"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," said Blaise, his head floating in the Malfoy Manor fireplace. Lucius Malfoy looked at the disembodied head in surprise.

"Good evening to you, Blaise. To what to I owe this unexpected visit?" asked Lucius.

"It's about Draco, sir, I-"

Lucius cut him off. "Ahhhh, of course. I see you have heard about my son's stunning accomplishment. That mudblood is a spitfire, but Draco managed to capture her. Finally that know-it-all will be put to silence once and for all."

Lucius chuckled and Blaise forced a small laugh with his practiced cruel expression.

"We can only hope. I would enjoy hearing her screams of pain when she is tortured," said Blaise.

"Floo to this fireplace tonight and I promise you will hear her shrieking. Draco is presenting her to the Dark Lord as a present to get his good graces. Youths are not supposed to come, but I think as the host, I can allow you to be present. Do you have the proper robes?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. It is an honor to be invited to this ceremony by such an esteemed follower. I am humbled," said Blaise, "What time shall I arrive?"

"Midnight"

"I would rather, er, surprise Draco with my presence tonight," said Blaise, praying that Lucius would go along with it.

"All right, then, a surprise it will be. I'm sure Draco will be pleased by your visit tonight" replied Lucius.

"I agree," said Blaise with smallest hint of a smirk playing on his face.

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"Trust me, Weasley, you should stay out of this," Blaise told a beet-red Ron.

"She's my best friend. I…I love her. I need to help rescue her from Malfoy," said Ron desperately. The uncertain tone of his voice gave away his doubt in his abilities to pull of the rescue.

"I know you love her, Ron, and I don't blame you. If I don't make it through tonight, I want you to take care of Hermione for me. She really does deserve to be happy and if you hurt her I will come back from the dead and haunt you," said Blaise.

"I'll do that for you. But you're not going to die tonight, I know it. You're not done here, there'll be a war to fight and you'll be on our side," said Ron.

"Sure thing," Blaise replied simply, not believing himself..

"Why don't we call on the Order of the Phoenix to help you?" asked Ron, his face brightening, "we know where a lot of Death Eaters will be and You-Know-Who as well. It could be an ambush!"

Blaise shook his head. "Lucius only expects me to floo in. He'll have someone watching the network. If a whole lot of floos are coming to the same fire place at an unscheduled time, the Death Eaters won't be surprised. They also have Hermione as a hostage and it could put her in more danger."

"All right, then. I guess…well…good luck, then," said Ron, holding out his hand.

"Thanks," said Blaise, taking his hand. "I think I'll be needing it."

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Blaise shuffled discretely among the crowd of black-robed men, trying to get closer to the cleared circle. After much gentle but persistent jostling, he finally reached the clearing and gasped inwardly. It was all he could do to keep from running forward.

Hermione lay in the middle of the clearing on the shiny wooden floor, her arms and legs splayed out awkwardly, her body bruised and bloody.

Then she began to moan and twitch and sob. Blaise knew the sight well; it was the Cruciatus Curse. She stopped once more and a voice rang out over Hermione's soft whimpering.

"This is the beginning of the end, my friends," spoke the familiar, high, cold voice. Blaise scoffed to himself. As if the Dark Lord ever had any friends.

"Tonight we possess the ultimate weapon against Harry Potter. The weapon that his side has claimed to have since the beginning: love." Voldemort spit the word out with childish mockery. The Death Eaters sniggered. "And now, we will use it against them…with her."

Hermione, in a brave attempt to rise, propped herself up on her elbows.

"I will not be used," she spat. The Death Eaters all broke out into raucous laughter at this, but abruptly stopped as Voldemort entered the clearing. Blaise gently shifted his way through the crowd until he was less than ten feet away from Voldemort at the edge of the crowd.

Blaise's heart felt like it would pound out of his chest. He knew his death would not be abrupt, but it would be worth it…for her.

The portkey would activate any second now and it would begin.

Hermione's eyes scanned the crowd of Death Eaters with accusation and pleading. Somehow, her eyes met with Blaise's and although he was sure his face was shadowed beyond recognition to the Death Eaters, Hermione's position on the floor gave her view of his features.

Without making any large movements, Blaise looked at her meaningfully and nodded ever so slightly. She took a deep breath and, with difficulty, she managed to look away. If all went well, that brief two seconds would be their goodbye.

Voldemort began speaking again, talking of Draco's "momentous accomplishment" and how all Death Eaters should strive to be so ambitious.

"Now," he cried. "Who would like to have their fun with her?"

"I, Goyle, would like to have a go at her," the body behind Blaise shouted.

"Come forward, Goyle," beckoned Voldemort.

Acting quickly, Blaise shot a full body bind at Goyle and stepped forward into the clearing. Hermione did her part acting by flinching away as he approached.

"No fatal damage, please. We'll be needing her," spoke the cold, high voice.

Blaise nodded, hoping the cloak was still shadowing his identity. His stomach churned uncomfortably as the weight of the situation pressed itself on him in its entirety.

"We may as well enjoy this success physically now," cut in a familiar, drawling voice. "After I kill Dumbledore, I doubt there will be much fun with him."

Hearing the other Death Eaters sniggering, Blaise shook slightly with laughter despite his horror. So this was Malfoy's plan?

Swiftly, he crouched down and straddled Hermione, who whimpered appropriately.

"Please," she sobbed loudly. "Please don't."

The Death Eaters laughed in mockery. Blaise could not bring myself to chuckle along with them this time.

He was focused.

He leaned his torso in close to hers and started unbuttoning her shirt as he began to kiss her neck near her ear.

"I'm going to slip you a portkey," he whispered. "It will take you to the Weasleys' house. Ron is expecting you. He'll take care of you, Hermione, I want that. I want you to love Ron."

"What about you?" she breathed as Blaise began to touch her roughly. She let out another sob for effect.

"They'll know I was here by the floo records. I have to stay. They'll know either way that it was me."

He saw brief confusion flash across her face. She had thought Blaise was going to escape.

"I'm staying,"

Her next sob was very real. He hiked up her skirt.

"I love you," she breathed as he captured her lips with mine in a rough kiss that clashed oddly with the moment.

"And I love you."

"Good bye."

It was lewd, but Blaise pushed the lipstick tube portkey up into her panties.

He checked the clock. It was time.

He held held position over her but took his weight off.

And then she was gone.

Every sound of outrage that can be made filled Blaise's ears. Fear and dread consumed him, with only Hermione's safety keeping him sane.

She was safe. She would have a long, happy life.

Good would prevail.

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Hermione landed roughly on the lawn in front of the Burrow with her shirt flapping open in the wind and every muscle screaming with pain.

It was nothing compared with how she felt inside.

"I want that. I want you to love Ron," he had said.

He was letting her go. He wanted her to move on, to accept Ron as the alternative.

She couldn't think about Ron now, though. She felt shaky, like she was about to burst with anger or sadness or guilt or...something, but just when she seemed about ready, there was nothing there except emptiness and disbelief.

Hermione later found out that this was called shock.

A mere two seconds of this contemplation had passed when the front door burst open and the Weasleys all came running towards her with Ron leading the sea of red hair.

He was at her side in an instant, cradling her in his arms.

"How badly are you hurt?" he asked, a crazed fear in his eyes.

I'll never heal, she wanted to say. Instead, she answered the question that he had asked. The question about her body.

"Nothing permanent," she mumbled.

As she looked into Ron's eyes, at his concern and caring, Hermione realized that she would love Ron, that she wouldn't push him away. It was what Blaise had wanted; her happiness would make his sacrifice worth while.

She would not let him die in vain.

Love would prevail.

A/N: thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story despite the fact that I have been lazy about this last chapter. As a parting gift, one last review? Please? Thanks, guys!

Abigail