**Author's Note: This chapter is the last full chapter of this story. If I had the words to tell you all how much I loved writing this story, I would give them to you. House Unity was originally supposed to be two stories-Draco's and Ginny's, and Ron's and Luna's. I had considered a H/Hr story, and one day while listening to the Bond album Classified, I got the perfect picture of Ginny running through the streets, Disapparating in mid-step, and I could feel Draco chasing her, wondering where she was. Thus, Unified was born. I recommend the cd to any and all. Happy reading, thank you to everyone who supported me in the PK Awards and with your reviews, and stay tuned for the epilogue to House Unity: Unified.**
CHAPTER TWENTY - Unified
She listened to them in silence, her face betraying none of her emotions. That was of no import to him-she may as well have been wearing a sign, because he could feel her fear, her tension, her determination.
For him, her heart would always be on her sleeve.
They started to move, each Order member with a purpose, knowing time was short, but Draco and Ginny stood still in the midst of chaos, his eyes begging her not to go, and hers begging him not to ask.
"Kiss her or say goodbye, Mr. Malfoy, but do it now. I've neither the time nor the patience to witness maudlin theatrics." Severus moved at the stove, competent hands measuring, mixing, re-measuring.
But instead of kissing her or saying goodbye as his Head of House had suggested, Draco stepped back, head ducked down, a small smile on his face as he remembered slow strains of music, the woman before him dressed as a princess. He bowed low before her, taking her hand in his, and reminded her of the moment he'd chosen her no matter the consequences.
"Draco," she said, her voice breaking. "Don't. Not to me."
"Miss Weasley," Snape barked, his voice now urgent. The Dark Mark on his arm burned hot and painful, and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to spill the mug he held. "You will not want to be here for this."
She let her hand slip from Draco's and nodded, her lips pressed tightly together.
She walked out without looking back, not wishing for a moment to see the face of her lover turn into that of his father.
~~~
"You seem to be delayed."
The voice-sliding chains, buzzing cicadas, hissing snakes-sent a chill down the newcomer's spine.
Draco steeled himself against the invasion, against the violation he knew would come. For that, at least, he had been prepared. He had not been prepared for many things-for the men, once powerful, stooped low at a mere man's feet; for the diminished legions whose lives meant nothing without servitude, pain now the only thing they looked forward to, the pain of being summoned; for the ruined wretch whom they all adored and followed and his cold, horrible countenance.
He had been prepared for none of it, so he shielded the horror and hate in his mind, blocked it off as though behind a wall so it could not be found.
And he walled off himself, walled off the son of the man he was portraying, forcing himself to think of adoration and adulation as he bent at the hems of the thing's robes.
"My Lord," he said, the voice of his father filling his ears, filling the inside of the mask and echoing. "Our delay has brought fruitful information."
"We have found the lair of the enemy," Severus said, and only later would Draco remember and marvel at the tone of amusement in the Potions Master's voice.
The smooth, hard expanse of scar tissue above the slitted eyes raised in what might have passed for surprise on a human face, and Severus continued, somehow unaffected by the grotesquerie in front of him.
"They have been hiding in the home of one of our victims."
As it turned out, Lord Voldemort's way of expressing pleasure was in a hiss that continued as Severus told the gathered court where the Order of the Phoenix had hidden its flock.
~~~
She waited.
She had hoped there would be no time for waiting.
They had told everyone, every Order member in hiding, every Order member posted at various places throughout the countryside, every Order member hiding among Muggles. They had all been prepared, all been told, and somehow, there was still time to wait.
Come soon, she thought. Come soon and come safe.
But she was scared. She was afraid of what-and who-would come with him when he finally came.
A hand closed over hers and she jumped, expecting him. Instead, Ron stood beside her, one hand clasped in his wife's, his eyes reflecting her fear, her uncertainty, her impatience.
She felt a quick lash of jealousy, anger at him for trying to understand. The woman he loved was standing beside him, right beside him with her fingers tangled cozily in his. He wasn't waiting on her to come back from a den full of thieves and murderers. He couldn't possibly understand.
"Be strong," he said simply, and that was nearly enough to make her weak.
"Be strong," Ron repeated, and squeezed her hand again, casting worried eyes to the west.
They were coming.
~~~
"There's nothing here."
Draco smirked beneath his mask, easier now in the absence of their "master," more comfortable now that he felt the Polyjuice wearing off.
He kept himself quiet despite the urge to tell them precisely where the house was, loathe to let anyone hear his voice instead of his father's. It was Severus's duty to speak-his right, even, considering all he'd been through, but before he could, someone else did.
"There is something here, or at least there was." Bella's voice was harsh and triumphant, and she cackled. "Dear Auntie's house," she added, and her statement of the word "Auntie" made Draco's skin crawl. "12 Grimmauld Place."
There was a shimmer, a pulse, and Severus repeated the address, bringing the sagging old house into plain view for all of the gathered Death Eaters.
They needed no encouragement, Bellatrix leading the way as they streamed into the house, eager for this ambush, for the element of surprise, eager to have all of the Order in one place, as Severus and 'Lucius' had told them they would be, eager to cripple-nay, obliterate-their enemy and leave the final battle to their Lord's glorious destiny.
So eager were they for bloodshed that they did not notice their informants lagging behind and slipping away.
And as their cohorts, their fellow Order members, Disillusioned themselves and became visible, Draco and Severus dropped their masks and joined their ranks.
Ginny watched with a mixture of horror and pride as Draco shed his mask, feeling cloven once again as she wanted to recoil from the mask and embrace the man who tossed it away.
There was time for neither, for as Draco stepped into place between her and Ron, the binding spells had already been fired.
~~~
There were people he knew in there, former students, former colleagues, and Albus Dumbledore wished fervently that there were another way, that it would not come to this. The Order had agreed long ago not to use Unforgivables in any circumstance, extending an unspoken exception only to Harry in the final battle.
But there were other ways, Albus knew, of permanent harm, and as he prepared to give the command, he looked across the way at the other defensive wing of Order members at Nymphadora Tonks, who would have to hex her own relatives, and Draco Malfoy, who would do the same.
Blood traitors, Albus thought, and he thought it proudly.
"Now," he shouted, knowing his binding spells could not outlast his wish for peace.
It had to be now.
~~~
He pulled her to him just as the headmaster gave the command, his left arm around her waist, her back to his chest, and he kissed the top of her head as she covered his hand with hers, their wand arms extended together toward the house.
You don't have to do this, she thought, but she knew he did, at least for himself.
They'd been placed into teams of sorts, assigned the spell they would aim at the house. For every blasting spell, there was an incendiary spell, and a select few, the sharpest of their ranks-Hermione, Draco, a few others-aimed bluebells through windows and tried to ignore the screams of those inside.
It took only a moment for the house to crumble, as roughly as it had been used over the years, both for ill and for good; as masked men and women tried to escape from the house to which they were bound, the roof started to cave in and the walls began to give way.
Harry stood in the back, his eyes focused on Hermione as he did what he was told-simply watched, for his battle was yet to come, and his strength was necessary. And though watching the demise of the majority of Voldemort's Death Eaters lent him strength, it also sapped him of the little remaining innocence he possessed.
No matter how old he'd gotten, how many things he had gone through, he had somewhere, in the back of his mind, hoped those lost could be rehabilitated, had hoped those who fought for good would not have to bring things to this.
But he did not look away.
Ginny felt Draco tremble at her back and she squeezed his hand tighter, conveying in actions what she could not convey in words. He had done enough. When her own strength began to falter, she let her wand drop from her fingers, moving her wand hand to clasp over his and bring it down to his side.
"Enough," she spoke, though there was no way he could have heard her. She turned into his arms as the beams of the house cracked and the roof fell flat onto the ground in flames, trapping those beneath it.
Draco wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, breathing in the smell of her instead of the smell of smoke and worse. Soon they would be gone, whether she wanted to go or not, for the few Death Eaters who had not been captured would know of their deception and would try to find him. There was but one battle left, and he did not intend to let her stay and sacrifice herself for a fight that had to be between two people.
Yes, soon they would be gone.
But for now, he held her and knew it was the first time he had held her completely as himself, taking her completely as herself.
They stood unified, all their secrets rising with the smoke toward the sky.