A Dark Light--The Devil Gets His Due

Disclaimer: Jo Rowling owns and rocks the Potterverse, and would probably be very upset at what we do to her characters.

'A dark light---The devil gets his due' KISS

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"Finish it, Potter.'

The words pressed urgently into Harry's mind as the body of Severus Snape hung limply in his arms. He desperately clutched the man to him as he lowered him gently to the ground, but Snape was already dead. The horrified shriek that ripped through the cold night air came from Harry's mouth, and he dropped to his knees beside his former tormentor, a man who had become his mentor and friend. He looked over Snape's thin body as he frantically searched for life, but he knew that his quest would be in vain.

Harry still felt Severus' words burning in his mind, but the image of Hermione, and the force of emotion that had accompanied that image, had left the young Gryffindor momentarily stunned.

Love. Burning, impassioned, all-encompassing love.

Harry crouched over Snape's lifeless body as if to protect it while he felt for his wand. His hands closed around it, and he performed a Disillusionment Charm to buy himself some time.

Severus Snape had been in love with Hermione. Harry knew that there had been some involvement between his friend and the Potions master, but throughout their travels, he and Snape had initially tried to simply co-exist. Although they had talked occasionally, and in recent times had even discussed their strategy, they had only barely begun to touch the edges of friendship. As he looked down upon the peaceful face of Severus Snape, he realized that the man had tasted the freedom of Love.

"Finish it, Potter.'

~*~

Harry heard Voldemort's high pitched laughter as it echoed through the graveyard, sinister and as cold as a blade. There would be time for tears and sorrow later, but the evil that was Voldemort must be destroyed, and Harry straightened up with savage determination. He heard the rustling of leaves as the man searched through the rubble of headstones and crypts for his quarry, hurling insults as he moved from grave to grave. Harry knew that his position was in no way safe, and he rapidly searched his mind for options.

Harry gripped the handle of his wand tightly, and felt pain lance through his arm. He looked once more at Snape's body, and an overwhelming sense of loss swept over him. Here before him represented yet another casualty of this war, another life destroyed because of one man. Lives destroyed. Severus' love for Hermione had come as a shock to Harry, but its power was undeniable. He barely heard the mocking words that Voldemort hurled in his direction as his sorrow and loss gave way to an entirely different emotion.

Love.

Harry knew in his heart that he fought not just for himself, but for all the people he loved. Ginny, his beautiful, wonderful Ginny, who loved him unconditionally. Ron and Hermione who loved him like their brother and had been with him through the many twists and turns of his life. Molly, Arthur and the rest of their family who had welcomed him without question or reservation. Sirius, Remus and Tonks who helped him through many difficult times, and Dumbledore, the only father he had ever known, who had loved him and treated him with kindness and respect.

Finally, his thoughts turned to his own parents whom he loved fiercely, although he had no memories of them. He had often wondered how his mother could have sacrificed herself so willingly to save him, but now, as he stood in the midst of impending death, he finally understood. It was love, true and simple, so complete in its honesty that it had been able to withstand death itself.

'Finish it, Potter.'

He walked out from behind the crypt and raised his arm, barely noticing the pain as he levelled his wand at Voldemort. Voldemort balanced Snape's wand in his thin fingers as he stood beside the Riddle grave and casually outlined his plans for Harry's death. His eyes, mere slits, gleamed with a diabolical light as he raised his own wand in response to Harry's movement. While Voldemort plotted his demise, Harry felt a wave of emotion rising from deep within him, a wave that gained momentum as he filled his mind and heart with the images of his loved ones. He would defeat the man with all the love he had, the love for all the people he had lost, and for all those he hoped to save.

Harry could feel the power of that love build up inside of him and radiate from his core. He was suddenly suffused with an enormous burst of pure emotion that coursed through his body and out through the tip of his wand. He barely had time to register the power of that feeling, when his mind enunciated the Killing Curse, and there was a blinding green light.

He watched as the bolt of green struck Voldemort squarely in his chest. His slitted eyes opened wide in surprise as the curse flung him backwards, and he landed heavily upon the headstone of his father's grave. Harry heard the stone crack with the force of Tom Riddle's body, and a cloud of dust rose that seemed to envelop the broken, lifeless form. Harry watched in astonishment as the dust coalesced, resembling a cloak that engulfed Tom Riddle's body. It drew him down into the opening as it wrapped around him, morphing his body until it no longer resembled that of a man. The river of grey flowed through the gaping hole in the Riddle tomb and disappeared.

Harry stumbled towards the grave and sealed the opening with a wave of his wand. His hand shook so badly that, for a moment, he wasn't sure that he had succeeded, but the complete absence of any sound other than his own ragged, retching breaths was enough to know that his curse had done the job.

It was finished.

++++++++++++++

Harry stood over Tom Riddle's grave and tasted his first breaths of a life without Voldemort. His mind was scattered in a thousand directions, and with effort he raised his wand into the air, sending off a shower of red and gold sparks. He knew that his signal would be seen precisely as intended, and he made his way back to the crypt, where he slumped to the ground near Severus' body. He touched the lifeless face of his former Potions master, and memories of their long and turbulent past flooded his mind. Snape the hated teacher, Snape the tormentor, Snape the tormented, Snape the conflicted, Snape the man, flawed and cruel, brave and callous and finally, Snape the hero. Completely and truly alone for the first time in his life, Harry covered his face with his still-shaking hands and wept uncontrollably.

The signal had alerted Fawkes to his position, and before long he heard the song of the Phoenix as it swept out of the darkness into the graveyard at Little Hangleton. As always, the sound lifted him out of his deepest despair, and upon landing, the bird regarded him solemnly.

'Hullo, Fawkes,' he said quietly as they nodded to each other in recognition.

Fawkes cast a critical eye at Harry as its gaze took in his battle scars and the bloody gash on his upper arm. The phoenix gave a single cry and crooned gently as its tears fell onto Harry's injured arm. He felt the warm tears as they washed into his torn flesh, healing and mending his wounds. The comforting presence of Dumbledore's bird seemed to nurture his wounded soul as well.

Harry smiled wearily.

'Thanks,' he muttered simply. The Phoenix merely nodded.

Harry dug through his bag and found some paper and his Muggle pen. He closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath before he began writing. Fawkes would take Snape's body back to the Order, together with his letter explaining how Voldemort had been defeated. His letter to the Order detailed Snape's part in Voldemort's defeat, as well as what still needed to be done. Harry was sure that there was still much work to be done in rounding up the remaining Death Eaters, and that the Order would be kept busy for some time to come.

His letter also insisted that no one come looking for him. Harry knew that there would be much debate over that point and could almost visualize the arguments put out by Molly Weasley and her offspring, but he needed time to himself, time to come to terms with the past, and time to prepare for his future.

With shaking hands, Harry also wrote a separate note to Hermione. He was unable to say much, even though the memories were still fresh in his mind, so he hastily signed his name and folded it. He carefully addressed it and tucked the paper into Snape's breast pocket. He knew that she would find it.

He stood with difficulty and regarded the Phoenix once more.

'Fawkes,' he began uncertainly, 'I need you to take Professor Snape back to the Order. Take him to Headquarters, please, and deliver him to Minerva. Make sure she gets this letter, and, if you can, make sure they comply with the instructions.'

He wasn't sure whether or not the bird understood him, but Fawkes bowed serenely, a strangely familiar twinkle in his eyes. The Phoenix flew over to Snape's body and gripped his clothes firmly, before spreading his spectacular wings and rising into the air, disappearing quickly from sight. Utterly alone for the second time in as many hours, Harry turned and picked up their travel bags before glancing once more in the direction of the Phoenix's flight. He straightened his shoulders, turned his back on the graveyard, and walked away until he was swallowed by the darkness.

TBC

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A/N: I know that this chapter is very Harry-centric, but he WAS the only one left to defeat Voldemort, and I also wanted to get someone else's point of view of Snape's final moments. Harry was the only witness to Severus' destruction, both physical and emotional, and I thought that the enormity of that event was too important to just be 'left in the air'. I promise to tie things up in the next chapter!

I know, poppet, I know.