AN: There are most likely two chapters left in this story - I just wanted to warn people. One question I did have was about rating - I've debated between T and M. I started as M and then moved it to T - I would love feedback about what people think. Thanks!

Neville had always thought April was a boring month. Not winter and not spring enough to be useful - just a lot of rain and only a bit of green here and there. But this April, things were different. Everyone knew that they were living by pure nerves alone, and the classes at Hogwarts were so empty that it was pure habit that kept them running; nobody was learning anything. Neville had already moved his few essentials to the Room of Requirement, knowing that any day he would have to bolt like a rabbit into his hole. The room already held most of the younger students that had been in Dumbledore's Army, as well as the school's population of half-bloods. Neville was beginning to wonder if they were taxing the abilities of the Room of Requirement, but the room just kept expanding and kept adding hammocks.

Food was really becoming an issue, however. It was the full-time job of Seamus and Neville to get food to the students, which was made harder by Michael's long recuperation. Even if he were fit Neville felt it best that he remain out of sight, he didn't want too many questions about his recovery. Not that the Carrows would necessarily notice, they had begun to have an almost crazed look on their faces, and their punishments were becoming less and less rational.

Harry has to come soon, Neville told himself as he surveyed the half-empty dining hall. He just has to.

And it was on that rainy mid-April afternoon that the final phase of the rebellion started. Neville was seated in the main hall, ostensibly to do his homework but in actuality he was looking out for the next student who would come to him and ask to go into hiding. Everyone knew that Neville was the way to safety, so he had to stay visible.

An owl suddenly swooped over him, dropping a small scroll into his hands. Unwrapping it, he read the short note it contained:

Mr. Longbottom,

You must come to my office immediately or you will face the Cruciatus.

Headmaster Snape

Neville gulped, this was the signal. Something had happened and Snape was warning him to hide. Now all he had to do was to make it to the Room of Requirement without being detained.

Casually tucking the note in his pocket, Neville stood and looked as if he was obeying it by heading to the headmaster's office. Gathering his books, he nodded to Seamus.

"Snape wants me to come to his office," he told Seamus.

"Caning or detention?" Seamus asked, putting down his quill.

"Not sure," Neville told him. "Walk with me for part of it?"

"Sure," Seamus answered. Seamus knew that something was wrong, but also that Neville was trying to be careful not to be overheard.

The Carrows had seen him get the note, so they hardly took notice of him as he packed up his books and headed out of the room.

"We need to get to the room," Neville told him quietly. "Who else is out?"

"Michael's still in it," Seamus told him. "Carrows have been bad today, people should mostly be in it."

"I'm going to pretend I'm going to the Headmaster's room, take a quick look around for any vulnerable students and get in there. Okay?"

"Okay," Seamus answered.

"Five minutes," Neville told him. "It's possible we're going to be in there for a while."

"We don't have much food," Seamus told him.

"Better to be a bit hungry than to be dead," Neville told him. "Get in there as fast as you can, I can't stall them for too long. They'll be watching."

"Alright," Seamus told him. "I'll do a quick lap and then get in."

Neville nodded, and thought about how to give Seamus more time. The Loo, he decided, and headed for the boy's toilet. He took as long as he dared in there, dawdling in the toilet and then washing his hands thoroughly.

Neville, hoping that Seamus had had enough time, made his way out of the toilet. He could walk a little further and still be safe, it looked like he was on his way to the headmaster's office. In fact, his dawdling might even appear to be reluctance to face whatever punishment people would assume he would get.

Neville walked to the point of decision - one way to the Room and the other to the Headmaster's office. He took a look around, set his jaw in determination. Now he would do what Snape would call the better part of valor. He would survive to fight another day.

Neville started walking briskly toward the Room of Requirement, looking as if he was going where he was supposed to be. It did not take long, however, before a mighty roar and a wind began in the hallway.

"Neville Longbottom!" he heard Professor Snape's voice echo through the hallway. "Come to my office at once!"

Neville, dropping his books and breaking into a dead run, broke for the Room of Requirement. He had never felt the need quite so strongly as he did at that moment, and he knew the Room would be open and waiting for him.

Neville hardly had time to think about why Snape would be making such a show for Neville to come to his office, but he heard another voice in the wind, gaining ground behind him. It was an awful, hissing voice, and it urged Neville even faster. Neville, trying to school himself to think rather than panic, drew his wand as he ran. He managed to erect a shield behind himself just in time to block a stunning spell coming from behind him. Not even looking to see who cast the spell, he kept running.

The door of the room grew ahead of him, and he willed himself faster.

"Neville!" he heard the hissy voice call out. "Ssstop now or I will . . ."

Voldemort! Neville realized with horror. His reflexes took over from his mind, however, and he dove through the doorway and into the room.

"We need to be safe from everyone!" he called out to the room desperately. "We need to be safe, even from Voldemort!"

The walls surrounding the room seemed to thicken and toughen, and a glistening of icy blue magic rippled over the surfaces of the walls and ceiling. Neville knew then that they were sealed up tightly, and that there was no in or out as long as Voldemort was there.

"Did Seamus make it?" Neville asked, panting.

"He made it," Michael assured him.

"I'm here, mate," Seamus told him. "Grabbed a handful of half-bloods I saw lingering about and ushered them in. It's as good as we get for now."

"I hope it holds," Michael told them, running his hand over the newly reinforced walls. "I mean, Umbridge got through . . ."

"We never told the room not to let her," Neville assured them. "She'll hold."

"Is that enough?" Seamus asked. "I mean, we're all kind of sitting ducks in here if it doesn't . . ."

"It's enough," Neville assured them. "But I pity those left on the outside."

"Neville Longbottom!" Voldemort called out, his voice sounding painful and scratchy as it filled the room. Everyone in the room covered their ears reflexively. "I have no desire to shed your blood, nor the blood of any other pureblood here. You have been very brave, but now is the time for reason. I am sending Aurors to your Grandmother, and I believe after that you will need to decide if your misguided heroics are worth her life."

"Not Gran!" Neville yelled, paling at the thought.

"I will be back with her," Voldemort told him. "In the meantime, you should think of how to employ a dignified surrender."

There were several moments of silence, and people knew that the conversation was over.

"What are you going to do, mate?" Seamus asked him. "Should we figure out a surrender."

"We're going to do what my Gran would want us to do," Neville told them. "Keep fighting."

"How do you know that's what she'd want?" a younger Hufflepuff asked.

"I don't talk about it much," Neville told her. "But my parents were Aurors. They were captured by Bellatrix Lestrange, and tortured with the cruciatus until they went insane. My Gran is nothing but proud of them, and so am I. My Gran would rather lay down her life than watch her Grandson surrender."

. . .

Snape stood beside Voldemort as he examined the wall the held the Room of Requirement.

"Is there a way through, Severus?" he asked in a deceptively calm voice.

Snape knew better than to think he wasn't angry. "No, Milord," Snape answered. "Unfortunately the room is part of the very fabric of Hogwarts itself. I don't believe there's a way to get in with blunt force."

"We shall have to use the Grandmother then," Voldemort hissed, his voice becoming lower.

"Of course, Milord," Snape told him. "Should I fetch the best Aurors, then? It's such an important mission I would hate to see it be sidetracked by lesser Aurors."

"She's a lonely old woman," Voldemort snapped. "And bait for a mere student. I won't dignify it with a team, that might scare the old bat to the point of heart attack, and then where would we be? Send one man, but make sure he knows what he's doing. I want her alive and well without so much as a scratch."

"Yes, Milord," Snape bowed his head. "You of course know best. I will see to it right away."

"I'm needed at the ministry," Voldemort told him. "This is a school matter, Headmaster. I expect you to deal with it."

"Of course, Milord," Snape bowed his head.

Suddenly, Voldemort was in his mind. Snape sunk to his knees from the strength of the assault, and he made it appear that the Dark Lord had gotten past his defenses. He set up a cleverly laid trail of embarrassing scenes and a thirst for power, and Voldemort tore through them, satisfied he had gotten through.

"Please, Milord," Snape begged, his voice weak. "Please. I am your loyal servant."

"That you are," Voldemort confirmed, rifling through a particularly embarrassing memory involving hemorrhoids. "But in this war I must be sure."

Snape endured, barely able to keep from blacking out as Voldemort mercilessly searched. Snape evaded easily in his mind, but he had to make it look convincing. He offered up a memory of a deed done in his true death eater days that still evoked a great deal of shame in him, and amplified the lust he had felt. It had been rape that he had observed; rape of a young and pretty muggle. He had not done the attack but nor had he prevented it; but the shame it evoked in him now he hoped would be real enough. He could not invent scenarios or emotions to fool the Dark Lord, but he could carefully select and then amplify them. He would have reflected briefly on how these were the very things he advised Neville in, except if he had those thoughts would have been available to the Dark Lord.

Satisfied, the Dark Lord then withdrew from his mind. "You are loyal," he said.

"Thank you, Milord," Snape replied, gasping for air.

"But you need to enjoy your work more," Voldemort told him. "You have young and vulnerable students under you, feel free to use them as you will. Only don't permanently harm the purebloods."

"Thank you, Milord," Snape bowed his head. "I am very mindful of your graciousness."

As he swept out of the room, Snape took a real intake of breath. Now to send the most incompetent Auror he could get away with after Neville's Gran. He hoped she was prepared.

. . .

Several hours later, Snape found himself looking at the entrance for the room of requirement, and wondering how it worked. He had limped the entire way to the room; the Dark Lord did not like his failure, even though Snape had carefully crafted it to ensure that he had plausible deniability. Though he had endured the cruciatus more than nearly any other wizard alive and managed to keep his sanity, it was still difficult. And it wasn't just the pain, either, but prolonged exposure caused nerve damage. He knew that after he delivered his message he could take numerous potions and sink into oblivion for the night. Sleep and his potions would cure him.

Neville had said that it worked by what he needed, and he really needed to get a message to Neville. Would the room cooperate?

"I need to get a message to Neville," he told the room, feeling foolish that he was addressing the room as if it were a sentient being. "I'm not asking to get in or to do anything to harm the students in there. Neville would want this message."

The room was quiet, and Snape began to wonder if this was going to work. "Just a message," Snape repeated. "Maybe a parchment, or . . ."

The wall shifted before Snape, and a parchment appeared attached to a clipboard. A Quill appeared on a string.

"Thank you," Snape told the room, and went to the wall. He thought for a moment, and then wrote:

Your Gran was more than they were expecting. Dawlish is in the hospital and she is on the run, alive and unharmed. She is getting help from friends. S.

After he wrote the message, the words melted off the page. He waited to see if there would be a reply, curious as to how the room would work. Then, black letters in Neville's handwriting appeared on the parchment.

I hope that this message is real and that you are reliable. Neville.

Snape, smiling at how Neville was thinking more and more like a Slytherin, wrote back:

If you had accepted my comment at face value I would have been tempted to cane you. But yes, the message is reliable. S.

Thank Merlin. Neville.

You will be harder to control now. S.

Any advice? Neville.

Don't get killed. Even a serious injury would make me quite put out. S.

You'd cane me if I got seriously hurt? Neville.

Absolutely. Remember what I've taught you. Snape paused, considering. Though everything with his spy logic was telling him not to, he wrote: The sword can kill the snake. This must be done before H can fight him.

Thank you for all you've done for me. Neville.

Snape paused then, wondering what to do. How do those Gryffindors just do something so soppy as to thank someone like that? He didn't know how to respond. Then, he thought of the perfect thing, but he almost couldn't bear to write it. He wrote it, and as it disappeared he visibly flinched and almost called it back.

The parchment then disappeared, and Snape nodded he had said what he needed to say, there was really nothing left.

Neville, tightly packed up in the room of requirement, read these words:

You should be very proud of the work that you have done. I know that I am. S.