat from her forehead. She couldn't quite believe she was going to do this.
She was wearing an expensive black robe, sent to her by one of her "admirers." She was, after all, one of the three who'd saved the Wizarding World. Most of the robes she'd received were terribly over-dramatic with bold Gryffindor colours or, to Hermione's dull dismay, many, many sizes too big. The black looked good on her and her hair was tame again. She'd had to portray herself to the World as someone strong and moving on. It was all a lie. She didn't feel strong at all, and she certainly hadn't moved on.
Hermione walked into the cubicle, and fingered the gold chain around her neck. Her time turner.
She turned it three hours back, and began what she hoped would be her last big adventure.
She held the black scarf over her head and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. She watched her past self appear and sit down, and then slowly crept towards the door. Nobody noticed her. Between all the cameras' flashes and admiring fans, she exited insignificantly and began her descent towards Hogwarts School.
She ran most of the way. Hermione wasn't very fit but adrenaline pushed her on. She arrived, clutching a stitch in her side and gasping, but didn't hesitate to continue onward, into the school and to the tower. The guard was knocked out before he had even time to blink and she unlocked the door simply with her wand.
This was the easy part.
He was sitting against the wall, staring emptily in front of him. He hadn't been showered or changed. He wore the same clothes that he'd worn when she'd brought him to the castle. His hair was flat and slick on his head, skin irritated and red, and he didn't look like a proud Malfoy, but a pitiable war prisoner. Seeing someone who was usually so well-groomed like this made her sick. She edged towards him, but knew he was blind and deaf and dead to the world around him, and it was all her fault.
She was here to try and make things better, or so she told herself.
She felt an urge to talk to him but knew that logically there would be no point. The silence was deafening as she put one arm around him and hauled him up. He moved easily with her, like a dummy. If she tugged his body one-way, his body went that way. Awkwardly but without too much strain, she led him down to the Entrance hall. Then, gathering herself, she pushed them both through the huge oak doors to meet with the cold darkness.
She stood there with the cold wind blowing in her face, with one arm leading Draco, and mentally prepared herself.
She'd only performed this spell once before. She hoped it would work this time again.
"Dementia!"
What was not very well known (but which Hermione had thorough knowledge of) was the fact that Dementors are connected to each other. Linked. There isn't one Dementor, instead there's one being that can manifest themselves into many forms. There's no way to kill a Dementor – they don't have substance to kill. Unless one gives them some.
The Dementor appeared, and she didn't raise her wand, but the potion instead. Making sure her body shielded Draco, she threw it over the Dementor, where it seemed to hiss.
A horrible thought plagued her suddenly – what if this didn't work? The possibility had never really occurred to her properly before, as she'd just focused on making it become a reality. But…what if it didn't? What if, after everything, Draco's soul was still lost and she would always know it had been her fault?
The Dementor changed before her eyes. The large robe was still the same, and the frame. But it was no longer a Dementor. It was a human. And humans could be killed.
She advanced on it, and there was a knife in her trembling hand. She didn't want to kill anything…but she would. She was able to now. She was able to do lots of things she hadn't thought herself capable of.
It was harder than she'd thought. Hermione had to stab a couple of times, and the creature kept getting away. Merciless, she punctured its skin until it was on the very brink of death.
She held her wand to its throat now as it heaved painfully.
Draco was not far. She didn't take the wand away but tugged at Draco and he moved towards the tug aimlessly. She put her hand to the back of his head and put Draco's mouth to the strange human-creature-thing's mouth.
"Retrorsum!"
And that was all it took. One simple reversal spell. She knew instinctively it had worked. She imagined she could see the little orb form and transfer from mouth to mouth but she knew that was impossible – a soul wasn't something a mere teenage girl could see.
She heard the Dementor take its last human breath and die. The world seemed dizzy and unreal all of a sudden, and she fell to her knees just as she saw Draco Malfoy's head jerk up of its own accord.
Two grey, conflicting eyes met hers, and she fainted.
She woke up suddenly, and found herself in the Entrance hall. She was on the second-last step. Draco Malfoy was kneeling above her.
"Why?" He didn't ask whether she was all right, or whether everything had turned out okay, or if Harry was alive. Just one word.
"Why what?" She sat up and he leaned back to give her space, but his eyes never left her.
"Why did you give me my soul back? I deserved it, you know I did…the peace was welcoming. There I could forget all that I'd done…" He looked so haunted.
Irrationality rose in her chest and she slapped him. "Don't talk like that…" Her voice was shrill.
"You were happier with me gone." The blood had risen on his cheek from where she'd slapped him. His eyes bore into hers for answers, but how could she answer them when she wasn't even sure of the questions?
"No I wasn't!" Her voice was so high-pitched and she realised she was hiccupping and large trails of tears were flooding her face. Her throat felt constricted.
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them a minute later something had changed. The haunted and angry look was gone. He lifted his hand to wipe the tears from her face. Now all there was in his eyes was sadness.
"I never told you just how sorry I was…how sorry I am…"
"There isn't time. You have to go. They'll be back soon, and I have to get back to meet them."
"No, there's something I have to say. I've done some really bad things in my life, Hermione. I've never been a nice person. I bullied first years. I did as my father told me, without argument. I cheated at cards. I snuck in fire whiskey to the Common Room. I broke almost every rule in Hogwarts. I hurt girls, broke their hearts, just because I knew I was able to. I teased Pansy so much she tried to commit suicide, only Blaise found her in time.
"Then this Dark Lord thing came up. You have to understand. I didn't want to, at first. Voldemort had always taken a preference to me. He had big plans for me: I was to be his heir. My destiny was sealed, and I was too much of a wimp to fight it. I knew the advantages of power and, when I saw you on the train looking as good and different as you did, I knew I wanted you and I knew I would be able to have you soon. I knew Potter was to be kidnapped and I was delighted."
"Draco, none of this matters," she insisted, anxious. What would happen if she never returned from that cubicle? What would everyone think?
"It does, Hermione. Potter was kidnapped, and I was guarding him nightly. He begged me to let him free but when it was apparent that I was to do no such thing, he begged me to make sure you'd be okay. He begged me to make sure Voldemort never got his hands on you. He made me swear – and I did. This was before Voldemort had started.
"Harry was only with Voldemort for a week, right? Do you know what he did to Harry, to make him the way he was? The torture…he used to cry out your name so many times. He held on longer than anyone I've ever seen. He didn't give in for a long time, considering Voldemort's past victims. A day before I took you to him was the day Harry finally lost all that he believed in. I can't explain what Voldemort did to him but I know he watched everyone he loved die over and over again. He was brainwashed and…"
Draco swallowed, then continued.
"He did love you. When he was just damn good, pure Potter."
Hermione couldn't speak through her tears.
"I realised I loved you after, of course. I only wanted you at the start, mainly because Potter wanted you and you were looking so pretty. I was fascinated by your belly bar!" She laughed weakly. "But the love crept up so slowly I didn't even know it until my mother – interfering as she is – pointed it out to me."
There was silence and then he raised a hand to her cheek and wiped another tear away, looking at her as if entranced. "I never wanted you to get hurt."
"I know."
"I just wish there was some way you could forgive me."
"It's not that easy," she said shakily. "It'll never be that easy, will it? You killed, Draco. You've caused so many people I love so much pain."
He broke eye contact with her for the first time. "I can't tell you how ashamed I am of that now. It's like you gave me eyes, Granger. Before, it was like I was just wandering around blind. But now I can see all the colours, but so many it's painful…"
"You have to go, Draco!" she pleaded now. "Please!"
"Where do I go? Where do I have left to go?"
It was a good question, but she had thought about it a lot and knew the answer. "You have to go and change some of what you did. You have to – find forgiveness. You have to, in some way, forgive yourself."
"I have to prove myself," he re-defined.
"Yes," she answered, and there was no uncertainty in her tone now. She knew what had to be done, despite any unwilling sacrifices they both had to make.
"I never even got to kiss you," he told her.
"There isn't time!"
He wasn't listening. He kissed her, anyway. It was both desperate and gentle. A terrible tenderness, and she reached the terrible conclusion that they both loved each other but that it would never work. She was in love with him, it was so clear now. Because, despite everything, she could see something under the coldness that nobody else did. But he'd have to change, and she wasn't completely sure that he would be able to do it.
She realised he was crying as hardily as she was.
"I'll always be on the run," he murmured, even when the kiss had not quite ended.
"I know."
"Run with me?"
She hoped he was joking, because he must know her well enough now to know that she would never leave her life behind. How would Ron ever understand? What about her parents? How could she forgive herself if she just ran off thoughtlessly? He needed to change too, before she would ever be able to love him properly, or so she told herself. But Snape's words echoed in her ears: The same way we love someone who has hurt nobody. Was love really so much stronger than things like that? Could love really survive through all this darkness? And, if so, had she completely underestimated it?
Hermione felt like her head was whirling. She didn't understand anything.
"I'll come back," he told her now, breaking the kiss finally. "I'll come back for you. I will never forget you. I think I'll always love you. Despite everything, Hermione, I'm so grateful for all that I've learned from you, all that you've shown me…"
She began crying again as he stood up. He seemed to be fighting an inner battle, as if he couldn't drag his eyes off of her.
"Go," she pleaded, even though all she wanted to do was beg him to stay.
He turned his back. Hesitated. And then took one step. Looked back. Then took another one. And then he began walking, and her heart felt like it was breaking at every step.
And then he was gone, and she was left in the suddenly huge Entrance hall, alone.
She arrived back and opened the cubicle just to see her past self disappear. She spent the few minutes rearranging herself, washing her face and brushing her hair. She thought of nothing as she washed the tears away except for the fact that she was glad she didn't wear mascara or a mess would have been inevitable.
Taking a few deep breaths, she returned to the press conference, and tried to smile again.
"Hermione," Ron hissed, and gestured at his neck.
She looked down. Her time turner was sticking out. Cheeks reddening, she hastily tucked it in.
When they'd get home, they'd find the unconscious guard and a missing Malfoy. Rumours would fly, but no press would ever publish a rumour about Hermione being involved. After all, she was with them when it happened, and she was one of the defeaters of the two Dark Lords.
"It's weird, going home, isn't it?" she asked him idly, eyes grazing the grave for the last time until next September, when she and Ron would no doubt visit it weekly.
"This year felt like a lifetime," Ron replied. "Everything's changed, hasn't it?"
"No Dark Lords!" She smiled. "At least until next year!"
"But no Harry either," Ron said on a more sombre note.
"Everything's changed, really."
"And, surprisingly, your hair has managed to stay tame most of the time," Ron said, returning to good humour. It was their last day together until next September, after all.
"And there's the whole Blaise/Ginny relationship, which I frankly never saw coming!" she exclaimed.
"He's mad about her, actually. And she's mad about him. They're…nice together. He makes her smile again." Ron frowned while saying the words.
"You're okay with your little sister going out with a Slytherin?" she shouted in mock surprise.
"Well," he frowned again as if trying to formulate the words, "we've all grown up now, aren't we? You can't just judge people on what house they're in or who they're friends with or who their parents are, can you? You have to judge them on something deeper than that, don't you?"
She looked at him in real surprise this time. "You really have grown up, Ron."
"We all had to, didn't we?" Ron said sadly. Hermione couldn't find the right reply, so he continued, "C'mon, let's go. It's getting cold, and you know how McGonagall is about us staying away from the castle for too long."
She didn't want to go, not yet. "Harry was tortured, Ron. Really badly. He didn't want to give in. He tried not to. He didn't just go to the Dark Side. Voldemort tortured him so badly that he wasn't really even human at the end. He didn't do it out of choice."
"Of course," Ron said, and Hermione was shocked to see he was smiling. "Of course that was how Harry went out, Hermione. I can't believe you'd think any differently."
Hermione was supposed to be the clever, intelligent one, but at that moment, she saw just how stupid she really was.
"Granger! Granger! How are ya? Listen, I'm so glad you're back! It's been so borin' around here without ya!" Phil's eager shining face came into view as she stepped out of her parents' car.
"Hello Phil," she said. She'd forgotten all about her first boyfriend whom Draco had made her dump in such an unpleasant way but who had obviously forgiven her for it. It seemed like a different lifetime, when she'd spent mornings cycling along beside Phil at six in the morning as he did his paper round. So much had happened.
She wasn't the same person.
"Listen, I know there was all that rubbish between us when ya went to school, but I was thinkin' we could have a kinda free relationship. I mean, if ya want to finish it before ya go back to school, that's fine. I just really wanna start spending' time with ya again, Granger. I miss ya!"
But what would be the point? What feelings could she have for short (had he always been so much shorter than her?), excitable Phil, when she knew that Malfoy was out there proving himself for her? Things were too intense and too complicated, and Hermione just needed to be on her own for a while, to sort her own feelings out.
"I'm sorry, Phil. I can't explain, but…things have changed. I've changed."
"Me too!" he said, and she remembered instantly how he never gave into anything without a fight. "I got a new job! No more morning cycles, unless ya want to!"
"I got to go," she said, smiling kindly. "I got to unpack."
"But can't we…?"
"I have lots of studying to do," she told him. "It's my exams next year, and I've really fallen behind this year. I'm sorry, Phil."
And so she walked away and left him blinking after her.
Hermione stood in front of the mirror.
She had changed a lot over this year. She appreciated her parents more. When she saw her dad's balding head through the crowd, she'd wanted to scream with delight. When she'd seen her mum there in her old fashioned clothes and a smile, ready to greet her daughter, she'd ran up and threw herself into a hug. Her parents didn't quite understand her attitude (she was always quite grouchy when she got back from Hogwarts) but they were thrilled. They always were when they got their little girl back for a few weeks.
She'd changed so much that she hardly recognised herself. But she recognised the strength in the girl's eyes, and the determination. Because Hermione would live her life. She knew that life would move on. She wouldn't let any past events bother her, and she wouldn't sink into depression. She couldn't afford to anyway, she hadn't been lying to Phil when she said she had study to do for her NEWTs. She didn't even know what career she wanted to pursue yet or anything, and Hermione hated being unprepared.
She lifted up her top and saw her belly bar protruding from her belly button. It suddenly seemed tacky and old. It used to be a symbol of her rebellion in the fifth year summer, a sign to herself that she was more than just a know-it-all bookworm. But she didn't need an earring in her belly to tell her this anymore. She knew more than an earring could ever tell her. She felt too old to have such a thing, and too much had happened with it in. Perhaps it was cursed. Maybe it brought trouble to her. But then, it had brought Draco to her (for he'd been "fascinated" by it) but after all, Draco was the perfect definition of trouble.
Hermione stared at it for another minute, and then slid it out and placed it on her dresser.
Maybe she'd put it back in the morning. Or maybe let it close. She wasn't sure.
She knew, either way, that she would be okay.
Maybe Draco would never come back, maybe he'd find a girl who it wasn't so complicated to love, and live happily ever after, and Hermione would be happy and moved on and maybe marry a man perfect for her, one who read the same books as she did and worried as much. Or maybe Draco would come back, and he'd be a changed man and they'd run off together, to a private place where they'd never be disturbed again and live happily ever after together.
She knew, either way, that she, Hermione Granger, would be okay, and happy.
And that's the end of Deal With The Devil! Thanks so much to Jamie (Ptrst) who beta read these last two chapters for with perfection! What a legend!
Also, thanks to:
Seghen, Pink-Pantheress-Princess, Magical Flame, Green pea soup, Lisi, pHaToM-ChIcK, Unspeakable Mae, and I'll never tell (whose review I received this morning!)
Thanks for everyone's help with this story. Some stories come naturally, and some are just that bit more difficult to write. This story started 05-11-03, so that's like nearly two years! But I'm so glad I got to finish it! I'm still a bit unhappy with the few of the earlier chapters, so I might go back and have a look at them, but this story is OFFICIALLY finished! Yay!
What did you think? Please, please, please review!
Now that I have this and Vulgarities Of Life (recently re-titled Insanity of Life out of the way, I can focus on my other stories! Three's near its end too, I think!