Knives Out

Again Harry found himself in the dark entryway to the church standing before a lidless messiah, staring blankly at him. Only this time he wasn't to be seen, nor was he alone. Under the cover of his Invisibility Cloak and standing adjacent to Snape, he tried to remain as still as he could in the windless alcove, afraid that any superfluous rustle of fabric would give him away.

The stiff Christ-head turned with a long, hollow creak, turning back and forth to peer around where Snape stood; its face a portrait of benevolent blankness as it fell back into place.

"Severussss," it hissed. "Sssso lovely to sssseeeee you."

From his position, Harry couldn't see Snape's expression through the curtain of black hair that left only the tip of his nose visible.

"Let me in."

"Oooooof courssssse," it replied, rasping like an asthmatic old hag.

There was a strange grinding noise followed by what sounded like the chorus of a thousand crystal glasses being struck. Then the tall oak doors of the church opened to a near-dark vestibule with select torches lit-- just enough to cut the tenebrous gloom.

It was good that Harry had tucked in close behind Snape, as the doors slammed shut immediately after he'd entered. After a moment, Harry's eyes adjusted. Snape's must have worked faster as he was a fair few paces ahead of Harry, rounding the corner into the main church area. Harry repressed the urge to shout for Snape to slow down and instead tried to move as quickly and silently as he could.

Once around the corner in a side aisle, he could see a bright light emanating from the area behind the stage, where the priests usually came from. Snape was heading towards it at a good clip, but Harry started to slow, feeling a sick sense of deja vu that took him back to fourth year. Not him, but an older man heading towards he knew not what only to be confronted with a flash of green.

"Severus!"

The voice was startled and plaintive and highly recognizable. Draco! Draco was there, and Harry only had to get to him.

"Draco, what is going--"

Snape had only gotten those words out when he was greeted by a flash of orange that threw him back against the pews and into a heap of unconsciousness.

"What did you do, you fool? We need him to make the potions!" a voice that worked hard to sound masculine drawled.

There was another flash of color and Harry heard the hollow thud of a head hitting stone floor. Harry prayed it wasn't Draco as he pressed against the wall and started to inch forward, holding his breath to keep from making noise in the sanctuary. In spite of his best attempts, every breath sounded maddeningly loud, but only because the dead silence was frightening him.

"Is he dead?"

Draco's voice. Harry thanked whatever gods might be listening that he had not met his end.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" the low voice grumbled.

There was the sound of a chair creaking and sliding against stone, and then Draco grunted.

"Doesn't matter, Harry will get in. He'll find me."

The words heartened Harry and he regrouped and tip-toed further along the wall to the bright doorway. He paused in front of Snape, who appeared to be breathing, but in the dark it was hard to tell. If he was alive, his leg was definitely broken, as it poked out at a wrong angle, and his left shoulder appeared dislocated.

Footsteps echoed from the adjoining room.

"What you and Potter do is disgusting."

Draco sounded tired. "Then don't watch."

"It's unnatural."

"I can assure you that it's a completely organic interaction. Along with some other 'o' words that if you were a bit more acquainted with, you likely wouldn't care what I do with Potter."

After a long silence with more impatient and irregular footsteps, there was a loud smack and the chair creaked again and skidded against the stone.

"A heretic's tongue is blessed by Satan. You believe yourself witty, but you are not. You are a filthy, vile corruptor"

"Blessed by Satan, am I? Yet, I'm the one tied to the chair being tortured while you prance around like a minge. I'm pretty sure the Prince of Darkness could do better for a minion, but then, if you're all God is sending out..."

Harry closed his eyes, anticipating the next harsh meaty sound of a slap that came with surprising swiftness. Historically Draco never knew when to keep his mouth shut. Harry had hoped he would've grown out of it, but it would seem that he hadn't.

"Silly ickle Draco, you have no idea what you're talking about, no clue as to the powers that you are dealing with."

Footsteps echoed again, stalking around Draco. Harry inched further down the wall, wanting to get closer, needing to see for himself. The voice was masculine and familiar, but off in some way he couldn't place.

"I don't think you have any idea what you're dealing with either. Christ, antichrist, do you really think you-- with your congregation of the dead-- are on the right side?"

"I'm on the side of good, on the side of God and miracles. Please, Draco, you along with every true pureblood knows of the divinity by which we are blessed with magic. We are God's people, a miraculous people. Those with magic are made in His image, are reflections of His glory and His power. These silly Muggles read the books, but they do not comprehend. They do not understand that when hands are laid on the sick and they are healed it is because we do it; those with the magic."

"Thou shalt not kill; I don't think it can be any plainer," Draco replied.

Harry peeked around the doorframe and saw Draco for the first time, his face mottled with bruising and scattered blood. His lazy eye was disturbingly turned towards Harry and he ducked back before remembering that he was invisible, or should be.

"These murders are to glorify his name; they are to bring him back. We will pile the sinning souls to heaven to bring him back and he will use their broken soulless bodies as stair steps to Earth and then he will continue on with his noble work."

Harry crept around to peek again, wondering if it was possible that this lunatic had taken "Stairway to Heaven" literally. This time the man was facing the door-- Lucius Malfoy, but it wasn't. It couldn't have been. Lucius Malfoy was Kissed and finishing out his years in Azkaban. There was no coming back from that.

"That's not how Jesus is returning, I don't care how you twist scripture."

Lucius laughed, his head thrown back in a pious cackle. "Oh sweet ickle boy, is that really what you think this has all been about? Proverbs and stories you tell Muggle children to make them behave? The messiah isn't Jesus; he was a false prophet, no son of God! Just some altruistic idiot who got what he deserved. Maybe toward the end he actually believed it. Who knows?"

A faint glimmer of what could've been recognition registered on Draco's face before his eyes narrowed. "If you're not talking about Jesus then... are you talking about Tom Riddle? Voldemort? He's no messiah, he's not even a pureblood, he's nothing, just some half--"

The slap came so fast and so hard that Harry only heard the smack and watched Draco's head turn with it. Somewhere along the line, Draco had learned to take a hit, to roll his body with the inertia to make it hurt less. Harry hated that he'd had to acquire that kind of knowledge, but he wasn't surprised.

"Shut your insolent little mouth. Whatever vessel he was forced to arrive in, Lord Voldemort was, is the way, the truth-- the magical truth-- and the light. Muggles have no magic, no power, nothing that brings them closer to the Supreme Being as we are. Jesus was nothing special, just a rogue Wizard who tricked them with simple magic that they assumed were miracles."

Draco looked up at Lucius with a pitying expression. "You sound as crazy as my aunt."

Another hard slap and now Draco's face was pointed in Harry's direction. He looked so tired, but there was the underpinning of determination in his eyes. "Your aunt is a good woman who taught you Occlumency, you ungrateful little brat."

"She was a woman who lost her mind in Azkaban, who should've died in the war." Draco looked up at Lucius, his face puffy but steely.

Lucius was furious; he pointed his wand at Draco's face, flicking it in a calculating manner. Harry fretted that he was casting a silent spell, but he realized that the movement seemed to be counting-- counting ten-- controlling his anger. He kept his wand out, but his stance was less intrusive.

"Funny, I would have thought Potter would have burst in on our little party by now. He must not love you as much as we all think."

The doubt that flitted over Draco's face made Harry ache to reassure him, but with Lucius's wand still trained on Draco, he couldn't risk it. Draco dropped the stare and looked at his lap in defeat as he wriggled his wrists against the bonds.

"I'm dying anyway. He's probably doing the smart thing for once."

"Not very noble of him, is it? He really must have changed. No matter." Lucius flourished his wand artfully. "Did you know that AIDS not only attacks your human immune system, but also your magical immune system?"

Draco sighed. "I believe I read that somewhere."

"So a virulent virus or curse... would hasten your end."

"What? I'm going to die? Hold me, I'm scared."

Draco's delivery was flat, toneless, but he clocked the wand floating before him.

"And all of that suffering, it would take time for you to die, of course... your magic and your body wasting and dwindling away. It would be time that Potter would spend at your death bed while we moved ourselves to a more hospitable location. It was my second choice for ending this, seeing as you're my son and all. I had hoped to be more merciful."

"Oh, give it up, Bellatrix. Your impression of my father was always shite."

Harry didn't hear what curse she spoke, as he shouted his own charm, "Protego!"

The cloak spilled off of him and rustled to the floor, leaving his hair wild with static and his glasses askew. He held firm in the doorway, but poised to spring into action again.

At Harry's dramatic entrance, Bellatrix-as-Lucius balked, then stared and then laughed. "Mr Potter, so nice of you to join us. I had the feeling you might be lurking around here somewhere. Severus was many things, but he's never been the bravest man. You were right, Draco, your hero has arrived."

"Expelliarmus!"

Bellatrix twirled, her pale Lucius-hair and dark cloak swirling around her, blocking the spell with her body. "Don't be silly, Potter. Do you think I'd get you all the way here only to let you disarm me?"

Though Bellatrix was now shrinking, she didn't seem to notice it. Her formerly platinum hair darkened to black as the Polyjuice faded and her height deteriorated by several inches. Soon she was little other than an old, skeletal shrew with huge robes dragging on the floor and hanging off of her frail shoulders, holding her wand out in a shriveled hand.

The chair Draco was in squalled at Draco's forceful yanks as he tried to free himself. Harry dearly wanted to untie him, but he couldn't run the risk of letting Bellatrix out of his sights.

"So just why did you want me here?"

"Your blood and your soul, Potter. You were who defeated him. Surely it must be your blood and soul that will be the final key to unlocking him. You would bring him back!"

She brandished her wand and Harry shielded himself from her nonverbal spell.

"If you'd just asked, I could've saved you a lot of time, Bellatrix. No matter what you've convinced yourself of with this nonsense, I destroyed Voldemort utterly. He's gone. I destroyed each part of his fragmented soul and there is no way to bring him back." He paced along with her in this defensive dance, trying to get himself closer to Draco. Even if he could just touch him, he'd feel that much better. "He's gone. Forever."

"You don't know anything, you stupid man. You never understood the old ways, the old magic!"

Bellatrix ranted as she headed towards Draco, sensing that was where Harry was headed.

Draco growled and gave a final pull at his bindings before flopping against the chair.

"Hush up, you batty old hag. You know what Potter says is true."

"He's coming back, he is!" she shrieked.

Bellatrix backhanded Draco, which gave Harry enough time to cast a Binding Spell at them.

Before it reached its intended destination, Bellatrix had grabbed Draco and Disapparated. Because she had managed to focus on bringing just Draco with her, she left the chair rattling on its hind legs until it finally fell back against the stone floor.

Immediately, Harry cast a tracing spell, praying that the trail of magic would be strong enough to follow. He had two things going for him: one, that it was a Side-Along Apparition, which took more magic, and two, she'd had to also sever Draco from the chair.

During the war, Harry had managed riskier traces on less magic than this.

His wand twitched, like a fishing pole that had caught a bite, and quickly Harry was pulled into the middle of a crowded, dark forest with no discernable trails. Harry remained still, listening for movement, his eyes wide and scanning in near-futility as his eyes had not adjusted to the dark. The forest was mysteriously silent, as if holding its breath for something, or perhaps sensing the gravity and sheer magnitude of angry magic in its midst.

After a moment, Harry's eyes had fully adjusted to the gloom, and he spied broken branches of bushes illuminated by a faint glow that Draco must have somehow managed to cast wandlessly out of sheer necessity. Harry followed through the foliage; it didn't take long for him to come upon a clearing that let out to a cliff where Bellatrix must have decided to make her last stand.

"Expelliarmus!"

A sick sense of failure twisted in Harry's chest as his wand flew from his hand towards Bellatrix. Her victorious screech was cut off by Draco leaping in front of her to grab Harry's wand from the air before she had a chance.

Unwilling to give up her triumph so easily, she brandished her wand in Harry's direction before Draco could orient himself to threaten her. Harry dodged Bellatrix's, but just barely. Instead, it bypassed Harry and hit the tree behind him. A few large branches shook and then with the ticking precursor creak of branches breaking, they rained upon him, knocking Harry to the ground.

For an instant, Harry felt like his leg was exposed to the elements, as if his trousers had torn away, but then in a blinding flash that nearly occluded his vision, he felt that searing pain of a deep wound. Harry's glasses had fallen off, but even with blurry vision, by the light of approaching dawn, he could see the fountain of blood pouring from a large hole on his inner thigh.

His head pounded and his left arm felt numb and useless, as if it had fallen asleep. Again, Bellatrix's cackle of victory echoed over the vast, open bluff. He wanted nothing more than to ask Draco to Apparate them back to London and to forget this crazy bitch and her murderous zealotry. They could report her to the Ministry and they would take over. Surely the Ministry would have to pay attention now that the truth had been completely unraveled. Snape-- if he wasn't dead-- could back them up.

Draco squinted down at Harry, the morning rays of hitting his ashen skin and dull, whitish hair lighting it up to a warm gold. For a brief moment, all Harry could think about was a scrap of a Muggle poem he'd read somewhere along the line in primary school.

Nothing gold can stay.

As Draco's hand reached Harry's face, he grabbed it, clutching desperately.

"No."

"I have to."

"Stay."

"I can't. You know I can't. Of all fucking people you know I can't."

Draco eyed the deep gash on Harry's leg and winced before casting a clotting spell.

"I'm the hero, I'm the fighter. Remember?" Harry asked.

As far as convincing arguments went, Harry knew it was weak, but it was all that he had. Draco looked far too weak to go up against Bellatrix. She may well have been insane, but she was still powerful. By comparison, Draco appeared a gaunt wreck of lesions and fatigue.

"You've had your apocalypse, Harry. This one is mine."

Draco tugged his hand, trying to wrest it from Harry's grasp.

"Wait!" Harry cried, squeezing his fingers tighter to keep him there.

Harry smirked at Draco's affectionately exasperated look. Then the look faded into a softer one as the words he'd longed to say but didn't have a place for suddenly floated almost effortlessly from him.

"I love you."

Draco looked pained. His mouth flattened into a line and he blinked a few times before leaning in to kiss Harry deeply, one hand on the side of his face to hold him in place.

Then Draco whispered, "You're such a fucking sap."

That said, Draco dashed back into the clearing.

"Bellatrix! There's no point in hiding. You've nowhere to run. You'll have to kill us both or else you'll be exposed and hunted down. In other words, 'come out, come out wherever you are,'" Draco said in a sing-songy voice. His arm was crossed over his chest with his wand stuck under his arm-- a common strategy to keep an adversary from summoning the wand.

The wind whipped Draco's hair in long tendrils spiraling skyward. It lashed over his face leaving inscrutable paths of pink over his sallow face.

Bellatrix sauntered out like a coy lover from behind a large tree, her hands behind her back, tapered fingers grasping her wand tightly.

Eyes unblinkingly on her, Draco's wand hand tensed and he drew his wand upon her.

Her wand flicked, but she didn't utter a word. Instead, her face was focused, her gaze keen with concentration. A sapphire glow emanated from her wand, and shot sharply to Draco's chest.

Draco parried with a Blocking Spell, the sapphire luminescence glowed violet against the white shield. He mouthed his spells to reinforce them, but stopped, presumably because Bellatrix was reading his lips. She had been blocking the spells he cast a little too well. It was the only explanation.

Then he started mouthing something else.

Something that looked much like, "Fuck you, bitch."

"I taught you these tricks, remember boy?" she called to him.

"Back when Voldemort was alive? Before Harry Potter destroyed his soul, bit-by-bit? It's over, Bellatrix. He's not coming back." Draco jumped, narrowly avoiding a Stunning Spell before regaining his footing to send off a hex of his own.

Her long, stringy hair flailed about her face, caught by the crosswind created by the sheer force of the soaring spells. Eyes watery and red-rimmed, Bellatrix worked to remain fixed on Draco, but demoralized by the realization of the simple truth-- Draco was right. Voldemort wasn't coming back.

"Shut your fucking gob."

He responded with a sneer and a green beam of light. Bellatrix's eyes widened as she blocked and skidded back; only just catching her balance against a large tree.

Draco advanced, his face contorted into a resolute grimace.

"I taught you that one, too," she hissed. "You would kill your family? Your own blood? Knowing the fury that could be unleashed?" Bellatrix aimed and a cutting, purple light radiated from her wand.

Draco turned to the side, but it caught his arm. His hand slapped over it, catching the blood. Throwing the fluid into her face, he spat, "You shed the first blood. Our family line means just as little to you as it does to me. Protego!"

Their battle returned to virtual silence, their wands blurring and radiating a rainbow of sparks and extravagant light as hexes were cast and repelled. Draco dodged and advanced while Bella swirled and hexed in an elaborate dance.

"You forget that I was the teacher, Draco."

With a loud crack, Draco Disapparated.

Swirling around with a loud, "Aha!" Bellatrix hexed the air behind her as Draco appeared in the same the spot he'd started in-- an obvious fake-out gambit that resulted in Bellatrix with her back to Draco.

"And you forgot that I cheat, Auntie Bella."

Draco's wand flicked as he cast the Killing Curse. The angry green light surrounded Bellatrix and she crumpled to her knees. Her scream was of terror and frustration, but she was not yet finished and her wand swished purposefully as she quieted to concentrate.

A fine mist hissed from her body.

Draco worked fast. Pointing his wand at Harry, he shouted, "Mobilicorpus!" and sent Harry flying meters away to bang against a copse of trees.

Harry tried to grab onto something to ease his landing, but he was pretty sure he heard another of his own bones snap against a tree before everything went dark.

--

Draco closed his eyes, trying not to breathe, and Apparated to Harry. It was too late for Draco; the deadly mist that Bellatrix had emitted had touched him.

But he had kept it from Harry, and that was all that mattered.

A fag dies so that another may live. No, it wasn't even poetic, really. Especially since Draco wasn't giving up anything that wasn't going to be taken from him eventually. He just wished that he'd had more time with Harry. Even if he would have cocked it all up, at least it would've been them. At least they could have tried.

Dragging Harry against his chest, he cradled him in his arms and watched as Bellatrix's corpse deflated. Soon there was nothing left of her but ash that picked up in the wind and blew away.

Draco kissed Harry's forehead, not sure how much time he had left. He wished Harry were awake so that he could say a proper goodbye, but if this was it, then Harry was just going to have to find it in his heart to forgive him. Under the glow of the bright morning sun, Draco closed his eyes and leaned against the tree, and used the last bit of magic he had left to Apparate them to St. Mungo's.