Nineteen

Many thanks to my beta, Soul Bound.

Hermione gazed across the grey, restless lake to the bank of dark clouds until her eyes watered from the chill wind. Blinking away the tears, she looked down at her dirty fingernails and with a twig scraped out the ash from under them. The witch had been so certain... so confident that once Harry's power was restored, a pattern would be established, and she would be able to bring about a swift resolution. But instead death enclosed her. The witch shifted her cross-legged position on the boulder she was sitting on so that it didn't dig so sharply into her ankles and pulled her hood firmly over her ears to keep them warm.

'Miss Granger.'

Hermione spun around...she hadn't heard Snape walking up behind her in the howling wind. He looked drawn and had deep shadows under his eyes. But really, the wizard should look like that...he had given his all to Harry last night. Despite having had prolonged poisoning and constant exposure to heavy Northern magic, he had still been able to bring Harry into his strength. Snape was a remarkably powerful wizard, and Hermione couldn't help but think what his life would have been like if he had stayed in the South where he would have been appreciated.

The tall wizard stepped off the track, moving over the uneven ground with ease towards her.

'Professor,' Hermione acknowledged with a smile. 'Why aren't you at the Quidditch match?'

'Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw...pah,' he replied dismissively. 'I had potions to brew.'

'For Harry?' Hermione wiped her dripping nose discreetly with her sleeve.

'Yes. Mr. Potter has an adequate supply now.'

Another bitter blast of wind hit them...it tasted of snow. Snape huddled deeper into his heavy cloak and leaned up against the rock next to her, looking at her sharply.

'And you, Miss Granger? Is there a reason why you are out in this bone-chilling wind with only your light robe on under your cloak? Is it frostbite or hypothermia you are courting?'

'I needed to think, and I can't seem to do that in Hogwarts, sir.' Hermione dropped her eyes and shook her head.

'My lady? Is everything all right? Is it Mr. Potter?' Snape must have sensed something in her voice.

Hermione looked into his black, black eyes and remembered her boy. She sighed and shook her head. 'Harry's fine, my friend. He's sleeping, which is what he should be doing. His power has returned.'

'Is that not good, my lady?' Snape questioned, looking at her quizzically.

'It is.... It is...' answered Hermione, her voice trailing off.

'But?' Snape filled in for her, frowning.

Hermione looked at the dark wizard steadily; by articulating what he was questioning, even to him, she would be committing to a course of action.

Snape's face was pinched with cold, but he hoisted himself up onto the boulder effortlessly and sat close to her, their shoulders touching.

'But?' He prodded her again.

'It's the pattern,' said Hermione finally, 'but it isn't a pattern. It's a single, frayed thread that connects them. And if that single thread snaps, it will unravel all the patterns, and everyone...you, Harry, McGonagall, all the children here, everyone... everyone... all the Northern witches and wizards...will plunge to their deaths. We must pass across the thread without breaking it so that we can move into the next pattern. If we don't, Voldemort will win, and if that happens, he will destroy everything, himself included...that I am certain of.'

Snape's eyes widened.

Hermione wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. 'You did ask.'

Snape stilled and then did what Hermione didn't expect, but appreciated: he put his arm around her and pulled her close into him. He was warm and smelt of wormwood.

'The only way across is complicated. He told me the route the other night...fire into water...but it's complex and perilous. It needs to be done lightly...swiftly...so as not to put the thread under any strain.' Hermione looked the wizard straight in the eye, but couldn't hold his gaze as she explained, 'It involves you, Harry and me. The chances of success are minute. In all likelihood, we are looking at our deaths. We must kill Voldemort. If we succeed in killing him, but die in the process, we will have connected one type of pattern, and this wizarding community will survive.'

Snape pulled her in closer so that his chin rested on the top of her head. He deftly unbuttoned the lower buttons of his cloak and flicked part of his cloak over her shoulder so that she could share its warmth. 'You must understand my position, my lady. I have had a death sentence placed on me for many years, so what you present to me is my only chance of survival. I will go into it willingly, as I did last night. But it will be much harder for you and Mr. Potter. You both are young and have options.'

Hermione turned and looked up into his face. He was gazing out at the lake. His hair was moving in the uneasy wind. 'But I don't have an option, my friend. This is what he has shown me.'

The wizard looked down at her quickly, his eyes soft. He lifted his hand and ran it down her cheek. 'We must succeed then.'

'Yes, we must.'

A roar from the crowd floated towards them, signaling the end of the game. Snape turned and looked behind. 'It seems Ravenclaw has won.' He flicked his cloak from her shoulders and leapt lightly down from the boulder. 'Come, my lady. Come with me out of the cold. We can talk more in my rooms.'

'And your Saturday Slytherin duties?' Hermione took his hand, and he helped her down. She felt stiff and cold.

'Delegated out.'

They walked back to the track, slowly heading towards Hogwarts up the steep path. Hermione's mind was a whirl of ideas, anxieties and fear.

'My friend?'

'Yes, my lady'

'How interested is Voldemort in me, do you think?'

'Very. He covets what you know and who you are. You are like a highly-prized diamond to him.'

'Good.'

Snape looked down at her curiously.

'My friend?'

'Yes, my lady.'

'How aware would Voldemort be if you let him have full access to you?'

'Very. I use the potions primarily, but I also have other techniques I have developed over time to block him from knowing my thoughts.'

'So if you allowed Voldemort in, he could gain information via you?'

Snape darted his eyes at her, his face tense. 'But that has never happened. I have never allowed the Dark Lord in. You are quite safe.'

'I know. But if I wanted Voldemort to sense me...could you let him?'

'Yes...but why?'

'I want to use Voldemort's greed to pull us across. Are you able to unblock your barriers?'

Snape looked uneasy, but nodded. 'There is a potion I can take that counters the effects of the wormwood potion. The Dark Lord does not become aware of thoughts as such, but becomes aware of the feelings and emotions of the Dark Mark bearer. And from that, he can reap a lot of information.'

'Good.'

They walked silently, the wind at their backs making it easier.

'You intend to be the bait,' Snape stated simply after a while.

'This is the only way.' Hermione nodded.

'You will be in extreme risk of capture. The Dark Lord is powerful.' Snape flicked his cloak agitatedly around him.

'I know. I know,' acknowledged Hermione wearily, breathing deeply from walking up the steep path.

'Is there anyway of reinforcing you? A binding ritual perhaps?'

Hermione looked up admiringly at the tall wizard beside her. 'What a brilliant idea. I never thought of that... Yes, that would work. A binding ritual is perfect for what we are to do.'

'Then that is what we will do. And we will make it with strength so that it can withstand the power of the Dark Lord.'

Hermione smiled up at Snape gratefully.

'When do you intend to do the rite, my lady?'

'We can't hesitate.... If possible, tonight. But I need to see Harry first...I must let him know. I'll go to my rooms and change, then go to see him.'

Snape slowed his pace and looked evenly down at her. 'Have you slept at all?'

'No.'

'Eaten?'

'Err... no.'

Snape continued looking at her steadily. 'Go and see Mr. Potter, but come down to my office afterwards. Since you do not have the support of a circle to help you, I will have to operate as one. You must have your needs met before tonight. It is in the best interests of everyone that you are functioning at your best.'

Hermione nodded in agreement. Snape really was her circle.

===

Hermione hesitated, but chided herself angrily for still acting like an immature student with all that was happening, and knocked firmly on Snape's office door. It swung open.

'Enter.'

Snape was chopping at his worktable, a bubbling cauldron beside him. The room smelt of lemon balm. He glanced up, nodding his acknowledgement of her.

'I will be with you shortly...have a seat.'

Hermione walked across his office and wearily sat down on one of the chairs in front of his desk. She adjusted her witch's hat and tucked a stray lock of hair back under it.

'How is Mr. Potter?'

Hermione turned and saw Snape looking up briefly from his stirring.

'His power is back. It's steady and strong,' replied Hermione. 'He slept most of the morning, but is awake now.'

Snape paused for a moment, his steaming ladle poised above the cauldron. 'And how did Mr. Potter take it?'

'Surprisingly well. Harry's quite different...a good different, though. He seemed to grasp what must be done. I explained the risks, and he understood them. And by doing the rite tonight, there is also the chance we may be able to save Ginny. I said I would pick him up at eight.'

'Good...tonight it is then.' Snape looked satisfied with the potion he was brewing and ladled it carefully into a vial. He busied himself with tidying the workbench up.

'Is that the potion for tonight?'

'Yes. Once I take it, the effect will be immediate. The Dark Lord will sense you through my feelings and emotions.'

'You'll have to make them pronounced...if you can. We must lure Voldemort in.'

'That should not be a problem,' he said in a quiet undertone that Hermione only just heard.

Hermione looked up, but Snape had quickly turned his back to her and was doing something with the cauldron above the fireplace.

Despite the heat of two fires in his office, it was still cold. Hermione was sure it would snow tonight; it would be the first snowfall for the winter season if it did. The witch hadn't realized how practical frock coats were in the winter. In fact, all of Snape's clothes were far better designed for the cold than anything she had ever worn before. And the number of pockets in everything was simply a godsend.

'Here, my lady.'

Hermione smelt the coffee before she saw the coffeepot on the tray along with crusty bread and dips in small saucers. 'Ooh, coffee,' she exclaimed. 'Thank you.'

Snape simply smiled as he placed the tray down on his desk and took the chair next to hers. He poured out the coffee, and Hermione sipped it, loving the taste.

'Please eat, my lady.' Snape offered her the bread, which she readily took and dipped into the condiments. She hadn't realized how hungry she had been until she started eating.

A feeling of melancholy washed over Hermione as she chewed on the last piece of bread, her stomach finally sated. She looked up and found Snape looking at her, obviously reading her expression.

'We do what we can in every given situation, my lady. We cannot do more than that,' he said quietly with feeling, refilling her cup with coffee.

Hermione recognized the truth in his words. 'Yes. I understand. But it's strange. For seven years, all I wanted... all I dreamed about was to be with him. So I should be approaching tonight fearlessly, yet I sit here right now with great sadness. The ties to this realm hold me far tighter than I had realized.'

'It is hard to let anything go...it is what makes us human.' Snape looked at her sadly, his eyes dark in his face.

'It's my boy who holds me the most. I know he is loved where he is, but...' Hermione dropped her eyes and took a sip of coffee.

'It is as it should be, my lady. It would be unusual for you not to feel this way. How old is he?'

Hermione put down her cup and looked at Snape's soft expression. 'Six...he is a serious one. I always try to lighten him up. He has black eyes like you.'

'Does he?' For a moment, Snape looked self-conscious...almost flustered...but quickly recovered. 'I too was a solemn child...not much has changed, I suppose.'

'Oh, I don't know about that. But to live as you have for so many years...,' the witch shook her head in respect and amazement, '...that takes more strength than most people have.'

'Again, I had little choice in the way circumstances presented themselves to me. However, I am appreciative of the last few weeks.'

'Why?' Hermione frowned, not understanding him.

'Because I have found an agreeableness to them I had quite forgotten.'

===

Harry lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. A sense of tranquility flowed through him, and even though it had never so much as wavered once during the day, he wanted to appreciate it constantly in case it left him. Everything seemed clearer, as if somebody had adjusted a lens on a camera, pulling everything into sharp focus and allowing him to see a depth of colour he hadn't been able to see before. It reminded him of when he had walked out of the optometrist's for the first time with his new glasses. But it also made him realize how out of balance and blinkered he had been previously.

Harry heaved himself off the bed, walked over to the table and poured himself a goblet of foul potion. He downed it in four gulps, swearing at its disgustingly repulsive taste. The wizard slowly started clearing the weeks of clutter from the table.

Who stood out today was Hermione when she had visited this afternoon. He must have been too dazed to notice anything in the morning, but he hadn't been able to keep his eyes off her when she had returned. The witch had a mesmerizing power that he had never noticed before. While she had talked to him about tonight, Harry had watched as the ancient power moved sinuously around her, softly, as if it were caressing her languidly. It loved her, Harry realized intuitively, then understood that he saw it as sentient. Yet what he saw and what he sensed were totally different. The Hermione who had sat at this table looked dreadful. Even though she had explained everything calmly, the timbre of her voice had told the wizard of her deep sadness, and the wringing of her hands had told of her fear. When Harry had said that he would naturally do the rite tonight with her and Snape, she'd blinked rapidly and turned away from him. So Harry had pretended he hadn't seen her tears...he knew she hated showing emotion. Of course, he feared this evening...how could he not? But overriding all emotion was that tonight would give him an opportunity to do what he had always aimed to do: kill Voldemort. Harry prayed he could do it in time for Ginny.

After Hermione had left, looking most relieved, Harry had wandered around Hogwarts for what he knew could be his last time. It had been his home for longer than anywhere else. Ravenclaw was celebrating their win over Hufflepuff by walking around in groups, cheering and reveling in their skill. Harry laughed at the wit of some of their more raucous tunes...even though they were at Hufflepuff's expense. The next match should be interesting with Ravenclaw up against Slytherin, Harry thought absently, with both their Seekers evenly matched.

As he had walked the corridors, the wizard had heard something he had never noticed before: a deep, ancient, pulsing beat. Harry had understood somehow that this beat was the fundamental strength of Hogwarts and that it underpinned everything about the castle. All the magic he had associated with Hogwarts...the moving stairs, the talking portraits, the magical ceiling in the Great Hall, even the magic being taught...sounded discordant and weak in comparison.

Harry had visited McGonagall in her office, pretending to be dropping by to return a book. He'd needed to see her. She was the person who'd stood by him through everything...mopping up his messes, backing him, and reining him in...caring for him in a way nobody else ever had. The professor had looked up abruptly from behind the piles of parchments on her desk as he had come in the door. He'd seen clearly that the old witch was giving her all to keep chaos at bay, fighting strongly despite the overwhelming odds. And though heavily disguised, it was McGonagall's love that drove her as it did.

The professor must have thought Harry had come to find out about Ginny as she walked out from behind her desk. 'Sorry, Harry. I ha...'

On impulse, Harry had put his arms around her...she'd felt frail and bird-like.

'I know. I know,' he had softly reassured. 'You do so much for me, Headmistress. I understand that now. I never really saw it before.'

'Goodness, Harry!' McGonagall had reddened with surprise and emotion but had quickly recovered, although she had not moved away from his embrace. 'Does that mean to say the unthinkable has happened and that you have finally grown up? Good lord, miracles do happen!' She had chuckled, her eyes twinkling.

'Yeah, maybe, you never know,' Harry had said with a laugh, giving her another affectionate squeeze.

Harry sighed contently as he took in the clear table...he'd quite forgotten how large it actually was when it had nothing on it. He did one last wipe over the table and successfully tossed the dishcloth into the sink. There was light tapping on the door; Harry grabbed his cloak and opened it.

'All ready, Harry?' Hermione had her heavy, black robe on; her brow was furrowed with anxiety.

'Yes.'

Harry slammed the door behind him; Hermione picked up the lantern, and they walked towards the Forbidden Forest. He had absolutely no idea what he was expected to do tonight, and nervousness started seeping into him. After seeing Snape and Hermione last night, he realized the level of skills they possessed far surpassed his own. But rather than his nervousness turning into a blaze of anxiety, as it would have done before, a soothing, calming feeling came through him. Harry understood he would know what to do.

'Tonight we all will have defined roles. The potion you have been taking blocks Voldemort's awareness of you. This will enable you to move beneath his guard. I will present you with a chance to attack and kill Voldemort,' explained Hermione, her breath smoking in the chilly air.

'And Snape?' Harry wasn't confident at all about seeing Snape. He would never be able to look at that wizard the same again.

'It's his strength that will ensure our survival...he's the one who will bring us back. Both our lives will depend on what he is capable of.'

'And you?'

'Well... um...'

'You are the power and the skill behind both Snape and me,' said Harry, answering his own question.

'Yeah, maybe...' Hermione answered uncertainly. 'I will take you to Voldemort.'

They now entered the Forbidden Forest, and Harry concentrated on negotiating the uneven path in the shifting light of the lantern. The night was bitterly cold, and the wind made the trees creak and groan. Harry smelt the smoke before he saw the light from the underground chamber. But tonight the incense had a deeper smell to it.

Hermione placed the lantern at the top of the stairs, and Harry took in one last breath of icy-cold air.

'Are you ready?' Hermione asked softly.

Harry nodded, and oddly, even though he knew he should be fearful, he wasn't.

'Let your power lead you, and you will know what to do. Come, follow me.'

Hermione disappeared down the stone steps, and the wizard quickly followed, his eyes smarting from the thick smoke. The chamber was as dark as last night, but Harry also felt a deep power being held within its stone walls.

Hermione softly touched him on his arm. 'You'll need to wear the robe again.'

'Yeah, sure.' Harry didn't mind, remembering the intense heat of last night. The wizard quickly undressed down to his boxers. The witch shook out the material and deftly tied it around him in an efficient manner, which told him she had dressed many people in robes whereas Snape had not. He wondered briefly who Hermione had dressed.

Hermione gently guided him to the fire in the center of the chamber, Harry wincing over the rough ground. The smoke was thick, and the small fire could only cast a dim, hazy light. Harry couldn't see Snape anywhere. Hermione indicated for him to sit, and he remembered only just in time to hold the pleats. But the moment his eyes settled on the fire, a jolt of recognition went up his body. He knew the fire...he recognized it, understood it even. The fire was hungry. His hands found the plates as if by instinct, and he began nourishing the fire with wood and oil. Absently, he saw Hermione nod and disappear into the swirling smoke. The wizard didn't mind, as the fire had much to say to him about all its mysteries.

'Harry. Harry. Harry.'

The wizard dragged himself away from his communion with the flames. Hermione sat down next to him, dressed in her robes, her breasts right there in front of him. Harry swallowed and quickly looked at her face.

'We must bind ourselves together.'

Harry strangely understood and nodded. The witch placed a small, ornate canister on the ground between them. She unscrewed the lid, and in it was a mass of moving worms. They emanated a potential power.

'Choose a cord, Harry.'

The wizard put his finger in; they weren't worms but writhing cords, and he pulled one out. It coiled wetly around his hand. It was cold.

'Use your power to hold us together.'

Harry closed his eyes and went into himself while moving his fingertips up and down the silky thread, pouring his love for Hermione into it; the cord readily absorbed it like a sponge. He slowly opened his eyes and saw the cord had changed into a deep, burnished gold. Hermione's thread had also changed colour.

Hermione stood up and stepped closer to him. 'Tie your thread around my waist.'

Harry saw there was already a green thread there and wondered if it was Snape's. Hermione had a well-defined waist, and both threads stood out on her lightly-tanned skin. The wizard knotted the thread and knew it would be strong.

Harry stood up stiffly, and she too tied her thread around him while chanting an incantation, her long hair tickling his skin as she bent over to tie it. The witch straightened, and they both smiled at each other, pleased with their magical connection.

Hermione sat back down, and Harry sat close to her. 'We will begin now. You will be safe with me and mine...let your power guide you. Close your eyes. Fire into water.'

Harry nodded and smiled, trying to reassure Hermione when he saw her serious face.

Hermione started a low chanting that made Harry's spine tingle with recognition. The wizard felt her tracing her finger tips in patterns on his wrist, shoulders, and chin. There was a slight pause...he felt a cool touch on his lightning bolt scar. Suddenly he was drifting upwards, flowing through the many currents that were immediately obvious to him. Harry could still feel Hermione around him, but she was fading rapidly into the distance. Just as the wizard was starting to panic, he felt something guiding him, pulling him closer, and soon a deep, pulsating rhythm was around him, which was beyond antiquity...beyond any mere human understanding of oldness. It moved gently around him, and Harry knew it was comforting him. There was a feeling of movement...a shift somehow...and suddenly Harry's normal senses started working again. He felt a soft, warm breeze on his face and smelt a heady, exotic fragrance of flowers. There was a soft tickling on his back; the wizard knew he was naked and lying on his side. He opened his eyes to a night sky filled with stars.

'Shh, Sharp Light. Stay still...stay quiet. I do you no harm.'

Harry glanced behind him. His jaw dropped. The biggest tiger he had ever seen was lying beside him. The creature was so big that Harry felt dwarfed into insignificance beside it.

'Shhh. Do not move...do not speak until you are called. I will keep you safe,' it said soothingly.

There was nothing Harry could do but agree. He certainly wasn't going to take on a fully grown tiger in peak condition while naked and alone. Well, any tiger really. Besides, it bore absolutely no resemblance to the puny tigers he had seen at the zoo. And strangely, the gentle rise and fall of the warm body next to his lulled him. He did feel safe. Harry eased his head down to change the uncomfortable angle it was on. It took him a while to work out what he was seeing; it seemed all the wrong proportions. He was looking at a huge, striped tiger paw the size of a car tire, which meant he was laying his head on the tiger's forearm that was wider than a pillow. The wizard knew he should be scared.

'You are safe. Be still, Sharp Light,' came his sound. And he was.

===

Hermione pulled herself sharply back from the overpowering temptation of following Harry to him. It was where she longed to be. But no. She mustn't go there...not this time. The witch sighed with regret when her senses came back in strongly again.

'My lady.'

She felt a touch on her shoulder before looking up at Snape sitting beside her, his robe flowing elegantly over one shoulder. He does wear a robe well, admired Hermione.

'Mr. Potter?'

'Yes, he is safe with mine and is being strengthened by him.'

'That is good.'

Hermione noticed a touch of envy in his voice. The witch shifted her sitting position so she faced Snape straight on.

'I must now strengthen your earth before we begin.'

Snape shifted so he was sitting directly opposite her. Hermione opened another jar, and in it was orange soil; she pulled from the folds of her robe a small bottle of oil and poured it into the soil. The witch could feel Snape's eyes avidly watching her every movement. Using her hands, she mixed the oil into the soil, making sticky clay.

'Sorry about this. It may feel a bit strange.'

'Or it could feel nice,' commented Snape blandly.

Hermione looked up sharply from her mixing, but he was busy adjusting the folds of his robes, his eyes cast down. She was strangely flustered. But the earth incantations quickly soothed her, and Snape's posture relaxed as well. The witch dabbed the clay in time with the beat of the chant over the wizard's bare chest, along his arms and on his face and forehead.

'Now, my friend, make a line of clay along the bridge of my nose up into my hairline.'

Snape blinked dazedly a few times, and Hermione was pleased at the power of the chant. She leaned forward and felt the cool, wet, sticky clay on her forehead and smelt its earthiness. The witch sat back and opened her eyes.

'It's time.'

Snape nodded, his eyes serious, and slowly unwrapped the black material covering his Dark Mark. The tattoo seemed more sinister in the dim light.

Hermione couldn't stop her anxiety rising. 'Remember to try and think of me with as much emotion as you can, and I know I shouldn't say this, but don't, whatever you do, think of Harry.' Instantly she felt stupid for saying that. It sounded wrong.

Snape turned and looked at her with an unusual expression on his face. 'It will not be difficult.'

The witch breathed in nervously, her stomach doing somersaults.

From within his robe, Snape pulled out a bottle and unstoppered it.

'Come closer, my lady.'

Surprised, Hermione moved so she was sitting right up next to him, their thighs touching.

Snape lifted the bottle to his lips. 'Ready?' he asked, his eyes glinting.

'Ready.' Hermione looked up at him curiously.

Snape downed the contents in three mouthfuls, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and in one smooth movement put his arms around her, drawing her closer into a kiss. Bemused, Hermione leaned into the kiss; she hadn't had a normal, non-magical kiss in a long time, and it was pleasant. Snape tasted right to her. The wizard made a small sigh of regret and pulled back fractionally.

'That was good thinking,' Hermione breathed.

'Oh, yes.' Snape smirked but then quickly sobered.

Hermione knew it was time and looked deeply into his black eyes. Lifting her arm, she placed her rune on his Dark Mark.

Her breath was pushed out of her, and she was shoved violently from the back. The witch fell through the air, the huge cliff face whizzing past her, and black pain rang through her as she hit the hard surface of the water. She plunged down, forever downwards, her lungs screaming, and she kicked out aggressively. Hermione burst through the surface into the darkness of the underwater cavern. The witch gulped in the air, the warm water streaming down her face. It was soft on her skin as she moved her arms and legs to keep afloat. Perhaps because Hermione was expecting it, she became aware of the tugging of the current pulling her along, so she wasn't surprised when there was an abrupt downward pull.

The water sucked at her, pulling her, tumbling her towards the Death Mark entrance as if she were a twig in a raging sea. There were no longer any craggy outcrops of rocks.

'You are mine now, circle lover.'

Hermione started in fright, and even though she had been expecting to hear Voldemort's voice, it still filled her with horror. The gaping entrance was now only meters away, and panic gripped her. What if it didn't work? A tightening around her neck made the witch look down, and she saw his snakes coiling up around her, pining her arms and legs tightly in their stranglehold grip.

Suddenly, Hermione was violently jerked backwards from the coils on her waist, and she painfully bit her tongue.

'Come! Come! Come now!' she bellowed with all her might.

A white-hot pain blasted from her arm, and Harry unraveled out from her rune through the Death Mark entrance...sharp as a surgeon's knife, as focussed as a lightning bolt. The light and the heat blinded her, and Hermione recoiled back from its intensity. Violent explosions pushed her into blackness.

==

Sharp pain from around her waist. A movement backward. Stillness. Silence. A vicious blast hit her again. Hermione instinctively curled up into a ball, covering her head with her arms. The beat of her heart was loud. Blackness.

==

Where was Harry? Where was Harry? Hermione heaved and strained with all her considerable power on the cord...but nothing. She had to get Harry back...she just had to. Pulses of light, discordant sounds, the crashing and swirling of agitated currents confused her and battered her senses. Still, the witch ran her awareness along the cord, seeking him. Nothing. Disembodied voices, violent screams, sad weeping threatened to shake her off the cord, but Hermione resolutely held tight and stretched even further outwards into the darkness, seeking him. A quiver. A slight movement. Hermione pounced and scooped Harry into her. He lay limp within. She pulled him closer to her so that he was safe. Hermione would protect him... but... but... there was no movement...nothing. Harry was dead inside her. NO! Hermione poured all her life force into him...no one... no one else would be taken away from her again...and slid into blackness.

==

Hermione held him close...he was a single, spluttering, weak flame that could go out at any time. There was a movement she recognized.

Desperately, she called to him, 'Don't let Harry go to you!'

Hermione felt him pressing Harry back down. The flame strengthened, casting a stronger light. Hermione tasted Harry's longing to join him, and the witch reached out, touching the wizard softly: he wasn't to go to the primordial forest...it wasn't his time. Harry had to return to their realm, however hard. Slowly, his intensity of longing lessened, and the flame grew stronger. Hermione drew him closer yet, using herself as a buffer to ensure he stayed.

Snape flowed softly around them, encompassing them in his coolness, protecting them with his strength. He guided them silently away from the carnage, taking them deep into the hidden arteries of the earth, through the ancient waters, cleansing them, earthing them, soothing them after the heat and destruction. Hermione knew Harry was safe with Snape and allowed exhaustion to overtake her.

==

A searing heat in her forearm forced Hermione to open her eyes. Harry was heavy in her arms. His hair wet with sweat, his face ashen, his eyes shut. He looked dead. But Hermione knew he wasn't. The weak movement of his chest against hers told Hermione otherwise. A hand moved a lock of hair from her eyes. Hermione shifted her head slightly and saw Snape holding her in his arms from behind. She smiled at him. They had made it back. Voldemort was dead.