Thirty Six: Will Death Tremble To Take Us?

Many thanks are due to all of you who have waited so patiently for me to get on with it! This was the chapter that held me up for such a long time - almost a year, to be specific. Thank you, stgulik, for all the hard work of getting this battle-ready.

Folks, we are nearing the end. After this chapter, there are two more and an Epilogue. So after almost three years (roughly the time this story spans), Lay Me Low will be completed.

Please note that this chapter contains explicit and sometimes gory violence. Well, there is a war on, you know!

Now - The Battle!

---

We are here to kill war... We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us... - Charles Bukowski

---

Sinners, monks and thieves all share the air we breathe;

Smoke, swords and fire; brave man's true desire;

For free men must fight tonight all in the glory of war...

With steel, dirt and sand, we all have a stake in the land;

Tonight they will come...

Blood rivers flowing, men die without knowing, we fight as legions against a crown of treason...

For many will not see morning sun rising, flags on the horizon,

Led by the arrows, then release the dragon,

Thus begins the battle...

---

Tonks stared at Hermione. Her hair had changed from purple to alarmed, agitated red. "How in Merlin's name can we be 'in' the Deathly Hallows?"

Hermione answered, "The 'Hallows' is just a metaphor. The three items – the wand, the stone, the cloak, were symbolic. Beedle The Bard found the true means of hiding from death, but he hid the secret in a story." She paused. They were guessing at this point, but she and Severus agreed it 'felt' right, as if the spell itself were guiding them.

"Beedle was a singer of tales and legends; and somewhere along the line he found this gateway between life and death. Music is a powerful carrier of magic; it could have been accidental, who knows? In any case, he was smart enough to realise what he'd stumbled upon, and practical enough to know how dangerous it could be in the wrong hands."

The Auror nodded. "If you had discovered such incredible power, would you give just anyone the knowledge of how to use it?"

"Exactly. If I were to guess, I would say that Death in the story was played by none other than Beedle himself. He sold the Peverell Brothers the idea of the Deathly Hallows, in the guise of the three items." She felt her stomach flutter; she was still thrilled and terrified by what they had learned.

"But he didn't cheat them; he gave them the knowledge, you see, if they were smart enough." She smiled. "But only the youngest brother, the one who chose to hide from death, was clever enough to figure it out."

Tonks fixed her with a steady, unblinking eye. "And how did you 'figure it out'?"

Hermione's smile of pleasure faded somewhat. "I didn't. Severus was brought here when he died." She explained their amazing spiritual and mental link, and how the song Severus had taught her, coupled with Luna's clues and their dreams, had helped her to reach the conclusion. Tonks listened in rapt fascination, even as she took in the eerie, barren landscape just beyond the corridor.

"So the Deathly Hallows themselves don't really exist?"

Hermione paused. "Well, here is the tricky part. They do exist, but they're just magical devices. Personally, I think the brothers used them as a means to further their own desires and needs. But they weren't the catalyst for the spell, and they weren't the Hallows themselves. They were just the symbols of it." She brandished her wand. "That's why wandless, wordless magic is considered the peak of a witch or wizard's power. Wizarding folk need tangible objects to concentrate their magic; wands, crystal balls, cauldrons, brooms. We can relate to the three objects because we prefer using objects."

"I see what you mean, but this? This, whatever, wherever it is," replied Tonks, looking around the strange, un-place, "is hard to get my head around."

"I know. It's vast, but at the same time it's claustrophobic. It feels warm, but I want to shiver."

Tonks frowned. "Can you hear that?"

Hermione nodded. The soft, rushing sound carried with it discernible noises. She fancied she heard a dog bark, a child's shrill laughter, a voice singing a song she thought she should know. "Yes. We don't know exactly what it is, but..."

"It sounds so... disturbing," Tonks interrupted, clearly frustrated. "It's giving me the willies, but I also feel left out, like I want to join them."

"That feeling gets more intense the longer you stay," Hermione replied, deliberately blocking the sounds from her mind. "You start hearing voices you recognise. You even fancy they're calling your name. Who knows?" she shrugged. "Maybe they are."

Tonks continued to investigate the terrain, her usually comical face sober. "And why a desert? I mean, if that..." she pointed toward the figures in the cottage, "...is our reality, then what is this?" She gestured out to the endless wasteland, beyond the narrow corridor in which they stood.

Uncomfortably, Hermione replied, "When I k-killed Dumbledore, my soul was split. Severus brought me here to help me to become whole again." She frowned. "It didn't look like this at that time. We started sharing dreams of this landscape shortly before Severus was killed. This is where he came.

"He said he met an old friend here...Regulus Black."

Tonks' eyes widened. "Blimey! Reg Black. Now that's a name I haven't heard in a long time. He was my cousin, you know." She sighed wistfully. "Such a bloody waste. He was the most handsome wizard I think I've ever seen. Such a bloody waste," she repeated. "And Snape saw him here?"

Hermione nodded. "Reg Black greeted him when he arrived."

Tonks smiled. "They were always thick, Snape and Reg. There was a time when I thought..." Tonks stopped, as if she suddenly remembered herself. "Well, Reg always sort of hero-worshipped Severus."

"Yes, well, in any case, Severus believes it's the land of the dead. I don't know the significance of the landscape, except that in most cultures a desert represents barren, lifeless emptiness." Hermione shivered, thinking of Severus trapped here, confused and fearful, until Reg appeared. "All I know is that it's a place I don't want to go." Death, it seemed, was patient, but seductive. Death expected its due.

Tonks looked into the endless sea of sun-baked sand and shuddered. "Snap. Whatever it is, I'm not in any hurry to hang around and find out more about it."

They turned away from the emptiness and its mesmerising voices, and watched the tableau in Shell Cottage with rapt fascination. The figures were clear, but hazy, as if viewed from behind a scrim. "Why are they moving so slowly?" Tonks asked. "It's like they've been hit with a Time Freezing Spell."

"They haven't been," replied Hermione. "The only conclusion we can come up with is that time means something quite different here. It's less... significant, I suppose." She gestured toward the cottage. "To them, we'll only be gone for a minute or so."

Tonks turned back to Hermione. Briskly, she said, "Alright, it's incredible, I grant you, but how do we use it? It's all well and good to hide from You-Know-Who, but sooner or later we'll have to come out of hiding."

"True, but you came here with me. Try to go back...without me."

The Auror shot her a suspicious look as she drew her wand. "Finite Incantatum!" Nothing happened. She tried several spell-cancelling incantations, some of which Hermione had never heard. Tonks stared at her with stunned comprehension.

"If you bring someone here, only you can take them back?" She whistled, impressed. "What if I hear the incantation and imitate it?"

"It doesn't matter. The spell only works for the caster."

"If I Imperuse you or incapacitate ..."

"I must return you of my own free will. And if you kill me, you lose your only chance to go back. We've tried all sorts of variations."

Tonks gasped in understanding. She spluttered, "But that means...You-Know-Who could never...someone could take him here and leave him!"

Hermione nodded grimly. "And someone's going to." Taking Tonks' hand, she silently canceled the spell. She felt a slight disorientation, as if she'd stood up too quickly, and her eardrums popped as they returned to Shell Cottage again. In a rush of time, space and energy, the two worlds converged into a great, flashing kaleidoscope of sight and sound that left Hermione a little woozy. She hoped that would pass as she grew accustomed to the spell.

Tonks fell against her drunkenly as their friends surrounded them, all talking at once. While they'd been gone, Severus had explained what was happening. That was the major drawback, as far as they were concerned; when one of them was in the Between world, their link was severed. Now, back in his world where she belonged, Hermione's mind was flooded with agitation and relief that she had returned.

"How long were we gone?" Tonks demanded. She looked flushed and bewildered.

"About thirty seconds," he replied.

Tonks snorted, incredulous. "That's impossible!" she scoffed. "It was more like ten minutes!"

"And now you see the implications of this spell. We can move faster, cover greater distances...literally stop time if necessary. We can push a person out of the line of an Unforgivable..."

"Or push You-Know-Who straight into the path of one!" Arthur Weasley said, understanding dawning in his homely, careworn face. He looked at Severus, awestruck. "This is the most astounding magic I have ever seen."

"I have a question."

Everyone turned at the sound of Harry Potter's voice. He walked into the centre of the group, beside Severus and Hermione. To Hermione, he had changed so much in the past few hours it was like looking at a different Harry Potter entirely. Then again, she thought ruefully, they had all been forced to change or die. In Harry's case, he looked like a man who had accepted both.

"If I could somehow take You-Know-Who into this other 'place' with me, could we go beyond?" He paused. "Could I take him into the land of the dead?"

The room was silent. Finally, Severus answered. "I see no reason why you could not pierce that veil, but I can't guarantee you would return, either. When we enter the Hallows realm, we're merely stalling, asking Death to wait. He will not wait indefinitely."

Harry looked thoughtful. "Then we have to make sure I can get to You-Know-Who," he said. "If we can incapacitate his army until they are broken enough to no longer be a threat once he's gone, I can get within touching distance. If you teach me the spell, I can take him out once and for all."

The air in the room seemed to grow heavier. Quietly, Severus replied, "So be it." He and Harry looked at one another in silent, grim respect, and Hermione's heart tripped in her chest. She was looking at a martyr, and the realisation filled her with a strangely sad pride. He's ready to die, Severus. Oh gods, he's ready.

I know lass. And if that is how it must be, at least we can make sure it is not in vain.

Lupin whispered, "Well, I'll not deny this comes as a bit of a shock."

"It's bloody brilliant, Hermione," Ron said, awed by his friend. "Scary as hell, but brilliant." A slow grin split his face. "I've got a good feeling about this. I think we're going to win."

---

Throughout the next few days, the wheels were set in motion. Hermione, with her endless lists and notes, was in her element. Severus looked on approvingly; after months of hopelessness and frustration, it felt incredibly satisfying to actually be able to do something. When Hermione Granger-Snape started making notes, it meant she was getting back to normal.

The Order's underground system of communication was contacted. Soon, a steady stream of trusted advisors and Order members paraded through Shell Cottage from dawn to dusk. Martin and Jean Granger, along with Dobby, kept the troops fed and watered. Key people were taught the Deathly Hallows spell. Not everyone could perform it, though; magical ability did not seem to be a factor...intent, however, was an important one. Luna, Molly, Arthur and Fleur, for instance, accomplished it on their first try. It took Harry, Neville, Lupin and the Weasley twins several tries to get the wand movements correct, but they eventually got it in the end. And there were others like Ron, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Tonks, who could not do it at all.

One evening, Neville and Luna asked Severus and Harry to join them outside. They were each carrying a small bag. "We're going back to Hogwarts. We thought we'd leave when it got dark," said Luna.

"Good," Severus replied, forcing himself to sound confident. He refused to repeat all of the instructions again. These were no longer feckless children to badger and intimidate. These were warriors, and they were slipping into the dark heart of the enemy come nightfall. "Try to get word to Professor McGonagall as soon as you can, and tell her we are on the way. I can't tell you when the actual battle will begin, but..." he trailed off, and Longbottom nodded.

"Naturally, sir. We'll contact Aberforth Dumbledore as well; from what I understand he's been helping the DA with food, nursing and the like." He looked at Severus with eyes that were fearful, but determined. "Don't worry sir. We'll make sure the castle is ready when they come."

"If you are captured again," said Severus, "remember this, if you remember nothing else. No matter what you say or do, they will kill you. This isn't the time for Gryffindor posturing. Lie, misdirect, taunt, spit in their faces. In the end, give them nothing."

"We know, Professor," Luna said, and she squared her small shoulders. "Sometimes people have to die for nothing."

"But you'll forgive me if I try to take as many as I can with me when I go," added Longbottom grimly.

Severus shook his hand, studying the boy he'd once dismissed as less than useless. In his place, he saw a man, ready to fight. "Mr. Longbottom, I have no doubt you will keep your head, even while others around you are losing theirs."

Luna smiled up at the younger man. "Neville will be known throughout our world as one of the heroes of the war, sir. Just like you."

Severus shifted uncomfortably. "I have no wish to be remembered as a hero, Miss Lovegood. I only wish to survive."

Luna answered, "You've already done that, sir. Good luck." As Harry and Neville said their goodbyes, she rose on tiptoe and swiftly kissed Severus' cheek. She turned to Neville, whose eyes were already scanning the horizon, restless and wary. "I'm ready when you are," she announced. He nodded, and took her hand. As they walked into the night to prepare themselves for Apparation, she called over her shoulder, "Good luck, Harry. We'll see you at Hogwarts."

The two men were silent as they watched them Apparate away. Quietly, Harry said, "Sometimes I think Luna is the only sane person in Wizarding Britain."

Severus laughed, and Harry joined him. The two former enemies laughed so hard and long, tears spurted from their eyes. "You know, I don't think I've ever heard you laugh before," Harry said, wiping his eyes.

"I think it may be more hysteria than actual humour." Severus sighed, feeling a little giddy, and with that giddiness came a feeling of peace. He had provided Neville and Luna with every tool at his disposal; they were as armed for battle as he could ever make them.

A calm, relaxed silence fell between the two men, and they started back for the cottage. As they walked, Harry asked quietly, "Did it hurt?"

Severus knew without asking what Harry meant, and he shook his head. "I really didn't feel anything."

Harry nodded, and swallowed. "Were you...were you afraid?"

For a moment, neither spoke. Severus slowed his pace, and answered, "Of course I was afraid. I've been afraid for most of my life. But dying wasn't the frightening part. My fear was for Hermione. She's made so many sacrifices for us, for me. Her life was in constant danger, because of me. At first, I tried in every way to discourage her, but she held on until I couldn't imagine life without her."

Harry smiled. "She's good at that. Hermione's the most protective person I know."

Severus closed his eyes, picturing his wife. "When Dumbledore informed me of his master plan, I knew we would be marked for death. I had pledged to myself that, should the worst come, I would do the deed, rather than let the Death Eaters defile her. I would then turn my wand on myself."

It was Harry's turn to look surprised. Severus shook his head. "I had caused the death of your mother. I couldn't let him..." he took a deep breath. "No. Not my Hermione."

At the cottage door, Severus stopped, his hand on the latch. "I won't tell you to not be afraid. Your fear will keep the blade of your fighting edge sharp. I will tell you not to give into your fears." He allowed himself a smirk. "I'd like to think I gave you the best training possible in Defense Against the Dark Arts. And Dumbledore's Army filled in the blanks."

He turned the latch, but as he stepped over the threshold, he felt the boy's hand on his arm. Harry looked sad, but resigned. "You taught me a lot, Prof...sorry, Severus. More than I was once willing to admit. Thank you." A steely calm washed over his face, and Severus knew he was looking into the face of a man who had left boyhood behind forever. "I'm ready to do this. If we can break the back of the Death Eater army, I can get to him."

"Don't underestimate him..."

"We have the Deathly Hallows. He's just one wizard, a powerful one, but just one. Get me in his sights. Help me to finish this. And if I have to go with him, well," Harry shrugged. "I've been marked for death since I was an infant. I'd like to think He would welcome me as a friend."

---

A mist hung in the waning light, casting the world in tones of sepia, grey, black and white. Atop a knoll that sat at the very boundary of the Forbidden Forest, Severus watched as Voldemort's army marched toward Hogwarts, a grim, silent procession. Only their motion gave them away, swirling the mists around them, telegraphing numbers and positions and strength.

It was a mighty army, and one that even now stood a chance of winning, but Severus no longer thought about it in those terms. It was, as they say, in the lap of the gods. He had prepared his fighters to the best of his ability. He had drilled defense tactics, he had brewed healing potions. He had made portkeys and rehearsed strategies. He had planned and plotted, schemed and misdirected. He had lied when it was advantageous to do so, and told the truth when absolutely necessary. In short, he had done everything he could to level the odds.

He thought of his wife, and closed his eyes, his heart full of gratitude and love. She was inside Hogwarts, standing with Harry Potter, waiting for the moment when they would end this war once and for all. By this time tomorrow it would be over. The eerie calm was like being adrift on a still, quiet pond.

He felt Hermione's presence within his soul, and like photographs, he viewed all the moments of their amazing life together. Finding and comforting him at Grimmauld place... taking him to task for tangling her hair into spellknots... the night he poured out his heart to her, only to have her fill it back up again with love.

Then there was the night she'd nearly been killed at the Department of Mysteries, and how he'd literally held her body together while Poppy frantically chanted her healing spells. And the day they took one another's hands in the burned out shell of her parents' house, and pledged their hearts, and their strength...their bond stronger than the most powerful enchantment.

He thought of the first time they kissed; their quaint wedding at Gretna Green. And, oh, that first, intoxicating night they made love. His bride, his virgin bride, so eager for him...Severus Snape, the ugliest and most despised of men, ultimately healed and made beautiful by his wife's love.

There was one memory his mind churned over and over: that awful night, when she stepped forward to finish the job he could not, splitting her soul between life and death. Their perilous trip from Between, and back to life, had changed them both forever. Had they known then exactly what that Between world was, would lives have been spared? Would this battle even be necessary, if they had discovered that the true Deathly Hallows had been in their grasp from the moment he learned to sing a folk song his Muggle father had liked?

Even a time-turner cannot truly change the past. It can only make it stray from its path for awhile. Dumbledore had said those words to him, the night Lily Potter died. We all have our destinies; the only thing we can do is live them.

Hermione. For love. His battle cry, his lullaby. He thought of the angry, bitter man that had taken the Dark Mark on that hot summer night, and all the heartache and anguish that followed it. All of it was wiped clean now. Life was sweet, so very, very sweet. He wanted nothing more than to emerge from this night alive, with his brilliant, courageous wife by his side. But he had faced death before, and wasn't afraid of him. As Harry had said, he knew Death would welcome him as a friend.

Surrounding him on the knoll were hundreds, perhaps thousands of wizards and witches, silent and waiting. Many were ordinary Wizarding folk: housewitches, farmers and professionals, simple folk and highborn, Muggleborn and Pureblood. Most were British, but a large contingent represented the Continent. While he and Hermione had raised every smokescreen possible to hide the Order's activities, the Order was busy pulling together every man and woman in every walk of life they could find and recruit to their cause. Here and there was the restless stamp of a centaur's hooves, the soft rumble of Thestrals, the occasional sniff.

Their collective breathing sounded like the rush of a strong, cleansing breeze. Up on the knoll, their task was to disorientate the great beast of an army below, to unsettle it. They were here to divide and conquer, to feed on the beast's arrogance and fear and hatred. Down below, Tom Riddle and his Death Eaters, along with every vile creature that is attracted to his brand of darkness, were moving inexorably closer to Hogwarts.

The castle looked as quiet and unsuspecting as a slumbering babe, but even from here, Severus could feel the hum, like a beehive, thrumming from within. The magic emanating from the sacred walls of the school was powerful enough that even Riddle could feel it, if he only knew how to recognise it.

Thank Merlin he could not, and would not.

A warm hand fell on his shoulder, and Severus turned to the careworn, yet intense face of Remus Lupin. "You've done all you can," he said, his voice little more than a low hum. "Thank you."

Severus nodded; he knew that many would die today, and he whispered to them all, "My back to yours."

"My back to yours," replied the soft echo of a thousand whispers, like a litany of hope. The army of darkness below heard the sound, but to them, it was an ill wind, blowing discord through their ranks, making them restless, uneasy; Severus could see it in the way the bodies ebbed and flowed, moving constantly. Those on the knoll were as still as statues.

Let tonight finish it. Let me get Harry Potter close enough to take the Dark Lord into hell, Severus prayed. And let us fight so that Death will tremble to take us.

---

When Hermione and Harry joined the students and faculty in the castle, Minerva McGonagall had burst into tears and apologised to Hermione for her unconscionable behaviour before the Snapes had departed Hogwarts. Hugging her once-star pupil to her breast, she vehemently declared to the tattered remnants of Dumbledore's Army that anyone who even thought of harming Hermione Granger-Snape would have to answer to her. Ginny had been the hardest to convince, and her granite-like stare spoke of an inner bitterness that would not be quickly soothed.

All too soon, a loud alarm sounded, calling all the students to the Great Hall.

---

Suddenly, within his soul, he heard Hermione's voice, urgent and excited. Severus! The Carrows have been disarmed! The castle is secured within. We're ready!

Almost the moment the words faded away, he saw a minute spark of light arc across the ward boundaries of the castle, like a flash of heat lightening. There was a shimmer in the air above the school, and Severus nodded approvingly. Minerva, as acting Head, had invoked the castle defenses and reinforced the wards. Next, he knew, she would cast the Piertotum Locomotor spell, which brought all the stone sentries to life. They would be a stalwart first defense against anyone; theirs was an ancient, strong magic. Hogwarts was in full battle-ready mode.

The first attack came just as night fell. Severus sneered contemptuously; gods, Riddle could be predictable. The hexes strafed the walls like machine-gun fire he'd seen in Muggle films. It was a barrage of light and noise, but no real damage was done. Within the walls, it would sound like the end of the world, loud and frightening. The integrity of the wards would eventually weaken, but by then, he hoped to have broken Riddle's army. He hoped.

He hoped.

---

When the first explosion hit the reinforced wards, Hermione felt as if her internal organs were being pulverised inside her body. The sheer impact of bending physical law with magical intent was overwhelming, and the cry within the walls spread over the castle, enveloping every man, woman and child in a miasma of fear. If battering at the wards filled them with such panic, what would happen if the wards fell?

"Courage!" shouted Minerva McGonagall. "You aren't afraid of a few fireworks, are you? The wards can take quite a few pops and bangs, I can assure you. Voldemort is just cocking a snook at us!"

Ron turned to Hermione, his expression baffled. "Cocking a wha...?"

In spite of her fear, Hermione laughed. Trust Ron Weasley to make her laugh in the middle of a war. "It means he's thumbing his nose at us, Ronald."

"Oh. Well, why didn't she say so?" A look of determination solidified in his smile. "Well then, I say we cock one back at him, eh?"

---

Wandfire battered relentlessly at the magical dome blanketing Hogwarts, throwing out sparks and percussive booms, but it was all thunder and light; nothing penetrated it. Beside Severus, Kingsley Shacklebolt rumbled, "It's a pretty impressive display."

And a futile one, I hope, Severus thought grimly. "Hold your position," he intoned, feeling the surge of adrenaline in each and every magical being waiting with him on the knoll. "Patience. Courage. This is noise; it's meant to confuse and break us. It's all about instilling fear. Save your energy for the real attack."

A second wave of hex-fire blasted at the wards, skidding over the surface like rocks over a still pond. Severus could see the ripples undulating across the warded barrier, but it held. It is now or never, then. He raised his wand like a bandmaster's baton. "Now! Sound!" Severus hissed, and the army behind him hissed a reply into the air. The message had been carefully rehearsed; their pronunciation and diction taught to them by none other than Harry Potter himself. For their message to Tom Riddle was in Parseltongue.

The sounds slid over their ears, slick and unctuous, as the eerie words rolled over the knoll:

You are finished, Tom Riddle. You and your kind are done. I am coming for you.

The lisping, hissing battle cry washed over Voldemort's army like a wave, disorientating the columns, confusing them.

Voldemort turned, and the look of unholy triumph in his face changed to angry bafflement. Severus allowed himself a smile. Like a serpent scenting the air, the Dark Lord peered into the mist, and Severus knew what he saw. Absolutely nothing. No witches nor wizards nor magical creatures of any kind; just a swirling mist that rolled over his troops, filling them with uncertainty and tension.

'This will give us an advantage of perhaps no more than five or ten minutes," Severus had told this band of warriors the previous night, "but those minutes could win this war."

Raising her glass, Tonks had toasted Severus. "Here's to the longest ten minutes of our lives." As one, the group raised theirs in solemn agreement.

---

While they waited for the Death Eaters to tire themselves, battering senselessly against the wards, from above, a sudden chill descended, filling the night with fear and panic. Severus didn't have to look up to see the Dementors bearing down on them. Of course, they would be on the front line, sucking the courage and hope from every breast, leaving numb desolation in their wake. Around him, he could hear his army shifting, feeling the effects of the Dementors' cold breath.

"My back to yours," he shouted, and many replied, but just as many turned to him with blank, fear-shocked faces. Severus felt his own mind cloud and turn dark.

Dementors, lass. There are so many of them...

Courage, my love! Think of all the happiness we've shared!

He tried, but all he could see was the anguish, the hurt, and Hermione's voice faded as he relived the most awful moments of his life. Hearing that his mother had died two months before he arrived home, coming home to face his father, drunk and already shacked up in Eileen's house with that foul slut from the mill. Finding Lily, lying dead in a pool of her own filth, and Dumbledore making him relive the moment over and over in a Pensieve to remind him of the catastrophe he had caused. Reg, dying alone and in agony in a cave... Charity looking into his eyes as she died... Hermione, dying at his feet in Malfoy Manor, all but twisted in half, as he begged for forgiveness that would never come... All those who cared about him, suffering because of him. He didn't deserve to live...

Severus' vision faded, and he sank to his knees.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The spell burst forth from a hundred throats, and the light of a hundred Patronuses lit the ground as if it were day. Brilliant jets of light streaked across the sky, as broom riders swooped overhead. From all over the world, the best and bravest had volunteered for this prong of the attack, and they rode as one great team, graceful and sure of victory. Dementors were blown away, unable to withstand the onslaught of energy, and the riders rained down chaos from the sky, taunting the Death Eaters with all the arrogance and pride only a squadron of professional Quidditch players could produce.

Severus felt warmth and sensibility flow back into his mind, and he rose to his feat, cursing himself for his weakness. I'm alright, Lass. The sweet feeling of her relief stole into his bones, and he growled to himself, "You'd think I'd never seen a fucking Dementor before. Merlin's tits, I'm the ruddy Wizard-who-lived! Start flippin' well acting like it, sunshine!"

Several around him, Lupin included, laughed, and he knew they were laughing to shake off the Dementors' geas, to prove to themselves they were alright. Severus laughed with them. In the midst of their laughter, he felt his courage return, and fear settled back into a place he could control.

A quick glance around told him that the others had recovered as well. Good.

It was time.

"For love," he whispered, and closed his eyes, picturing Hermione. "Now!"

In the night, a voice rose in the air like a linnet.

Lay me low, lay me low, lay me low...

Another voice joined the first, then another, and another, until the music swelled like a wave.

The Death Eaters turned, frantically trying to locate the sound, their ranks growing restless, pushing and pulling against one another.

Behind Severus, the voices rose, their chant lifting into the night air.

where no one can see me...

He joined in, and as one, the great army raised their wands and etched the Hallows sigil: a triangle surrounding a circle divided by a line.

Where no one can find me, where no one can hurt me...

The great lumbering beast that was Voldemort's first charge swung round to face them, just as the Hallows were invoked. The entire group disappeared, their bodies winking out of existence like a star from the heavens. As they left their dimension and traveled to the Between world of the Hallows, the Death Eaters' cries of triumph died on their lips. They paused, and looked to their leader in bewilderment.

Voldemort recovered quickly, "Fools!" he hissed. "They have only Disillusioned themselves. Finish them!"

The Death Eaters obediently blasted the knoll on which the army of light had stood. Volley after volley shot through the night air, tearing through leaves and blasting the ground, until dust and smoke enveloped the knoll. Shouts of victory echoed through the Death Eater ranks as they continued to waste their magic strafing the knoll.

"Enough!" Voldemort roared.

Gradually, the attack decreased, until silence fell upon them. When the smoke cleared, the knoll was as empty as before. "The ground should be littered with bodies," a young Death Eater growled, looking around suspiciously. "The cowards have Apparated away!"

From his right, twenty Death Eaters disappeared almost at once. Another ten vanished, and the eerie music they'd heard on the knoll sounded again, as witches and wizards appeared directly in front of them, disarmed them before they could react, and disappeared again. The stunned expression on Lucius Malfoy's face was almost comical, as Severus reached into the physical dimension and pulled his old friend back into the Between world with him.

Voldemort turned quickly around, his fury and confusion stamped on his reptilian face. "No matter," he spat, his mad eyes red with anger. "Send in the..."

---

...giants. Oh, Gods, Hermione! Alert everyone in the castle... Giants, they're...

"...coming! Giants are heading this way! Get ready!" shouted Hermione.

Half of the Order, including most of the Weasleys and younger members of Dumbledore's Army, were waiting in the courtyard, listening to the approaching sounds of battle. At Hermione's cry, they all backed away from the windows as the second wave of Voldemort's army crested the hill just beyond the gates. Hermione could hear the gasps of panic all around her. "Keep your heads!" she shouted, marshaling all her magical energy.

It was terrifying to see creatures the size of three-story houses trundling toward the school, like living mountains. They were grotesque versions of men: large, misshapen heads, long arms and legs, heaving with rock-like muscles. Massive bare feet with toenails the size of tea trays. Their craggy foreheads jutted out over beady eyes; outcroppings of fleshy noses sat huge above thick, slobbering lips. Each giant carried a club, a lance or a crudely formed mace; they were accompanied by Death Eaters, who battered away at the wards, seeking a weak point.

After finding a vulnerable spot, the huge monsters joined the Death Eaters, throwing their physical strength against the barrier that stood fast between them and the castle. Suddenly, the shield, deteriorated by magic and might, shattered like rotten ice on a lake's surface, and the monsters came to Hogwarts.

Many inside cried out in panic, but those in Dumbledore's Army held their ground with silent resolve. They had been prepared for giants; though Hagrid and his half-brother Grawp had spent months trying to align the giants with the Order, in the end, most had sided with Voldemort, swayed by his promises and lies.

Fighting giants would be difficult; magic literally bounced off most of them, and their sheer size meant they could do an immense amount of damage with little energy spent. Long trip wires had been set; it was hoped once the massive figures fell, it would buy those in the castle a little more time before they got back up again.

The creatures were batting away the stone sentinels like toy soldiers, advancing on the school, making the ground shake beneath their feet. Then, just as they reached the outer wall where the tripping wires lay in wait, the giants stopped, leering grins of anticipation on their faces.

"What are they doing?" said a small, anonymous voice, hysteria rising with each word. "Why have they stopped?"

In reply, there was a rushing, clicking noise, and from behind the giants, thousands of acromantula came swarming over the school like water boiling from a cauldron.

Piercing, hysterical screams could be heard outside, as the children of Aragog attacked and injured the first wave of defenders. Working in pairs, the DA threw shields up over the stronger individuals, allowing their superior spellwork to do greater damage. Hermione and several of the Order rushed the rest into the Great Hall.

The spiders were legion; Hermione had never seen so many in one place. They were huge and terrifying, each as large as a centaur. It took three times the magic to slow them down. They rushed at the last wave of stone soldiers, and simply ran over them. Behind them, Death Eaters waited, and between the spiders, the giants, and the fresh wave of troops, Hermione knew they would not be able to hold their position any longer.

"Now!" she screamed, and shaking hands etched the Deathly Hallows in the air. Trembling voices stuttered the words, and entire ranks of students disappeared in to the Between.

The spiders, smelling blood, rushed headlong into the Great Hall, piling upon one another until the very floor seethed and writhed with them. And still they came, clawing over the tops of one another, until the room was filled with the deafening sound of their long legs and clicking pincers. The walls, the floor and the ceiling became black, writhing surfaces.

"Fergive me, ol' friend," came a deep, sorrowful voice, as the large doors of the Great Hall closed behind them. Hagrid turned to his companions, his expression both sad and angry. "Do wha' ye have to," he rumbled, and looked away.

"Yes, Hagrid, sir," replied Dobby stoutly, his little body quivering with righteous indignation. "They shall not harm Harry Potter's friends! They shall not harm Hogwarts!"

With a thunderous POP! hundreds of House-elves Apparated into the Great Hall. These were no longer the sweet-faced, eager-to-please elves who polished the silver goblets and set the tables of Hogwarts. These elves were the misfits, the cast-offs; those who had roamed house-less and family-less in shame and sorrow, until Hogwarts welcomed them into its bosom. Today, they were fierce warriors proud for the opportunity to defend their home, protecting the sanctuary that had taken them in when no other would.

There was a series of bright, unearthly flashes, and the eerie shrieks of roasting, burning, panicking spiders filled the air. Aragog had once cost Rubeus Hagrid his wand, but the half-giant had loved him regardless. His children, however, had been held sway by the promises of the Dark Lord, and waged war on Hagrid's home. For that they would pay the ultimate price. Hagrid was saddened, and wept a little as he left them to their grisly fate, but they had made their choice.

No child of Aragog crawled alive from the Great Hall that day.

---

Voldemort bellowed for his troops to advance to the school, and grimly those still in his thrall pressed on, using giants and werewolves to lead the charge. Severus quickly dispatched McNair and Mulciber into the Between world, their faces still blank and heavy with surprise and incomprehension.

As they gaped in shock, Severus performed what had become procedure for those imprisoning the Death Eaters in the Between: he petrified them, gagged them, bound them with magical ropes and took away their wands. He had to be thorough; some had carried as many as five stashed in undetectable extension-charmed pockets. Each time he discovered one, he thought of Hermione and her wondrous beaded bag, and smiled to himself.

Each time he moved between worlds, he found the same lifeless desert awaiting him, and the same fearful look of those he left behind, unable to return with him. To a man, they looked both terrified and confused. Severus did not want to know what they had seen or heard. They were stacked up like cordwood off to one side, and no matter how many he added to the pile, there always seemed to be room for more. He added his two former 'brothers' to the group, then returned to the battle.

Even knowing that it would not be the easy victory their Lord had promised, the Death Eaters fought on, and Severus tried to ignore the screams of the injured and dying. He had to break the group facing the castle...

Flashes of cursework speared the air like lightning, and a wail of agony to his left almost pierced his eardrum.

"Dora! NO!"

He turned to see Lupin bending over his wife, unmindful of the carnage around him. Nymphadora Lupin's face was covered in blood and crushed inward, like a broken mask, her eyes gazing sightlessly up to the sky. A Death Eater Severus didn't recognise took aim at Lupin's head. With a hissed command, Severus struck out. The man's hand, still clutching his wand, fell to the ground. He screamed, and sank to his knees, grasping his wrist.

Looking up at Severus, grimacing in horrified recognition, he stuttered, "You! Y-you're supposed to be dead!" His eyes rolled in the back of his head, and he collapsed, blood pumping from the stump of his severed wrist.

Severus blocked a curse and Reducto'd an advancing Death Eater. Then he turned back to Lupin, who was clutching his fallen wife, calling her name. "Lupin, you cannot help her."

"Dora, oh gods, no..."

Severus yanked hard at Lupin's shirt, trying to pull him away, but the weeping man lashed out, growling like an animal, staring wild-eyed and open-mouthed at his dead wife. Severus hauled Lupin to his feet, tearing the dead woman from his grasp. Together they flashed away, into the Between world. The desert swirled around them, as if agitated by the carnage they had left behind. The abrupt silence made his eardrums ache. Lupin cried out, as if he, too, found the change in atmosphere painful.

Hating himself, Severus drew his hand back and slapped the other man's face. "Pull yourself together, man!"

"You had no right to take me away!"

"You must fight! Do not make your infant son an orphan. Stand and fight!"

"That's my wife!" Lupin sobbed, trying to pull from Severus' grasp. "That's my Dora!"

Severus shook him and tried to pierce the wall of grief. "Remus! Stop!"

Lupin stilled, surprised at the sound of his given name uttered by his old nemesis. Severus looked him in the eye to keep his attention. "There will be time to mourn, but that time is not now. There are so many others out there who are alive, and they need us. They need you."

Lupin looked over his shoulder into the shadowy world they had left. As if in slow motion, they saw the battle rage on. Nymphadora lay on the ground, her face turned away. Lupin sobbed. "Oh, gods, our boy, Teddy. How am I supposed to face him?"

"By giving him a chance to know his mother through his father...now get back out there and fight!!" he growled. "Avenge her if you must, but stop whining and show some of that Gryffindor courage you're so famous for, wolf!" When he didn't answer, Severus shook him again. "My back to yours, man! Merlin's sake, Lupin, we need you. I need you!"

Lupin closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and Severus imagined he could hear the world take a breath with him. When he opened his eyes, they were darker, more feral, and Severus saw the beast that never strayed far from the man. He wiped his face with the back of one grimy hand, and nodded at Severus. Grimly, he growled, "Alright. I want to finish this. For Nymphadora. And our son." He held out his hand. "My back to yours."

Severus caught it in his and together they rejoined the battle, just as the first cadre of giants breached the courtyard of the castle.

---

"Head toward the dungeons! Now!" Professor Flitwick's Sonorus-enhanced voice boomed forth, and they rushed back inside to the inner stairwell.

Hermione, Molly and Arthur, George and Fred, and Dean Thomas remained, hitting the giants with everything they could, until it became obvious they were doing little damage beyond depleting their own magic. The tripwires stalled them, but not long enough. The giants continued their ceaseless, slow advance, like boulders come alive to pound Hogwarts into the ground. Hermione watched in sickened horror as a giant picked up a fleeing student and flung him against the wall like an insect.

It was in that moment that Hermione realised they would not be able to stop the giants inside the castle. Just as they decided to retreat, she heard the great, leathery flapping of wings.

"Oh, thank Merlin! Charlie!" Molly Weasley cried out. "He did it! Look!"

The unholy screech of dragons filled the air overhead. The Death Eaters looked to the skies in triumph, only to realise these beasts were ridden by the legendary Romanian riders. Charlie Weasley, his long red hair streaming behind like a battle flag, led the charge astride a majestic Norwegian Ridgeback. Hermione jumped as Hagrid bellowed, "Blimey, look! It's Norberta! Charlie's riding my own little Norberta! Oh, look at 'er go!"

The giants looked up in puzzlement, as if spotting a swarm of midges. Charlie swooped in, shouting to his mount, and Norberta screamed in reply. Blood-red fire poured from her throat, and the giant bellowed in agony as his body was engulfed in flames.

It would be the stench of charred flesh that haunted the survivors.

---

The night stretched on as one endless parade of skirmishes, attacks and feints. There were fires dotted around the castle. Some were made from dragon fire, others from the spontaneous sparks of magic as hex clashed hex and curse countered curse. The air was thick with smoke and spent spells and the sickly sweet scent of death and destruction.

The giants, the spiders, and the werewolves were all scattered or dead, but the dark army fought on. There were so many; Severus had no idea where the Dark Lord had found these minions, but they were coming on too quickly to carry off to the Hallows one by one. It became a fight of duelists and street fighters, Aurors and thugs.

In order to slow down their weaker opponents or those unable to Apparate, Dumbledore's Army, led by that little Irish madman Seamus Finnegan, had sabotaged several of the gate-bridges to the castle. The wizards on the Knoll were still harrying the Death Eaters from behind; the Order hurled themselves at the enemy from the front.

Severus Disapparated and flew into the courtyard of the castle. Lass, what is actually going on in the castle? he asked.

"Snape!" Harry Potter ran toward him. He was covered in dirt and blood, but looked otherwise unharmed. With a wry smile, he said, "I never thought I'd say it, but I'm glad to see you! Are we still winning?"

"We're still keeping them busy, I know that much," Severus replied. "I understand you've had a few fireworks here as well."

Harry shook his head in wonder. "I've never seen anything like it. Never dreamed anything like it. Those dragons!" He was breathing hard. "Have you seen him? When can we get to Voldemort..."

There was a sudden, sickening feeling of dread and dismay in Severus' gut. Something horrific was happening. He could taste the slick, metallic fear as it kicked Hermione's heart into a pounding, hell-for-leather gallop. A wild cry rent the air; Harry's eyes rolled back and his body convulsed. He was having a seizure.

Severus caught him as he fell, and hastily took him to the Hallows' Between.

---

Within one of the alcoves that led into the main hallway, Hermione stood with several others disarming the latest wave of Death Eaters. Bound and unconscious forms littered the ground; Professor Slughorn began to dispatch them all to a small room doubling as a holding cell.

Hermione tried to catch her breath and focus her attention, but it was hard, so hard. Her magic was still intact, but she could feel it fraying along the edges, as if her internal shields were shredding under the strain. There had not been proper time to recover from the attack at Malfoy Manor, and the fighting was depleting her magic faster than she could replenish it. She wanted to disappear into the Hallows to rest and recuperate; the idea of leaving the Battle, of disappearing into that quiet, still world, was so tempting, but she would not give into it. If she did, it might be too difficult to make herself return.

Strength, lass. Be strong. Hermione closed her eyes as a loving wave of magical energy washed over her. Like water in the desert, Severus' powerful magic permeated every pore, every crack, every fissure, strengthening and reviving her.

Lass, what is actually going on in the castle? She took a cleansing, healing breath...

Suddenly, from the darkness, there came a deafening hiss that echoed down the hall: a rolling, boiling sound that caused her heart to thud loudly in counterpoint.

Voldemort's familiar Nagini Apparated into their midst, its huge head looming, jaws open, fangs dripping venom. It raced toward Hermione, and she froze, her entire body petrified with fear. Just as she felt the snake's rank breath, Professor McGonagall knocked Hermione out of Nagini's path, and the elderly witch took the killing blow meant for her. Hermione heard the awful punching sound as Nagini's fangs tore into the Professor's throat with the ease of a knife plunging through a ripe melon.

Minerva's wet scream of agony turned Hermione's blood to shards of broken glass. Reducto!" bellowed Hermione, but the spell bounced off the reptile like a child's empty threat. The monstrous brute turned its huge head toward Hermione, not bothering to unlock its massive jaws, and took most of Minerva's throat and tongue with it. Her pitiful cry choked down to a sickening gurgle, and Professor McGonagall fell, a fountain of her blood painting the serpent red.

Those all around froze, stunned by the sudden attack and the sight of their professor, still twitching in her death throes. As Nagini looked around for a fresh victim, a rage like a tempest blinded Hermione. It was coming to kill me, she thought. The Killing Curse was on her lips, and she had already raised her wand when a roar of anger and grief rent the air.

There was a pounding of running feet, and a glint of steel flashed overhead. Hermione instinctively ducked as Neville Longbottom leaped over her with the righteous strength of an avenging angel. The Sword of Gryffindor sang through the air, and Neville struck at the serpent, slicing through muscle and bone. Nagini fell dead, cleaved in two, its body writhing, disembodied mouth still hissing, the jaws snapping futilely.

---

"Potter! Ennervate!" Severus cried, as the younger man sagged against him. Harry's eyes fluttered open, and he looked at Severus blankly for a second.

"What has happened?" he demanded, as Harry struggled to rise to his feet. He held onto Severus and reeled drunkenly. "Is it the Dark Lord?"

Staring wildly at the incarcerated Death Eaters, Harry shook his head. "It's Nagini. It's dead!"

Severus smiled grimly. "It seems that the Dark Lord is running out of Horcruxes."

From within the Between world, he could not feel Hermione's blind, helpless fear.

---

Neville looked up from the dead snake in bewildered agony, the bloodied Sword of Gryffindor still locked in his hands.

"Gods, Neville! You saved my life!" Hermione cried, a sob tearing from her chest. "You and the Professor both saved my life."

He shook his head sorrowfully. "I was too late," he said, plaintively, his eyes bleak. "I saw it coming for you. If I had got here sooner..."

"No. I could have saved us both. I just froze." She tried to calm her thumping heart. Neville's eyes were locked on the still form of Professor McGonagall. "Nagini was coming at me, and Professor McGonagall pushed me out of the way. I panicked. I should have gone into the Between." She looked away, sick with shame. "I found the means for us to escape Death, but when the time came, I froze."

Neville shook his head. "There wasn't time. For either of us."

Hermione smiled tremulously. "You did it, though. Thank you, Neville. You were amazing. A true son of Gryffindor."

Neville slumped, his eyes full of tears. "I guess it isn't about what you're supposed to do, is it? It's about doing what you can to stay alive. It's about..."

He stopped with a gasp, as if surprised, the blood draining from his face. "Neville, what is it?" Hermione asked, thinking stupidly that he must have lost his train of thought. "What's wrong?"

Neville didn't answer, but the shock and sadness fled from his expression, leaving repugnance. From behind, a sickly sweet voice said, "Ooh, ickle Neville! Don't you know you shouldn't play with toys that don't belong to you?"

Hermione whirled around at the hated voice as the gloating, laughing face of Bellatrix Lestrange floated into view. She stopped, and stared hard at Hermione, surprise and uncertainty warring in her face. "You!" she spat. "How can this be?" Her expression changed from shock to deranged pleasure. "Well, well, the little Mudblood whore came back to play with me! How delightful!"

"You leave her alone!" Neville hissed, brandishing the sword, fury and loathing flashing in his eyes. "You think you're so powerful, don't you? You...you're nothing but a great bully!"

Laughter rang through the corridor as Bellatrix advanced on them. "Oh, Neville. We're going to have such fun! Almost as much fun as I had with your parents! Did they ever tell you about the time I...oh, but of course they didn't. I drove them insane, didn't I?"

With a roar of rage, Neville rushed toward her. Bellatrix actually looked startled at his audacity, then with a hissed command a jagged hex leapt from her wand, and Neville instinctively blocked it with the sword. There was a deafening clang as the hex enveloped it in a sickly, piss-yellow light. Like a bolt of lightning, the hex raced down the length of the blade, straight into Neville's arms. He screamed in pain and the impact of the blow drove him backward against Hermione.

He fell right on top of her, a dead weight, knocking her to the ground and sending her wand flying from her hand. "Neville, oh gods..." she whimpered, trying to extricate herself from beneath his inert form. She pushed Neville's body away and scuttled back into the dark alcove, making herself as small as possible.

She heard a sickening crack. "Oh, dear, Madam Snape. I seemed to have broken your wand. I am sorry," cooed Bellatrix. "No matter. No need for wands for what I'm going to do to you." She sounded as if she had all the time in the world, and her smile was a hideous, vile thing.

She continued her measured, casual stroll toward the alcove, stepping directly on Professor McGonagall's face. There was a crunching noise as she broke cartilage and bone, and Hermione's stomach churned with fury and terror.

"Do you know why I'm so glad you're not dead? Because I get to kill you all over again. And it's going to be a lot slower and more painful this time."

Her laughter ratcheted through the night like the rasp of a saw, and Hermione had to force herself not to cover her ears. She had to escape, had to stay alive, for Severus, for love...

Summoning the last of her strength, she gathered her magic within. for love, she mouthed, and launched herself from her hiding place, pouring every ounce of her hatred and vengeance into this last, only chance...

"Accio Neville's wand!" Obediently the wand flew to her. "Reducto!" she screamed.

A blistering fire of power sizzled from the wand, and flew toward the Death Eater like Fiendfyre. Still laughing, Bellatrix carelessly batted it away, and knocked Hermione off her feet with a silent spell, leaving her breathless.

Oh, gods... She had nothing left; her magic was fading. Severus...

Bellatrix approached her slowly, kicking the wand from her grasp. "Was that really the extent of your power, Mudblood?" She leaned down toward Hermione. "I'm going to enjoy this. So very, very much." She stepped back, her mad eyes blazing with reflected fire. "When you arrive in hell, say hello to that dried-up old cunt McGonagall for me. And don't worry; your traitor of a husband won't be lagging far behind you." She raised her wand high above her head, her stance as graceful as a manticore's, and shouted, "Crucio!"

The pain seemed to split Hermione in two: blinding, scalding, freezing. Her back arched up until only her shoulders and coccyx were touching the ground. It had sharp corners and jagged ends that stabbed into her with each heartbeat. Her chest was on fire; her internal organs expanded and contracted. She couldn't scream, because her larynx was melting. An invisible spear was thrusting into her sex over and over, traveling higher into her body cavity with each thrust...

She fell back when Bellatrix cancelled the spell and lay gasping, whimpering, unable to think. Bellatrix knelt down beside her, looking at her with curiously dead eyes. "It was never anything personal, you understand. Mudbloods are filth; they pollute our purity." With sincere conviction, she added, "But you made it personal. You stole from me. You humiliated me and tried to undermine me in front of the Dark Lord. You were dead the moment you spread your legs for Severus Snape." Almost tenderly, she brushed Hermione's hair from her face. "You just didn't know it."

Hermione closed her eyes and waited for the end. She was not afraid of death. She had come too close, and death had already rescinded her husband. She could go gladly, knowing what awaited her.

Severus, I love you.

Her outstretched arm brushed against something cold and hard, and her fingers wrapped around the hilt of Godric Gryffindor's true sword. The sword felt light, playful in her hand ...

Bellatrix was saying, "I do hope you enjoyed fucking him, because I'm going to send him to hell with his cock and balls stuffed in his mouth as little something to remember me by."

... and even as Bellatrix moved to stand, Hermione screamed, "For love!" With all her might, she thrust the sword into the dark witch's side. The blade drove through skin and bone, and power reverberated up her own trembling arm. She pushed the sword in deeper, simply because she could.

Bellatrix screamed in surprise and anger, and tried to rise, tried to roll away. Grasping the hilt with both hands, Hermione pulled the blade toward herself, carving her enemy open from spine to navel like a rancid carcass. She wrenched the sword out again, blood and entrails spilling in its wake.

Bellatrix shrieked, frantically trying to hold her mangled body together. Her face was a rictus of malignant hate and pain, her howl of agony unworldly, unholy. It seemed to rise from her opened body, like the rank stench of her mutilated bowels. Blood and bile poured from the wound, and the scream died away. Bellatrix trembled for what seemed an eternity, then finally fell still, her last breath misting the air with black blood.

Hermione turned away from the dead witch and retched until spots appeared before her eyes, until she was so weak, she could not raise her head. Cool hands pulled her hair so it wouldn't trail in the pool of sick, and gently pulled her upright. The sweetest, most beautiful voice in the world crooned, "Hermione! My brave girl. My beautiful, brave girl."

Hermione stared up at Severus Snape, and her eyes filled. His hair was tangled and streaked with dirt; there were holes in his robes, and a cut on his arm from a slicing hex. His neck had bruises and the skin above his left eyebrow was split and encrusted with dried blood.

He was so beautiful.

Sobbing, Hermione threw her arms around her husband, unmindful of the blood and mess that covered her robe. "Severus! Oh, gods, Severus..."

"Shh. Easy. It's alright."

He quickly cleaned her and removed all traces of Bellatrix Lestrange's grisly demise from her clothing and skin. His magic literally washed over her, removing the Death Eater's taint.

Gathering her into his arms, he whispered, "Potter had some sort of fit. I didn't want the others to see him like that, so I took him into the Between. Had I known..." Adrenaline drained from Hermione, leaving her shaking uncontrollably, even as he petted her. "Shh, my precious girl."

"S-she k-k-killed Professor..."

"I know, lass. And you sent her to hell, where she belongs." His voice was gruff with grim satisfaction. "She'll never hurt you again."

His weary strength and unquenchable resolve went straight to her head like a tonic, enriching her magic and filling her with renewed focus. Her shaking lessened, and she relaxed against him. That's my girl. Tomorrow, we can mourn for Minerva and the others. But right now, I need your strength. We still have a fight to face.

Hermione gasped,"But Neville..."

A groan sounded from the floor. Severus released Hermione and knelt beside the boy, who stirred feebly. "Neville!" Hermione cried in relief.

"Wha...?" he slurred, as Severus helped him to sit up. He swayed alarmingly, and Hermione rushed to support him. As he clutched his head, he groaned, "What is Merlin's name just happened?"

"You killed Nagini, Neville!" Hermione began.

"I know that!" he said testily, his expression confused. "I mean, who dropped a boulder on my head?"

Severus pointed to what remained of Bellatrix Lestrange. "She did."

Neville stared at the mess on the floor, then shook his head. "Oh, I remember now. Well, by the gods, it looks like she won't be doing it again."

Severus helped Neville to his feet. "Come on, up you get." Flanking him on either side, they headed toward the Infirmary. "We'll have you looked over by the mediwitches."

Shuffling between them, Neville replied, "Good. Then we can finish this."

Over Neville's head, Hermione caught Severus' eye. "Yes. We can finish this," she echoed.

They paused only long enough for Hermione to wipe the bloodied blade clean on Bellatrix Lestrange's tattered black robe.

---

Song Lyrics: The Battle For Hadrian's Wall, Joe Bonamassa