Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Note: Reviews have slowed down a bit, so if you're still out there reading take a min to let me know what you think of this chapter, I promise it's an action packed one

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CHAPTER 17: Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

Fuck Harry Potter Draco thought to himself as he gazed at the bruises stretching across his pale chest. He could feel that there were more on his lower back but he couldn't quite get at the right angle for a proper look. At least this isn't as bad as that sectumpempra ordeal.

It wasn't the bruises that ached him as much as that nagging sense of failure. Once more he had failed at something that Harry exceeded at and this time Draco couldn't find it in him to hate Harry for it. Why is that? he wondered. As he stood alone in his bedroom the only person he hated was himself.

There was a sudden knock on the door and he pulled his shirt back on, not bothering to button it up as he headed to the door, rolling his eyes. "Seriously Potter, if you keep showing up at my bedroom door like this Granger is going to get suspicious…" but when he opened the door it wasn't The Boy Who Lived on the other side, but rather The Girl Who Used to Shag The Boy Who Lived, aka Ginevra Weasley.

"It will break Ron's heart when he hears about your midnight visits from Harry" Ginny joked, not missing a beat.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying his best to sound spiteful but instead sounding confused and weary.

"I wanted to ask you about… what the hell happened to you?" she asked, her eyes suddenly fixated on his chest. His rather well defined chest she thought to herself. He's not as muscular as Harry but he has a rather sexy, lean build. I wonder….

"Are you even listening to me?" he sighed and Ginny's eyes snapped away from their previous view. She hadn't even noticed he'd been talking. "I said that Potter happened to me. He kicked my ass all over my own house."

"You probably deserved it" she said, but there was no malice in her tone. In fact, the way she said it was soft and almost sweet. Sweet? he thought to himself, SWEET?! Where the bloody hell did that come from? "I can heal those you know."

"I thought you were a Quidditch player, not a mediwitch" he tried to argue, but the idea of alleviating the pain he was experiencing throughout his body was too good to pass up.

"I'm flattered you've been following my career" she retorted, entering the room as he finally stepped away from blocking the door. "But as you know, Quidditch isn't a game without its fair share of broken bones, scrapes and bruises." She looked around his room once inside and noticed how vast it was. Everything in the Manor was extravagant and his room was no exception. His massive four-post bed was carved from a dark wood and hand-worked to show serpents curving around the bannisters. The hearth was big enough for her to sleep inside (had it not been hosting a fire) and the mantle was adorned with more serpents, all fashioned from real silver. There was a small bar in the corner and several antique pieces of furniture surrounded the fireplace, but overall it had a distinctly cold feeling. A cold home gave him a cold heart she pondered as he fully removed his shirt.

Healing the marks on his chest and arms was easy, but the ones on his back took a bit longer. They were massive purple bruises with angry looking red outlines. "He really did number on you" she whistled as she cleared up the final one, which had been on his right shoulder blade. He said nothing, simply reaching for his shirt, and in that split moment she made an odd decision she would never quite understand and ever so briefly kissed the newly healed spot on his bare skin. It might have been because she felt sorry for him; the cold boy in the cold house. Or maybe it was because she always found bad boys alluring (and who could be worse than her family's sworn enemy?). Whatever the reason, he did not seem to react and she quickly excused herself, leaving his room, her initial purpose forgotten.

Once she was gone he reached for the bottle of firewhiskey he kept in his bar, deciding a nightcap was in order, his mind reeling from what had just transpired. As he absently extended his arm towards it, the bottle suddenly lifted up and drifted through the air, landing firmly in his grasp. He blinked for a moment, realizing he had used Mental Channeling for the first time.

He heard Harry's words from before echo in his ears once more. You can't Channel if you don't allow yourself to feel anything.

"I'll be damned" Draco muttered aloud, not sure what else to say as he swigged directly from the bottle.

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Damon's wispy auburn locks were pushed back from his face as a warm, soothing breeze billowed through the dense jungle that surrounded him. Birds sang from above and the sound of the ocean was nearby as he walked.

He was still not welcome to return to The Cradle, not since his decision to use his power for immortality and to leave his home to seek greater influence. He did not regret his decision though, and while he was not welcome in the village, the island was big enough for him to find a quiet place to hide out without alerting others to his presence.

He did not miss being a member of the simplistic lifestyle of those who had dedicated themselves to meditation and purity of magic. Yet sometimes he missed the sound of waves, and that was when he would come home. He arrived on a sandy beach and sat cross-legged as the crystal clear waters kissed the shore. He needed to clear his mind and plan his next move. He needed to be clever to defeat his next target; Harry Potter.

"HARRY POTTER!" a voice roared and he awoke suddenly from the same dream he had been having for weeks now. No, it's more than a dream. I am seeing what Damon is currently thinking about. He's alone but he won't be for long. I need to strike now.

"Harry wake up!" the annoyed voice repeated and he felt a toe jab his ribs and he groaned. Squinting he looked up to see Ron Weasley standing above him. "Why the bloody hell did you sleep here? You do realize there are about a million beds in this place."

"Hermione…" Harry grumbled, realizing she was gone. Last he recalled she had been resting on his lap. The way she kissed me it was as though…

"What did she kick you out of her room? I wouldn't blame her everyone knows you can be a bloody git. Still, there are other beds, or even one of those lumpy old sofas would be better than a cold marble floor I reckon."

"Ugh no, we were talking" well, not really TALKING he realized "and I guess I dozed off."

"She must have been miffed about something if she let you sleep on the floor instead of waking you up."

"I wasn't `miffed' Ronald" Hermione interjected as she entered the room. "I fell asleep too actually. I was just in the kitchen getting us something to eat."

Ron eyed the large stack of toast she had greedily and pulled a few slices for himself from the pile before she could stop him. Harry gave her a weak grin and tried his best to eat a slice but now all he could think about was the fact that he was only hours away from facing Damon. The three of them sat for a few minutes, eating in silence and he drew his strength from their presence. If I defeat Damon today we'll all be safe again… they'll be safe again.

"Malfoy is looking for you Harry" Hermione said, her tone flat and unreadable. Ron suddenly looked pale but said nothing, stuffing another slice of bread into his mouth.

"Ah" was all Harry could reply. "It's probably about training." It was a lie of course, and it felt unnatural coming out of his mouth. He knew Malfoy was looking for him so they could set out and face Damon. He stood slowly and reluctantly, wishing he could forever stay in this simple scene of eating breakfast with his two favorite people in the world.

"Uh, good luck mate" Ron said in hurried manner, suddenly fascinated with the floor.

"Um, thanks…" Harry responded, slightly perplexed about Ron's sudden affinity for Draco's training progress.

Hermione suddenly looked like she might run, laugh, cry or faint, but before he could become nervous about it she eased into a soft smile, her eyes meeting his. "Harry I… well, never mind. You already know."

He had no idea what she meant by that but he felt so uncomfortable by their sudden weirdness that he decided it was best to just leave. His emotions were a jumble and prolonging the inevitable would not help. I have to win. I have to win. I have to win became his mantra as he left the ballroom and marched down the hallway.

He found Draco leaning in a typical insolent posture against one of the bannisters in the hallway. "Alright Potter, are you ready?"

"As much as I'll ever be" Harry said grimly.

"Do you know where we're going? You still haven't told me."

"The Cradle" Harry said, certainty in his voice. That is where Damon plots and hides.

"Perhaps I misunderstand. Isn't The Cradle nearly impossible to find?"

"Nearly. But Riddle found it once and I have.. er, I had his memories" Harry corrected himself, toying the little pendant around his neck as he spoke. "I can apparate us to a nearby point and then we will have to walk to the porthole."

"The porthole?" Draco blinked, but Harry didn't answer, simply moving forward as though to grab his arm and side-along apparate him. "Woah, wait a minute! There's something I think you might need…" Draco stepped away from Harry and turned towards a set of double doors that Harry had not seen in some time, leading him into the Malfoy family armory. Harry gave him a suspicious look as Draco led him into the very back, where the dragon hide armor he had once sported was featured, along with several similar suits. "Take your pick."

Harry raised an eyebrow, looking at the armor and then Draco and then back at the armor. "Are you sure?"

"Look Potter, don't get all gushy about it. I showed a slight ability to Channel last night, but definitely not enough to take on an immortal bad ass. I'm hoping my wand work will be sufficient, but it will sure up our chances if we wear the armor to deflect some of his spells. And a few back-up weapons wouldn't hurt either."

"Alright well I… I appreciate it."

For a moment, Draco felt guilty for the secrets he'd been keeping from Harry and for the tricks he'd had to play to put all the pieces in their proper places to take Damon down. What is wrong with me? he wondered as Harry suited up. First that nonsense with Ginny who is a WEASLEY of all things, and now this soft spot for Saint Potter. I'm doing what must be done, the ends will justify the means.

And once more that word that had been ringing in his ears for so long was heard. Redemption.

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"I feel like a fucking git" Ron groaned once Harry had left the room. "He's our best mate and here we are conspiring with Draco Bloody Malfoy behind his back. What if Malfoy is just leading us on? What if this whole thing is a big fat trap for Malfoy to take us out once and for all?"

"I don't think Malfoy's middle name is `Bloody'" Hermione commented absently. "Although, it would be fitting I suppose."

"Hermione, are you purposely being daft? Even if he survives this Harry's going to kill the both of us for going through with this… that is to say if WE survive this. In that battle at the Burrow, aurors were dropping like flies. None of us can Channel well enough yet and…"

"First off Ronald, it's different this time. It won't be us versus an army, it will only be Damon. Damon believes that Malfoy will deliver Harry to him; he will not be expecting us so he won't have his Children with him. Damon's the only target that really matters right now. His Children we can deal with later, and with any luck they'll scatter once their Master is gone. Second, Harry will not kill you when he finds out about what we've done. You're like a brother to him, you know that."

The redness in the tips of Ron's ears faded slightly as he heard these words and he let out a slow breath. "You're right. And I know this is the only way for us to take Damon down but I just wish… I wish things were different. I wish we had more time, I wish we weren't lying to him."

If only magic could grant wishes she thought somberly, rising to her feet from the cold marble floor. There were thousands of things she wished for, the majority of which surrounded the man she loved; the man she was lying to save. It makes no sense she pondered as she offered Ron a hand up. We're both keeping secrets in hopes of saving each other… when did we become these people?

She tried to remind herself that this was an unusual circumstance and that even when he discovered the truth he would forgive her, just as she had already forgiven his boneheaded attempt to conceal his heroic plans a secret. Yet still those nagging doubts persisted…What if he doesn't forgive me though? What if he can't? And then the dreaded final thought… what if he dies?

Now wasn't the time for second thoughts though. For the past week she had been talking with members of "Potter's Army" individually, filling them in on the situation and preparing them for the impending battle. It was not a task that came naturally to her; she could be bossy and she was experienced in battle, but she had never felt comfortable leading in this sort of role. That had always been Harry's legacy, despite his personal issues with it. Still, dire times called for dire actions so she had stepped up and done her best. Of course, she had Malfoy's support, but that hardly counted for much in the eyes of those who were fighting. Ron had also done his best to help, but he had always been a follower more than a leader. In the end, if anyone had eased her burden it was Luna Lovegood whose odd manner was strangely calming as they plotted.

Plotted. That word burned its way into her mind. There was no other word for what she been doing except for that one.

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Draco had expected Harry to apparate them to some majestic forest or mystical mountainside. Instead they ended up in the middle of a frost covered field that offered the splendid view of absolutely nothing as far as the eye could see.

They had to walk for a while and they did not talk. There was noting to say anyways. After some time, there was a shimmering wall before them and Draco realized that this was what Harry had referred to as a "porthole". Just before they passed through it, Draco dropped a small, unmarked silver coin on the ground.

Based on Harry's description, Draco expected The Cradle to be a beautiful, tropical paradise. He imagined palm trees and exotic plants. He expected clear blue skies and ocean waves. The sky was blue, and in the far distance he could see the ocean. But everything else had turned to ash. They were surrounded by a world of grey, and when the wind blew it would stir the ash up around them, obstructing their view of that flawless sky. It was like a blizzard of black and grey flakes falling all around them.

"Something is very wrong…" Harry said slowly, and a moment later Damon appeared, looking not one bit different than the last time Draco had seen him. He had an imperious look on his face that fell just short of smug.

"Harry Potter. We meet at last." Damon seemed entirely at ease, his graceful stride almost lethargic as he approached them.

Harry gaped, clearly baffled. This was not the vision he had seen just hours before in his dreams. Where are all the trees and plants? "What happened? In my dreams I saw you…"

"Ah yes, your dreams were a lie. I had Mr. Malfoy here make sure they were slipped into your subconscious. As you can see, The Cradle is no longer the paradise on Earth I showed you."

Harry spun on Draco, a thousand emotions hitting him at once; fear, anger, shame, defeat and sadness. "So, you're on his side are you? I was a fool to ever trust you even for a split second. You're a snake Malfoy." He tried to spit the words at the platinum haired man, but somehow his heart felt too heavy to be filled with rage and his tone was that of a lost and hopeless boy.

"Yes, I lied to you" Draco responded, not taking his eyes off of Damon. "I met with Damon and vowed that I would lure you here. Damon falsified a memory and I slipped it into the Odyssea potion the last time you took it. Those `dreams' you thought you were having were put there by me."

"Yes Mr. Malfoy, you have done quite well. Are you wondering what's happened to my home Mr. Potter? Or perhaps you already know."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment; suddenly feeling like a ton of pressure was weighing down on him. He'd been tricked. He was going to fail. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, trying to find a loophole, a way out. But there was only one course- as there was always only one course. He would have to fight.

As Harry regained himself he recalled Riddle's memory of Anna burning alive. He remembered that uncontrollable magic, that burning hot rage. "Riddle burned it down."

"Yes. I underestimated his lack of control, the extent of his hatred. He couldn't control the flames he unleashed. He burned down the entire island. He killed everyone."

There was no sadness in Damon's voice but Harry felt a sudden pang of grief. He could remember seeing the faces of the villagers through Riddle's eyes. They were peaceful, good people. They were preserving all that was wonderful and natural in magic; they were the last of a great legacy. And Riddle had killed them all.

Suddenly, something dawned on Harry very slowly. "When you chose not to go after Riddle, chose not to defeat Voldemort, it wasn't because you were biding your time and waiting for the `opportune moment'. It was because you were afraid of him. You were afraid when you realized what he'd done."

As he said this, Harry's hand instinctively reached for the pendant around his neck; the one that held Tom Riddle's soul. As he enclosed his fist around it he saw Damon's eyes widen.

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Potter's Army was assembled in one of the Manor's great ballrooms, waiting for the sign from Hermione to move into action. Despite the fact that there was nearly forty of them standing about, it was utterly silent. The tension drowned all conversation and stopped words dead in their mouths.

Hermione looked around, wondering if this would work, if what they were doing was the right course of action. She was filled with dread and doubt and worse yet, an unstoppable churning feeling in her stomach that something was wrong. Her hands felt clammy as they played with a small gold coin. And then, after what felt like an eternity, it started to burn.

When they started forming an army, she had implemented the same coin system for communication as she had used with Dumbledore's Army. However, this time she had added an important twist. It was a rather brilliant piece of magic work (even Malfoy begrudgingly admitted so) that would allow the coins to act as points of transport, like a portkey. In this case, Malfoy had a specially enchanted silver coin that acted as an end point, pulling all of those with the gold coins to its location. The burning of the coin meant it was time to go.

"Alright" she said, trying to sound confident and commanding. Everyone looked towards her, holding their coins out. "Let's go."

At once they all closed their fists around the coins, and within a split second they went from standing in Malfoy Manor to the middle of freezing cold field. She shivered and looked around, wand drawn. A few meters from where they stood she noticed a strange shimmering in the air and she knew this is where they needed to go. As she walked forward Ron stood at her side with Ginny and Luna close behind.

They walked through the force field and on the other side was an ash-covered world that looked exactly like what she imagined hell to be like. Not far off she immediately saw Draco, Harry and an unfamiliar man that could only be Damon, standing face to face. Harry and Draco's backs were turned towards her so she urged the army to rush forward as Damon spotted them. The fighting hasn't started yet. We can get him now, take him out before he knows what's hit him. She saw Damon's mouth move but she was still too far away to hear what he was saying. She aimed her wand, ready to start the assault on Damon as soon as Harry and Draco were clear. We're going to end this nightmare right here, right now.

As soon as that thought formed in her mind she was hit with a spell that seemed to come from nowhere. She felt her feet leave the ground as her body was hurled through the air in a dizzying fashion and then everything went black.

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Damon's eyes were fixed on Harry and there was a look of fear in his gaze. Draco did not seem to notice, and took the moment of silence to speak up once more. "I may have tricked Potter into coming here. But we didn't come alone."

Damon's eyes snapped away from the trinket around Harry's neck and his demeanor quickly shifted. "Oh Mr. Malfoy, I knew you would find a way to betray me, despite the vow you made. You are quite like Tom Riddle after all. Unfortunately for you, I already perceived of this move. In fact, I was depending on you bringing along your little army so I could finish you all off at once."

"You overestimate your power" Draco barked, anger lashing out from within him like a hot flame. He had been so careful, so calculating. What did I miss? he wondered. And then the answer came. Rising from the ashes like a flock of phoenixes were Damon's Children. Garbed in black cloaks and hoods that concealed their faces they strode towards him and Harry, an army of 100 powerful beings.

Harry's head was spinning. Draco's elaborate series of betrayals was difficult to follow, and then there was this matter of what Damon had called "your little army". What army does Draco have? he thought, his heart beating in his ears as he saw Damon's Children advance towards them. The answer rose slowly to the surface and suddenly the world was silent. It wasn't Draco's army; it was Harry's army. Draco had brought Hermione, the Weasleys and many others right into battle against an army with twice their numbers and twice their skills. Harry turned away from Damon and saw his friends there, heroically racing forward, wands poised. He watched as a spell hit Hermione, hurling her into the air before she fell to the ground with incredible impact.

Harry felt his heart stop. Suddenly he was not concerned with Damon or his "children" or the double-crossing Slytherin named Draco Malfoy. The sounds of battle came roaring into his ears as he snapped back into focus and re-gained his senses. With one hand still clutching the orb that held Riddle's soul, he gestured towards Damon as he felt a wave of power emit from his body. Harry turned away from Hermione's crumbled form just long enough to see Damon falling backwards, a look of surprise on his face. Harry didn't care about this either. All he cared about was getting to Hermione.

He ran to her full speed, a strong shielding spell keeping him safe from the multitude of spells that were flying through the air. Briefly he noticed how Ron and Luna were fighting side by side. Neither of them had learned to Channel well enough to disregard their wands but they were holding up solidly nonetheless.

When he reached Hermione he threw himself over her, allowing his shielding spell to envelope both of them. Frantically, he searched for a pulse and let out a sigh of relief when he found one. Blood trickled down the side of her face and he realized it was also covering his hands. More blood on my hands.

"RON!" Harry roared, not sure if his best friend could hear him above the chaos of battle. The air had become thick with black ash, disguising the swift and silent movements of Damon's Children. When a robed figure approached Harry suddenly from out of the mist it nearly surprised him. A primal surge of protective rage washed over him as he guarded Hermione's still unmoving body. He channeled it into a well-aimed stunning hex that drove the attacker from its feet and sent it spiraling to the ground where it did not move. "RON!" he shouted once again, now unable to see the red head in the dust of the battle. Please be okay he thought to himself, not sure who in particular he was praying for.

When Ron suddenly emerged from the blanket of ash Harry nearly attacked him but luckily his red hair acted as a warning symbol, stopping Harry before he made a regrettable mistake. Ron was clutching Luna's hand and she was still shooting off a series of spells, fighting some enemy that Harry could not see. Harry gestured to Hermione and Ron scrambled to her side. With both boys kneeling on either side of her, Harry yelled over the chaos. "Take Hermione and get everyone out of here!"

Ron reached for the gold coin in his pocket, activating it as a signal for retreat. Harry picked Hermione up in his arms and kissed her brow, regretting every moment that had led to this one. He handed her to Ron, hesitating ever so slightly at the thought of letting her go. Ron nodded to show that he would keep her safe and then looked to Luna for coverage as they stepped closer together.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked, his blue eyes suddenly looking ancient as he held his wounded friend in his arms.

"To finish this" Harry growled. For a moment Ron looked like he might protest, but if he was going to he never had the chance because Harry had disappeared into the dust.

Harry could only hope that everyone made it out safely, but he had no way of knowing. He also had no way of knowing if Hermione was going to be okay. He had no way of knowing if he could possibly take Damon down, especially with all of his Children around. He knew little to nothing; but damn it, he was going to try anyways. "DAMON!" he shouted, his wrath increasing with each step as he made his way through a dust so thick that it blocked out the sun and the sky. "SHOW YOURSELF!"

"Damon doesn't want to play anymore" said a familiar lilting voice, and Harry didn't even have time to turn before Draco Malfoy was bringing a sword down against his armored back with such force that it knocked him forward. Landing on his hands and knees he coughed hard at the taste of soot in his mouth. Standing quickly he turned towards Draco, who was yielding the double-handed broad sword that he had equipped himself with at the Malfoy armory. As Harry rolled away from another slash, he suddenly wished that he had grabbed a choice weapon for himself.

"Malfoy, what the bloody hell…" but before Harry could finish the question he looked into Malfoy's eyes, which were usually silver but now had a clouded over, pearly white sheen. It's some form of the Imperius Curse Harry realized as he quickly sidestepped Draco's forward thrust. Backing quickly away he realized how quiet everything had become. Damon had left and so had his Children. The ash was slowly settling back to the ground and the only noise was that of the steady waves off in the distance. Why would he leave when he had the upper hand?

Draco came charging at Harry once more and this time Harry's auror skills in hand-to-hand combat kicked in. Harry ducked and Draco's wide swing just missed his head by a hair length. Harry tackled Draco around the waist, knocking him heavily to the ground. "Fight it Malfoy" Harry said, his teeth gritted as he attempted to grapple the sword away from his former enemy. However mad he was with Draco for lying and putting everyone in danger, he did not want to hurt him. They had been through too much now, and despite all of his conniving and prickly mannerism Harry had genuinely come to believe that Draco Malfoy was doing his best to redeem himself for his past transgressions.

The sword was pinned between their bodies and if it wasn't for the thick dragonhide armor they were both wearing, Harry was sure they would both be severed in half. Normally Harry was stronger than Draco due to his training, but whatever curse Draco was under gave him more strength than usual and Harry was quickly losing the battle to gain control of the blade. When the blade did come loose from their tug of war, everything happened very quickly.

Draco shook Harry from the sword, throwing him off of him and onto the ground nearby. As Draco poised the weapon for another attack and attempted to get to his feet Harry used his last bit of energy to throw himself forward, catching Draco off balance in such a way that the sword slipped from his hands. For one terrible moment the sword was in mid air, both men grappling for it as it shone in the light. Time seemed to slow and it was like they were both competing to grab the snitch once more.

As had happened many times before, Harry was the one who made the catch first. As the sword landed in his hand he gripped it, holding it forward as Draco stumbled towards it, unable to stop his momentum. Before Harry could process the moment, Draco was falling on the blade. Alone in the Cradle, ash still falling like snowflakes, Harry Potter witnessed the sickening sensation of the blade impaling its way through Draco Malfoy's armor, skin, bones and organs.

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