With a thud, Hermione fell to the ground, and Ron roared out a strangled cry. But Harry had little time for his friends; Snape was furiously gaining on him as he threw another curse aimlessly over his shoulder. The chase threaded through the grim graveyard, past the littered bodies of the Stunned and frozen accomplices of both sides.

At last, however, Harry was cornered. With a triumphant cry of 'Expelliarmus!" Snape caught Harry's outstretched wand and grinned, panting from the exertions.

"Now, Potter, I have you."

"You can't do anything," spat Harry. "Your little Lord wouldn't like it."
"Oh, but I can, I can. You see," – here he smiled, taking a deep breath – "I am the one He had marked from the beginning, prophecy be damned. I, the chameleon, who managed to creep under Dumbledore's very own nose!" Harry felt a surge of hot white anger at this.

"You're not a chameleon, you're a rat, and a filthy one at that," he growled.

"Hold your tongue, Potter," he chided. Then his smile faded, and he raised his wand. Harry began to panic slightly – not by Snape's hand, not after all this, surely?

"Consider it a clearance of revenge, Potter."

"You were always a coward." The words came easily to Harry, spoken through him by himself and his father together. At least now he would see him again. Snape's nostrils flared.

"Don't.. call me.. A COWARD!" he roared, and Harry smiled.

"Coward."

"POTTER!"
"What?" This plaintive tone shook Snape to his senses, and he gripped his wand tighter.

"Avada.." And in that brief pause, Harry knew. Knew he was not afraid, knew he was not troubled by Death, but welcomed it like the brother he knew he was to it.

"KEDAVRA!" screamed a voice. And Snape fell, a soft "Oh!" of shock lingering on his pallid lips. Harry looked to the source of the final gesture – Ron, gasping for breath. He fell to his knees and his wand fell limp from his hand. Harry stepped forward, used to the dead.

"Ron."

"She's.. she won't.." A sense of dread filled Harry – Hermione.

"Ron, where is she?" He looked up through empty eyes.

"She's sleeping.." Harry began to run, through the headstones and bodies stirring, to where she was lying, his clever, sensible best friend, she couldn't be.. He dropped to his knees and brushed her hair from her face.

"Oh, Hermione." He stroked her cheek, feeling little warmth. "Just one more golden day would have been enough," he whispered, as Ron slumped next to him.

More? R&R.