Godric's Hollow

All due respect, honour and adoration to JK Rowling, who created the universe and allows us to share it.

As always, more thanks than I can express to the remarkable beta, GinnyW, and to deemichelle for her extra assistance, and to lifeasanamazon for her Britpicking.

58. GODRIC'S HOLLOW

The first time Hermione took the moving staircase from the fourth floor to the third and ended up, instead, on the fifth, it barely registered. It was, after all, a moving staircase.

The second time, she was exasperated.

The third time, she took it personally.

It was as if Hogwarts didn't want her to make it downstairs at all.

Her last few weeks in Hogwarts had numbed her to its eccentricities as the castle had seemed to ease her way and almost embrace her at times. But today the castle was blocking her every attempt to leave.

What had she done to anger it? Why didn't the castle want her to...

Unless.

She moved slowly to the Bewildered Balcony and peered carefully over the railing and down at the Entrance Hall five floors below.

At first it seemed the usual breakfast bustle of students moving into the Great Hall, until she noticed the occasional seventh-year who peeled away from the others as they passed the Gryffindor shield, at which point they would duck behind and not emerge again.

Yes. She felt a mixture of relief and satisfaction. They were sticking to the plan. One by one she knew the students were being put under a Disillusionment Charm and were then emerging and carefully making their way to the designated spot near the oak double front doors.

And she should have been there.

The great doors were opening...Dumbledore's Army would begin making their exit unseen and she needed to be at the Apparition Point, to be ferried to Godric's Hollow, herself. She had worked it out so carefully, what to say, how to say it so as not arouse suspicion. "I don't want to use magic until I get there. The Aurors would know and would turn up to arrest me, you know."

And then, as if she'd Summoned them, two Aurors stepped through the open doors and into the centre of the flagstone floor. "Is Headmaster Dumbledore in the Great Hall?" one asked a passing student in the suddenly silent Entrance Hall.

Professor Vector stepped forward from her spot at the Great Hall doors. "I'm afraid he's not on the premises. May I help you?" Her voice was clear despite the distance, the Entrance Hall being open all the way to the roof of the castle.

"Is Deputy Headmistress McGonagall available?"

"I'm afraid not. Again, I am Professor Vector and am in charge today. May I help you?"

They'd already gone. She wondered what other members of staff were gone, and which of their number had stayed behind.

"We are here to arrest one Miss Hermione Granger who, at 6:32 this morning..."

The Floo.

She'd used the Floo.

"I'm sorry," Professor Vector interrupted, "but Madam Snape is not in residence at this time, which apparently is regrettable since were she here there isn't a member of this faculty who wouldn't assist her in evading the continuing machinations of this most corrupt Ministry of Magic."

Hermione's knees almost crumpled beneath her.

"Perhaps," the Auror said, his nasal voice slicing through the silence of students frozen in morbid fascination, "you should hear the charges before you are so quick to cast the professional reputation of this institution in such a light. At 6:32 this morning Miss Granger attempted to smuggle an illegal and dangerous Muggle artefact through the protective wards of this magical community with the intention of using it as a weapon..."

"I don't believe you. She would never do such a thing." Professor Vector's response was sharp.

"...thus posing a danger to the health and lives of underage wizards and witches at this location, a crime punishable with life imprisonment in Azkaban or the Dementor's Kiss."

Once again Professor Vector drew herself to her full and impressive height. "I do not believe you."

Hermione eased away from the balcony bannister and fled to the stairs leading up to the fifth floor...where Hogwarts had been trying to lead her all along...and had made it around the landing, and almost out of sight, when she heard what evidently was the other Auror's voice call out, "There she goes, sir. I'd recognise that hair anywhere!"

~*~

"We will meet him at the war memorial," the Dark Lord had said.

War memorial. The words had meant nothing to him.

Until now. Now he saw it and recognised the irony and horror of it, because he was sure somehow that there was irony and horror in meeting the boy here.

At the war memorial.

The statue.

He hadn't known, hadn't heard, and now he stood before it, alone, transfixed in the same floating peace that had sustained him for the past hour.

James Potter, with his arrogance and wild hair and a baby, the baby...

And Lily.

Even as stone, her sheet of hair seemed to ripple in soft shiny waves as the breeze caressed it. Her face was serene and beautiful as her eyes gazed fixed in adoration, forever, on the man beside her.

A statue.

And he hadn't known it.

Somewhere, he thought perhaps he felt something.

But staring at it, he felt only mild curiosity that there was a statue.

And wondered why his heart was pounding in his ears.

He heard the crack of Apparition but didn't turn, only rolled his wand between his fingers, readying it for... nothing. He wouldn't kill the brat. Couldn't.

Hate.

The heat warmed him.

"Snape. Somehow I wouldn't have suspected even you of sinking this low."

Finally, he glanced back over his shoulder. Alone. The fool.

"You don't like the choice of venue?" he sneered.

"Enjoying the view? The memories?" Potter was rigid with emotion as he clearly tried not to look at the statue. "Remembering the night you watched them die and left me to..."

"You know nothing of that night," Severus snapped. His mind was suddenly full of it, and a fast, hard flashback to the first time he could have killed Bellatrix, when she mocked him and hexed him until he was writhing in the graveyard dirt, as she taunted him for mourning the death of his Mudblood.

Mudblood.

So many memories floating in his mind while he watched them dispassionately.

Now he knew without question that he should be a mass of emotion.

Instead, he was hollow.

The Dark Lord was wise.

"You know she's not with me," Snape said casually.

"I know you're a liar and a traitor."

"Yet you came alone. What's the matter, Potter? You don't recognise a trap when it's laid out before you?"

Potter's gaze was steady as he, too, rolled his wand in his fingers.

Snape nodded, and at that signal, the shimmer of Disillusionment Spells dissolving filled the perimeter of his gaze. Black robed, silver masked Death Eaters...two score of them...stood watching, their placement deliberate to provide best coverage of the open areas of the small village. It was an impressive sight.

Potter smirked.

Interesting.

Potter raised his left hand and flicked his fingers forward. Ron and Ginevra Weasley were suddenly revealed.

And then...the scent.

Faint.

But there.

Eucalyptus and spearmint.

He strained toward him, nostrils straining, and yes, it was definitely there, her scent, on this boy who had been with her, touched her, recently.

The heat flared within him and he embraced it, wrapped himself in it as he glared down and wanted to take the brat and snap him in two with his bare hands...

He felt the hand close over his shoulder in warning, and relaxed.

"Three against forty?" he asked silkily. "Feeling a little cocky today, Potter?"

But Potter's eyes were fixed on his shoulder and without even looking he realised that where the Disillusioned hand gripped him, his robes would be crumpled. He smiled, then. Smiled and licked his lips.

And whipped out his wand and in an instant, he, too, was Disillusioned, leaving Potter for all intents and purposes alone with his friends, surrounded by Death Eaters.

It was time to flush out the enemy and see if the Order had responded as quickly as he'd anticipated.

A moment later...a streak of colour zoomed from amongst the trees and before anyone could react, a Weasley twin snatched the raised wand right out of the senior Crabbe's hand.

Crabbe roared in anger but the top-of-the-range Nimbus streaked into the sky, only the sound of Weasley laughter lingering behind to taunt him.

And then the sky filled with them, on brooms and even on thestrals.

Students.

He scanned the sky and could name them, every one of them, and saw not a single senior Order member amongst them.

It was going to be a slaughter.

Somewhere inside him, he thought perhaps he felt something.

The hand stroked his shoulder and he welcomed the peace.

~*~

She raced down the corridor below the prefects' bathroom, her lungs near bursting. She had never been an athlete but now it seemed as if her limbs were weighted down by the terror in her heart.

She prayed that they were gone...the professors and the students...and that they were at Godric's Hollow with Harry and with...she choked back a sob...Severus, her Severus, and that they would all be safe and...

And the foolishness of her thoughts and prayers struck her breathless as she skidded behind the tapestry that hid the narrow staircase, the shortcut to the second floor, and ran down to the shallow landing where she stopped, gasping, frozen in indecision.

Who were the Aurors? Had they gone to Hogwarts, and if so, did they know this shortcut, and was one of them waiting for her at the bottom and...

She collapsed against the wall, her arms outstretched in an attempt to either embrace it or be absorbed by it or maybe both, and sobbed, "Help me!"

The sudden crack behind her brought a scream to her lips, but it died there as she faced large brown eyes and a nose even more tomato-like than usual, and the stench of stale Butterbeer swept over her.

"Missy comes with Winky!"

Without hesitation, Hermione grabbed her hand and...with a sickening lurch and tug of the navel, she found herself in the middle of Hogwarts kitchens.

"Harry Potter's friend needs water," one wizened old elf decided, and a mug was thrust in her hand. She stared at it blindly, not wanting water at all, but Winky shoved the mug to her lips and she ended up drinking because drinking was easier than thinking, than arguing.

Drinking, gulping, suddenly desperate to fill her parched body...her soul, it felt as if even her soul was parched and desperate for water but where did such a thought come from, such a thought...?

She drank until she thought she might burst, and only then realised that the mug had no bottom and that she could drink gallons without running out. She lowered it to the tabletop, heaving in great gulps of air.

"Missy can't stay," Winky announced, nervously twisting her filthy apron in her hands. "They is come here to find you."

"Where's Dobby?" Hermione demanded.

"Gone to where Harry Potter is," Winky wailed. "Dobby left Winky. Dobby said the Hollow is no place for womans!"

"He did, did he?" Hermione felt an absurd rage that even amongst house-elves, sexism existed.

Unless, of course, it was just Dobby's way of keeping the highly erratic Winky out of harm's way.

Winky hung her head. "Winky would fight for Harry Potter. Winky would fight for Master Crouch...."

"How, Winky?" Hermione asked.

Winky reached into her small apron pocket and pulled out a cleaver almost larger than her torso. "I has ways."

Hermione tamped down the hysterical laughter that threatened to erupt, sure that if she allowed herself to laugh she'd soon be crying and once crying, would never stop.

"Can you take me to Godric's Hollow?" she asked.

Winky nodded fiercely.

"All will," announced the ancient elf. "All house-elves will fight."

"You would fight for the wizards that subject you to..." Hermione began in astonishment, and then clamped her mouth shut. This was not the time. "Who will take care of the students upstairs?" she amended.

If words were exchanged, they were exchanged silently as the house-elves glanced rapidly from one to another and finally the women stepped back.

The ancient house-elf announced, "Men will take you."

Winky emitted a broken sob.

Throwing caution to the wind, Hermione grabbed her hand. "Let's go...after you put that cleaver away."

It disappeared into the apron pocket, and as Hermione wondered what weapons the other house-elves carried and fretted that she was leading them into horrible danger, she felt the awful tug behind her navel and was ripped away and flung into it herself.

~*~

He felt the words begin deep in his throat and finally emerge a low growl.

"We must end it now."

Cloaked in Disillusionment, he felt a new heat deep in him, unlike the hatred that roiled there. A gnawing heat that urged him to action, as he saw Dolohov slowed by the previous night's vows and felt his own power tremble within him and thought, "I can take him. I can take all of them...."

Watching the students...his students...was laughable as there wasn't a single one he couldn't disarm and send home snivelling. But somehow they held their own, and now the Order had arrived...he'd known they would, known they would be fast...and despite his glower and swagger and horrifying swirling magical eye, Moody was flagging, and he could take him, he knew he could take him.

It was dark and delicious, this power that writhed within him, aching for release, throbbing with desire, power that could end it all...power lusting to attack them all regardless of allegiance, attack them now and bring her back, bring her back to where he could keep her safe, where nobody would dare touch her, where Aurors and the fucking Order of the Phoenix had no power, where...

"Not now, Severusss." Again, the hand on his shoulder, the cool oily peace that drove away the throb and made him want to shake it off, shake off the peace and...

The hand stroked his shoulder, calmed him, and he took a deep shuddering breath.

"Better, better... soon it will be time. But not before they are crushed, Severusss. You yourself said that if the Order doesn't suffer with their defeat, even the death of Potter may not stop them."

Yes, his plan. His plan. All was going according to his plan.

But his plan had never included hiding behind a shield.

And then... disaster.

The brooms had been like midges, annoying and biting without inflicting any real damage, and it had taken him a period of observation before he realised this was an attempt to keep the students, the pawns, in the game without sacrifice. His mind scrambled for sound footing. Miss Granger or Weasley? Somebody with intent to keep the Death Eaters distracted and off balance with as little risk as possible...

Except, he watched with a strange annoyance brewing, the fucking twins didn't know how to annoy without risk. On their wicked fast brooms they were a force to be reckoned with, twin forces joined as one, first diving into the cluster of Greyback, Rookwood and two others he couldn't identify, all fighting back to back, a ring impossible to broach...

Until two brooms streaked down from the sky and they could do nothing but dive for safety, too slow to roll and fire back.

The Weasleys had swung back up into the storm-black sky when a bolt of green shot forth.

Severus stared in fascination as he saw it spring in slow motion from the end of Greyback's wand and sweep forward closer, closer, closer...

And hit a twin in the back.

His fall was graceful, like a dance of wind-whipped robes and streaming, long ginger hair as he spun, arms outspread as if ready to fly.

But he didn't fly.

The twin...which one?...he had a hard, sharp memory of George in the Headmaster's office, glowering at Miss Granger and at him for daring to touch her...replaced by this new awful image of a body hitting the earth, and then a body no longer, nothing but limbs at odd angles, the robe, whipping in the cold wind, the hair a flickering flame against the bloody grass....

He wanted to shout his outrage, to roar it.

No Weasleys.

He'd told them, the Weasleys were off limits; do not kill a Weasley, whatever you do don't kill a Weasley....

Nine Weasleys fighting for the Light were a force unlike any the Death Eaters could mount, and yet they were individuals and as such could be managed.

Now there were eight Weasleys united and out for blood vengeance.

He watched their reactions from across the battlefield of Godric's Hollow and gnashed his teeth in rage. Molly was the first to attack the werewolf, hexes flying from her wand as she bared her teeth in anger and anguish. The dragon keeper was right behind her, his wand a vicious weapon of destruction as he blasted through Dolohov to get to his mother. And then...

The other twin screaming out of the sky.

No ancient deity had ever launched such an assault and when he was mere yards from the earth and hadn't slowed, even his own ginger-haired family were diving for cover.

Fenrir Greyback, frozen by a hex and unable to move, provided an easy target for the Gryffindor Beater who picked up speed from his freefall and struck with a blow that shattered the broomstick and sent its jagged-edged shaft straight through the werewolf's body, leaving him gaping into his own death.

As George...because yes, it was George...grabbed his head by the hair and with one sweep of the wand, opened his throat and watched the blood spill.

For one long moment there was no sound, no fighting as those on both sides stared in horror at the carnage.

Weasley threw back his own head and aimed his face at the sky, into the wind that was getting sharper, angrier, and howled.

And Potter, his face white with anger, thrust his wand in the air and sent forth a spray of red and gold fire that reached into the clouds, and as one, Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix thrust themselves forward into battle, and in every corner, a head of flaming hair seemed to be at the centre of the frenzy....

Dobby...what was he doing in the midst of this?...appeared beside the broken body of Fred Weasley and lifted it into his arms. His face streaked with tears, he Apparated him away. There would be no bodies for Death Eaters to desecrate.

He'd told them not to kill any fucking Weasleys.

His fists clenched until he thought his wand might break, until the voice whispered low and cunning in his ear, "We will now reveal ourselves. The statue, Severussss. Destroy their statue."

The statue.

He felt the Disillusionment spell shimmer from the surface of his flesh and dissipate with the wind, and heard the sharp inhale of breaths as people spotted them standing in the shadow of the statue that represented everything the Light believed in.

The Dark Lord stepped forward, his thin lips twisted in a smile that chilled, and was met by gasps and stares.

The shield that now shimmered clearly for all to see, the shield that enclosed them surreally with the frozen Potter family, encompassing them in a throbbing shimmer that pulsed in a steady, throbbing beat, a sheer shield yet tinted the with the colour of rich, dark blood.

It was a startling revelation of a blood connection to those who recognised its significance, and understanding followed by disgust and dismay flared in many eyes.

"The ssstatue, Severussssss!"

With his wand steady to sustain the shield, Severus raised his free hand and flung a spell from his fingertips with a shout of, "Conflo!"

And watched, numb and awestruck, as the power from his own hand hit the nearest figure in the statue, and the wild-haired and conceited James Potter began melting in waves and rivulets of liquid bronze. First the hair, then the face, with the glasses dissolving into it...

And the cry of fury when the Potter brat saw.

Another fling of his hand and another shout, and shoulders and torso streamed in great gushes of molten ore, and the power within him rose.

Watch this, he wanted to taunt, but instead watched the infant melt away, and finally, with a great rending deep somewhere inside, the thing that wasn't Lily was not even the image of Lily any more, but a flow of ore pouring toward his feet.

The cries of outrage broke through the haze of his efforts and he knew his actions were sparking furious reactions. Yet, he did not regret it, did not regret the show of his power...the power they must accept and respect at last.

He cast a nonchalant "Protego" to protect his feet and almost as an afterthought, included Potter, who was farther downhill and in the direct path, and patently incapable of thinking fast enough.

Merlin forefend the brat should fall to the Dark Lord because his feet were burned to stumps.

But one glance at Potter's eyes, and like a blow to the solar plexus, it hit him.

His need for her, for her to stand with him, beside him, for them all to see, for them to see not only that she was with him, but that she wanted him, she chose him, she was his and would be forever and...

A jolt flew from deep inside him through his arm, from his fingertips and to the molten ore at their feet...

And turned it to silver.

~*~

They landed hard.

Winky went tumbling and ended up braced against a fence, and Hermione fell into a gate...a kissing gate...that led into a graveyard. Beyond that, a stolid village church with a Norman tower, and above the church...

The sky, roiling with black storm clouds, was host to enough brooms to field three Quidditch teams, maybe more, zipping about in wild abandon with streaks of red shooting toward unseen targets on the ground.

And in her heart...no, deeper than her heart...a pulse, raw and sweet and painful...throbbing.

She grabbed her chest and staggered sideways. She could feel him, she could feel him, she could feel him inside and her soul cried out in pain.

It hurt.

And she didn't know why, but her eyes were drawn to a pulsing red glow just above the trees, matching the rhythm of her own heart.

Professor.

Severus.

She took a step forward and would have kept going but...

Streaks of red at unseen targets.

Cries of anger, of agony.

It was a battle, the battle, and she had no wand.

Her eyes were drawn to the church. Hand still clutched over the place on her breast that pulsed with sweet agony, she made a quick decision. Seek shelter. For now, she simply needed to get her bearings.

She took off running through the kissing gate, past the tilting gravestones and found the church door unlocked.

She entered and felt one word ease into her heart.

Sanctuary.

She scanned the windows, even on a dark day they glowed with the colour of gemstones. She couldn't see through them, couldn't see what was happening.

Suddenly, she felt trapped. This was a mistake. She spun to return to the door but...

Someone was approaching.

Had they seen her? Had they followed her?

She flung herself on a pew and stretched out, the back hiding her from the door, her heart pounding.

The door opened with the sound of wind and distant cries of battle and then shut again.

The voices...oh god, those voices...were cool and unmistakable. "I would prefer your mother not know you're here."

Lucius Malfoy.

"Yes, Father."

And Draco.

"Stay safe...protect yourself and..."

While her friends were fighting.

"You know your role."

"I'm proud of your faith in me, Father."

"I hope it doesn't come to this, but if it does, know that you are special amongst us, my son. You alone have neither taken the Dark Mark nor have you made the Voluptas Voluntasque to Severus. You alone can act without restraint or compulsion. You alone."

She lay stretched out on the hard pew and bit her knuckles to hold back her angry cry. Bastards!

She lay here in a church wanting to kill, wanting to destroy, as the door opened and closed again.

She had to leave. She had to remove herself from this place where she and her hatred didn't belong, a place that now housed Draco Malfoy, who would have no compunction about taking a life in a holy place.

But there was only one door and unless her ears deceived her, Draco had not left his post beside it.

She slipped to the floor...cold stone bit into her knees, even through her jeans...and crept along the north wall of the nave. She paused beneath a window of jewel-like medieval glass flanked by posters created by children of the village promoting the upcoming Harvest festival. A gurgle of hysterical laughter rose in her throat at the glimpse of normalcy in the midst of madness.

Thunder crashed overhead and she flinched and stifled a gasp.

Suddenly rain, blessed rain, came down in torrents to muffle any sound she made. She eased up closer, closer to the door, to Draco still in his school robes, straining to see through its narrow opening...

He jumped back as it swung open wide on a gust of wind and rain and noise.

Oh god.

Oh god oh god oh god.

"Aunt Bella," he said, bowing quickly.

Frozen, Hermione watched the blond head lean over the elegant hand...the elegant hand belonging to the stunningly beautiful woman who looked nothing like a crone.

Hermione fell back against the wall with a silent gasp.

How powerful was she?

"And what brings ickle Draco to such a dangerous place?" the witch cooed. "Shouldn't the pride and future of the Malfoys be tucked away safe in his little bed with all the other children at Hogwarts?"

He stiffened. "I have orders."

"Ah...to hide? And then emerge at the end of the battle so you can claim glory? How Malfoy."

"Please do not force me to cease being a gentleman," he said stiffly. And then he added, "Aunt Bella...what's wrong?"

Hermione allowed herself a quick glance. Bellatrix was braced against the wall inside the door, supporting herself with her wand arm. The other arm...the injured arm...hung loose at her side. "Nothing is wrong," she snapped. "Since you're here, make yourself useful to me. Have you seen the Mudblood? Find her for me, lead me to her, and I will give you a reward."

"No. Granger is mine."

What?

"I have orders," he said, as snide and arrogant as ever.

Hideous laughter echoed. "And who trusted you to such a task? Don't be a fool."

"Father..."

"Don't be a fool!" And as Bellatrix tossed her coal black hair and fell back against the wall breathing deeply, the open door gaped behind her, rain still pouring and drowning out the sounds Hermione made as she shuffled closer, gauging her window of opportunity.

She stretched one leg out and dug deep in her pocket until her fingers closed desperately over the halfpenny.

This would not be the place of her death.

~*~

Severus stood staring at the molten silver pooling around his feet and watched with numb fascination as it spread to Potter. But beyond the numbness he felt a tug...a sweet and manic tug deep within him. A pulse, a distracting and desperate pulse...

Amidst the driving rain and chaos, with no discernible pop of Apparition...

Albus Dumbledore was suddenly and simply...

There.

Wearing a grey so soft and pearl-like he glowed in the surreal darkness.

He stood a short distance away and his eyes quickly assessed and recognised the pulsing red shield. And upon recognizing, his expression filled with compassion. "Oh, Severus."

Pity? He dared pity? Severus stiffened with outrage.

But it was the Dark Lord who spoke. "Headmassster... am I to believe that I truly had secrets safe from your scrutiny?"

"It would seem so, Tom," Albus replied, his gaze darting between the two of them. "Just as it seems tragic that of all the times that the boy might have needed a father, it was only when you needed him that you chose to reveal the truth."

"And that is where you are mistaken, where you judge me by your own methods. To you, Severusss was little more than a tool you needed..."

"That is not true. It has never been true."

"Severusss is at my side not because I need him, but..." He touched Severus's shoulder with cool comfort. "But because I want him."

There was a softness, a gentleness in his voice that struck straight into Severus's core. Was this it, then? Was this the truth that kept him bound to one master over another? That the Dark master looked into him and saw something to want, something to value, something to protect with Dark vows?

His eyes met those of the Light master...eyes that held no twinkle but great sorrow...and he saw that even as the Dark Lord had clutched his shoulder protectively...

Albus had his hand on Potter.

And a shimmering golden shield began forming from the ground up...

And suddenly without warning Albus's mouth opened in surprise...a soft o...and he crumpled to the ground, and behind him stood that rat of a bastard, Pettigrew, his wand trembling in his hand as he grinned. His wild maniacal wheeze of a squeal pierced the air.

"I got him, Master! I got him for you!"

~*~

The halfpenny flew through the air, its arc a high and graceful sweep as it soared across the nave and struck metal on the other side of the church.

Clank.

"Draco..."

"I've got it, Aunt Bella." Draco already had his wand in hand and took off down the centre aisle at a quiet trot.

Bellatrix shoved away from the wall, her attention focussed firmly into the dim recesses of the church.

Hermione took one last look at the open door beckoning to her with rain and freedom...

And ran.

~*~

Everything slammed into him at once.

Hexes, blurred, on the outside of the shield as the battle raged on.

The crumpled grey form on the ground at Potter's feet.

Potter's face, frozen in rage and horror.

The Dark Lord's laughter.

And overriding it all...

The pulsing pain that said, over and over again...

She needs me. She needs me. She needs me.

He didn't realise his wand had loosened in his fingertips until the claw-like fingers closed around his hand. "He's not dead. It would take more than an Avada Kedavra from that little annoyance to take Dumbledore down, but it has slowed him, yes, it has...." The voice ended on a loving note, but quickly turned to command. "Bring him inside, Severusss. Bring the Potter spawn inside the shield. It's time to end this charade."

~*~

Hermione slammed into a wall of rain and kept running. She didn't hear pursuit behind her, but didn't dare trust her ears in this downpour. Instead, she lunged quickly to the east, around the corner and through the gravestones, following the pulsing red glow.

~*~

Severus whipped his wand and the shield shimmered and expanded, and suddenly...

Potter was inside.

And too stupidly Gryffindor to show fear, as his mouth formed a snarl and he thrust forward, wand extended, and shouted a fierce, "Avada..."

Only to have it wither on his lips as the Dark Lord froze Potter in place with a hiss and a wave of his wand.

Then, with a flick of his wand toward his throat, his voice carried across the square and the battlefield.

"After today, Godric's Hollow will be known as the birthplace of my reign...of my dynasty!" He shouted, and beyond the shield fighting came to a standstill as witches and wizards froze in place and stared.

This was it.

This was what they'd all feared and anticipated.

This.

~*~

Hermione skidded in the mud, fell to her knees, grabbed a crumbling, lichen-coated stone to pull herself to her feet, and kept going.

He needs me. He needs me. He needs me.

A wall...a low stone wall...in front of her...

She lunged forward and heaved to the top of it and was ready to leap to the other side when she saw...

Him.

Her professor.

And her heart leaped within her breast.

And the pain pierced through her.

Because his wand.

Was trained on Harry.

And he stood at the Dark Lord's right hand.

And something deep inside her ripped open and she knew pain like she'd never known before.

Everything she'd heard, she'd heard and denied, the things she refused to believe and couldn't believe because he would never do this, not Severus, not her beloved professor...

Came true in a split second of brutal certainty.

Followed hard by the knowledge that she had done this.

It was all her fault.

And then...there was no thought at all...

Just a hard, quick stinging wrench as a fist closed in her hair and yanked her off the wall and backward...

And she landed in the mud at the feet of a wildly snarling Bellatrix Lestrange.

Rain pounded her face, stung her eyes. She couldn't breathe; the impact of the ground had robbed her of air, of the ability to inhale...

He needs me.

It was a horrible little whimper in her head, and she could only stare blindly into the rain, into the horrible and beautiful face leering down at her, a face unmarked because of water repelling charms that Hermione had lost the ability to perform.

She rolled sideways, coughing, sobbing...and found a wand jabbing into her throat as Bellatrix bent over her.

"Filthy little Mudblood whore, thinking you'll foist your nasty spawn off on my Dark Lord!"

"I don't...don't know what you mean," she gasped.

"No one loves him like I love him!" Bellatrix shrieked. "No one! And if I have to die to protect him..."

Love? Love Professor Snape? Nausea twisted her stomach as she fought the images that filled her mind.

Bella shoved her face into the mud until it clogged her nose, her mouth... Hermione fought, twisted, but the witch had the strength of a madwoman.

The witch had magic.

And Hermione had none.

"If I must, I will die to protect him, but not before you die, and when you die...Severus Snape will go with you!"

Overhead, lightning split the sky, followed by a crash of thunder nearly on top of them.

Hermione tried to rise...

And got a boot in the head that knocked her back to the ground. Her mouth filled with the taste of copper, with the grime of earth, and she thought she was going to vomit. She whipped her head sideways.

Another kick, this time to the shoulder, and Hermione sprawled on the ground, coiled in a futile attempt to protect herself.

"So this is the way Muggles do it, eh? You thought you'd get me with that gun, but I was too strong for you, and now you will pay, filthy little Mudblood, you will pay!"

Hermione's fingers stretched, fighting for purchase in the slick mud. A cold wind whipped over her. Water drenched her with its chill. Blood filled her mouth.

And one word...one single word...pulsed through her like a blood-red heartbeat.

No.

No.

No.

No, she would not die grovelling in the mud.

No, she would not shrink like a coward.

No, she would not, she would not, she would not.

She lurched to her feet and despite everything, saw what she hadn't seen before.

How thin the glamours were now that Bella wasn't in the dark interior of the church. How thin and pathetic the glamours were, how inadequate, how ridiculous and pathetic and feeble.

For now she saw through the glamours and saw the woman and saw a mass of burned flesh and bone where the bullet had pierced her shoulder. Stringy white hair where there had been hair the colour of coal. A frightening twisted horror of a face where beauty had once lingered. Eyes that were tormented with grieving and madness and without understanding why, Hermione felt a tug at her heart, for grief rose within her and recognised its kin.

Then, the face twisted in a horrifying grimace of a smile.

"And now I'll see your nasty, vile blood spill back into the mud where it belongs!" A wild cackle, and a shout of, "Sectumsempra!"

Hermione staggered back as it hit her, as the spell sliced into her opened her chest and she saw her own blood...

And she opened both of her fists and showed the mud she'd clenched in them. "This earth..." She choked, and gasped in pain, "is in my blood...the blood of my line soaked into this earth to protect it, and you and your kind...you will never win!" And fighting for breath, she finally said those words that meant the most to her, that kept her strong when all else would drain away, "And you will not live to kill my professor!"

Bella whipped back her wand, and then stabbed it forward with a curse and a scream...

And Hermione closed her eyes and felt the elements of the storm...the wind whip through her, the rain pound her, the earth smeared upon her and then...and the fiery pulse filled her...

And she heard him.

Him.

Her beloved professor.

Fight like hell, Miss Granger.

And with a cry that came from deep in her soul, she felt a surge of power and knew it for what it was, the most elemental of magic, the magic that would save the one she loved...

Fight like fucking hell....

The word ripped from her throat.

"Confringo!"

The curse flew from her fingertips and she heard the shriek of horror and opened her eyes to see Bellatrix Lestrange...

Disappear in an explosion of red vapour.

And as Hermione fell back to the earth, the solid earth, the earth of her forbears...

Hot blood rained down upon her.

Cold rain washed her clean.

And the pulse within her grew weaker... weaker.

Not until strong arms yanked her up from the ground was she finally able to open her eyes, and for one moment, for one wild and desperate moment, she thought she knew joy.

And then she saw.

Her body tensed. It wanted-she wanted...to fight again, but there was nothing left to fight with.

Never had she felt so empty.

She closed her eyes and blackness overtook her, blessed blackness that robbed her of that last image...

Of Lucius Malfoy.

~*~

Potter. Frozen in mid-curse.

The Dark Lord. Glorying in his power.

Severus felt the pulse through his wand, the shield that kept them all from outside help or intervention, and he thought, he should feel something, but he didn't, and it was such a relief to feel nothing.

Except the pulse, and the undercurrent of fear and need and desperation that seemed to speak with her voice...

He gave his head a hard shake.

It was almost over, and when it was over, they would be together and no one would part them, no one could part them, his father had seen to that with a Vow that bound the loyalties of all who would otherwise harbour ill thoughts toward them and...

He should feel something.

I will save you.

And you will save me.

How crisp and clear her voice sounded in his ears, despite the howling wind and roaring rain.

He closed his eyes and saw her joyous smile as she came to him that night, came to him in his fucking sleep...there was nothing she couldn't do, and she was his and they would all know that, that she chose him, him...

Her eyes. Her eyes the colour of hot, sweet tea.

Give me your eyes.

It hit him with hard, sharp certainty.

Suddenly, like a knife to the heart, he felt it all, everything, and he could barely hold his wand up to sustain the shield, because...

He would never see that smile, those eyes again.

Not if he kept his place at the side of the Dark Lord.

His gaze snapped to Potter, to Potter, whom she loved. Whose death would grieve her. Whose cause, and its failure, would rock the foundation from beneath her feet.

He closed his eyes and saw her face...wrenched with pain and anguish, and he could see it so clearly because he had fucking done that to her, time and again, and now, he would be doing it to her again only this would be worse...

And this was not saving her.

Saving her meant not condemning her to a lifetime under Dark dominion.

Saving her meant going to Azkaban, because after this day's actions...this shield, this fucking shield...he harboured no delusions about his future without the Dark Lord's protection.

And suddenly he understood what had driven her to snap her wand, to sacrifice everything.

I will save you and you will save me.

And he knew his next act would change everything.

It would change the world.

It would destroy them...him and his Miss Granger.

And she would understand.

He took one last look at the Dark wizard beside him and their eyes met.

Red eyes burned with sudden understanding and rage because...

He was feeling.

He was feeling everything , and the Curse was gone and he felt her, he felt her and something was wrong and she was here...his Miss Granger was here and...

Severus yanked his wand down, dropping the pulsing red shield, and aimed it at the glowing pool of silver at his feet.

Silver.

Silver bonds wrapping them as they kissed a kiss that never ended.

Silver...the spirit.

The fifth element.

And he saw the power flare between him and Potter and he shouted.

"Now, Potter, now!"

The air split between them with a flash of lightning and a crash of thunder and the boy with the beautiful green eyes and the lightning bolt on his forehead screamed with fury.

The bolt of green that shot from his wand felled the Dark Lord.

And the world fell silent in its awe.

~*~

The rain turned gentle and warm.

Severus found himself on his knees, gasping for air and realizing...it was gone.

The red pulse was gone.

The Darkness was gone.

He fought for the strength to perform one last act.

He touched his trembling wand to the exposed Dark Mark on his left forearm and whispered, "Surrender."

And across the battlefield, all who bore the mark dropped to their knees in submission, their wands on the ground before them.

~*~

But.

Something was still wrong.

He raised his head to the air, as if sniffing it would reveal this new danger, this new horror. It was only moments before someone would show up to arrest him, but suddenly, moments were vital and he couldn't just wait.

She was here. And she needed him.

He stumbled to his feet and saw that Potter was gone, and wondered how long he'd been there like that, how much time had he wasted?

His heart...his very soul...was calling to him.

She was calling to him.

And he realised he hadn't saved her yet. It hadn't been enough.

Something was still wrong.

And then, a shout, an angry shout from near the church.

And another voice, a girl's voice. "No, Harry, don't! Don't do it! It's over!" And then, through sobs. "Please let it be over."

And a third...the youngest Weasley son. "Malfoy's not fucking worth it, Harry. Leave him to the Aurors."

He took off running.

~*~

He froze when he found them.

He knew this place too well.

Draco lay on the ground, bloodied and weak, but defiant as he held his wand aimed at Potter. "Don't come one step nearer," he snarled. "I'm warning you."

And Severus knew the insult, knew what burned in Potter's blood.

"Get off my mother's grave!"

"Not until..." Draco began, and broke off with a gasp. "Not until you get Snape."

Potter jerked his wand arm free of Ginevra Weasley's grip...

"I'm here," Severus said, his voice raspy with fatigue, even as he felt something new and resonant vibrating deep within him. "Who did this to you?"

Draco's arm fell to the ground and his face grew even paler. "Aunt Bella. I was in her way."

"Get him help," Severus snapped, "he's injured!"

"Severus..." Draco fought to raise his wand one more time. "I couldn't leave. I couldn't... Father made me promise... not to leave her... until you..." He rolled sideways and aimed his wand behind him, at the double stone and its inscription, and he gasped, "Finite Incantatem."

The Disillusionment Spell shimmered away.

And Miss Granger, her rucksack on her back, was curled in a bloody heap beneath the words, "Lily Evans Potter."

Her shirt was splayed open and a recently healed wound ran the length of the torso.

"He told me to find her and... protect her. Not to let anybody else near her, no matter who won," Draco said softly. "Only you."

And if anything else was said, Severus didn't hear it.

He sprang forward, his heart in his throat, and pulled her into his arms, bloody and muddy and battered...and breathing.

Breathing.

She filled his arms and his soul and the world went red and he knew this time, these bloody tears were not of sundering but of joining, of rejoining, and the pain in his chest was the sharp pain of reunion.

Of a piece of his soul returning.

And the rest of the world fell away.

From a great distance, he heard him.

He wanted to tell the bastard to go away, to just... go away.

But Albus was persistent.

And finally Severus raised his eyes to the old man but couldn't find the rage he knew he should feel. He kept his arms wrapped around her and felt her heart beating against his chest and whispered, "Help her, Albus. Help her."

"My boy," Albus said, his eyes filled with anguish. "What did I do to you?"

A sudden crack split the air, and another, and another.

"Aurors," Ronald Weasley said in disgust. "When it's over, they bloody show up."

Aurors.

He buried his face in her muddy, horrid hair and rocked her against him. Would she know? Would she know he'd spent his last moments of freedom holding her to his heart?

Albus said. "Ginny, go and get help. Draco needs medical assistance. Ron, you move him...carefully...under that tree."

Voices grew nearer, voices Severus didn't recognise.

"Harry," Albus ordered. "Delay them. Don't let any Aurors near this place until I tell you."

And then Albus was kneeling beside them both, and his wand danced down Miss Granger's body as he muttered a soft incantation.

Finally, Albus's eyes met Severus's and he knew true fear.

"It's her magic," Albus said softly. "It's completely drained."

"You've...you have to save her," Severus said. "You have to..."

"No, my boy." Albus patted his shoulder gently. "You have to."

Another wave of the wand, and Severus felt the dizzying lurch and the graveyard was gone.

The world went black.