On the floor before them lays the prone form of Voldemort, his empty gaze staring up at the ceiling. Once more, blood trickles onto the pristine tile of his childhood home, this time from the wizard that destroyed everything that Draco held dear to himself while at the same time waking this being within him, this gift of power that he might never have had without it. The weight of it crashes into Draco and, before he realizes what he’s doing, he crushes Hermione to him, their lips frantic in celebration. When they break apart, Hermione stares up at him, their satisfaction mingling together.