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Grimmauld Place, next morning
The majority of Order of the Phoenix was there, standing, sitting, or leaning around the kitchen. Dumbledore, older than ever but still far from decrepit, sat at the head of the large table, and around him sat the senior players in the Order. McGonagall was there, as was Snape. Also present were Molly Weasley, Remus Lupin, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tonks, George and Ron, Hermione, and Harry. Others were there as well, many former schoolmates of Harry’s, and in their late twenties. Though meetings were never really light-hearted, this was even more somber than usual. Lucius’ message had been told to all, and most, like Ron, were completely lost as to its meaning. But a few of the older members found its point all too clear.
“It would seem that the game is about to end.” Dumbledore smiled wearily at the people gathered. His eyes still held their familiar twinkle, though the wrinkles around the eyes sometimes distracted from their light. “Many of you here do not understand what has happened, or what will happen because of tonight’s events. Approximately twelve years ago, Lord Voldemort tried to obtain a prophecy that concerned him from the Department of Mysteries. He was unsuccessful, though at a great price to our side. But Harry here learned much that fateful night. It has been Harry’s wish that I- or anyone who knows the full story- remain silent about all that transpired. Since the prophecy had been destroyed, I did not think it such a bad idea. The fewer that knew, the harder it would be for Voldemort to obtain the truth. But now, somehow, he has learned the prophecy, and now it is time we all know. Harry?”
Harry took his cue. “Almost thirty years ago, a certain seer made a prediction concerning Voldemort and myself.” Harry took a deep breath to calm himself. “It basically said, without going into the details, that there is only one person who can defeat Voldemort and either he will kill him, or be killed. That person is me.” Harry forced himself not to look down, but straight ahead. He avoided looking at Hermione or Ron. “Voldemort has never, to our knowledge, known this. Now, it seems, he does. And he wants to end it, once and for all.”
A general shocked silence. Was there even a way to respond to that? Everyone just looked down. Some held their spouses’ hand for comfort.
Ginny Weasley was the first to finally speak.
“So. What are you going to do?”
Grimmauld Place, that afternoon
Most had left soon after the meeting ended. Only the Weasleys, Lupin, and Harry remained. Even Dumbledore had left after having a private word with Harry. Harry knew they wanted to know why he had kept it a secret for so long.
“I didn’t tell anyone because, well… would you?” Harry said before they even asked. He really didn’t know what to say.
“We’re not blaming you,” Lupin said gently. “I agree, in fact, I wouldn’t want people to know something lik-”
“But its us,” Ron interrupted. “I mean, okay, I wouldn’t want the general public to know, but-” Ron, who had been looking at Lupin, now turned to Harry, “but what about your closest friends?”
“I didn’t really want to talk about it at first with anyone, because I learned right after Sirius had died.” He swallowed; even years later, the memory was still painful. “And then, later, well, I didn’t know how to bring it up. We never really talked about the prophecy afterward, I didn’t really want to so…”
“Its okay, Harry dear” Ms. Weasley said. She smiled kindly, though it was a smile etched with loss. Losing a husband and son can have that effect. But she was still Ms. Weasley, still motherly and compassionate to all. “Its understandable, and we have no right to ask questions.” This last bit was directed at her children, George, Ron, and Ginny, who (Ron in particular) were still looking like they wanted to talk. “Really, we all know now, and there’s nothing left to be said.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry felt, that at least, still needed to be said. This seemed to slightly appease them, because after a moment silence, George said,
“ Well, I need to get home, tell Angelina what’s up.” His wife was in the Order as well, but had stayed home with their young son.
“Yea, I need to tell Dean what the meeting was about, too.” Ginny’s fiancé, Dean Thomas, was in the Order, but couldn’t come to the meeting because of he owned a shop at Diagon Alley.
Ron said, “Right, and I think Harry and I are gonna go to St. Mungo’s to sit with Hermione.”
The group slowly filed out of the house, leaving it empty. At first Lupin had lived there alone, but moved out eventually. Now the house was only used for meetings, and sometimes those who needed to disappear would seek refuge at the empty house. But without permanent residents, number twelve had become ragged, almost as bad as it had been before Sirius had returned.
St. Mungo’s, same evening
Hermione held Draco’s hand while waiting for him to wake up. She had left immediately after the meeting to come here. She smiled slightly, looking around. Though it was a bit strange to say, Hermione had many memories, good and bad, connected to this hospital. It was here Fred had died, after fighting five Death-Eaters single-handed. She had been in the waiting room when they had gotten the news.
But it was also here, when she herself had been a patient, that Draco proposed. She remembered it so well. She had woken up, and there he was, looking so scared and anxious, and yet so relived that she was okay. They had talked for over an hour, going over the events and its consequences, when suddenly, he just said it-
“Hermione, I love you. If you had died, I don’t know… Will you marry me?” Just like that. Of course they had been dating for a while, but it was still surprising. But before she could even register what he had said, she had agreed. Harry and Ron had walked in on them kissing.
Hermione, smiling at the memory, turned back to Draco to find him awake, and staring at her in an amused manner.
“You’re awake. Good.” Hermione smiled at him, noticing the look on his face. “What?”
“Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. “What were you smiling about? Did you think you had gotten rid of me? You should know, its not that easy to get rid of Draco Malfoy.”
“Yea, that’s just what I was hoping,” she teased. “I was thinking of the day I got stuck with you, when I was a patient, and you took advantage of my temporary insanity.” Then she leaned over and gave him a kiss. “How do you feel?”
“Well, I’ve defiantly felt better.” He said, trying to sit up, but sank back with a moan. “But then again, I’m alive, and I’m with you, so I’ve also felt worse.” He gave her a sly smile, and she leaned forward to kiss him again.
“Christ, four years, and they still act like newlyweds.”
They turned to find Harry and Ron standing in the doorway. They walked in, Ron saying, “We came to keep Hermione company if you hadn’t waken. Nice to see you’re okay.”
“Thanks,” Draco replied, and then shook his head. “After all this time, it still feels weird to hear you say that. To me, anyway.”
Ron shrugged. It was strange for him too, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “Maybe by the time we’re fifty it will feel more natural.”
Draco allowed himself a slight smile, then it was down to business. “So what happened last night? Ehh- it was last night, right?”
“Yea,” Harry responded. “We chased Lucius out into the garden. He had enough of a head start that he was able to hide in the flowerbeds. He got away. But first he-“
“Damn!” Draco said, and pounded his fist against the bed sheets. He looked at Harry and Ron with an urgent look in his eyes. “We have to find him.”
“Draco? Why, what happened?” Hermione asked nervously.
“When we were fighting- Lucius and I -we were talking. I mean, I don’t know if it counts as actual conversation, since we were trying to kill each other at the same time,” Draco rushed. “But while we were yelling, he let something slip, about you-know-who. He knows where you-know-who is.”
If this was true, it was of great importance. Voldemort had grown paranoid the past few years, and had grown more and more protective of his person. Nobody knew if he was even on the British Isles anymore. As far as the Order knew, only two or three Death Eaters had even the slightest clue as to his whereabouts.
“Are you sure he didn’t ‘let something slip’ on purpose?” Harry asked quietly. Hermione and Ron looked at him. They knew what he was thinking. But Draco was too excited to notice.
“No, why would he do that? Listen, after he said he knows where you-know-who is, he got even angrier, and it felt like he doubled his efforts to kill me. Like, now that I knew, I couldn’t live to tell any one else. It was an accident that he told me.”
“Draco, you need to know something.” Hermione spoke up. “Before Lucius disapparated, he told Harry he had a message for him. He said Voldemort knows the prophecy, and he’s waiting on Harry.”
“What? What prophecy?” Draco was utterly nonplussed.
Harry told him. Draco’s jaw dropped.
“So... Lucius might have told me on purpose… so you would go find him?” Harry nodded. “But that still wouldn’t work- you still don’t know where you-know-is.”
“That would have been too easy.” Hermione said in a thoughtful tone. “If he was trying to make it look like an accident, he couldn’t just tell you outright. I don’t know, though… something about this doesn’t feel right.”
"Well of course it doesn’t.” Ron said. “Has anything felt ‘right’ since you-know-who came back? There’s a trick to it, and we know there’s a trick, we just don’t know what it is.”
They were all silent a moment, thinking.
“What are you going to do?” Hermione asked Harry. They looked at him.
Harry didn’t respond right away.
“I’m going to find Lucius Malfoy, and he’s going to tell me where Voldemort is.”
Undisclosed location, approx. same time
“My lord, it has been done as you asked,” Malfoy murmured. He kept his head down, careful not to look directly at his master. Voldemort was more than just paranoid- he was insane. Dark magic meant to secure immortality had only warped his mind. He saw threats and enemies everywhere, even in his followers. But madness hadn’t affected his powers. In fact, he was stronger than ever. Without a word, but only a slight flicker of his wand, the Dark Lord could do anything… including torture or kill.
Malfoy waited for his lord to speak. He watched the back of the chair. He couldn’t actually see the man in the high-backed chair, but Malfoy knew it was him. A large fireplace cast peculiar moving shadows on the floor, and he could detect the silhouette of a tall, thin man. For a while Malfoy stood in the darkness, waiting. But the man didn’t respond.
“Master?” he attempted timidly. The man stood up, and turned to Malfoy. He immediately snapped back into a servile position, making sure not to look up. Only those with a death wish looked him in his face. Such a wish would be quickly granted.
“Did everything go as planned? Were there any mistakes, Lucius?” Malfoy could not suppress an inward shudder. That voice was so cold. Merciless.
“No, my lord. I planted the seed, and I delivered the message.”
“Did you kill anyone, Lucuis?” If the voice weren’t always devoid of emotion, he would have thought it sounded hopeful.
“No, my lord.” Malfoy never elaborated, unless asked. It was safer.
“Very well. Now I want you to go here.” In front of Malfoy appeared a slip of parchment. He read the address. Though he did not show it, he was surprised. Did the master want him dead? This would be suicide. He had fled that place for a reason, after all. The master continued.
“Stay until he finds you.” He didn’t need to say who ‘he’ was. Malfoy knew.
Malfoy nodded. “Anything else, my lord?”
“Bring Wormtail to me.”
“Yes, my lord. Thank you.”
Malfoy bowed his way out, not turning around until he was in the hall and closed the door. And it wasn’t until after he had talked to Pettigrew, and he was outside the house, that he allowed himself a sigh of relief.
(A/N): This is a bit longer than expected, but oh well. It seemed like a good stopping point to me. See, I’ve already got the majority written out (I like to make sure the story is going somewhere before I post it), so I can update fairly regularly. Hope you like!