Chapter Twenty-Eight: Though they sink through the sea

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Though they sink through the sea

25 May 1998

The sight of the sausages and bacon made Hermione feel vaguely ill. The eggs were no more appealing. She took some toast and began to eat that, washing it down with her tea as the whispered conversations flowed around her. Professor Dumbledore's tomb vandalised, not just vandalised, but desecrated. The rumours were rife with speculation, some of it very far-fetched, but it seemed that the tomb had not simply had some graffiti defacing it, but that it had been opened and the body exposed. Knowing what she did, Hermione presumed that it had been some mission of Voldemort's to retrieve the false Deathly Hallows, the wand and the ring, or at least to retrieve the ring, which had been one of his Horcruxes.

Had Severus been required to participate in the desecration? It seemed highly likely. Perhaps he had even been the one to do it. Hermione didn't dare look up at the staff table; if she did, her gaze would immediately fall on Severus. The events of the morning had been disturbing enough without seeing his face and knowing the pain that it must mask, and better for him, too, not to have to see the worry in her own eyes and not to have to worry about her himself. His burdens were heavy enough without adding to them.

She heard someone say that Dumbledore's body had been taken from the tomb and had lain naked on the ground until Hagrid found him. She didn't know how these rumours started...one small bit of information, repeated, expanded on, and repeated again. But if something had been done to the corpse, and if Severus had had to do it, it would have been terrible for him. She remembered his distress when they had spoken of Dumbledore when he was recuperating from his wounds, how Severus, in his weakened condition, had seemed on the verge of tears.

Hermione sighed and took another sip of tea. It was hardly the worst thing he'd had to do, objectively speaking, but it had to have been one of the most difficult. Beyond that, it was probably a sign that the attack on Hogwarts was near and would likely be that very day. Severus had been quite definite that they were nearing the end of it all. He believed that end included the end of his life.

Severus. She felt warm as she remembered his awkwardness when he had invited her to call him by his first name and had said that they were friends. Severus. She hadn't let herself really even think of him by his first name before, except fleetingly, yet it seemed natural to her. They were friends. All that they had talked about, and what he had let himself reveal to her, some part of his private nature. They were friends.

She chanced a quick glance at the staff table. Severus was pretending to eat, but he was looking at the Slytherin table. The rest of the staff seemed subdued and pale. Strangely, Binns was there that morning. He never attended meals, unlike some of the House ghosts, who occasionally enjoyed socialising. He seemed even more transparent than usual. Hermione thought that Professor Flitwick, his nose red and his dark eyes sad, had been crying. A lump rose in her own throat, and she looked away. At least Professor McGonagall, though she looked tired, seemed in command of herself. She would certainly not allow herself to look anything less than confident in front of the school. People were relying on her, and she'd be a strong Gryffindor for them.

Hermione looked around the table at the students in her own House. There was nervousness and a little fear, but not very much. If the Headmistress had seemed panicked, Hermione was certain that even the Gryffindors would have been alarmed and frightened. Members of Dumbledore's Army seemed to have a certain sense of resolve about them. Whatever happened, they had been preparing for it as well as they were able and would do what they had to.

Hermione hoped that she was prepared. Professor McGonagall had been preparing her for something, with the Prospirator training and that very carefully packed medical kit. Unconsciously, she touched it through her robes. It wasn't heavy, nor even bulky, only somewhat awkward and lumpy. She'd begun wearing her most covering school robe, since even under her everyday robe, the lumps and bumps seemed to show. Although not painful like a hairshirt, it did serve as a reminder to her of what was to come, of the unknown task ahead, and if occasionally a jar or tube dug into her side or back, it simply heightened her awareness, and if it woke her at night, she practised her breathing and fell back to sleep knowing that others slept less well than she. She took comfort in her belief that whatever it was the Headmistress had in mind for her, it likely had to do with saving Severus's life. Her belief had been reinforced when Severus had said that Professor McGonagall, too, hoped that he would live.

Hermione was distracted from her reverie by a gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked up into Professor Crouch's grey eyes.

"Miss Granger, you and I will leave together this morning," he said softly.

She nodded in response, then he smiled and moved on.

---

Hermione and Professor Crouch walked with the Gryffindors as they left the Great Hall, gradually falling back until they were following behind them. When they reached the seventh floor, Crouch touched Hermione's elbow and nodded, gently steering her into a side corridor. As she followed him, she became confused. In seven years at Hogwarts, she had never seen these narrow corridors and short staircases. They took one final turn into an even narrower hallway with large windows along one side and several portraits along the other. Stopping at the fourth portrait, Crouch said, "Aeternitas immortalis."

The portrait and the door swung open, and Professor Crouch gestured Hermione to enter ahead of him. They were in a sitting room with large windows that looked out across the grounds and the lake.

"Where are we?" Hermione asked as Crouch closed the door behind them.

"Gryffindor Tower," he replied. "It doesn't feel like it because the route is circuitous, but we're not far from your dormitory. These rooms are unplottable and have been warded against students for many, many decades. If you tried to find them again on foot, you could not, but there are also two fireplaces in the castle that have a Floo connection through to them, and with the correct password, you could use one of those."

There was something different now about the cadence of Crouch's speech, but she couldn't say precisely what it was.

"I actually also meant to ask whose rooms these are," Hermione explained.

"Ah. They aren't occupied at the moment, though they are occasionally used." Crouch glanced at his wristwatch. "Professor McGonagall will be here soon. We need to wait for her."

Hermione nodded. "What really happened this morning? To the Headmaster's tomb, I mean. We weren't told very much."

"It was vandalised, as Professor McGonagall stated. It was actually opened and the wand and ring were stolen."

"Did you expect that?" Hermione asked.

"We anticipated it since before the tomb was erected," Crouch replied, "and we knew that it would happen before certain other events. Then Professor Snape was able to provide us with the precise timing. So yes, we expected it."

"It's still awful. And poor Professor Snape, to have to know about it and help with it."

"It's unpleasant," Crouch agreed with a nod, "and particularly for Professor Snape. Very disturbing that he had to participate."

The fireplace across the room flared green and the Headmistress stepped out.

"Good morning, Miss Granger. I'm sorry I was delayed, Robbie. I wanted to give additional instructions to Hutchins and Appleton before they began questioning the staff." She looked over at Hermione. "I presume that you haven't begun without me?"

"No, we waited," Robbie replied.

"Miss Granger...Hermione, please, have a seat," Minerva said, gesturing to the sofa. "We will be as brief as possible, but I think you will want to be comfortable."

Hermione sat on the couch and Minerva and Robbie each took a seat in an armchair.

"Where to begin . . ." Minerva thought a moment. She had decided to take a different approach with Hermione than she had with Poppy, but had hardly had time to consider what that approach might be. "I will begin by describing a few events that occurred in the summer of nineteen ninety-six, some of which you may know already. If we have time afterward, you may ask questions and we may be able to answer some of them, but at the moment, no matter how startling or unfamiliar the information, I think it's best if you wait. Unless, of course, there's something that you literally don't understand."

Hermione nodded her agreement.

"That summer, Professor Dumbledore tracked down one of the Horcruxes, the Gaunt ring, which you saw him wearing in public during the last months that he was Headmaster and which was taken from the tomb this morning. In destroying the Horcrux, Dumbledore released a curse on the ring. You saw the results of it on his wand hand. Although he and Severus were able to treat the immediate effects of the curse, they were unable to entirely cure it, and the curse remained in him, slowly wearing down his body and his magic.

"At first, Albus was concerned that the curse had carried the Horcrux with it and that he was now a Horcrux himself, but fortunately, that wasn't the case. He had simply been somewhat overconfident in his abilities and had failed to thoroughly investigate the ring for additional curses before using the Gryffindor sword on it."

Robbie shifted uncomfortably in his chair and opened his mouth, but then closed it again.

Minerva looked over at him and twitched a slight smile. "To his credit, any other wizard would likely have been killed outright, or at least have died within hours of being cursed, so his overconfidence in his abilities is somewhat understandable. At any rate, it became clear to both Severus and Dumbledore that the curse would kill him within a year, perhaps sooner. Severus began to brew Albus a potion that helped stave off the worse of the effects, though it would not forestall his death more than a few months at most.

"Severus, as you may imagine, began to experiment with the potion, and he devised two new ones that were far more effective both in reducing the uncomfortable effects of the curse and in staving off the end result, perhaps by a decade or more. Albus, however, refused these potions...no questions, Hermione. None yet," Minerva reminded Hermione when she leaned forward, her mouth open.

"That same summer," she continued, "for reasons we will not go into, although they were good ones, Severus took an Unbreakable Vow, part of which included a promise to, under certain conditions, kill Dumbledore."

Hermione's agitation was evident, but she gritted her teeth and restrained herself.

"I won't go into the details of the Vow, but Severus felt he had no choice but to take it, and because of the way the Vow was worded, he also was not aware that he was actually committing himself to killing Dumbledore. Dumbledore approved of the Vow, and he even approved of the promise to kill him. Over time, Severus became less and less willing to carry out that part of the Vow, though he did grudgingly agree to obey Dumbledore in that matter and to kill him when the time came.

"Events sometimes have a way of undoing what we might have done even before we act...although perhaps that makes little sense. But sometimes it seems we are saved from ourselves, whether we want to be or not, or we are given one final opportunity to save ourselves when we least expect to have any choices left. And that is what happened when Severus was struck by the Actus Adfectus Amor Verissimus. He looked on it then as a curse...and in many ways, the spell is a curse...but it was, perhaps, the beginning of salvation, and not just for him.

"I don't believe that it was mere happenstance that Severus was struck by a spell meant for Draco Malfoy. Part of the Vow that Severus took committed him to protecting Draco. Although Draco ducked the spell, if Severus hadn't been there when he was, perhaps Pansy would have cast again and hit him the second time, or perhaps something else would have been different and Draco would not have been able to duck in time. Without even intending to, Severus protected Draco from the spell.

"When the Adfectus released Severus, it did not erase the events of the previous five days from his mind, and there were effects on him that lasted beyond the lifespan of that spell. He had previously held me in regard; now he understood that his regard for me ran deeper than he had believed or had admitted to himself. He had been repulsed by the idea of killing Dumbledore before, but had committed to doing it nonetheless. After the Adfectus, he found it impossible to consider, and not only because his feelings in general had been unlocked, but because of his gratitude toward Albus and toward me." Minerva paused a moment, considering how much more to say. "You see, he learned that the . . . the gift he had been given that released the curse was somewhat different from what he'd believed...although he was grateful, in any case, and perhaps this only led him to come to his decision more quickly. After the Adfectus was lifted, Severus learned that Albus and I are, were, married."

This news didn't surprise Hermione, though she hadn't considered it before, but Robbie shifted in his chair again, and she presumed that the reminder of the Headmistress's late husband was somehow discomfiting for him.

"That knowledge changed his view on the outcome of the Adfectus, and his sense of indebtedness increased. I believe he would have come to the same decision to tell me about the curse and the Vow whether he had known or not, but in any case, just after Christmas, Severus told me about the situation. I was disturbed, to say the least. Albus had always assured me that the curse was no worse, and he'd never mentioned the Vow at all. Suffice it to say that after I'd spoken to Albus, I was clear that we couldn't take either of the paths he had considered. I decided to find a new one. What was most important to me was that Severus not kill Albus. But if Severus didn't kill Albus, the Vow would kill Severus, and that to me was also unacceptable. And not only did I not want Albus killed by Severus, I would have preferred him to live longer than the few months that he had allotted to himself. There were several other factors involved, as well, the most important of which, of course, was the war with Voldemort. Whatever I did, whatever we did, it could not hurt the Order and the wizarding world in their fight against Riddle.

"When Severus declared that he wouldn't kill him, Albus's back-up plan was to allow himself to die of the curse, but soon enough so that the circumstances under which Severus would be required to fulfill the Vow would never arise. I took that plan and I changed it."

Hermione opened her mouth and closed it again. She didn't see how it had been changed, since clearly Albus Dumbledore had died of the curse, but she had promised to allow the Headmistress to finish before asking any questions.

"Robbie, I think it's time for a demonstration," Minerva said. She pulled a small bottle from the pocket of her outer-robe and handed it to him.

"Robbie is about to take an antidote to a potion that he has been taking daily," Minerva explained as Robbie removed the small stopper from the bottle.

He smiled wanly at Hermione, raised the bottle, and said, "Cheers!"

The potion apparently didn't taste good; Robbie grimaced as he swallowed it. But Hermione scarcely noticed that, because within a few seconds of swallowing the antidote, Robbie's skin began to ripple and his muscles seemed to go into small spasms. She watched with amazement, very glad that she was sitting down.

---

"Celebrare Adfectus Amor Ultimus!"

Albus blinked in confusion. Melina's spell hit Minerva, then as colour arced around Minerva and began to spread toward him, Melina was out the door and gone.

"Oh, Minerva, you couldn't," Albus said, sounding anguished as the colours swirled around her and rolled toward him, beginning to tickle his magic. "You didn't."

"I would have preferred to have waited, Albus, and to have given you a choice about this particular aspect of my plan, but once this is done, I hope you will be more agreeable and will listen to my plan with an open mind," Minerva said. Her eyes sparkled and her skin glowed beneath the warm, playful colours of the Celebrare Adfectus Amor Ultimus. She grinned. "I had no doubts about the Amor Ultimus, Albus. I hope you will allow me to fulfill the Celebrare."

"If we don't, these colours will continue to swim around us for days. There will be no hiding it." Albus felt the relaxing effects of the spell, its colours now surrounding him, but his fundamental displeasure and irritation at being ambushed were barely soothed.

Minerva shrugged. "It's up to you. Of course, if it had been only one-sided, at least you would have been spared the embarrassment of walking around with your colours showing. It is up to you, though. I wouldn't force you even if I could. You know that."

"It will become uncomfortable, particularly if we are apart," Albus pointed out.

"Uncomfortable, but not lethal. And if we stay apart for the next week or so, the auras should disappear and we will find it less uncomfortable with the passage of time."

"But the spell remains whether we act on it or not," Albus said, this time his irritation showing, and not only in his voice, but in the spikes of colour that danced out from his chest as he spoke. "We will never be able to make love again."

Minerva looked at him seriously, but with compassion. "That would have happened fairly soon, anyway, Albus, once you stopped taking any potions."

"You want to try to use the side effects of this spell to cure my hand, don't you? And once my hand is cured . . . That's what you meant by reaching a point of no return." Despite the warming, joyful effects of the spell, his anger was mounting. He could not believe that Minerva would do such a thing, particularly when he had told her repeatedly that he did not want them to use the Celebrare.

Minerva bit her lip. If he was this angry now, how angry would he have been without the effects of the spell? "Yes, that's what I meant."

"You counted on my participation, on my not allowing the Celebrare to remain unconsummated." Albus shook his head. "I do not appreciate being manipulated, Minerva, being put in this completely untenable position."

Minerva stepped toward him, soft, soothing pillows of blue reaching out and gentling his red spikes as she raised her hand and caressed his cheek. "My love, it is I who was in the untenable position before, and nothing you did would make it better. You would not help, you would not consider the possibility that there were other options we might look at. I have reversed our positions, and not simply because I wanted us to trade places that way, but because it was the only way I could see to make things better for both of us...and not just for us, either."

Albus sighed. "I am sorry for that." He shook his head and looked down into her eyes. "But what do we do now? As angry as I am . . . it's not just that I feel the pull of the Celebrare, but, obviously, I do love you, and I don't want to hurt you. It seems whatever course I choose, it will be a selfish one."

"Then let me choose, Albus. Can you trust me that much?"

Albus swallowed. "I can. And if you ask it now, I will. But won't you tell me more first?"

Minerva smoothed her hands over his chest. "I'll tell you much more later today. After we have celebrated. For now, will it suffice to say that in the end, I will kill you, though first I must cure you? We will see that the prophecy you believe in is fulfilled."

Albus pushed away as Minerva reached for the clasp at his throat. "No, no, that will not suffice, and I won't allow it."

"If you don't want me to try to cure you...although that may happen whether I consciously will it or not, and it may not work even if I want it to...then we will need to have Murdoch make up more of those potions. You will need to be in good shape to carry out your role," Minerva replied, unperturbed.

"No. You can't do that, Minerva. Any of it."

"You would ask Severus to kill you, but you won't allow me to fulfill the prophecy in a different way? You would prefer us both to suffer, and the wizarding world with us?"

"I explained that to you before. You have never killed a human being. I don't want you to do it."

"Albus, do have a little more faith in me. Please." She began to open his over-robe. "I will explain more. I promise you."

"I feared this," Albus said miserably, withdrawing from her touch and turning his head away. "Mated wands are said to bring a curse with them. This is our curse. I thought we were among the lucky few who had escaped such ill fortune."

Minerva laughed lightly. "Oh, Albus, you never used to believe such things! I said to have faith, to trust me. If anything, the mated wands are a part of our good fortune, if only because of the magical resonance they represent. I read those stories, too. Most of them are overblown and exaggerated. You do need this Celebrare spell, if for nothing else than to release you from your chains. You have chained yourself to your interpretation of the prophecy and to your belief that you must die, and that you have to die in a dreadful way, at that."

Albus let her remove his over-robe and lead him to the sofa.

"You really do have some plan, don't you? You think you can avert it all," Albus said softly.

"I have been telling you that." She swept some of his hair back, combing her fingers through it gently. "Honestly, though, there are still risks. There are things that could go wrong. You might still die in the spring, though I don't believe you will. I have no guarantees, but I do have an option for us, one that I believe has a very good chance of working."

"You said that you wanted to use the inevitable to our advantage."

"Yes. But believe me, my plan, if nothing goes wrong, will see that you, Severus, and Draco do not die. Or at least, that you all have a very good chance of survival for a good while longer. There's so much more to it. But let's discuss it later." She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips, sighing happily as the spell responded.

"I won't be able to think at all if you do that again," Albus whispered.

"Do you need to think just now?" Minerva asked.

"Oh, Minerva." Albus sounded resigned. "I do. Just a while longer. You know that the Celebrare can create a bond between the two participants, and if you intend to try to heal me, a bond between us is quite likely going to be another side effect."

"I know it." She traced his features with her fingertips.

"I have always avoided such a thing between us."

"And I have always said that it didn't matter to me."

Albus closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. "Do you intend to make it an unequal bond? To bind me to you?"

"No, of course not. I have no plans to initiate a bond. And from what I've read, if it arises spontaneously, the bond tends to be more or less equal," Minerva said. "I don't think that either of us has anything to worry about in that regard. I know you have always been concerned that whatever binding we might do, it would be unequal and in some way take away my independence and give it to you, but I think that is highly unlikely to happen, even though your magic is more powerful than mine. First, the Celebrare does not seem to create that kind of unequal bond; second, the bond tends to be somewhat amorphous and more of a heightened emotional and magical sensitivity than anything else, and we already have that to a great degree; and third, because the Celebrare was cast upon me and not upon you, any spontaneous binding, if one occurs, would originate with me and would therefore be unlikely to place you in a superior position. You could probably reject it if you felt it happening, though. You have quite a bit more power than I do. And, of course, you still have the power to tell me right now that we will have to shut ourselves away for the next week, however inconvenient that may be, and that we won't be fulfilling the Celebrare."

"I don't want to risk a spontaneous bond," Albus said.

"Then...?"

"If you sense that it is happening, I want you to take control of it, and I will submit," Albus said. "That way, if it is unequal, well, you will have the advantage, so to speak."

Minerva knit her brow. "You want me to bind you to me? Unequally? That sounds hardly fair. And as I say, the Celebrare bindings don't seem to be anything like some of the traditional ones...they don't enforce any chastity on either party, for example...though, of course, given the nature of the relationship between two people who would be affected by the Amor Ultimus, it is hardly likely that either person would even be tempted to enter into an affair with someone else. But I doubt that dominance and subservience come into play at all. I doubt very much that either of us could command the other any more than we are able to now."

"Nonetheless, promise me that you will do it. If you don't promise," Albus said, "then I will have to leave now." He gave a slight smile to soften his pronouncement and added, "Of course, if you kissed me again, I don't think I'd have any choice but to stay."

"Ah, so if I kissed you again, you would capitulate! Already subservient without the bond," Minerva teased. "I don't think we need one, then, since you are already so agreeable."

"It has always been difficult for me to refuse you anything," Albus replied, his eyes soft as he looked at her. "As you say, there would be hardly any change at all. Just promise me. Please."

"You truly are a silly wizard, Albus. Once and always a silly wizard." She laughed. "All right, if I become aware that the spell seems to be doing something to bind us and I am able to have any control over it, I will do as you ask and take control of it."

"You see, my sweet? I do trust you." He caressed her face and rested his hand on her shoulder. "I simply have feared that your love for me was causing you to be unrealistic. But if you say you have a plan . . . I don't know why I didn't listen before." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "I am sorry."

His whisper tickled her skin, then his lips moved to hers, and his kiss, soft and languidly sensual, put all thought of curses, death, and Dark Wizards from her mind. Her love and his wholeness were all her focus, and as they began to undress each other, kisses landing gently over newly bared skin, the Celebrare pulsed between them and through them, heightening their sensitivity and seeming to merge their individual pleasures into one.

The Celebrare held no imperative, as the Actus Adfectus Amor Verissimus had held over Severus a few months before; the Celebrare held only a promise of shared sensation and shared emotion as it revealed the great love and devotion that one person had for another. And whereas the Actus Adfectus only directly affected the person on whom it was cast, the Celebrare could reach out and equally affect the other party if the love was mutual in kind and quality. Although the Celebrare held little power over the participants as the Actus Adfectus did, it was in essence a much more powerful spell when acted upon, and it had long ago been discovered that it could initiate the spontaneous healing of one celebrant, and that the healing could even be directed by the healthy party. In addition, while the Celebrare bound the participants during its consummation, that binding could also become permanent, but as Minerva had said, it was a benevolent and very basic bond of their magic.

Albus rested his forehead against Minerva's shoulder. He was quiet for a moment, then he said, "I don't know, Minerva. I don't know. I still have a sense that there is something wrong with this, that I am giving in to temptation. Not just the temptation to make love to you, my dear, of course not only that. But the temptation to escape the fate that awaits me."

He took a deep breath and sighed, turning his head and kissing her neck. "I do not want to die of this curse," he whispered. "But if I do not . . . it could be worse. Not just for me, but for Severus and for Harry. For everyone. It may sound egotistical, but I believe that my death is necessary for them to live and for Harry to defeat Riddle. It is selfish of me, giving in to this temptation now. And it will only put off the inevitable. I cannot think clearly, though. This spell has confused me, and it has increased my desire to believe you. But if I am wrong to believe, and if you are wrong, then it could be disastrous. I already live with too much responsibility, Minerva. I don't want to be responsible for the deaths of any more people. I don't want to be responsible for Riddle gaining more power."

"Come with me to bed, Albus," Minerva said, taking his hand. "It will be my responsibility, too. You don't need to bear it alone, whatever you have borne in the past. I believe in this plan of mine. I think we can save you, Severus, and Draco. And if we cannot save you, there will still be a chance for Severus and Draco. Come with me to bed and we will begin by trying to save you from this curse."

"How can it serve Severus or Draco if I live?" Albus asked.

Minerva sighed. "It is too complicated to explain now. But the Vow will become moot if my plan works. I assure you of that, Albus. And you may yet die in just a few months time. I don't want to consider that possibility myself, but I have to be honest with you about it. But give me the chance to try to save you. Whether I am successful in saving your life or not, I want to try to rid you of this curse today."

"You said yourself that the Celebrare might not work to do that. What then?"

"Then you will take those potions that Severus developed for you. Murdoch and Robert will work to improve them further. And we go ahead with the rest of my plan anyway. We can still work to avoid your death."

"There is something about this plan that I will not like, isn't there? That's why you won't tell me more."

"If you will give my idea a fair hearing, I believe you will accept it," Minerva answered. "But you have been in no mood to entertain any other possibilities as it is, let alone one that is as unconventional as this plan. Please, Albus, you said that you could have faith in me. Please do. After the Celebrare, after you have had a rest and when I can think more clearly myself, I will tell you more about it."

"I do not know . . ."

"Don't look at it as giving in to temptation. That is the selfish view; that's what is making it complicated for you, thinking of it as temptation. You think that wanting to live...or at least, not wanting to suffer and die...makes any other choice wrong. But what you want for yourself personally can actually coincide with what is right, you know. And if you think that this is an easy path that I am asking you to walk, I assure you, it will not be. And whether cured or not cured, as I said, your prophecy will be fulfilled. I will make certain of it. I promise, Albus."

Albus raised his head. "That is what I understand the least. How the prophecy can be fulfilled if you are trying to avoid my death."

"Complicated, remember? Come to bed, Albus. Come to bed. Don't you feel the Celebrare? It is calling us to joy, to love, and to life! No more talk of this now, no more thought of death just yet."

Minerva stood, and her loosened robes fell to the floor. She knelt at Albus's feet and pulled off first one boot then the other. She removed his socks, then tugged at his under-robe as she stood. Albus rose to his feet and helped her to pull his under-robe off.

"You need to be able to trust me," Minerva said softly, placing her hands on his shoulders and looking up at him. "You would trust me with a bond, won't you trust me with this plan? Trust me with your health? Put yourself in my hands?"

Albus put his left hand on her lower back and pulled her closer. Looking into her eyes, he nodded. "I have always trusted you with my life, Minerva . . . you know that. I have tried to protect you, and I don't think that was wrong, although perhaps I was wrong about what I should protect you from. I have made some unilateral decisions that have affected you, and you have trusted me." He sighed, smiling. "And I think that now I will leave the future to take care of the future for once, and trust that whatever today brings, we will work out tomorrow together. Right now, in this moment, all I want is to be here with you."

Albus bent and kissed her upturned face, and she slipped her hands around his neck and drew his lips to hers. She had intended to bring him to the bedroom, but as the Celebrare flowed between them, all sense of place and time left her. Her kisses grew in intensity and passion, and she pressed her body against his, bringing him back to lie beneath her on the couch. She kneaded his shoulders as her lips and tongue met his, repeating the love they had expressed many times before, but feeling utterly new.

Minerva's lips moved lower, kissing his chest; her hands lightly danced over his skin, colour and light following her fingertips. Albus raised his hips, pressing himself against her abdomen as his left hand stroked her back and buttocks. Minerva inched back up, raising herself with her right hand on the cushion beside his chest, the other caressing his face, and her pelvis pressed against his arousal. She could feel his desire coursing through the spell and into her, her own love and desire mingling with his. She closed her eyes, arching her back and savouring the multitude of sensations.

Albus's eyes travelled from Minerva's face to her breasts, and he urged her forward with his hand on her buttocks as he lifted his head and his lips sought her breast. Silver and bright golden rays of light arced from the colourful aura around Minerva, and strands of deeper, rich golden light joined them, reaching out from Albus's heart and lower abdomen.

As Albus's lips and tongue pleasured first one nipple then the other, the fingers of his left hand sought her crux. Minerva parted her legs with a sighing cry of pleasure. This man whom she loved so very much, she would give him her life and her heart, her blood and her spirit; whatever he needed, she would give. As her passion grew, her left hand instinctively sought his right where it lay on the cushion above his head, and equally instinctively, rather than grasping the injured hand, she rested hers on top of it, the heel of her hand at his wrist and her fingers curled over his palm, fingertips barely grazing it.

His cursed right hand and lower arm emitted only a pale glow: a smoky grey, tendrils of rusty red and empty blackness snaking through the haze. Minerva remembered Albus whole and well, his vitality undiminished by the curse, his body, hale and strong. The Celebrare flowed between them, then surrounded and filled them. As the radiance grew and the Celebrare inhabited them both without distinction, there was no more distinguishing the magic that enveloped them.

Minerva's crux found his arousal, and as she slid down over him, her breasts brushing his beard, Albus let out a long breath, a sigh of delight as her pleasure and his joined through the magic that held them in a warm, joyous embrace. And now as she moved over him, the light that had become her hand drove the smoke and creeping darkness away, invading it with soft silver tendrils and gentle clouds of blue and green, followed by a sweeping golden brilliance.

Albus let out a low moan as his head went back. Sweet warmth was chasing the curse from his body and his magic, the curse burning furiously as it was driven outward toward his fingertips whence it had entered. Rivulets and streams of fire coursed through him, the Celebrare finding even the smallest threads of the curse where it had taken up residence deep within him. Soothing cool light followed, replacing the painful flames of the curse. Minerva felt the waves of fiery pain through the Celebrare that united them, and she drew on the magical resonance between them that she knew so well, bringing the Celebrare itself in tune with their magic.

With a burst of multicoloured light, the curse was ripped away, final shreds of sooty grey snaking from his fingertips before disappearing entirely. Albus's magic coursed back through him, powerful rolling waves of energy, supplemented by Minerva's strength flowing into him through the Celebrare. She grasped his hand, still withered black, and brought her full attention to it. No thought entered her mind, only the image and memory of his body whole, his hand strong, his physical vitality unmatched. Her magic and her body's memory held the hand that she had learned so many years ago, when she had loved him with the love of a child; they held the hand that had taken hers in friendship when she didn't dare love him as a woman; they held the hand whose palm and fingertips she had kissed when she declared that she loved him and longed for him; they held the hand that had held hers when she was ill, when she was injured, when she was in mourning. Her magic and her memory moulded his hand, reaching into it, saturating his cells with that memory, and Albus cried out as his body obeyed her will, happy to return his hand to its former shape and strength. Albus's pain at the transfiguration flowed between them, echoing, and each echo returning to him with healing and comfort.

The Celebrare took the echoes and began to build again, thrumming through them. The spell answered their love and dedication by strengthening the magic that held them in its radiant embrace. Minerva blinked, trying to remember herself. Herself. Albus. She looked down into the bright blue eyes that sparkled up at her from a face unlined with care and unshadowed by concealed pain. The Celebrare was binding their magic, weaving and melding it together, to leave its mark after it was itself dissipated and only memory.

Minerva had long been aware of Albus's magic, and when they made love, it seemed to mingle with her own, even sometimes flowing through hers, and her magic would reach out and caress his, but this was different. Now she understood what binding was, that it was more than the awareness and sharing of their magic, it was more than the resonance and harmony that their magic had always enjoyed. There was shared grief that their magic had been separate and unbound for so long, dancing together but never joining. Then Minerva remembered her promise, and she reached out with her magic with no spell, only intent, and she directed the Celebrare as it wove their energy together. She could feel Albus's heartbeat racing even as he relaxed his magic, handing it to her for her use.

She began to move over him faster as she conducted their magic, the aura of energy painting the colours of dawn around them. All that she loved of Albus and of her life passed through her mind as she continued to move. They shared the pleasure of his erection within her and of her warmth surrounding him, and that pleasure rippled through the light, leaving new colours in its wake.

As Minerva approached her peak, she lost all thought of the spell, only reaching out and holding Albus close with her magic, her love coursing through it and into him, wishing him wholeness and protection, willing him to nothing but the acceptance of her love and care. Then as she came, a tidal wave of ecstasy thrilled through her and rebounded through the radiance surrounding them, increasing it with an explosion of clear light, and she felt Albus reach out finally with his magic to encircle her.

She gasped and rode him harder, her eyes closing against the brilliance of the Celebrare, but still she saw it as it washed through her. Albus grasped her waist with both his hands, his breath now one long moan as her pleasure became his. He pushed up to meet her, and then he was coming, and his orgasm extended hers as it passed through the magic of the Celebrare.

"Ah, my sweet Minerva! Always yours, always, always." His grip tightened even as he gave himself over to her.

"Yours, yours, yours," Minerva chanted breathlessly. "To you, to you always, always yours. Love you, want you, need you, oh, Albus! My Albus!"

"Mine, mine, oh, my Minerva, my Minerva!" With one final gasp, he spent himself completely and pulled her down into his arms.

Minerva lay almost still, breathing heavily, her fingers gently whispering through his hair, her cheek resting on his shoulder. She slowly opened her eyes. The almost blinding white light was gone, but other soft colours still cradled them, shifting with a gentle ebb and flow.

She tilted her head back on the cushion, gazing at Albus's face, then she blinked and pushed herself up a little to look down at him.

"My word, Albus," she said with a soft chuckle. "I knew we would have to do something to hide your hand from the world, but it's more than your hand we will need to disguise."

Albus opened his eyes and looked up at her. "What do you mean?" he asked sleepily as the Celebrare colours, now gentle pastel hues, pulsed in time with their heartbeats.

"It's just . . . you'll have to look in a mirror and see for yourself."

It wasn't merely that his face no longer looked careworn as it hid the pain of the curse, but that he now held a remarkable glow that bespoke an underlying health and vigour. His hair was still as snowy as it had been when he had arisen that morning, but it seemed fuller and thicker than even his usual abundant mane did. His forehead still bore a crease or two, but they were not as deep; the pinched worry lines between his eyebrows had vanished entirely, yet the crinkly laugh lines around his eyes seemed more evident. Albus looked almost as he had two decades earlier, or perhaps as he would have appeared had the previous two decades been filled with less pain, grief, and burdensome responsibility.

Minerva pushed herself up a little more and took his right hand in hers. There was no need to inspect it, it was clearly healed and well again, but she marvelled at it nonetheless. Skin and sinew were all restored, and she could feel his magic flowing evenly through his hand, the curse's magic no longer interfering with it.

Albus stretched out his arm and flexed his fingers. He laughed. "It feels as good as it ever has." He laughed again and pulled her down into a hard embrace, squeezing her tightly. "And it feels so good to be able to hold you properly again."

He let her go as she pushed up to look down at him with a grin.

"You are a marvel, Minerva McGonagall," he said, then he reached out with his right hand and said, "Accio wand."

When his wand flew into his hand, he laughed with delight, and she joined him. Albus pulled her back down into a kiss, then tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear, and said, "You mentioned the bed earlier. I think that sounds like a fine idea."

"Bed, then a shower, then bed again, perhaps? And food. And we'll have to discuss what to do about your hand and the rest of your robust good health. I have an idea about that."

"Food...what about lunch?" Albus asked, looking past Minerva to the clock on her chimneypiece. "It's not for a little while yet, but..."

"I spoke with Pomona and told her we would likely not be there for lunch and possibly not for dinner, either. She and Filius will look after everything for us."

"Good. I think we can fill that time quite well as the Celebrare lingers, don't you, my dear?"

"Absolutely." And Minerva began demonstrating one of her ideas for filling that time.

---

Scrimgeour stood and smiled at his guest. "Philomena! I am so delighted to see you." He came around his desk and bent, kissing each of the old witch's cheeks. "In these hard times, it is good to see an old friend."

Philomena Yaxley, one-time Head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation, returned his smile. "I know just what you mean, Rufus. That must be why I got it in my head to come see you. A longing for older, simpler times." She laughed. "Of course, that's probably just nostalgia talking. They probably were not as simple as we like to remember them. But ever since Albus died . . . it seemed the end of something, you know?"

"Yes, I know. I felt it, too."

"Of course, I know you and he didn't get along very well, at least not in those last couple years, but it was a great loss to us all."

"It was. I do agree with you there. And whatever our differences, he was more often right than wrong, and sometimes I think I would have done well to listen to him more," Rufus said as he guided his visitor to a comfortable armchair. "Don't tell anyone else that, though!" he added with a smile.

"Never!" Philomena laughed. "You know, are we still civilised enough to have tea at teatime? Do you think you could offer an old witch a cuppa? With all the security I had to go through to get in here, I am quite parched."

"Of course, my dear. In fact, I anticipated your request. Martha and Squingee baked apple turnovers yesterday, so I brought some of those from home, and I just warmed the teapot before you came in." He winked at her. "I do sometimes enjoy doing for myself. I am just an old Auror at heart, you know."

Philomena smiled brightly and asked after his wife and family.

Twenty minutes later, Philomena was just finishing her puffy apple-filled pastry, and the door burst open without even a knock first.

"They're here. A few on each level. Anti-Apparition wards are down." Scrimgeour's personal secretary paused to take a breath, then looked over at Madam Yaxley. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but it's best you leave now. Safest for you. If, um, if you can Disapparate."

"Of course I can Disapparate! I am hardly doddering!" Philomena said indignantly, drawing her wand. "But if you think that I'm going to leave when there's a fight, you're dead wrong, young man! Some of my best friends have been killed by this lot, and I'm going to get in my licks!"

"Sir?" The wizard looked up at Scrimgeour, who was towering above him even more than usual.

"She's right. She will stay. Particularly as they tried to use her against us...not now, Philomena. If we're both alive, I'll explain later."

"Then at least keep her in here with you," the young wizard said. Sounds of curses and breaking glass were reaching their ears now.

"I will keep her with me, but not in here." Scrimgeour looked over at Philomena. "As I said a few minutes ago, I am just an old Auror at heart."

"But, sir! The wizarding world..."

"Will not need a Minister for Magic if this lot wins. I'm not sitting it out cowering in some corner. Come on, Philomena! Let's get in our licks, eh?"

---

Less than an hour after Philomena Yaxley had arrived and taken tea with Minister Scrimgeour, she was lying on a stretcher waiting to be taken to St. Mungo's. She smiled up at Scrimgeour, who had just finished giving orders to three Aurors regarding the disposition of the captured Death Eaters.

"We got in our licks, didn't we, Philomena?" he asked softly.

"Sorry to be such a nuisance, Rufus," she replied. "I don't duck as well as I once did." She tried to laugh, but closed her eyes and winced.

"Not at all. You took out a few of them first." He squeezed her hand. "I'm afraid I have to leave. I need to look after things here, and then there's somewhere else I need to be. But they'll take good care of you at Mungo's."

"You go now. Do what you have to." She smiled. "You'll be a decent Minister for Magic yet."

"I am a better Auror." He bent and kissed her forehead, then was gone.

---

Mafalda Hopkirk looked baffled. It was bad enough to have to fight off Death Eaters in her own office...they had ruined her perfectly arranged filing system, she was certain...but now the Minister was asking her to do the most preposterous things.

"Ogden?" she asked again, certain she hadn't heard properly. That wizard was entering his third childhood, from what she'd heard. He had to be even older than that Yaxley witch, and she'd been to school with Dumbledore, for Merlin's sake! "Not Tiberius Ogden?"

"Yes, Tiberius Ogden," Scrimgeour replied. "Tell him to get here immediately as soon as you give him my letter. Shacklebolt here has a Portkey for him. It will bring him directly to the Minister's offices. You can both use it."

"You want me to deliver the letter?" She was no Post Owl!

"Yes. You know where he lives. Don't delay. This is vital. Bring someone from the MLE with you if you want."

Mafalda looked down at the letter that Scrimgeour had dictated to her. Ogden was to act in his, Scrimgeour's, name until Scrimgeour himself returned or a new Minister was named. Until that time, he should be wary of everyone, though he could trust Minerva McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, or Arthur Weasley if they contacted him. Robards would be in charge of security at the Ministry and the disposition of any prisoners who were captured, and Ogden could rely upon him for advice. It was absurd.

"This is most irregular!" Mafalda protested.

"These are most irregular times, Madam Hopkirk," Scrimgeour replied.

"I still believe that I should go and you should stay," Robards said quietly.

"I need someone I can trust here. When the mop up here is over, send as many Aurors to Hogsmeade as you can spare." Scrimgeour laid his hand on the Auror's shoulder. "This is the fight I was born for, Gawain. This is the leadership I can finally provide. It may be the first thing I've managed to do right since starting this bloody job. Don't take that from me. I am relying on you. These are my final orders to you as Minister. It is not too much to ask that you respect them."

Robards nodded once.

"Madam Hopkirk, one more thing before I go. Please owl Martha and tell her I won't be home for dinner. And tell her that I am sorry. For everything. I love her." Scrimgeour turned sharply on his heel and strode off with Shacklebolt to meet Weasley and a few others who were waiting to leave with him.

---

Immediately after dinner, Hermione had separated from the Gryffindors, Disillusioned herself, and gone to Robbie's rooms. He wasn't there, but he had given her the password earlier so that she could use his Floo to return to the hidden rooms where he and the Headmistress had met with her that morning. He hadn't known when they would be leaving the castle, only that it would be after teatime. From Professor McGonagall's announcement at dinner about the attack on the Ministry, Hermione presumed that they had known when that attack would take place and that Hogwarts would be next. She had sat through dinner just waiting for the attack on Hogwarts to begin, and it looked as though most of the staff were in the same state. Severus hadn't eaten anything. He hadn't even pretended.

Now Hermione paced the sitting room and wondered when Robbie would arrive and how they would know when to leave and how to find Severus. She was now one of only a few people at Hogwarts who knew anything of Professor McGonagall's overarching plan, and yet she still felt she knew very little. Apparently the only person other than Robbie and the Headmistress to have known anything about it until very recently was Professor MacAirt. McGonagall had said it was primarily because he was Robert Crouch's cousin, which was why she had chosen him to become Head of Gryffindor.

After McGonagall had left and Robbie had taken his potion again, this one in the form of a liquid-filled capsule, they had discussed Harry and what to tell him. Robbie wanted Harry told only enough to bring him through the initial confrontation with Riddle. Hermione had questioned that approach, but Robbie pointed out that until that had occurred, there was always the chance, however slight, that Riddle would be able to pick up some knowledge of their plan, and they couldn't risk that, particularly since they were counting on Riddle using the Avada Kedavra on Harry. Anything else would be disastrous.

"You know what the Avada Kedavra does, Hermione, why of all the curses that kill, it is the only one that is Unforgivable."

"It separates the soul from the body," Hermione replied mechanically. "I know. And we've discussed this before, and I have talked to Sev– er, Professor Snape about it, too, but I am still worried that something will go wrong."

"Something can always go wrong, Hermione. Just impress upon Harry that he must freely go to Riddle, not resist, and emphasise that he wants to be struck by the Avada Kedavra and not killed in some other way...or even by someone else."

She looked anguished. "I know that we have discussed this before, but couldn't the Avada Kedavra still kill Harry? Or, worse, separate Harry's soul and let Voldemort's alone?"

"Again, Hermione, remember your research, remember why that is unlikely to happen," Robbie said patiently.

"But it could."

"It could. If Harry doesn't resist, he has a much greater chance of being successful. And that is why you must speak with him when he arrives today. He cannot resist when Riddle casts the curse, and he must be willing to let the Avada Kedavra do what it does. Just tell him to relax and give Riddle back what is his."

And so when Hermione met with Harry that afternoon, she had done just that. Robbie had reassured her that he would tell Harry more later, when it was time. Harry was upset by the desecration of the Headmaster's tomb, but it didn't distracted him, and although he had questions, in the end, he simply nodded.

"I haven't got any better plan," he said. "And I've been as worried about my own survival as I have been about his. Ever since I figured out that I was the last Horcrux and that he doesn't even know that he created it, I've assumed we would both have to die. But if you say not to resist . . . then that's the plan." He laughed slightly. "Not a very heroic death, just giving up, but I'll trust you."

"Professor Dumbledore would have told you the same thing if he were here, Harry. He was working on the same theory. We both hope that it will work right and you won't die."

"But I might."

Hermione sighed. "You might. But I don't think so. I think that everything will be all right. There are so many reasons why I think it will be all right, but I just don't think telling you any of them will help you to do what you have to."

"And after? What about him?"

"Deal with that when the time comes," Hermione said. "Don't even think about it now."

Hermione had been uncomfortable leaving Harry with so little knowledge, but he seemed willing to do what he had to do, and she couldn't worry about it anymore. She had her own task ahead of her.

She looked out the window and saw a group of Ministry officials approaching the castle. There were a number of Aurors with them, and to her surprise, she recognised Scrimgeour among them, walking beside Arthur Weasley. She smiled as she saw that Percy had joined his father. Kingsley Shacklebolt, who Hermione had always thought was one of the sexiest wizards she'd ever met, took up the rear. Many of the other Order members had arrived earlier in the day, including a couple other Weasleys. On her way back to Gryffindor Tower after meeting with McGonagall and Robbie, she had seen the twins with Hooch. It didn't appear that Bill and Charlie had arrived yet, though, and they weren't with their father and younger brother. She hadn't seen Molly yet, either, but she assumed the Weasley matriarch would be there.

Hermione had no time to contemplate the possible whereabouts of any other Order members. The fireplace flared green and Robbie stepped out.

"We must leave now," he said, shedding his black teaching robe and leaving it in a heap. He swallowed his antidote and dropped the small bottle on the floor.

Hermione waited for him to stop shuddering before she spoke. "How are we following him?"

"As we said this morning, it is likely that Severus is in the Shrieking Shack, but I also have this, which will help us find him more precisely." He took something from his pocket and handed it to her.

It looked like a compass, but it had two swinging hands, and instead of the cardinal points, there were markings that said "Hot," "Cold," and "Up" and "Down." The indicators were now pointing halfway between Hot and Cold and Up and Down.

"I am going to Apparate us both into the tunnel just outside the Shack, then we'll go on foot from there. I will make us both invisible, but you have to remain in physical contact with me the entire time, or you will be seen. And remember what we discussed this morning: you are to do nothing until I release you. If you move too soon, we will all be lost and Severus will surely die. It will be difficult to watch and do nothing, but you must wait. If you cannot do this, tell me now before it's too late."

"No, sir. I can. I understand. I'll manage," Hermione replied.

"And one more thing. You carry this." He handed her the Sorting Hat. "Do you think you can use it?"

Hermione looked confused.

"On the snake, Nagini. I will take care of any Death Eaters, but if the snake is still there, we need to be able to take advantage of the opportunity."

"Yes, yes, of course I can." Hermione opened her robe and shoved the Hat between the medical kit and her shirt.

"Ready?"

Hermione had no time to do more than nod, let alone ask how they were to Disapparate while in the castle, when he had his arms around her from behind, she felt a tingling unlike usual Disillusionment, and then the unpleasant sensation of Side-Along Apparition overtook her.

---

They encountered no one in the tunnel, and Hermione started as the small compass suddenly appeared to float in front of her. The indicators swung wildly for a few moments, then suddenly stopped. One of them was very nearly pointing at "Hot," and the other pointed directly at "Up." The compass disappeared again, and she felt an invisible hand squeeze her shoulder.

Together, the two entered the shack, a more difficult proposition than usual, since Hermione could not step away or she would lose her invisibility. Two Death Eaters were standing guard, and when the door opened, they jumped and appeared confused. Hermione felt a ripple of magic, then another, and the two guards slumped to the floor. Her companion seemed to be considering what to do next, then the two unconscious bodies floated across the small room and back into the tunnel, where they were both Disillusioned. Not a perfect solution, but they were out of the way for the moment.

The compass floated in front of them again briefly, and this time, one pointer was almost directly on "Hot," and the other was a degree or two off "Up." The compass vanished, and as quietly as possible, the two proceeded further into the house. As they creaked slowly up the stairs, Hermione grimaced; surely someone would hear. Approaching the upper levels of the house, however, it was clear that any Death Eaters between them and Severus would be listening to the raging voice coming from above and would pay no attention to any stray noises in the old house. There was a shouted Crucio followed by a loud crash as someone fell to the floor.

They carefully stepped past three Death Eaters at the top of the stairs, then took refuge in a shadowy corner just outside the closed door behind which Voldemort was raving. Reflexively, Hermione turned her head and looked back up at her companion, but they were both still invisible and she couldn't see him. She leaned back against his chest, shrinking away from a short witch who paced in front of them, and it seemed that his heart was pounding as fast and hard as her own.

Hermione gritted her teeth as they listened. Voldemort was asking why McGonagall wasn't dead, and Severus, his voice clear, though somewhat breathless from the last Crucio, explained that she hadn't taken any poison. Just then, a large, brawny Death Eater Apparated into the hallway only inches away from them. Hermione felt a push from behind, and they followed the Death Eater as he opened the door and entered the room.

Sidling carefully out of the doorway and along the wall, Hermione thought that her heartbeat must be audible to everyone in the room. She didn't see how they could remain undetected. There were eight Death Eaters, Voldemort, and Severus all in the one small room, and Nagini was coiled in one corner. Hermione shivered.

A moment later, though it felt like an eternity, the large Death Eater had Disapparated, as had three others, and Hermione breathed more easily. Her sense of relief disappeared as quickly as it had come, however, as she watched Voldemort become increasingly enraged and Severus become increasingly insolent. The only comfort she had was the sense that this was no easier for her companion than it was for her; whether the tightened grip on her shoulders was in reaction to the scene that played out before them or a reminder not to act too soon, Hermione was certain that the wizard behind her was as disturbed as she was.

She blinked back tears, reminding herself that she could not give their presence away, but Severus's bravery and defiance were difficult to watch without reaction, and when the Dark Wizard cast the Crucio on him, she closed her eyes to the sight. And then Severus attempted to draw his wand on the other wizard, but was disarmed, and Hermione stiffened, wondering how she could stay still any longer. The spectacle only became worse, though her pride and admiration for Severus's bravery grew with each passing second, and when he wounded the hideous snake, no matter how small the wound, she wished she could cheer out loud for him, but Severus was still bitten, and then he writhed in pain as the Death Eaters all cast Crucio on him simultaneously.

Hermione felt ill as she watched Voldemort heal Nagini, seeming to sing her a hissing, snakey love song. She watched numbly as Severus was bitten again; her shoulders felt bruised from the iron grip on them, but she scarcely noticed. The horror of Voldemort's orders seemed to make her blood run cold. Would they be able to save him? Would the Dark Lord remain until Severus was hacked to pieces and fed to the snake? How could they stand there and watch that?

". . . make sure he's awake for it, one limb at a time," Voldemort said. "After she's fed, you can let him bleed out and save his body for later. We'll put his head on a pike and carry it with us if those at the castle dare oppose us. We will show them what will happen to their precious Headmistress if she does not hand us Potter and Hogwarts, and not just to her. We will decorate the walls and towers with the heads of those who are so foolishly stubborn. I will return soon, so don't waste time...and I will want his head!"

Voldemort Disapparated, bringing two of the Death Eaters with him and leaving Pettigrew and one other. Immediately, Hermione stepped forward, drawing the Gryffindor Sword from the Sorting Hat and taking hold of its hilt with both hands. As she had been instructed, she ignored the Death Eaters and went straight for Nagini. Her heart racing with fury, she raised the sword above her just as Nagini was raising her head and turning to look at her. With a loud shout, Hermione brought the sword down on the snake's neck. The sword went into the reptile's flesh with far greater ease than Hermione had expected, and Nagini didn't even thrash as her head flew off.

Hermione was vaguely aware that more Death Eaters were entering the room, but she paid no attention to them, instead falling to her knees beside Severus. He was lying on his stomach, and she gently rolled him over, bringing his head into her lap. She touched his chest; it didn't seem that he was breathing well, if at all.

"Stay calm, Severus; I'm here now and we'll breathe together." As the last Death Eater collapsed to the floor, Hermione took out her wand, pointed it at Severus, and said, "Prospirote!"

It was difficult for her to breathe slowly and deeply, her heart was racing so, but as she saw Severus's chest begin to rise and fall with her breath, she was encouraged. She began to unbutton his robe.

"No time for that, Hermione. We have to hurry."

Severus's sleeves were torn off, and as Hermione saw the damage that Nagini's bite had done, she couldn't suppress her tears any longer and they ran down her face as she choked back a sob.

"You're getting distracted. Cast the Prospirator again."

Alarmed, Hermione cast the spell again and concentrated on calming herself.

"You just breathe. I'll deal with his injuries." Albus looked up at her. "You're doing well, Hermione, very well. Just relax. We have him now."

Albus removed the vial of antivenin potion from his own medical kit, drew its contents into the syringe, tightened the tourniquet around Severus's left arm and took a moment to find a vein. He shook his head in frustration, then finally he found a vein that stood out and that didn't roll away. He injected the potion, removed the tourniquet, and turned his attention to Severus's right arm.

The first thing he did was immobilise the arm with a spell, then he cast another one to numb it before he wiped off the blood with the remnants of one of Severus's sleeves. The wounds were swollen and still bleeding. He took the Omnicoagulant Potion from his medical kit and put some of the thick goop on the bite marks. The bleeding stopped almost immediately. Next, Albus used his wand to cut away the fabric covering Severus's shoulder. Severus's head moved, and Albus smiled down at him.

"You will be fine, son," Albus whispered. "Hermione is taking very good care of you. You don't need to do a thing. Just relax." He touched his cheek gently then looked up at Hermione. "Reassure him, Hermione. Let him know that you are with him and he's not alone."

As Albus put Omnicoagulant Potion on the punctures on Severus's shoulder, Hermione caressed Severus's face.

"We're here, Severus. You will be all right." She paused to take another deep breath and let it out slowly, happy to see that she didn't have to cast the breathing spell again and that Severus's chest was rising and falling in sympathy with hers.

"Should I give him the Bezoar now, sir?"

Albus shook his head. "It's too late for a Bezoar to be effective. He's not swallowing properly, anyway. It could choke him."

He felt for Severus's pulse, then wiped the pallid wizard's face with his own sleeve.

"I want to give him more of the potion," Albus said. "Do you have yours?"

Hermione reached for the pocket with the antivenin potion and handed the vial to him.

"I don't think I can manage another injection," he said before he cast the spell to transfer the potion directly from the vial into Severus's circulating blood. "Put some of the antinecrotic potion on his shoulder. I'll put some on his arm. Then I have to leave." He glanced over at the unconscious Death Eaters, all of whom were bound and in a pile near the door.

"What about them?" Hermione asked. "And us?"

Albus handed her a plaid handkerchief. "This is a Portkey. It will take you and Severus to the Hog's Head. There will be additional help waiting for you there. My brother Aberforth is expecting you. You have to go now. When it's safe for you to return to Hogwarts . . . someone will get word to you. Don't leave him, Hermione."

"I won't." Not for anything. "But he'll know what happened. Riddle, I mean."

"That's why I'm burning down the Shrieking Shack as soon as you're gone." At her expression, he added, "I'll bring the unconscious Death Eaters with me and come back for the ones in the tunnel. I know of a witch who will be more than happy to look after them for a while. If there are any others in the building, I hope they will have time to escape. Leave the sword with me." Albus looked down at Severus. "You need to cast the Prospirator again."

"And Nagini's body?" Hermione asked after she had reinitiated the breathing spell and handed Dumbledore the Sorting Hat and Gryffindor Sword.

"Don't worry about anything but Severus right now."

"What about Harry?"

"You have done all you can for Harry. I will be there to help him, and there are others, as well."

Hermione looked down at Severus's face. He seemed to have passed out at some point while they were taking care of the bites. Perhaps that was for the best. She wiped at his mouth with the handkerchief.

"How do I activate the Portkey?" she asked.

"Just say, 'sanctuary.'"

"Good bye, Professor." She took one final deep breath for both Severus and herself, then said, "Sanctuary."

---

Note: Some of you may recognise Philomena Yaxley's name. She was a character who appeared in RaM, an old friend of Albus's who met "Morag." She also appears in Charming the Scottish Garden.