Captured

Chapter Forty-Four: Found

The room was chaos, as those who had survived screamed and shouted and cheered.

Harry was alive.

Draco was alive.

And Voldemort was dead.

Hermione gave Draco a quick, lingering kiss on the cheek before she pulled away to run to Harry, tears streaming down her face and a laugh bubbling up her throat.

She reached Harry at the same time Ron did, and the three of them leapt on each other in a bone crushing, emotional hug. They had done it. They had made it to the other side.

She was shouting and crying and laughing, and she had no idea what she was saying or Ron was saying as they did, as all of their friends and loved ones still here caught up to them and pressed in around them.

It wasn't long before she and Ron were separated from Harry, who was pulled away into the throng of survivors, all desperate to see him and speak with him.

But everyone knew who she and Ron were, knew that this past year they had been working alongside Harry, working against Voldemort and towards this very moment.

And everyone seemed to want a piece of them as well.

She shook hands with what felt like hundreds of people as they made their way to the trio who had been fighting against Voldemort for the past seven years, to the young witch and wizards who had come up against Voldemort and his followers year after year and come out on top.

She recognized some of the faces, and was sure she had never seen others.

But friend or stranger, they all held the same mix of grief and joy on their faces.

Everyone had lost someone, whether during this final battle or in the past, to Voldemort and his followers. Everyone was feeling the same complicated, warring emotions of relief and happiness that he had finally been defeated, and pain at the memory of all who had fallen along the way.

She didn't know how long she stood in the centre of the Great Hall, before someone finally rescued her.

McGonagall's sharp voice snapped at the revellers to let the trio breathe, and she was finally, mercifully, led to a bench along one of the house tables once again present.

She collapsed onto the seat next to Ron, who was grinning as he clapped Charlie on the back.

Finally free, she glanced around the hall, looking for the white-blonde hair and silver gaze that had become so familiar to her.

~.~.~

Draco watched Hermione get dragged into the throng of people screaming Voldemort's defeat at the top of their lungs and suddenly felt out of place.

Nearly no one paid him any attention, and those who did gave him tentative smiles before moving on.

But he wasn't friends with any of them.

He had spent the greater part of the last seven years taunting and bullying many of the people in this room.

He didn't belong here, standing among them.

He had played a role in the battle and did what he could, but he didn't deserve to be a part of their joy, their celebration, not when he and his family had helped the very wizard that was responsible for the lingering pain on their faces, again rise to power.

He stood awkwardly at the edge of the Great Hall, leaning against the wall near the doors as he silently searched for any sign of his mother.

"It feels odd, to be here."