6. Actions

6. Actions

"Darkness is just before dawn"

An unnatural pause fell between them, and their figures froze, eyes locked in a silent battle, each one fighting to hold ground. Finally, Harry, biting his lips, stepped back under Hermione's stare. Slowly, he began to lower his wand, a controlled anger still glowing in his emerald green eyes.

Snape was standing impassively, arms folded, his eyes flickering from Hermione to Harry. So, it wasn't a trap! The conflict between the two children was clear proof that their appearance was just an annoying coincidence. But he had been unlucky, highly unlucky, mainly because he didn't know what was going to happen now that he was not only unarmed but also totally unaware of the reasons for his summoning to this place. He could not let his former students get involved, even if one of them was the insufferable Potter, whom he was longing to humiliate. He was experiencing the disturbing sensation that, thanks to the Dark Lord's plans, his life and Potter's were now indissolubly linked and that to endanger Potter would probably result in an acceleration of his own end. He could at least take advantage of the girl's unexpectedly good disposition towards him... and of Potter's foolish self-confidence, too. He was more than certain that the boy, irrationally proud as he was, would never hit an unarmed adversary.

"How touching!" he said silkily, a hint of cold amusement in his voice. "I suppose I should thank you for your passionate defence, Miss Granger, but alas, I believe it's too late. I suggest you give me back my wand and let me continue where I was requested to go before your most unpleasant arrival... not that I need your permission, anyway," he added softly.

"You bloody bastard!" Harry shouted in a burst of anger, and before Hermione could stop him, he cast a Stinging Hex. Again, Snape avoided it with ease and shook his head in disbelief. He knew it was risky, but he simply couldn't avoid taunting the irritating brat.

"You are so predictable, Potter. I still wonder how you managed to stay alive all these years, so utterly incapable as you are. But I imagine luck helped you a lot."

The boy paled at the insult, his expression changing to one of pure hatred. Hermione looked alarmed, but Harry didn't react, just crossed his arms, saying quietly, "Give him back his wand. I'm not going to repeat myself again."

It was Hermione's turn to pale, now. She didn't know what to do. Sensing her confusion, Snape began to advance slowly towards them, like a dark, avenging angel.

Harry immediately pointed his wand at him, but he didn't even seem to notice. With that faint, twisted smile they had learned to hate during all those years, he kept his gaze fixed on Hermione, who was looking helpless and uncertain. He stopped before getting too near and raised his right hand, a mute, yet arrogant order in his eyes.

Hermione glanced at Harry, unconsciously seeking his advice, but his terrible hate and cold determination were so palpable, she immediately knew there was no hope. Sighing, she lowered her head. Slowly, a bizarre expression grew on her face, and she raised it to look interrogatively into Snape's black eyes.

"That night... when you... when you went..." she began tentatively, locking her gaze on his, the hand still holding his wand trembling a little.

"The night I killed Dumbledore, you mean." He cut her off impatiently. She flinched at his harsh statement, and he went on, arching an eyebrow. "So, Miss Granger?"

"You didn't kill Professor Flitwick, nor me, nor Luna Lovegood... Why?" she whispered, and Harry looked at them with sudden interest.

"You were never a relevant target," Snape spat coldly. "I was in a hurry. I suppose I decided to leave that pleasure to someone else."

They were looking at each other so intensely that Harry felt totally excluded.

"I don't believe you, Professor," Hermione said softly.

Snape looked surprised, then angry. His mind was a raging storm of emotion. How could a girl hurt him so deeply with such a simple statement? Why were his feelings vibrating so achingly inside him? How could he have become so vulnerable?

The man and the girl stared at each other for a moment that seemed to last an eternity when, impulsively, Harry broke the enchantment. With a swift movement of his wrist, he snatched the wand from Hermione and tossed it to Snape.

Snape grabbed it immediately and faced Harry again, a nasty smile on his face. But this time, the boy had been quicker and, letting his hate guide him, had already raised his wand in a silent spell. Even if he was expecting it, Snape was still unbalanced by his previous action and, above all, by his confused emotions. With overwhelming power, the curse knocked him down, leaving him breathless on the stony floor of the cave.

"Harry! Harry! Please, wait!" Hermione was indignant, but Harry, grimly enjoying his long awaited revenge, wouldn't listen. He coldly aimed his wand at the dark figure curled at his feet and cast another spell without hesitation.

Trembling in pain, Snape wearily tried to raise his wand and protect himself, but he was violently blasted into the air. He hit against the rocks and slid once more to the ground, where he laid breathing painfully.

"Harry! He's defenceless! How could you?" Hermione cried, almost in tears, trying to grab his arm to stop him. He looked implacable, and the girl was horrified to see how his expression had become incredibly cruel; it was like her friend had changed into a violent, ferocious beast. She could feel his arm and body, rigid as if they were made of steel, while his lips were distorted in a dark grin.

Again, she clutched his arm to stop him, but Harry coldly pushed her away, and for the third time, pointed his wand at his fallen enemy. "Enough!" yelled Hermione, shaking him in desperation, beginning to sob desperately.

After a few moments of hesitation, Harry seemed to awaken abruptly, turning his head and blinking in alarm. "I... I..." he began, looking helplessly at Hermione, then his eyes opened wide. "It wasn't me!" he realized in shock. "There was something inside my mind, and it was forcing me to strike him down!"

"Oh, Harry!" she sobbed, still holding his arm. "Don't you see? You're being used again by... by..." For the first time in her life, she was too scared to say the Dark Lord's name, as if by pronouncing it, he could unexpectedly appear in the cave.

Harry looked at her in consternation and exclaimed angrily, "I'll never be free, then. He is still controlling me. How can I ever break his control?" He clenched his fists in frustration when Hermione's cry of fear made him startle in alarm.

"You've fooled me once, Potter!" hissed Snape, swaying, but again on his feet, a frightful expression of hate distorting his face. "But you won't have another chance!" Regardless of the dangers and risks, looking only for revenge, he pointed a trembling wand at the teenagers, his eyes shining with fury.

Without thinking, Harry immediately shielded Hermione with his body as Snape prepared to strike... when incredibly, with a broken, painful exclamation, the dark wizard staggered and lowered his wand. He dropped it to the ground and raised his hands to his temples.

While Harry and Hermione watched him in fascinated horror, three long, deep, ugly cuts suddenly appeared on Snape's forehead, and little, red, glowing drops trickled down his face, following the curve of his cheek.

"No! Not... now!" he articulated, clearly suffering unbearably. Then his forces seemed to abandon him, and he slumped on his knees as his body shivered uncontrollably.

"What's happening, Harry? What... who did this?" Hermione whispered agitatedly, raising a hand to her mouth, wishing to step forward and help their former professor, yet too afraid to do so.

"I really don't understand," Harry answered in the same low, worried tone. "He seems to be hurt. Could Voldemort be near?"

While they frantically scanned the cave, looking for the possible menace, Snape lay on the ground, struggling against the evil power of the scars with which he had been marked. The pain was atrocious – hadn't the Dark Lord warned him about the impossibility of defying his orders? – and the shudders running through his body made him writhe incessantly while he desperately tried to react. But the dark magic was too great to be successfully opposed, especially by his quickly vanishing energies.

This was the second time he was forced to surrender by a power infinitely stronger than him. The Plan, that incorporeal will he had always believed to be his guide, had again denied its help, and even more painful, this time the one undeservingly exulting in victory would be Harry Potter. Harry Potter!

He closed his eyes in defeat, reliving the same terrible sensations he had experienced in his last encounter with the Dark Lord. Bitter thoughts crossed his mind as he waited for his persecutor to cast the final strike, wishing for a quick, merciful end and hoping to be spared the words of triumph the damned brat was surely going to pronounce, gloating over his beaten enemy...

Then, unpredictably, like the soothing murmur of waves from a distant sea, he felt a deep flood of compassion wash over him and embrace him tenderly, helping him to fight back the pain. Confused, strangely reassured, even if still suffering terribly, he opened his eyes and met Hermione's gaze.

The girl looked frightened but genuinely regretful, a troubled, questioning expression on her face. Slowly, as if entranced, she moved closer, offering help she didn't really know how to manage. A sharp exclamation of warning escaped Harry's lips, and he stepped forward to grab her wrist. With a sad, reproaching glance, Hermione pulled herself gently away and knelt beside Snape, tentatively holding out a hand.

Painfully, he turned his face and let out a soft moan, ashamed to be seen so vulnerable and weak. At the same time, he perceived his emotions growing devastatingly strong and impossible to hold back as tears began to surge again behind his eyelids. Desperate, he understood that the evil seal on his forehead was going to claim his humiliation, as it had already done in front of the Dark Lord.

"Not before Harry Potter!" he thought wearily. Mustering all his remaining forces, he tried once more to regain his composure, but he soon gave up, too exhausted to fight.

In the meantime, a strange transformation happened to Hermione as she helplessly witnessed the vain struggle of the man lying at her feet. While Harry watched agape, a light, pearly shine gradually surrounded her body, and all her movements became slow, incredibly measured. An immense compassion, the radiation of a power too great for such a young creature to possess, diffused over her features. She stared at Snape with overwhelming tenderness. Suddenly, a stream of energy spread out from her being, filling him with such a forceful sensation of love that he could resist no more. A tear slipped down his cheek, and Harry gasped at the unbelievable sight of Snape... crying?

Hermione smiled exultantly, shining even more gloriously. She leaned forward to gently wipe the little drop away with her fingers. Wincing, but submitting to her touch, Snape felt an acute, yet surprisingly comforting pain, and a mad thought crossed his almost distraught imagination.

"A-Albus?" he stammered uncertainly, his eyes unfocused with tears. The ancient wisdom concealed in Hermione's new consciousness seemed to react joyously to his question. Hermione smiled again, a knowing, compassionate, forgiving smile. Then her unexpectedly older voice exclaimed softly and remotely, as if coming from another dimension, "Be thou of good hope, Severus! Non prevalebunt!" In a barely audible whisper, she added gravely, "HE shall not prevail!"

Snape gave a broken sob and let his head drop back, exhausted, but strangely relieved, while Hermione looked even more caring and sad. Her fingers gently, delicately, took his shaking hand, and little drops of blood stained her skin...

Immediately, the glowing aura disappeared, and with a startled cry and eyes widened in shock, the "real" Hermione brusquely rose and stepped back, looking at her hand. The stains were burning her flesh, almost corroding it, while a faint smoke seemed to evaporate from the blots. The pain was terrible. Frightened, too upset to do something effective, she turned to Harry for help, silently raising her injured fingers. Unable to bear the ache anymore, she quietly began to cry.

"Evanesco!" Harry exclaimed instantly, repeating the spell two more times to cancel all the evil marks. Then, misinterpreting what he had just witnessed – but absolutely not heard - he angrily pointed his wand at Snape, his eyes shining with renovated fury and disbelief. "I knew it! He's become a dark magic weapon! See what he did to you! And you still believe he doesn't deserve to be killed?"

"No, no, Harry!" she cried agitatedly, trying to make him understand of what she was now very certain. "Look, he's suffering! This is not his fault. I think that he's under some dark spell!"

"Even better!" Harry replied irately and raised his wand to strike... when his eyes met Snape's and he hesitated, filled by a horrified pity, a strangling compassion that made him step back with a shiver. He felt as if a powerful hand was holding his arm and gently, but firmly, obliging him to lower the wand.

The boy and girl looked uncertainly at each other as Snape slowly seemed to recover his strength, the scars and blood gradually fading away. Silence enveloped them all in a trance, and then a raucous sound came from above, making them cringe in apprehension. A magnificent bird was flying in circles above them and emitting a sharp, unpleasant cry, its brightly coloured feathers vividly shining in the darkness of the cave.

"Fawkes!" the teenagers exclaimed with incredulous joy.

"Fawkes!?" Snape repeated wearily, a puzzled expression passing over his face.

The beautiful animal landed on Snape's chest with a last, powerful flutter of its wings, and the dark wizard winced in painful surprise. Stretching his superb, finely shaped head towards the adolescents, Fawkes emitted once more that ugly, strident sound so very contrasting with its fiery beauty.

"The phoenix has lost its voice!" Harry exclaimed in horror.

"No!" said Hermione sternly, and Harry stared at her, surprised by her harsh tone.

"No," she repeated softly, sadly. "The phoenix has lost its heart."

With a piercing glance at the girl, Fawkes turned its head, and again its grating call crossed the air, as if it was trying to speak to them. Then, becoming uncharacteristically aggressive, the beautiful bird hissed warningly at them and opened its wings, holding them protectively over the fallen man painfully breathing under its talons.

"I believe it's asking us to leave," Hermione said calmly, a weird expression appearing on her face.

"What do you mean, leave?" Harry's immediate reply was full of anger and disbelief. "And what about him? Surely you don't really think that I will let Snape to go free and..." He was going to add "safe" when he suddenly understood that a stronger power had probably risen to claim their enemy, a force with which they were not allowed to interfere. No, Snape wasn't safe anymore, and strangely, that little pang of pity he had felt for Draco after that cursed night on the Astronomy Tower seemed to unwillingly reproduce itself even more intensely, to his great irritation.

"He has his own fate waiting for him, Harry. We are not meant to be his judges; at least, not now," Hermione stated quietly, but incisively, and Harry, still fuming, was ferociously pleased to see Snape involuntarily flinch at her words.

The phoenix repeated its raucous sound again, nodding with its head, as if acknowledging Hermione, and suddenly left, disappearing in a flash of light. The teenagers watched it go with a melancholic sensation of loneliness. Harry's mind was filled with confusing feelings. He couldn't believe, he didn't want to believe, what he had just seen, but Fawkes was a sign he could not pretend to ignore. Its presence had inexorably brought up sad memories and aching sensations. Harry blinked frantically and stared intently at the ground, while Hermione, arms crossed, patiently waited for his decision.

"I think... I think you're right," he finally admitted, raising his head with a sigh of resignation.

"Then let's go now," she whispered, squeezing his hand for a moment and gently smiling to mitigate his disappointment.

Harry looked frustratingly around; then, reluctant to leave, he turned angrily to Snape. "But you, you should thank Hermione and Fawkes! You wouldn't be alive if it were up to me, you filthy traitor! I hope the Dark Lord is going to make you suffer even more after today!"

Vibrating in repressed fury, Harry raised his wand, defying Snape to answer his declaration, but the older wizard stared impassively at him, his lips pressed in a thin, disdainful line, his emotions controlled again by cold determination.

Frustrated, Harry Disapparated with a last, menacing glance, while Hermione waited just another second to add softly, with her new, incredibly tender smile, "We'll be waiting for you, Professor."

He stiffened at her words, and once more, he felt a strange emotion trembling in his chest, but he choked the feeling quickly and unmercifully. As soon as he was sure that they were gone, he slowly straightened up and looked around. In a low, calm, dangerous voice, he asked, "Where are you hiding, Wormtail?"

As always, infinite thanks go to my wonderful betas Jynx67, Pennfana and Notsosaintly.