Thirty Seven: Oh, Death

Well, here we are at the penultimate chapter of this story. All that is left is Chapter 38, and the Epilogue. Thank you for your patience and willingness to travel this road with me and Severus and Hermione.

For stgulik, and K, who stand at either end of this journey with me.

All characters belong to JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I make no money from this fic.

---

The world without spirit is a wasteland. People have the notion of saving the world by shifting things around, changing the rules, and who's on top, and so forth. No, no! Any world is a valid world if it's alive. The thing to do is to bring life to it, and the only way to do that is to find in your own case where the life is and become alive yourself.

-Joseph Campbell

---

O, Death. O, Death. Won't you spare me over 'til another year?

Well, what is this that I can't see with ice cold hands takin' hold of me?

Well I am Death, none can excel, I'll open the door to heaven or hell.

'O, Death, someone would pray 'Could you wait to call me another day?'

The children prayed, the preacher preached, time and mercy is out of your reach.

I'm Death I come, to take the soul, leave the body and leave it cold.

To draw the flesh off of the frame, dirt and worm both have a claim.

O, Death. O, Death. Won't you spare me over til another year?

Oh death how you're treatin' me, you've close my eyes so I can't see.

Well you're hurtin' my body, you make me cold, you run my life right outta my soul.

Oh Death, please consider my age, please don't take me at this stage.

My wealth is all at your command, if you will move your icy hand.

Oh the old, the young, the rich or poor; all alike to me, you know.

No wealth, no land, no silver no gold, nothing satisfies me but your soul.

O, Death. O, Death.

Won't you spare me over 'til another year?

---

The last hour of the battle was nothing short of a bloodbath.

As the fortunes of both sides rose and fell with each passing moment, the Death Eaters threw everything they had at the flagging, exhausted Order. The castle bore the marks of the horrific battle; the courtyard was now a battlefield littered with broken glass and rubble, the flames of dragonfire, the bodies of the fallen.

Many of those who had joined them on the knoll were dead; even Charlie Weasley's dragons could not protect them all from the onslaught of dark witches and wizards and their ilk. The Order was dropping, too exhausted to continue, and when the Death Eaters fell silent, equally depleted, Severus, Remus and Harry spearheaded the herculean effort to get everyone back into the castle. The wards rose again, but he had no idea how long they would hold, or even if they would hold.

Hermione was never far from her husband. Together with Dumbledore's Army, they grimly fought back the second wave of Death Eaters along with the broom and dragon riders in the air. They disarmed the enemy, they shielded their allies, they held their dying. As the night turned toward dawn, Man and beast were all exhausted, and the two sides found themselves at an uneasy stalemate.

During a lull in the fighting, those still able to walk searched for the living among the ruins, frantically trying to save every life. Hermione and Severus found Argus Filch buried in a pile of rubble, barely alive. His eyes were bright with fear until he recognised their faces, and he mutely pleaded with them, clearly in agony.

"Hang on, my friend," Severus said, levitating the larger stones from the old Squib's body. As Hermione carefully lifted him out of the wreckage, Filch took what sounded like the first deep breath he'd taken in years.

They gently laid him out on a bed in the hospital and tried to make him comfortable. He looked up at Severus, and tried to speak, but he choked violently, staining his teeth red. Severus laid a hand on the old man's shoulder. "Don't waste your strength, Argus. You need to remain still."

Filch's eyes pleaded with him. "Headmaster..." he rasped, but the effort was too great, and he fell back, his rattling, laboured breathing a terrible thing to hear.

Severus looked deeply into the old man's eyes and put his hand over the old Squib's. "I know. I know. Thank you for believing in us," he said gently.

Hermione looked down at Filch; his eyes were already clouding. "Thank you, Mr. Filch, for all you've done for Hogwarts. Now rest, because she will have need of you tomorrow."

Filch nodded and closed his eyes, his expression peaceful. He died four breaths later.

The castle reverberated with the sounds of grief and pain. Those not injured or mourning were trying to organise some sort of triage, but in the chaos of the moment, it was almost too overwhelming. Many simply walked around in a daze, speaking in hushed, stunned voices. Others wept quietly, afraid to call attention to themselves. The exhaustion was more magical than physical, and more mental than magical. Those given the task of caring for the injured and dying took Reviving Tonics alongside the fighters.

Hermione's parents had ensconced themselves in the infirmary, where they worked feverishly side by side with witches, wizards and elves. While they could not cast healing spells, their first-aid skills provided excellent backup. Even the ghosts had been called upon to watch over the less critical patients in order to free up hands. The entire castle was in charge of taking care of its defenders, each according to his strengths.

While Hermione paused to speak with her parents, Severus entered the Great Hall. The elves had rid the place of its grisly feast of acromantula; it was now the makeshift morgue. His heart was heavy; students he had taught, colleagues he had worked alongside, even enemies he'd fought; all laid out on the House tables side by side, like pale effigies. Severus' heart bled as he passed face after familiar face: Nymphadora Lupin, with Remus at her side, looking lost and old. Lavender Brown. Colin Creevey. Rory Stone, whom Severus recognised from his own graduating year at Hogwarts. Joe Blankenshop, the Three Broomsticks' bartender. Argus Filch. Witches and wizards long graduated from Hogwarts lay beside students he'd strode past in these halls not two weeks before. So many, and so young.

He passed a group huddled around one body, and the sight of red hair stopped him in his tracks. "Fred... oh Gods, no... FRED!" Molly Weasley moaned, with a sobbing Arthur holding her to his chest. As Severus drew near, he his first thought was how strange it was to see one of the twins lying so very still. His brother George lay beside him, talking to Fred as if he was sure of a response. Harry Potter held the young Ginevra in his arms as she wept and trembled, and Bill held his youngest brother as he cried pitifully. Tiredly, Severus wondered where Charlie was. He had not been seen since the last volley of attack.

The sounds of grief gored Severus' heart. He had led them all into battle with his war cry on their lips. He slowly made his way among the dead, and he made himself speak every name aloud, a sorrowful roll call of familiar names and faces, so his heart would never forget them.

As he walked toward the Head table, Filius Flitwick spied him. "Severus, my dear boy!" he cried, dashing over to his side, his short legs a blur as he waddled across the room. His face was dirty and his hair wild; he had numerous cuts and bruises on his face, but his ferocious fighting spirit was undiminished. Severus took his outstretched hand, his heart beating hard. Tears sprang to his eyes, and he dashed them away.

"Filius, I never dared hope..."

"Minerva told us what happened. All of it," his diminutive colleague said, his grip firm and solid. "After all that happened, it was so incredible. But looking back, I should have seen! I should have known! My dear fellow, please forgive me!"

He looked into Severus' face with such remorse that Severus nearly crumpled with gratitude. "Nothing to forgive, Filius. I had to disarm you that night. I had to keep you all safe."

"There, there, my friend, you're quite right. And you did! We can talk about all that later. Come along," Flitwick chirped, patting Severus' arm. Severus dutifully followed him onto the dais. There, Minerva McGonagall lay, apart from the others, a dark shroud over her mutilated body. Pomona Sprout and Horace Slughorn stood by her side, watching him expectantly. Pomona's moon-shaped face was dirty and tear-streaked, but she smiled at him. "Oh, Severus, thank Merlin. It's so good to have you here. Minerva told us the entire story, you know."

It was not until that moment that Severus realised he had still carried the burden of the deceit he and Hermione had been forced to shoulder. It fell from his heart with such force he almost levitated. He closed his eyes and lifted up a silent prayer of thanks to Minerva; dear Minerva, whose doughty and unshakable strength had enabled him and Hermione to return to Hogwarts as its defenders, and not its villains.

He looked at her black-draped figure, so still. "Gods, I would give so much to have her fighting by our side right now," he said, willing his voice to sound strong. "Albus was dying. It was his plan, all of it."

"He told us, dear boy. Or, rather, his portrait did this evening," Horace said, his voice gruff and sad. "When we knew You-Know-Who..."

"Oh, do call him by name, Horace," Filius said firmly, his voice crabbed with irritation. "There's little point in trying to hide from him now."

Slughorn sheepishly ducked his head. "Yes, yes, of course. Well, as I was saying, when we knew...Voldemort was coming, Minerva called us into the Headmaster's study. We dispatched the Carrows after quite an exuberant altercation..."

"Honestly Sluggie, everything's a drama with you!" snapped Pomona, who took up the story. "Those two imbeciles couldn't find their arses with an arse-finder. Getting rid of them was like shooting grindelows in a barrel." She smiled at him gently, and Severus felt his emotions rise. He and Pomona had always got along fairly well. "Well, when that old sly boots Albus told us what he'd done, I wanted to wring his scrawny neck! To put you through all this..."

"It was the only way we knew how to keep our cover. My wife..."

"It's a marvel you two didn't break," Pomona said, briskly, her no-nonsense voice bracing them all.

"She was only protecting me."

"Of course she was, Severus," Filius said consolingly. "Hermione is a wonderful, clever young witch." Almost slyly, he added, "And not without a certain ruthlessness, from what I hear. I understand she dispatched Bellatrix quite efficiently."

"When I returned her to her husband, he apparently agreed." Severus smiled with grim satisfaction. It had been a pleasure to dump Bella's burning, grisly carcass at Dolph Lestrange's feet. He'd been so unnerved, he'd practically followed Severus into the Between of his own volition.

Pomona gave him a narrow-eyed, pleased look. "Good for her. Ghastly witch, that Bellatrix. But the important thing now is that we know the truth, and we've still got a war to win. All of us," she said, fixing a gimlet eye on Slughorn, who was looking anything but comfortable.

"And we will," Filius said confidently. He looked up at Severus. "What's our next step?"

Severus replied, "I'm going to pull everyone together for a counsel. I'll be back shortly."

"Of course," Filius said, and as Severus turned to leave, he called out, "By the way, Severus."

He stopped. "Yes?"

For the first time in almost two years, Filius' eyes sparkled with mischief. "After all this is over, you must promise to tell us the whole story." With a wink, he added, "Of how you dropped twenty years overnight."

Taken aback, Severus allowed himself a chuckle. "The love of a good witch."

He returned to the long corridor that led to the Infirmary. For the injured, the fight was over, but the long battle toward healing had just begun. Aberforth Dumbledore, Ronald Weasley, his brother Percy and Dean Thomas were all badly injured; Dean was not expected to survive. Nearly every professor and Order member had experienced spell damage to some degree. Neville Longbottom was still dazed, but it seemed that the Sword of Gryffindor had once again protected its own. Already they were calling Longbottom the Hero of Gryffindor, and Severus allowed himself a wry smile. "Keeping your head while others around you do not, indeed," he muttered to himself.

Millicent Bulstrode, one of his Slytherins, was leaning over an injured Order member, running diagnostic spells. With a flick of her wand, she announced, "He's not so critical. Burn paste, dittany, murtlap essence. That ankle is broken, though, so he'll need Skele-gro. Off you go, then." A Quick-quotes quill rapidly notated her orders on a piece of parchment, which rolled up and attached itself onto the levitating gurney that bore Millicent's patient toward the infirmary. She stretched her back as if weary and the bones popped. "Ee, that's better," she mumbled to no one in particular.

"Well diagnosed, Miss Bulstrode. You have a promising career in healing."

She whirled, wand at the ready, then did a double take when she recognised her previous Head of House. Her severe features softened. "So, it's true then. Well, I'm glad you're not dead," she said, gruffly.

"Thank you, Miss Bulstrode." He helped he lift a young witch in a spell-tattered robe onto the next waiting gurney. With a twist in his gut, Severus recognised her as one of the Patel twins from Hermione's year. "I dare say your fellow housemates do not share the same feeling," Severus replied.

Bullstrode shrugged. "I wouldn't know, would I? The only reason I'm doing this is I were in t'Infirmary when all the hell broke loose. Headmistress sent 'em all down to t'dungeons. Anyrote, I'm not one to give a shit what they think, am I?" She grabbed his arm in a grip as strong as her Lancastrian accent. "Now listen here, Snape, it is true that Vince Crabbe is dead?"

"It is. I'm sorry..."

"Then why ain't he in t'Great Hall with t'others?" Bullstrode's mulish mouth was set grimly. "Don't he deserve the same respect as the rest of 'em?"

Severus started. "Of course he does. He's a Hogwarts student. Are there others missing?"

She shrugged indifferently. "Dunno."

He sighed. "Just because their fathers were damn fools enough to fight for the wrong side, doesn't mean they should be treated like outcasts. I'll try to find out what's going on, Miss Bulstrode, and arrange for the dead and injured Slytherins to be brought here."

Her almond-shaped eyes flashed with respect. She nodded. "Good enough, Headmaster."

At her words, Severus felt Hogwarts shift and shudder, as if the soul of the school was crying out to him. It was the same feeling he'd experienced the day he and Hermione arrived as Hogwarts' most hated Headmaster and wife; the school had recognised him as its chief guardian then. Now that Minerva had fallen, Hogwarts recognised him as its Headmaster again.

As he stood in his school, while Voldemort waged war on his students, the castle walls groaned and shook. Severus closed his eyes and whispered to Hogwarts itself. "My back to yours." He felt a gentle tremble beneath his feet, and the wards shuddered upward with defiant resolve. Even the ghosts stopped and listened to the castle re-arm itself. Severus could almost feel the school place the role of leadership upon his shoulders again, like a cloak of promise.

He heard a noise, and glanced up just as Filius, Pomona, Horace and Sybil Trelawney approached. Behind them were the remaining Hogwarts staff, and by the looks of it, every Hogwarts student who could walk. They were led by Luna and Neville.

"We await your orders, dear boy," Filius declared, nodding toward his fellow professors. "All of us. Tell us what to do."

Severus looked at his colleagues, and past them to the students. The acceptance, the trust nearly blinded him. These people had watched him leave the castle, thinking he was a traitor and a craven; now they welcomed him as their Headmaster again. They needed him, and this time there would be no defiance, no countermanding. Apologies would be given later, and accepted later, if they survived. Now, his people waited for their Headmaster to tell them how to defend their home.

Suddenly, someone screamed; it was a thin, eerie sound, high-pitched like a child's. Another shriek of fear joined it, then another, until the air was filled with the sound of keening, screeching terror.

An unknown, malignant energy rushed into the castle. Everyone looked desperately around for signs of Dementors, even though they knew it wasn't the same, will-sapping calling card of the guardians of Azkaban. This was something abominable; it crawled down the spine like a scorpion, spreading venom and revulsion as it passed.

The air around them grew thick with the heavy silence that followed. From within the castle, within the room, with his skull, came the voice of his former Master.

"You have fought," said the high, cold voice, "valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery.

"Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste.

"Lord Voldemort is merciful. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour... If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall punish every last man, woman and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

The last words of Voldemort's ultimatum echoed through the ground of the castle until it faded into a slithering hiss.

"I have to go to Potter," Severus said, and the others nodded.

"All our hopes go with you, Severus," Flitwick called out.

He found Hermione just outside the infirmary doors, and they rushed into one another's arms, holding fast, trying to meld their bodies as well as their minds.

"I suppose our timetable has just moved up, lass."

Hermione pressed a fervent kiss on his lips. "Yes, but Harry is ready. I was with him during that speech," she added with a grimace. "He's ready to bring the plan into action."

He took a deep breath, and felt her strength and love bolster his fear. "Well, as they say, timing is everything."

With something like wonder, he stroked her face, feeling the soft skin beneath his calloused fingertips. "For love," he whispered, and kissed her. Her lips were warm, and so pliant and sweet. She caressed his face as his tongue sought entry, and his body flooded with hope and passion as she opened herself to him, yielding to him. He drank deeply from her, uncaring that others were watching and their world was on fire. He kissed her until he was able to let her go. They came apart slowly, and although he felt her fear for him, he also felt her pride, her regard, her respect. She smiled up at him, trying to be brave, and his heart bloomed with love.

Her voice was shaking as she whispered, "Be careful, my husband. Promise me you'll come back."

He closed his eyes hard, willing them not to fill. How could he be stoic in the face of such love? "I promise by all the gods to try. With all my heart, I swear to you I'll try."

She nodded, hard, as if trying to convince herself his pledge was good enough to live with. "I love you."

"And I love you, lass. More than you will ever know." He pressed his lips to her forehead, then kissed the tears that slipped from her eyes. They filled him, nourished him like a tonic, and he released her.

"Always."

Their eyes met, and he quietly disappeared into the Between world.

---

For the first time since he'd began dreaming of the Hallows world, it looked unwelcoming, even ominous. Gone was the golden, eternal sunset. There was no oasis, no tent, no bowls of ripened fruit, no sweet wine, no soft sirocco breeze. The air was cool, and growing colder. The sun was low in the sky, and the first lamplighter stars were only just appearing.

He glanced over to where he had left their prisoners of war, huddled together, fearful and mistrustful. He was pleased to note that of all the Death Eaters congregated, hands bound and wandless, three had moved apart from the others, separate, exclusive, close only to one another.

Severus strode toward the Malfoys, releasing their bonds as he approached. Lucius instantly sprang to his feet, and instinctively placed himself between his family and his old friend. He stood silent, head held high, but his strained eyes and gaunt, unshaven face told a story that belied his haughty bearing.

"Lucius," Severus greeted his one-time friend with a nod. He glanced beyond Malfoy to his family. "Narcissa, Draco. Are you uninjured?"

Narcissa, pale but stoic, dropped her eyes. "We are... unharmed, Severus." She finally raised her eyes to his. "Thank you."

Lucius turned to her uncomprehendingly. "You thank this traitor for bringing down the Dark Lord's wrath upon our heads?" He turned to Severus, his eyes angry and bloodshot. "You have some gall to face me, Severus Snape! You have no idea what he did to us when you and your wife disappeared from our home that day. He punished us all! He made Bellatrix bind Narcissa and..."

"Hush, Father, please!" Draco entreated, his voice hoarse and frightened. The boy looked ill and too young to sport the tattoo Severus knew he would find on his arm., He whispered in a small voice, "Are we dead, Severus? Have you killed us and brought us all to the land of the dead?"

It was on the tip of Severus' tongue to exploit their fear, or at the very least, mislead them. He was a Slytherin, after all. Narcissa put paid to any thoughts of subterfuge.

"Both of you, stop. Do you not understand? While the world around was being destroyed by the Dark Lord, we've been here, safe and unharmed!" She pointed in the direction of the still battlefield. "I do not know why you brought us here, Severus, but I do know we would have died out there. The Dark Lord would have arranged it." She placed a beseeching hand on her husband's arm. "We're an embarrassment to the Dark Lord now, Lucius. The only reason he left us alive was to have access to our home. He knew the blood wards would not admit him without a living Malfoy."

She turned back to Severus, and he could see the strain appearing like tiny cracks in a perfect china cup. "That was why I was chosen as... as the recipient for his displeasure. I was expendable; Draco and Lucius were not." She stroked her husband's arm pleadingly. "It has nothing to do with Severus and his wife."

Lucius hissed, "Oh, we've stood here in this eternity and watched. We've watched you betray the Dark Lord time and again. You robbed me of my chance to prove my value to him, to prove the value of my family to him, and now you'll leave us to our fate? I knew you were a vindictive little half-blooded cunt..."

"That's enough, Lucius!" Severus growled. "I've had enough histrionics today. I'm not prepared to suffer yours. That's not why I'm here." Leaving Lucius to fume in silence, Severus turned to Narcissa. "You once asked me to make an Unbreakable Vow to protect your son. Did I, or did I not fulfill that vow?"

Narcissa put her arm around Draco; her terse nod was all but imperceptible. "You did. And I have thanked you..."

"Bella is dead. I want no reprisals or vendettas over it."

The startled look of relief on Draco's and Lucius' faces surprised Severus. Narcissa looked grave but her voice was as cool as ever. "I am... prepared to make an Unbreakable Vow to that end."

"Well, I am not. If your word is not enough, then so be it." He turned to Lucius. "The battle is all but ended. I will ask you this question only once, Lucius. And I will take one answer...your first. You will have no chance to change it once it leaves your lips."

Lucius looked as calm as if they were attending a garden party. "Ask your question, Severus. Whatever answer I give, it will be my only answer, for good or no." He lifted his chin and sneered at Severus with all the arrogant impatience of his breeding. "Ask, and by the gods be done with us."

"Alright. So mote it be," Severus drawled, with equal distain. He smiled, and some of the Malfoy insolence faltered.

---

I'm back. Tell Harry it is done.

Her heart pounding, Hermione turned to her friend. Harry was pale, but calm. "Severus is back, Harry," she said, hating the trembling in her voice. "He says it is done."

For a moment, Harry sagged, as if his strength had suddenly left him. Then, with a deep breath, he pulled himself together. His eyes were far away, as if seeing the end of the road he'd walked since that night sixteen years before in his parents' home in Godric's Hollow. "Alright. Tell him I'm coming."

Ginny sprang from her chair, where she had been listening. "No!" she screamed, "You can't just walk out there to die!" Her eyes were swollen from crying, and she turned on Hermione, spitting hatred. "You can't possibly trust them, Harry! You have no idea what they did to us here!"

Madam Pomfrey, alerted to the shouting, appeared from behind a screen. "Miss Weasley, please! I realise you are most upset, but I must insist that you not disturb the other patients..."

"Disturb...disturb the patients!" Ginny cried shrilly. "There are kids here who can't sleep at night because of what they did!"

"What the Carrows did, Miss Weasley! Headmaster and Madam Snape performed none of those atrocities, I can assure you!" Madam Pomfrey snapped. From her pocket, she produced a small vial. "Calming Draught." She glanced up at Harry. "Make sure she drinks it all."

Harry all but forced the contents of the vial down Ginny's throat, then held her close, murmuring, "Ginny. I have to do this. I have to."

"No, you don't," she sobbed. "Fred is gone. Nobody knows where Charlie is. I can't lose another person I love. Not tonight, Harry, please..." After a moment, the potion did its work, and she calmed, her whimpers dying down to the occasional sniffle.

Hermione turned away; letting Severus go had been hard enough. Watching as Harry gently kissed Ginny goodbye was too much to bear. Harry firmly pried Ginny's arms from around his neck, and left her in the care of her already distraught and grieving parents.

He turned to Ron and pulled him roughly into his arms. "You're like a brother to me," he said quietly. "I love you."

Ron's face crumpled, and he crushed Harry to his chest. "Don't make me lose another brother tonight, then, Harry," he said, his voice thick with tears. He stepped away, wiping his eyes.

Finally, Harry took Hermione in his arms and held her close. They kissed, and Harry whispered in a shaking voice, "Thank you for all you did. Both of you. Tell Severus I'm sorry. For all the... well, you know."

"Harry, you don't know for certain what will happen."

He tried to smile. "Hermione, it's okay. Whatever happens, I know the most important thing...I'm loved. That's something he can never understand." Harry's eyes filled with tears. "Severus said that those we love are waiting for us." He glanced around the room at his weeping girlfriend, his grieving best mate, and back to her. "Wherever I end up, whatever happens, the ones I love will be waiting for me."

He glanced around the room. "I love you. Be safe."

He walked away from the sound of crying, of pain and loss and grief, and never looked back.

---

The courtyard was as still and silent as the grave as Harry Potter took his last walk toward Lord Voldemort. The look of joy on the Dark Lord's reptilian face was a hideous thing to behold. "Well, well," he said, looking disdainfully at the handful of followers left standing. "My Death Eaters were quite convinced you would stay holed up in Hogwarts, hiding behind its walls like a quivering child, rather than face me. Yet here you are," he concluded, with a flourish of his wand.

"Yet here I am," Harry said, quietly. He held out his hands in surrender. "So now you can do what you've wanted to do all my life. Go ahead, Tom. I'm all yours."

Voldemort closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his slitted nostrils, as if savouring the moment. "How meekly the lion comes to the slaughter," he drawled, his smile reptilian and horrible. "I had hoped there would be a little fight left. It's very discourteous to deny me a bit of sport."

Harry smiled. "We all have our disappointments, Tom. What's wrong, having second thoughts? Afraid of a wandless, untried boy?" He drawled, his enunciation eerily similar to Severus Snape's at his most disdainful.

"Don't, My Lord. It's some kind of trap," someone whispered.

Voldemort opened his eyes and gave the warning's owner a look of sheer disgust. "A trap?" He scoffed. "What manner of trap is he planning to spring?" At their uncomfortable silence, Voldemort grew angry. "Do you dare doubt your Lord capable of defeating a 'wandless, untried boy'?"

He swung his wand in a powerful arc; magic sizzled down his arm and into the wood as he bellowed, "Avada Kedavra!"

The poisonous green light streaked through the air, striking Harry squarely in the chest. Without a sound, he fell like a stone dropped from the sky. Those watching inside the castle cried out in grief, and Hermione felt her heart sink in her chest. "You said he would wait," Ginny said numbly. She grabbed Hermione and shook her, her eyes filling with anger and hate. "You said he would taunt him before he killed him! You said he had time!"

Outside, the Death Eaters shouted and raised their fists in triumph, until their leader screamed and clutched his head. Even as Voldemort staggered under the weight of the pain, he viciously waved off their assistance. "Leave me alone, you pathetic fools! Do not touch me!" With a mighty effort, he stood upright, and shouted to the heavens, "I need nothing from you, any of you! I am your Lord..." he proclaimed, and pointed to the figure on the ground. "...and Harry Potter is DEAD!"

He raised his arms in triumph, but the cheers of his celebrating Death Eaters died suddenly. They stared past their leader in shock. Baffled at their reaction, Voldemort turned and followed their gaze, his face contorting with confusion.

Standing over the prone body of Harry Potter was the last man Tom Riddle had personally killed: Severus Snape.

---

"So the rumours were true, then," Voldemort said softly. "My Death Eaters were not lying. You and your Mudblood whore have been sending my followers to the Death you somehow escaped."

Severus allowed himself a smile. "Not escaped. I merely asked for a reprieve."

Voldemort hissed. "And will you ask the same of me? You've switched sides often enough; Death must grow as tired of your indecisiveness as I have."

Severus carefully stepped over Harry's prone body, walking slowly toward his former Master. His voice rang out over the courtyard like thunder over a seastorm. "I never belonged to you. On the night you killed Lily, I pledged my faith to the Order. Oh, I've had to wallow in your shit and darkness to do it, but I've kept my promises. Not like you, Tom. You've been cheating Death for many years now. And now Death wants its due."

Voldemort laughed. He placed a hand on his heart and asked innocently, "I cheated Death? You and the boy survived the Killing Curse. If anyone is guilty of cheating Death, it's you." He glanced at the still figure on the ground. "Although, it seems to me as if the second time's the charm for Harry Potter. Who knows?" he cooed. "The same may be said even for you."

Several Death Eaters laughed, but their laughter sounded strained and uneasy. Oblivious, Voldemort crowed, "Look around you, Severus!" He turned around, surveying the bodies littered amidst the carnage. "I should think Death owes me a debt of gratitude tonight. Look at the rare banquet I have given it to feast upon! I have glutted its maw with martyrs." His visage was malignantly demonic. "Death is bloated with my generosity."

Severus' gut twisted at the blasphemous, obscene declaration. He sneered, "Still taking credit for others' hard work? I think you'll find Death is hungrier than that, Tom. After all, one wandless, untried boy does not a banquet make." In his most seductive voice, he challenged, "Why don't we join the feast together, you and I, My Lord?"

The Slicing Hex left Voldemort's wand in the blink of an eye, but before it could reach its target, Severus disappeared. Death Eaters glanced uneasily at one another, backing away from their leader. Voldemort frantically searched the courtyard, roaring in anger, "How dare you mock me, Snape? Show yourself, and fight!"

"My Lord."

Voldemort whirled at the sound, and froze. Clearly unnerved, he forced his face to relax into calmer lines. With pretend cordiality, he said, "If it isn't Lucius Malfoy, my oldest and dearest friend." He leaned forward and placed the tip of his wand over Lucius' heart. "Tell me: why is it that so many worthy Death Eaters have fallen, and suddenly you appear, alive and well?" He ground the tip into Lucius' breast, and the blond man trembled to hold his ground. "Could it be that you and your pathetic family have been hiding, cowering in fear? Could it be that your fickle faith in me has grown disenchanted again?" His rage seemed to reach a boiling point, and he leaned in to whisper, "Why come to me at the eleventh hour, when the battle is all but done? Give me one reason to keep your worthless carcass alive, Lucius Malfoy!"

Lucius was breathing hard, but he held his ground. Face to face, almost nose to nose, he whispered, "Because, My Lord, if you kill me, I cannot do...this!"

Lucius sharply pushed the Dark Lord into the arms of Severus Snape and immediately Disapparated into the school, where his family awaited him. The remaining Death Eaters watched in frozen horror as their Lord and his former spy disappeared into the Between.

---

The desert was in full darkness; an eerie phosphorescent glow that came from the sand and the wind provided its only light. Shadows danced upon the ground, and in that environment Lord Voldemort looked confused and fragile. There was nothing remotely frightening about him.

"Welcome, gentlemen." A slim, tall figure appeared out of the darkness. Reg Black saluted Severus. "Hello, my dear friend. I rather thought I might find you here again."

Severus looked at him carefully. The figure before him appeared to be Reg Black, and yet it wasn't. His physical appearance was off; he was too perfect. This was not the same boy who had visited him the night he died.

The figure gazed past Severus. With a charming smile, he said, "Ah, Harry Potter. You and I have been like two ships passing in the night for many years. Each time I was convinced you would come to me, it became clear it wasn't quite time."

Severus whirled around to see Harry, very much alive, staring at the beautiful, black-haired man. "Have we met?" he asked politely.

The question seemed to amuse Reg greatly. "Not quite," he answered. He turned his attention to Voldemort. "And Tom Riddle. At last. Immortality, it seems, is still not quite within your grasp, no matter how much you have sought to obtain it."

The Dark Lord growled, "What is this place? And who are you?' His arrogant bravado returned. "You are not Regulus Black. I killed him!"

Reg's voice broke into a thousand prisms of sound. "You killed Severus Snape as well. And Harry Potter. And we see how well that went. And many others, in order to put as much distance between yourself and me as humanly possible."

Voldemort sneered, "And who are you? Do you truly expect me to believe that you are Death itself?"

With an elegant shrug, he answered, "It is a very unmusical name, 'Death'. So final. Most refer to me as a Guide, a Traveler, a Companion."

He turned to Harry. Conversationally, he added, "You were destined to come to me when you were a year old. Fate had decreed you would die the night Voldemort entered your parents' house. But our good friend Tom evoked the magic of your mother's love, and marked you as his sworn enemy."

He glanced at Voldemort, who was standing very still. "And instead of coming to me in his stead, Tom, your soul went into limbo, into hiding, until you could use your Horcruxes to return in a body again." He tutted softly. "Very bad form, Tom. You refused to play by the rules." His eyes grew cold. "So yes, Tom, in answer to your question. Yes, you may call me, 'Death'."

Voldemort sneered, "You have no power over me! I am the..."

Death held up his hand, and the Dark Lord's words ended in a gasp, as if being choked from him. "Yes, yes, Tom. Your arrogance is astonishing, if a little tiresome. Take, for instance, my dear friend, Severus Snape. His beloved wife was dying. You taunted him that she was the owner of the Elder wand; like so many before, you believed that owning the three magical items was the key to the Deathly Hallows. Her death was necessary in order for you to command the wand. If you had simply killed her, things would have been very different. But you were stupid enough to make the same mistake twice. You cast your Killing Curse on the man who loved her more than his own life."

He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Shall I tell you something about Regulus Black? Shall I tell Harry Potter of this boy you have always bragged of killing?"

Voldemort grew very still, and Reg continued, "It was Reg Black who watched and waited in the Between, waiting for the man he loved to come to me. He begged me for this honour." He turned to Severus. "I could not deny his love, you see. It was as unshakable as yours is for Hermione, as unfathomable as your mother's was for you, Harry."

Severus felt fear trickle down his spine, like a bead of sweat, heavy and dank. Realisation struck him in the chest like a warhammer. "Reg was still alive?"

Death bowed slightly in acknowledgement. "Reg Black entered my embrace willingly, and his death set off a chain of events that ended the moment Tom killed you. I gave Reg the choice; I would allow him to return to your world, and leave you here with me, or he could send you back."

Severus felt tears threaten. Deep within, a voice accused him of being unworthy of Reg's sacrifice. "Ah, but he thought you were worthy," Death replied softly. "It doesn't matter how you mortals measure yourselves against one another's standard. In the end, their love is all that matters."

He turned back to the fuming Voldemort. "Again, you cheated me, Tom. Again, and again, and once more again." The beautiful face changed, grew more sinister. "I suppose it could be said that all three of you have cheated me. But tonight, all debts will be paid."

The last of the light faded, and the sky turned black. Clouds boiled and distant thunder rumbled far away. Heat lightning flashed over the horizon. The figure changed, grew taller, darker, as if cut from negative space. His voice grew lower as he growled, "You lusted for immortality, Tom Riddle, and stopped at nothing to attain it. There is nothing more offensive to me. You tried to hide away from me; you stole from me by taking the lives of others and stealing away parts of your soul; you taunted me by using minions to restore you to life and take you away from me.

"But you never learned the one truth above all truths: no one defies Death. I have been patient. I have waited until your appointed time, and tonight, you belong to me, Tom Riddle." He enveloped Voldemort in an awful parody of an embrace, and kissed him passionately.

At that moment, Harry gasped, then screamed in agony. He fell unconscious against Severus, who lowered him gently to the ground. A wisp of dark grey matter oozed from his scar, grey and curling like tendrils of smoke. As the last Horcrux leached from Harry's scar, Severus closed his eyes, unwilling to watch as Death drew the last part of Voldemort's soul to himself.

After what seemed an eternity, Harry's eyes opened. The boy looked at him blankly for a moment. "How do you feel?" asked Severus, helping the boy to his feet.

Harry held onto Severus, shaking his head to clear it. He glanced beyond Severus, his eyes growing wide, and whispered, "Oh, Tom."

Unable to resist, Severus turned. Where the Dark Lord had been, Tom Riddle, real and human again, now stood. He was now the man he had been before he tore his soul into shreds. Like Harry, like himself, Tom had dark hair and pale skin; unlike them, his eyes were a startling shade of blue.

He was staring down at his hands in wonder. For a moment he smiled, then laughed. He glanced at the two men and raised his wand. "I'm whole again!" His eyes were mad with unholy glee. "I am perfect again!"

The voice of Death boomed liked thunder: "And you are mine. Again!"

A dust storm, sudden and fierce, rose between Severus and Tom, forming a flurry of flying sand and dust. As he squinted against the stinging wind, Severus turned to Harry and shouted, "Turn around. Don't look."

"But why? What will happen..."

"Boy," Severus growled in frustration, "for once in your life will you do as I say without question?" Without waiting for an answer, he pushed Harry to the ground, covering them both with his cloak.

Severus glanced up as the veil of sand grew solid and complete, separating Tom from them forever. He seemed to realise it as well, and stepped into the whirling, twisting storm to join them. Instantly the sand turned into a maelstrom, tearing at his skin, until he was crying out, trying to escape it. Like the glass it is melted to create, it ripped Tom Riddle into jagged pieces. He screamed until the sand filled his mouth and ears and nose and eyes, pulverising them to mush, staining the sand red. It blasted into his skin, etching the flesh from his body, the muscle and sinew from his bones. His body was lifted up in the maelstrom, until it was no more than crimson sand itself, twisting and writhing, a whim of the air and the dust, a tornado of sand-blasted matter.

The dust-devil flew high into the air and was gone as quickly as it came, taking Tom Riddle with it.

Slowly, Severus and Harry staggered onto their feet. The silence was unnerving, and the warm winds gradually blew soft against their faces. Harry looked around, bewildered. "What happened?" he asked, his eyes bleak and confused.

From the shadows a figure approached them, wearing Reg Black's body again. This time, Severus understood the difference. Death was merely using the familiar figure upon which to hang his hat.

His lovely voice shimmered like the shifting sands beneath their feet. "To Tom Riddle? He has been banished into the soulless void for all eternity, Harry. Darkness of his kind does not descend every day, but it will never truly be banished from the earth." His smile was almost fatherly. "How can we learn to carry the light within us if we have no opportunity to compare it to true dark?"

Harry looked pensive for a moment, then asked, "Will he ever be given redemption? I mean, he had such a terrible upbringing. He was unwanted and abused. Was it all his fault?"

Death shrugged. "Listen to yourself, Harry. 'He had such a terrible upbringing. He was unwanted and abused.' Those words could be equally said about you and Severus. It is our choices which make us who we are. Tom chose to use his power to do terrible things. He will spend eternity in the hell he created. He was never capable of understanding the gift of true immortality."

"Love." The word left Severus' lips before he was even aware of saying it. "Only love is eternal; only love can protect us and keep us safe. Only love ensures that we are remembered and cherished, that our children and grandchildren keep us alive through their memories of us."

Death answered, "Well said, my friend. Neither of you ever sought to defeat me; your hearts were pure, and your love was true. That is the only way to defeat Death. You've always known this universal truth, Severus Snape. Throughout your life, you were loved, and you loved, and that love saved you from Tom Riddle's fate.

"You came to me before your time, Severus Snape, and I allowed your friend to return you. One day...and that day is far from now...we will meet again, and this time you will be unable, unwilling, even, to resist my kiss. Until then, I send you back to life, to love and family.

"And this leaves us with a question. What is to become of you, my young friend?" Reg looked down at Harry fondly. "You could stay here, and enjoy new adventures, or you can return with Severus, and live out your remaining destiny. I leave that choice up to you."

To Severus' surprise, Harry seemed to hesitate, as if weighing his choices. His eyes filled as he answered, "Ever since I can remember, I've wanted to belong somewhere, to someone." He looked at Severus with pleading eyes. "I don't just want someone to love me; I want to love someone."

Severus replied slowly. "As soon as we are allowed, I'm going back. I can't speak for you, boy, but by the gods, I know what I'd do."

Harry smiled. "Yeah. Me too." He turned to Death. "As persuasive as it sounds to go on these new adventures, I think I'd like to give the old ones a proper go before I move on."

Death smiled beatifically. "Of course. I understand." He turned to go, then hesitated. "But before you go, there is one more thing. For both of you."

His face was suddenly bathed in light, and the light grew brighter, until Severus was squinting, then shielding his eyes, then turning away, unable to bear its brightness. He heard Harry gasp, as if he, too, could no longer face the blinding light. It enveloped them in warmth, like a caress, then gradually faded. Still squinting, Severus made himself face the light; dimly he could see figures walking toward them, growing closer, and as the light became endurable, he recognised each one, and started to weep.

"Oh, Minerva," he cried, as her arms wound about him. "I'm so sorry. Hermione tried..."

"It's alright, Severus. Please don't mourn me." she said, her tears silvery on her face. "You did it, Severus! And you, Harry!" her fierce eyes glowed with satisfaction. "You defeated him! I'm so proud of you both." She looked from one to the other.

"As am I." Charity Burbage smiled up at him. She looked ethereally beautiful, her round face full of the same happiness that once lit up every room she entered.

"Charity," he gasped, sobbing. "Forgive me, please."

"I do, Severus," she said, still smiling. "I understand." Her eyes grew soft with pity. "What you and Hermione have been through. Too much to bear." She glanced to her right. "Don't worry; Minerva and I have given him an earful on that count."

"Who?"

"Severus," said a fatherly voice. "My dear boy."

Severus whirled around at the familiar voice, his emotions warring within. "Albus," he managed, unable to look his former Headmaster in the face. Formally, he continued, "It seems we've won your war. You should be pleased."

"Our war, Severus," the old man countered. "And it could not have been done without you and your extraordinary wife." He turned to Harry, his eyes bright and happy. "Harry, my boy! I am so proud of you. Look at what you've done!"

Harry too looked uncertain of his feelings. "What we've done, Professor Dumbledore," he said, stiffly. "You've never given Severus the credit he deserves."

With absolute conviction, Albus answered, "Severus' actions were the catalyst for your misery, Harry."

Harry's eyes grew angry. "And he suffered every day of his life because of it, Professor, because you made sure he did! You never forgave him, and never allowed him to forgive himself!"

Albus glowered, "He was the reason your parents were dead, Harry. Becoming my spy gave him the means to atone."

A new voice intruded. "I think he's atoned enough, Professor."

All the breath left Severus' body. He would know that voice were he to live to be a thousand years old. His strength gave way, and he would have fallen to his knees if not for Harry's quick reflexes.

Still holding onto Severus, Harry joyfully cried, "Mum, Dad!"

Severus looked at James and Lily Potter, shocked at how young they looked. James looked no older than his son. "Go to them," Severus urged, his head clearing. He gave Harry's shoulder a push. "I can stand on my own...go to them!" Harry ran to them, and they embraced. His father ruffled his wild dark hair, so like his own, and smiled down at his son with love and happiness.

"Oh, Harry. We are so proud of you, son," James Potter said, his voice thick with unshed tears. "You've been through so much, and you were so brave and strong."

Lily opened her arms, and Harry flew into them. "My baby, my darling Harry," she said, smiling through her tears.

Severus watched the family embrace, and in his heart he saw how it would be when he and Hermione had their own family. Oh, Hermione. Lily is here, and all I can think about is you. I think I have finally become a man, lass.

Lily turned to him, a smile of welcome as bright as the light that had brought her here. "Hello, Sev," she said, and placed a kiss on his cheek. The last time they'd faced one another as friends, she had been the same height as he. Now, she had to stretch to reach him. "You're all grown up. You look a little like your dad now."

In spite of his full heart, he laughed. "I hope you didn't come here merely to insult me, Lily."

They laughed together, and for a moment, the years fell away, and he was the ragged little boy, and she the pretty Muggle-born girl with hair like fire, and Severus was filled with gratitude that he had been given the chance to see her this one last time. "I mourned you for so long, Lily. But I mourned you wrong."

Her lovely green eyes dimmed with regret. "I know, Severus. And I regretted never accepting your apology."

"I'm so sorry for what happened, Lily. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but..."

"Shh. Of course you deserve it." Her expression hardened. "What you didn't deserve was all the hell Albus put you through in my name. That was despicable, and something I never wanted." She patted his shoulder, a gesture left over from their childhood days spent playing in the endless golden autumn days. "I'm glad you've found Hermione. She's the perfect witch for you, Sev. Loads better than I would have ever been."

She took a step back to return to her husband. "Both of you have protected my son in every way you could. Thank you." She and James began to fade away, and hearing Harry plaintively call out to them made him turn away.

From out of the corner of his eye, he thought he could see all those he had fought back to back, those who fell, and they all looked peaceful and happy. Their faces also faded into the soft light, and he silently promised then they would always be remembered, always be honoured.

He turned to Harry, who was staring into the light as if he could still see his family. "Harry, it must be time to go back..."

"Severus, wait, please."

From behind Harry another figure appeared. Sirius Black. As he approached Severus, there was still a hint of his restless swagger, his old insouciant arrogance, but Severus found he could not summon any hatred or animosity for his old enemy.

Harry said, "I know it's time to go back." He stood between the two men. "Sirius, I know what you did to Hermione. It was wrong."

Sirius continued to look into Severus' eyes. "It was wrong, Harry," he replied. His voice was soft and sad. "I've spent a lot of time beyond the veil wishing I could change what happened. I am sorry, Severus. I was a young, arrogant fool, and I grew up to become an old, useless fool."

Severus nodded. "I love my wife, Black. And you did some hideous things to her. But I would be lying if I said that she has not been through hell on my own account as well."

Sirius held out his hand. "I can't make up for what I did. All I can give you is my regret and my plea for her forgiveness. And yours."

Severus took Black's hand. "Death has a way of putting things into perspective."

Sirius' bark of laughter rang across the night. "That's more truth than you know." He sobered. "Thank you for saving Harry. Thank you for saving our world." He released Severus' hand. "Thank you for making her happy."

Severus felt the same strange tug at his waist as the night Reg returned him to life. "Harry, it is time..."

He looked around, but he was alone. Gone were their friends and loved ones, their enemies cowering in a corner of the Between. Gone was the Between world. Even Harry was no longer with him. Suddenly, a light enveloped him in a rushing whirl of sound and wind and blinding joy...

---

O Death, traditional

Words in bold italic are from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows