Secrets and Masks

71. Nothing.

Authors note; firstly, I just wanted to say that the support this fic has received so far has blown me away. I'm an extremely anxious person and my overactive imagination runs away with me a lot, so I was recommended to start writing as a way to channel this nervous energy I feel that sometimes feels like it's going to swallow me whole. That was all Secrets and Masks was ever supposed to be. Just a way for me to relax and get rid of that horrible energy, so to see the outpouring of love it's received has truly left me speechless. I cannot thank you enough and it might sound dramatic, but the comments and support from you all have given me a new lease of life and given me the confidence to write my own fantasy series - so from the bottom of this old Slytherin's heart, I cannot thank each and every one of you enough.

That being said, we are nearing the end of Secrets and Masks now. After this, there are only two more chapters left and then two epilogues. I will try and get them up as quickly as I can so there isn't too much of a delay between them. The next two chapters in particular are very rough. I've been asked if I would consider writing an alternative ending but I think that might take away from this impact, so I've chosen not to write one. However, I ask you not to judge the ending too harshly to begin with, as I hope the epilogues will make everything a little clearer.

Once this fic is finished, I give permission to any and all who wish to bind it or translate it into any language - I just ask that full credit is given and you give me a few weeks to go through and re-edit the fic (in particular the first half) as my writing style has grown and developed since I started writing this, so I want to go back and make sure everything is perfect.

And finally, as much as I love reading everyone's comments and seeing edits, please, please, please may I ask that there are no spoilers posted on social media - particularly spoilers about this and chapter 73.

Anyway, enough rambling from me. Please, enjoy;

TW; violence, descriptions of wartime injuries and death

4th July

Seeing Draco that way ... Looking at him from across the battlefield, still covered in blood, still laying on the ground where he'd tried to crawl to her, Hermione didn't know what to do.

He wasn't even looking at her. He was staring at the corpse beside her, and somehow, fuck knew how, but that made the feeling that was brewing in her chest all the more painful.

Once, when they'd been laying on their sofa in the farmhouse together, under that thick blanket with the fire crackling beside them, Draco had told Hermione that he'd named Narcissa in his mother's memory not only to honour her, but because she was supposed to be indestructible. He'd told Hermione that the first Narcissa Malfoy had died too young so he'd wanted to forge another one, another that was strong enough to endure, one that could not only survive the war, but thrive in it, one that could outlive even him.

Holding his dying mother in his arms had been traumatic enough, but having to watch another Narcissa Malfoy die ... God, Hermione couldn't even begin to imagine the pain he must have been in.

All around them, everyone had stopped. Narcissa's attack might've been the call to arms that began the fight, but her death had been unexpected enough to unite everyone - even if it was only briefly - in the same frozen, awestruck stare. 

Everyone had accepted the temporary truce, everyone, except Voldemort. Hermione didn't know why she thought he might have done in the first place. He'd never shown even a sliver of human decency before, why should he start now, when he was so close to death?

And because Draco just happened to be the closest person to him, he became the target for his new bout of rage. The way hatred burned in the red of his eyes as he stared down at Draco made him look even more snakelike. His lip curled back over his rotting teeth -