Chapter Seventeen

A/N: All fully italicized lines come from HBP and DH. Everything you recognize belongs to the formidable Ms. Rowling. Many, many thanks to Shellsnapeluver for betaing this story.

When it happened, it all happened very quickly. Hermione was sitting in the common room with Ron, who was prattling on about Quidditch. His recent athletic prowess seemed to have gone to his head. Or perhaps it was that he needed to be distracted from thinking about the fact that his best friend was now dating his sister. Hermione glanced at him briefly. He seemed to be taking it rather well, but one never knew...

Her thoughts, however, did not linger long on Ron. She felt, as she had for days, as if she were in physical pain, though it was simply continuing to be alive after ruining her relationship with Snape that pained her. She tucked her legs more firmly into the squashy chair she was curled in. She felt as if all her limbs would fly off if she did not hold them to her tightly. She wanted to sob, to scream, to run down to the dungeons and force him to hear her apology, but she did not dare, as she knew his words were completely deserved. She had been an idiot, a childish idiot, and she'd put him in danger and... oh, God. Her chest ached. How was she supposed to continue to breathe, knowing that she'd proven him wrong--wrong to trust her, wrong to care for her? Wrong.

When the ring burned, the adrenaline that shot through her system seemed to electrocute her. Snape! her mind screamed, and the heart she'd spent the evening cursing surged and fluttered.

"Ron--I--hold that thought. I'll be back," she stammered and ran for the steps.

Alone in the stairwell, she tore the ring off her finger. "Lumos," she whispered and held the ring to the light of her wand.

It's time.

It's time? Wh--Oh, sweet Merlin. Time. It's time. For a moment she stood there stupidly. What should she do? And though she would never admit this, ever, to anyone, her first thoughts were pure relief that he was speaking to her at last, that he had kept his promise to warn her when he left.

But suddenly, she could hear Harry screaming her name from the common room, and she turned to run back down the steps, not knowing what she would hear, but knowing it would be whatever Snape had done. Had been required to do, her mind amended. She hesitated for a split second, as if delaying her knowledge would detain him, keep him from leaving her before she'd even had the chance to apologize.

"Hermione!" Harry called again, and she clattered down the steps.

"What is it?" she gasped.

"It's Malfoy! He's celebrating in the Room of Requirement--whatever he was trying to fix--I'm telling you, he's fixed it. Look--I've got to be quick. Dumbledore thinks I'm getting my Invisibility Cloak. We're--well, he's found a Horcrux and we're going to get it. So you two have to deal with Snape and Malfoy. Call the rest of the DA--"

He raced up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. Hermione looked quickly at Ron, whose face was set and determined. "Hermione, whatever you think, whatever you believe--I think we should watch Malfoy tonight. If he's planned something... something for Voldemort... and Dumbledore's gone--"

"I know," she said, though inside she was miserable. How had Harry got in to the Room of Requirement? Oh, Snape would kill her. Kill her!

Harry returned and thrust a pair of dirty socks into Ron's hands. "Take these," he said and then handed Hermione the Marauder's Map. "And take this as well."

"Thanks," said Ron. "Er--why do I need socks?"

"No!" said Hermione, as Ron unwrapped the tiny little bottle of golden potion, looking awestruck. "We don't want it, you take it, who knows what you'll be facing?" Even as she protested, a plan was forming around the edges of her mind. There might be a way... a way to maybe protect Snape, to undo the damage she'd done, to see that Ron could not impede him--

"I'll be fine, I'll be with Dumbledore," Harry said and took off for the portrait hole.

"Go get Ginny," Ron ordered her.

Hermione tore up the stairs and without letting herself think about it any further, she ran past the fifth year girls' dormitory to her own room. She burst through the door--the room was mercifully empty--and snatched her enchanted coin from her bedside table, where it had lain dormant all year. She touched the coin with her wand. Gryffindor common room. Then she threw her wand onto her bed and flew to Ginny's room, banging on the door with both fists. "Ginny! Ginny, come quick!"

She and Ginny nearly tumbled over each other as they descended the stairs, Hermione hurriedly explaining where Harry had gone and what they had to do. By the time they reached the common room, Neville had joined them, and she could hear Luna yelling from outside in the hallway. Ron opened the portrait hole, and she climbed in.

"Okay," Ron said. "Neville, Ginny and I will take the Map and stake out the Room of Requirement. Luna, you and Hermione watch Snape's office."

Hermione had the fleeting thought that Ron was much better under pressure than she would have expected.

"So, we'll each have a swig of the Felix--not too much now--there's got to be enough for all of us."

Hermione let the bottle pass from hand to hand until at last, it came to her. She took it.

"Wait! My wand! It's upstairs," she hissed. "Go... GO! I'll catch up!"

She pressed her thumb tightly over the mouth of the little bottle and raced back up the stairs to her room. Seizing her wand, she hurried to the hearth and threw a fistful of Floo powder into the flames. "Professor Snape's office," she said clearly and darted into the fire.

When she emerged in Snape's office, he was stuffing things into a bag much like the one she had created for her winter project. She watched as he jammed in his Death Eater robes and mask as well as various other items of clothing. Then he turned and saw her.

"What in Merlin's name do you think--"

"I--Professor--" She faltered. "Harry knows. He's gone off with Dumbledore, but he knows that Draco is celebrating. He knows that whatever it is, it is tonight."

"Potter is with Dumbledore?"

"Yes--they're both gone off... somewhere. I--I shouldn't say more. But sir, I wanted to make sure that--"

"Hermione, this is hardly the time."

Hermione! He'd said, 'Hermione!' She cursed her foolish heart for its leap and patter.

"No, of course not. I just--look, I wanted to make it up to you, and--"

"There is no need."

"Yes! There is! Harry's set Ron and the rest of us to stop Draco... and you. Neville and Luna and Ginny are out there--going to the Room of Requirement... and I have--I have Felix Felicis, sir. To make sure that whatever you're doing goes well."

"Felix Felicis? Wherever did you get--? No, that's of no consequence. I cannot take it."

"Why not?"

"Because you must take it. There will be danger in the castle tonight, and if you are going to be in the thick of it, then I insist you take it. There will be," he paused and seemed to decide that it was too late to hide anything further from her. "There will be death here, Hermione. Take the potion."

"I won't," she said stubbornly, though she knew she must sound like a child to him. She thrust the little bottle at him.

He stared at her for what seemed like a long time, considering, and then he seemed to relent and took the bottle from her fingers, raising it to the light and swirling it. "From Slughorn, I presume?" he said.

"Yes. Harry won it earlier this year. It's not poisoned, sir. Harry took some once--and tonight, all the others did, too. I saved mine for you. But I have to hurry--they're waiting for me."

"I did not presume that you would poison me," he said quietly and tipped the bottle to his lips. Then suddenly, he was upon her with his mouth, prodding hers open with his tongue. The potion swirled from his mouth to hers. It was creamy-sweet, thick... and somehow effervescent. She concentrated on not swallowing, urging the potion back into his mouth with her tongue. He warred with her; there was a furious struggle of wills and tongues, and his mouth was mashed against her own. But some of the potion was reaching her already, despite her refusal to swallow, for as they kissed, she felt an odd sense of purpose and light filling her. This kiss--it was perfectly necessary, perfectly right. This kiss was the way to say goodbye, though in a way they had already said it, and with this kiss she made her final promise to believe. Snape would be all right. He would survive whatever was going to happen; he would not be caught, and her sacrifice would not be in vain. Snape seemed to be feeling the effects of the potion, too, for he had all but swallowed her whole, and she felt forgiveness radiating off of him, as well as other promises she could not decipher, as if he had taken up his half of the conversation. She felt, from him, a kind of desperate apology of his own as he urged the remaining potion into her mouth and broke away.

***

"Do you feel it?" she asked. And what he felt was so far beyond description that he almost could not reply. He was certain that he had not swallowed any of the potion, but it seemed to have reached him despite his best efforts. He felt... light--lighter than he had in years and completely certain of what he had to do. He tried to feel horror that he'd allowed her to help him. He could not imagine how she would feel tomorrow...even an hour from now... but he could not quite reach the self abasement he sought. It was as if he had somehow become disconnected from his mind and could finally... finally... be free of it, if only until the potion wore off. His limbs felt untethered from his body, almost tingling with purpose and clarity.

"I feel it," he said, unable to say more.

She smiled at him, which seemed absolutely right, and the corners of his mouth quirked in return. Distantly, he heard his own voice growling, Standing here grinning like a bloody idiot--Go! Go! He would heed that voice momentarily, but some far more powerful part of his mind insisted that there were things to be done first.

"Disillusion yourself," he said, and she nodded, performing the charm without hesitation. "And cast Protego Horribilis. The potion and the Shield should be enough to keep you safe. Your charm work is excellent, Hermione, but it will be no match for the Death Eaters' power. I'd cast the charm on you myself, but if you were captured, I would want no trace of my magic on you."

"Quite right," she said. And after a pause, "Someone's going to come, I think."

"Yes, directly," he agreed. He stared into space where she should be. Though he knew it was ridiculous, he almost felt as if he saw her there, gazing back at him with her potion-calmed, brown eyes. Suddenly, her hand was in his.

"Be safe, Severus," she whispered.

Before he could reply, the door burst open, and Flitwick flew through it, his purple robes billowing. "Severus!" he cried. "Death Eaters in the castle--hurry--the second floor!"

Snape did not hesitate, but flicked his wand lazily at the tiny wizard. "Stupefy!" he said aloud, so that Hermione would know how to help his colleague after he'd gone. He charged through the door, and seeing Miss Lovegood crouching outside it, he yelled, "Flitwick's collapsed--help him!" and ran down the opposite corridor, somehow knowing that Hermione was right on his heels. He stopped short when they were out of range of his office, and she whipped off the Disillusionment Charm. His heart beat painfully in his chest, and he longed to stand there forever, impressing each of her curls into his memory, but his feet seemed to pull him down the hallway, away from her. "Believe," he whispered and took off down a staircase that had just settled into place beside him, almost as if he had summoned it.

Snape arrived on the landing, and the crowd of dueling wizards seemed to part for him. He saw Yaxley dueling the Weasley girl; Gibbon, collapsed; Remus and Nymphadora, trading hexes with two Death Eaters whom he could not see clearly. Both sides stepped back, the Death Eaters clearly believing he had come to join them, and the Order the same. Almost as if it had been choreographed, a clear path emerged between the furiously battling wizards, and he could see Longbottom running up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower at the far end of the hall. He was thrown back, sailing down the stairwell, and Snape just managed to cast a wordless Cushioning Charm at the bottom before the boy hit. Still, he thudded to the ground audibly and skidded down the corridor. Snape ran past him, taking the steps two at time. As soon as he'd seen the boy making for the stairs, it had seemed clear to him that the Astronomy Tower was exactly the right place to be. He could not see the barrier that had repelled Longbottom, but he knew instinctively that he could pass through it and did not hesitate as he careened up the stairs.

He swept onto the Tower, taking in Draco's pale, pinched face; the leering werewolf, Greyback; and the ridiculous Carrows, hopping about ineffectually. He knew he should feel frightened--he was late--Draco had already disarmed the Headmaster; their plan had nearly fallen through, and yet, it seemed to him that he had arrived at precisely the right time, for the scene was set, here, and Draco was clearly not up to the task.

"Draco, do it or stand aside so one of us--" Alecto Carrow screeched just as her brother took notice of Snape standing calmly in the doorway.

"We've got a problem, Snape," Amycus said. "The boy doesn't seem able--"

Dumbledore lay crumpled against one of the ramparts. For the first time in the nearly thirty years that Snape had known him, he looked truly old, truly afraid. For perhaps it was the old man's power that had seemed to keep him so vital, and it was clear that his power had abandoned him. As Snape looked upon him, he seemed to summon the last of his strength to whisper, "Severus..."

For months, Snape had lain awake at night, imagining this moment, totally unable to think of any means, any motivation he could call upon to give him the strength, the intention necessary to cast the Killing Curse. But the Felix still bubbled warm in his blood, and suddenly, the answer came easily.

"Severus... please..."

He called up, in his mind, the night that Dumbledore had been cursed by the ring and heard the old wizard's voice echoing through his brain. I see no need to tell Miss Granger that particular part of the plan... The more appropriate witches are dead... It seemed as soon as he'd latched onto this particular notion, the memories piled atop one another, assaulting him with their clarity, as if he were the one on the brink of death, reliving his life in snatches. You disgust me... Surely you remember the precise shape and color of Lily Evan's eyes? Send Hermione back to her room at once... Certainly not--you must do it... I do not want you forming attachments that will confuse your loyalties. Your duty is to Lily Potter's son... It was only a fraction of his feeling for the wizard who lay at his mercy, but he could use it.

No more masters, he thought. "Avada Kedavra!"

Green light shot from his wand and struck Dumbledore squarely in the chest. It seemed then that even the Felix was not enough to keep his hatred and revulsion at bay, for the moment the curse hit the old wizard and carried him over the battlements, Snape fought the urge to fly over it himself.

"Out of here, quickly," he shouted, hoping that speech would drive away the urge to vomit. He grabbed Malfoy and headed back down the stairs, practically carrying the boy, who felt boneless in his grasp.

The potion still lingered in his bloodstream--not much was left, but enough to see that the clutch of wizards parted for him once more, and he was able to charge into the fray unharmed with Draco in tow. He caught one last glimpse of Hermione before he screamed, "It's over, time to go!" and shot out into the night.

***

Hermione saw Snape as the crowd parted to let him through. He had Draco by the scruff of his neck and seemed to be guiding him toward the door. Draco's eyes had lost the look she had seen in the Room of Requirement; he no longer looked like a Death Eater, but a confused and frightened child. As she watched, Draco's head lolled back, and his eyes sought Snape's beseechingly. Snape shoved him forward without mercy. "It's over, time to go!" he called, and at first she thought he was telling her that the plan was complete, until she saw Death Eaters all over the room suddenly cease their dueling and hasten after him.

Through the crush of masked and robed figures hurrying out of the castle, Hermione caught a glimpse of Harry, which caused her heart to stutter in her chest. Harry was here? When had he arrived? He was running down the stairs from the Astronomy Tower, the same stairwell from which Snape had just emerged. This struck her as curious--whatever was going on in the Astronomy Tower? But then Harry was screaming above the din, "Stop them! Snape! Malfoy! Stop them!" at which point things began to get a bit hazy.

She ran, that much she knew, ran with the others out onto the grounds, Harry streaking past her--Hagrid's hut on fire--but it seemed that she knew already that the chase was pointless. The Death Eaters had a huge head start; frankly, she'd felt--they'd all felt--a little glad to see them suddenly turning and running. Things had not been going well inside. Their numbers had been evenly matched, but she could tell that the Order was unprepared for the ruthlessness of the fighting that had been taking place. She and Luna had been dueling a huge, blond Death Eater who'd been firing Unforgivables off at such speed that she'd felt as if she were dancing a wild sort of jig.

She fell back almost immediately after the cool night air hit her face; her feet slowed to a stop, and she looked up at the clear bright sky. Such a beautiful night; it seemed impossible that inside there was the evidence of war, blood and bodies and matted fur--she was almost sure she'd seen Bill Weasley go down under Greyback's attack, but she swiftly closed down that train of thought.

She could still hear Harry's screams in the distance, but she saw no Death Eaters--they had seemed to have no interest in continuing the battle once Snape had called to them and had quickly reached the Apparition point and disappeared. Lupin approached from behind her somewhere and touched her shoulder, startling her out of immobility.

"Hospital Wing," he whispered. "McGonagall's orders."

"But I'm not hurt," she said dazedly.

"Doesn't matter. It's over. We're all meeting there. Ron's on the way up... and Tonks, Moody, Luna..."

She turned and followed him wordlessly until they reached the stairs. Suddenly she stopped and clutched the sleeve of his robes, saying, "Harry! I saw Harry back there!"

"I've sent Ginny to go get him."

She nodded and proceeded to the Hospital Wing without further comment. When they entered the room, Hermione's senses were assaulted by the intermingled smells of fear, potions, blood and sweat. Ron leaped from his seat and charged her, taking her arms in his hands. "Hermione---thank God. I didn't see you after he--after they--"

"I'm fine. Ron... what about Bill?"

"Greyback attacked him. Madam Pomfrey says... she thinks..." He seemed unable to continue.

Lupin rushed to the bed where Bill lay motionless. His face had been savaged almost beyond recognition. Madam Pomfrey was smearing a thick, oily-looking salve into Bill's wounds.

"And you can't... you can't heal them with a charm?" Hermione asked the matron, whose face was drawn and pinched with worry.

"No charm will work on these," said Madam Pomfrey. "I've tried everything I know, but there is no cure for werewolf bites."

"But he wasn't bitten at the full moon," said Ron. "Greyback hadn't transformed, so surely Bill wont be a--a real--?"

Just then, Harry and Ginny entered the room. Luna leaped to her feet, and Tonks and Lupin seemed to move back to allow them into the fold of people crushed into the tiny space.

"No, I don't think that Bill will be a true werewolf," said Lupin. "But that does not mean there won't be some contamination. Those are cursed wounds."

"Ron--Dumbledore's dead," said Ginny.

For the first time in her life, Hermione felt she knew what Muggles meant when they said their knees had turned to water. She had not fainted, but she felt far from conscious, and it seemed her legs refused to hold her any longer. She sank bonelessly into a chair. Dumbledore dead? Impossible--his plans--there was still so much to do, so much they didn't know. She had thought that Snape was carrying out the Headmaster's plan, but how could he carry out their plan if Dumbledore was dead? It must have happened when he was with Harry looking for the Horcrux, she realized. But--he hadn't finished teaching Harry about them! How would they know what to do now? Dumbledore could not be dead. Ginny must be mistaken.

"How did he die?" whispered Tonks. "How did it happen?"

"Snape killed him," Harry said. "I was there, I saw it."

Darkness seemed to take her, to surround her, driving out all sound and sense. Hissing, swirling blackness filled her eyes and ears. The room seemed close and hot; her heart beat in odd doubles and triples, feeling as if it might punch its way through her ribcage. She stared, unseeing, at Bill, at his grotesque, savaged face. There were no thoughts, no tears; her eyes were dry as dust. Her throat seemed to have shrunk to a pinhole, and her breath whistled in and out.

"The Avada Kedavra," Harry said, and finally, mercifully, she did faint.

She woke to faces pressing in closely--too closely--around her, and the taste of something hot and peppery in her mouth. And yet, it did not seem to be the potion that had woken her, but a sound unlike anything she had ever heard, a sound that seemed to resonate inside her very cells and smoothed the beating of her heart. One by one, the others seemed to hear it, and they each froze in place, struck dumb by its haunting, terrible beauty.

"It's Fawkes," Ginny breathed.

Professor McGonagall had joined them, though Hermione could not remember her arrival. She was paused, like the others, with her handkerchief halfway to her leaking eyes, her hands balled into fists.

"This is all my fault," she said suddenly, breaking the spell. "My fault. I sent Filius to fetch Snape tonight, I actually sent for him to come and help us!"

There was a chorus of protests, but Hermione's voice did not join the throng, for she was choked by her own protest. It was not Professor McGonagall's fault. It was hers. She had given him the Felix--she'd ensured that he would be able to complete... his plan. She'd played right into his hands.

The others recounted the evening's events, piecing together a whole that seemed possible, if not believable, but Hermione sat as silently as if she had been Petrified.

"So if Ron was watching the Room of Requirement with Ginny and Neville," Harry said, finally turning toward her, "were you--?"

"Outside Snape's office, yes," she said, her voice barely audible. "It was nearly midnight when Professor Fitwick came sprinting down into the dungeons. He was shouting about Death Eaters in the castle... and--"

"What?" Harry urged her.

Luna broke in. "Professor Flitwick burst into Snape's office, and then Snape came running out. He said Flitwick had collapsed, though I guess he'd just been Stupefied--Hermione brought him around right away-- and then he ran out, saying he was going to go help fight the Death Eaters--"

"I was so stupid, Harry!" said Hermione in a high-pitched whisper. "I didn't realize, Harry, I didn't realize, I just let Snape go!"

"It's not your fault," said Lupin firmly. "Hermione, had you not obeyed Snape and got out of the way, he probably would have killed you and Luna."

Hermione looked at him blankly, wishing she could take comfort in his words. But she could not, as everything she'd said had been a lie, just as Snape himself had taught her, to lie with the truth...

Just then, Moody brushed past Lupin and seized Hermione's hand in his coarse, leathery one. "It's not your fault," he repeated, and Hermione turned her face away from him, refusing any more solace. "Miss Granger," he said sharply, and she looked up at the sound of Snape's name for her. He seemed to know exactly how to get her attention. "You did exactly what the Headmaster would have wanted you to do."

Both his magical eye and his normal one were fixed on hers, and she looked at him in wonder.

"Exactly what the Headmaster would have wanted," he repeated as Fawkes' lament pierced right through her.