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The sun rose steadily over Hogwarts Castle, and the Great Hall was full of light and life. Voldemort had been defeated, at last, by the Boy Who Lived, and all of his servants were routed and dispersed. Everyone who fought against him now celebrated the end of his reign of terror.
Not all present in the Hall celebrated.
Sitting in an out of the way corner, seemingly overlooked by staff and students alike, were the Malfoys.
It was something unspoken, that both husband and wife had quietly begun falling away from the Death Eater cause as the moment of their lord’s ultimate triumph drew near. It made no sense to either that Voldemort had been obsessed with that Potter boy’s downfall. They had achieved everything they could have ever wanted: the Ministry now openly pro-Wizard and against everything and anything Muggle; Lucius had been freed from prison; and the dreadful, terrible task upon their only daughter had been lifted.
Narcissa clutched her daughter in her arms, still sobbing with unmitigated relief. She cared not for the ruination of what little makeup remained, her tears shed were of relief. Lucius was ashen-faced, the swelling in his eyes finally going down, holding his daughter’s hand so tightly it seemed as though there was no blood flow through his veins. All he ever wanted was that she was safe and sound.
Diana, meanwhile, was having none of it.
“Mum, gerrof me,” she mumbled, barely getting the words through, her face squashed against her mother’s breast. “I’m fine, please…”
The events of the past few hours still shook her, and everything felt as though it were in a waking dream. It all happened so quickly. The catastrophic incineration of the Room of Hidden Things and Crabbe’s agonizing death… flying out with Fiendfyre snapping at their broomtails… then facing almost certain death at the hands of a fellow Death Eater.
Oh, and that dratted Weasley’s boy’s mockery.
“That’s twice we’ve saved your life tonight, you two-faced bitch!”
But even excusing his improper language…
Diana couldn’t help but feel slightly warm at the memory.
The Potter boy had saved her and Goyle’s life. He could have abandoned them, left them to their fate to Fiendfyre. But no, he turned right around and rescued them both. She could still recall the scorching heat as the infernal flames rose about her on that tottering tower, the choking miasma of thick smoke filling her lungs, and the whoosh of blessedly cool air as a broomstick swept over towards them… and the pulsing, pounding of Potter’s blood through his hand as he gripped her own, pulling her to safety.
She closed her eyes, overwhelmed, and imagined for a moment that instead of her mother it was Potter she held for dear life.
I’m never going to live this down, she knew. Bad enough that her hated foe put her in his debt, and worse still, that it was she who failed to stop him. No… not that…
Lord Voldemort was once a person her parents had admired and looked up to. They encouraged her to see him as a liberator, a restorer of Wizarding traditions and wreaking long awaited vengeance upon the Muggle usurpers that had driven Wizarding Britain into permanent hiding. But the reality of the past year broke that illusion.
Voldemort was neither saint nor leader, but a man obsessed with a single, insignificant, worthless boy—
“Go away,” Lucius rasped, getting to his feet with a grimace and a limp. He held out his arms, shielding wife and daughter, his back to them. “We want nothing more to do with you.”
“It’ll only be for a moment, sir.”
Diana’s heart stilled and her breathing caught itself. Oh no…
“If you want our thanks you already have it,” Lucius growled. “Thank you for—”
“It’s not that. I want to speak with her.”
“No,” said Narcissa, her arms growing just a tad tighter. “You may not!”
Diana decided she had enough. Best to nip this in the bud immediately. “Mum, gerrof me.” With surprising strength she managed to pull away from her mother, and turned to look up at him.
She found her gaze moving downwards as Harry Potter squatted down before her. Eye to eye. They were bright, vivid green, she just now noticed. Were they always that penetrating? Why was she wondering this—
He held out his hand.
In that hand was her hawthorn wand.
“Wh-What happened to ‘winners, keepers’, Potter?” she spluttered.
Unless she was dreaming, the dratted boy was looking sheepish. “It was, uh, pardon the expression, in the heat of the moment.” When he saw her face Harry ducked his head. “Begging your pardon. I don’t need this anymore. So… here.”
Hand trembling, almost in spite of herself, Diana reached out and grabbed it. She felt a strange warmth reignite in her fingers, as if the wand were rejoicing at her touch, and harmless sparks flew out from the end.
But she didn’t remove her hand from his.
He looked confused.
“Do you… do you understand what you’re doing?” she asked him, voice soft as a feather, light-grey eyes the diametric opposite. “Returning a wand taken from your opponent—”
“—Is unheard of, yes, I know,” Harry finished for her awkwardly. “Do you, er, want it back?”
Good heavens she would do anything for her wand back. It was a wizard’s key to everything, a symbol of their magical might and potency of power over the magicless Muggles—practically the emblem of royalty! But to accept it from him of all people put a frog in her throat.
“I… ah…”
“If you are quite finished, Potter,” said Lucius, growing impatient. “Give Diana back her wand, if you please,” he added belatedly at a pointed glare from his wife.
Screwing up her courage, Diana nodded blindly. “Y-Yes, I do want it back.”
Each word felt like something awful, like a foul potion was being drained from her system, and oddly felt good once they were out.
Harry released his hold, causing Diana to fumble in her attempt to keep her beloved wand from dropping. She stared at it in disbelief, unwilling to accept what she saw. It was exactly as she remembered it, having seen it countless times over the course of her long seven years of attendance at Hogwarts, having used it countless times without thought or effort.
And yet… now, it felt different.
Like a piece of her soul returned to her. For however long it had been in Potter’s hands, it responded to her exactly as she remembered it.
It was also the wand that killed Voldemort.
She trembled. “Thank you, Potter,” she whispered, voice going soft, eyes misty as her emotions welled up in spite of herself.
Harry didn’t acknowledge this as he had stood up, leaving her alone to her thoughts. He fixed Lucius with a determined look to his eyes, his back ramrod straight, and, incredibly, a slight trembling as he spoke.
“I… know we haven’t been on the best of terms—”
Lucius coughed.
“—But if you may…”
Harry trailed off, looking awkward.
“What could you possibly want more from us?” Lucius asked, barely repressed fury in his tone. “You took our elf. What next? Our home? Our wealth? Surely you can take it all, now that your friends are in charge.”
“…actually,” Harry began, now rubbing the back of his head. He looked, if possible, even more sheepish. “I was hoping… for your blessing.”
“My what?”
“Your blessing.” Harry looked down. He saw Diana still staring at her wand with rapt attention, scared that it was a dream. He fixed that impression of her fast in his memory, of her vulnerability and weakness.
It was precious.
“I wish for your daughter’s hand in marriage,” he finished, returning his gaze to Lucius.
Diana felt something break, like a porcelain plate shattering. She looked up far too quickly, shock being written across her pointed, haughty features. “You what?” she spluttered.
“You what?”
Diana stood up. She noticed that Harry was two inches taller than she was.
“You what?!”
“Your hand in marriage.” Harry repeated blandly.
Diana scanned his face for a joke, hoping that he had gone cracked in the head, making fun of her in the most tiring time of her life. All she saw was that same dratted, earnest sincerity that she despised in Gryffindors.
“Why?”
“I’d… I’ve been thinking,” he began. “We’ve had a rather… ah, strange time together at Hogwarts. But, while on the run, I had some time alone to, er, examine myself better. Somehow being out there, with nothing but survival on mind, caused me to… see things differently.”
Diana pursed her lips. “I don’t suppose that Weasley girl dumped you, and you came to me, hoping for pity—”
“I dumped her.” Harry breathed, his hands opening and closing, but oddly at peace. “I told her last year that we couldn’t be together. At first I told myself it was because I didn’t want her to be hurt, but… well, I found myself drifting away. My… business… kept me occupied.”
“Causing chaos and mayhem,” she said. “You are very good at that.”
“You let me have that wand.”
“What?! No, of course not, why would I—”
“You barely resisted.”
“Ahem!” she tutted. “You are a boy, and I am a girl! What could I have possibly done to stop you from manhandling me?”
Harry hid a smile. “I… didn’t hurt you, either?”
“You want me to marry you because you didn’t hurt me… and gave back my wand.”
“Yes.”
“What if I refuse?”
Harry’s face fell. His disarmingly green eyes glinted, and Diana realized it was from suppressed tears. “If… if that’s what you wish, then… I’ll respect it. I’m sorry.” He bowed to Lucius Malfoy, who was very still. “I apologize for troubling you, Mr. Malfoy.”
Harry turned to leave.
Diana reached out and caught the sleeve of his robes.
“What—”
She pulled Harry back and into an embrace. Her arms went around him and she, very pointedly, kissed him.
He wasn’t a bad kisser, though it was very teenage and awkward. But, oh, heavens, the feeling of his arms around her again brought back the memory upon that broomstick, fleeing from certain death, her screams still echoing while he gallantly rescued her.
When they separated, Diana’s eyes were again hardened, but with a steely resolve. Harry looked simultaneously confused, bemused, and elated. She fixed that memory in her mind’s eye, of him looking so off-balance and cute.
“You are incorrigible," she said. “You damned Gryffindor!”
“Is… that a yes?”
“Must I kiss you again?”
“Erm… yes?”
Lucius politely coughed, and they looked over. Narcissa had gotten to her feet and now stood beside her husband, looking quite stunned at what had just unfolded before her eyes, while the elder Malfoy looked as though he had been hit in the face with a Stunning spell.
“If… if it is my blessing you want, Potter, you have it,” he said, voice soft and with no mockery in it at all. “I would give my daughter to you, but Diana’s already made her decision.”
Harry flushed, looking embarrassed. “Thank you, Mr. Malfoy,” he said. Then a thought came to him while Diana had every intention of pulling him back into an embrace. “Ah… about Dobby… I buried him with… with full honors.”
Malfoy inclined his head.
Diana vaguely remembered Dobby. Though she never admitted it to her parents, she had overheard them discussing that strange diary of Voldemort’s and the plans to get rid of it when she wasn’t supposed to have heard.
“He’s at—”
“I neither care nor wish to know,” Lucius said. “Thank you for putting him at rest.”
Harry looked back at Diana, and by the knowing look in his expression she realized he had already come to the obvious conclusion. She gritted her teeth, wishing she could punch and kiss him together, feeling a strange sort of recklessness washing over her.
“I’ll have you know that I’m more than just a house elf,” she said softly. “You better prepare yourself, Potter.”
“Will you come with me?” Harry asked.
“Really? A romantic tour of the castle? I accept.”
He looked at Lucius and Narcissa, saw both of them were nodding their heads, then smiled and said, “Great, let’s go… I have something I want to show you…”
Diana and Harry linked their hands and started moving out of the Great Hall. Or, rather, she clung to his arm in an attempt to reassure herself that this was real and not some hallucination wrought by stress and adrenalin; Harry let her without complaint.
He shook out something silvery and grey and before she could ask what it was draped her in it. “It’s my father’s Invisibility Cloak,” he said quietly as she tensed up. “Please, stay under it for a while. You’ll see why.”
They moved together, her now following him, still holding onto his arm (Harry passed it off as keeping it under his robe as if wounded); and they came upon Ron and Hermione.
Diana stiffened when she saw them, but Harry, who could not see her, bent over their shoulders and said, “It’s me. Will you come with me?” Both immediately arose and followed, Diana now awkwardly hugging Harry’s shadow and avoiding Ron’s big feet.
They departed the Great Hall. The scale and scope of the devastation was laid bare before them: enormous holes filled the marble staircase, chunks of the balustrade missing, and piles of misshapen stone lay everywhere. Diana took care to avoid the bloodstains that lay dried on the floor.
The four ascended the stair to the second floor. Along the way Harry began speaking, recounting what he had seen in the Pensive and what had happened in the Forbidden Forest. Diana, who was unsure of what to make of this, kept quiet as she listened to the retelling of Severus Snape’s own memories recontextualizing everything she knew of the man.
Everything made a disturbing amount of sense, and now she knew what exactly Harry Potter had meant when he spoke to Lord Voldemort.
It frightened her greatly, and yet this fright was ameliorated with the realization and understanding that he had taken her into confidence. Into his confidence.
Through it all Harry made no mention of his soon-to-be wife hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak. Somewhere in the distance Peves was singing a rude song. Diana was grateful the poltergeist was nowhere near them.
When they reached the Gargoyle corridor, and had gone up the stair to the Headmaster’s office, Diana jumped when the portraits began applauding and cheering for Harry. She watched and listened as he told the Dumbledore portrait his plans for the Elder Wand.
“I don’t want it,” Harry said.
“What?” ejaculated Ron. “Are you mental?”
“I know it’s powerful, but I was happier with mine.”
Harry rumaged through a pouch around his neck (Huh, Diana thought, how had I not noticed it before?) and withdrew the broken remains of his wand, two halves of holly still connected by the barest threads of phoenix feather.
He laid the broken wand upon the Headmaster’s desk, then turned to face Hermione and Ron. “Before I do this,” he said. “There is something I must tell you both. Promise me you won’t overreact.” He looked pointed at Ron.
“Of course, Harry,” said Hermione, the girl Diana had always envied and despised.
“Sure thing, Harry,” said Ron, the boy Diana had always thought was too loud for his own good.
Before she could do anything, Harry fixed his eyes upon her invisible own and reached out, took hold of the Invisibility Cloak, and pulled it off her.
“Ron, Hermione,” he said. “This is Diana. My wife-to-be.”
Diana colored up. “Potter!” she spluttered again. “Warn me next time!”
He pulled her into an embrace and she let herself without resistance. As she fell into his arms, she caught the thunderstruck look upon the other two’s faces and felt quiet satisfaction at their utter bafflement.
“Sorry,” he said, breath ruffling the top of her head. “I figured it was better that way. I don’t like drawn out surprises.”
“Bloody hell, Harry,” breathed Ron, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. “Why her?”
Hermione was speechless.
Harry only smiled and turned them around, facing the desk. His wand laid there, looking as invalid as a wand could be. Diana immediately understood at once what he intended to do.
“Repairo.”
The hawthorn wandtip touched the holly; and Harry Potter’s wand resealed. Red sparks flew out the end and he picked it up. “Thank you,” he said, and Diana flushed further still, looking tomato red.
“You’re incorrigible,” she muttered.
“I’m putting the Elder Wand back where it came from,” Harry said, addressing the Dumbledore portrait. “It can stay there. If I die a natural death like Ignotus, or,” he hugged Diana a little tightly, “strangled in my sleep by my—ouch!”
“Serves you right,” she huffed. “Don’t put it past me to do it.”
Harry grinned. “Its power will be broken, won’t it? The previous master will never have been defeated. And that’ll be the end of it.”
Dumbledore nodded. “I wish you and Diana happiness,” it said, beaming fondly at them both.
Harry nodded, and with one accord they turned and departed the Headmaster’s office.
On the way down the stairs Ron looked back at Harry and Diana, still gawping. “I still don’t know why you—” he began.
“Ron, that is enough,” Harry said firmly.
“I’ll hex you if you ask one more time,” Diana said, eyes flashing.
Ron held up his hands. “Okay, okay, I get it.”
And when they reached the bottom, they waited as Ron and Hermione drew on ahead. Harry took her to an unused office the other way. The moment they were alone, the door closed behind them, he pulled her in for a kiss.
After they separated, Diana said, “Don’t put it past me to strangle you.”
Harry laughed. “I could ask for no better way than to go.” Then he grew serious. “Why did you accept?”
Diana had her answer before he even finished the question.
“You apologized, to me, and to my father. That was enough for me.” When he still looked confused, she sighed. “Potter, in all our time here, you’ve never once said sorry to me, ever. Well… not that I deserved it, but…”
“It was the thought that mattered,” Harry finished, understanding.
“Yes.”
He smiled again, his green eyes looking quite warm and verdant. “I hope I can be a good husband.”
Diana smirked, steel-grey eyes light and free. “And I hope you won’t regret choosing me.”
They met in an embrace one last time, a full and sincere hug that held more than words, before separating and departing the office, hand in hand; to return back to the Great Hall to join everyone else, and begin a new life.
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