A/N: You have one of this trilogy's loyal fans to thank for talking me out of stopping it. (You know who you are.)

Chapter Fourteen – Taking Back What's Ours

They begin to Apparate into the Ministry, six of them at a time, at ten minute intervals, wands at the ready, at different places in the Ministry. At the very least, Harry wanted to make them difficult to find and difficult to kill. All of them had been told to kill first and answer questions later. He was sure that that was a policy that he would be made to regret later, but for now, it seemed like the most sensible thing to do. Right now, they needed to take the Ministry back. If for nothing more than appearances.

He was in the last group to Apparate in. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't because he was afraid of what might be in there, and that this was arguably the most dangerous group to be going with, if the rest of them had already been found.

He took a moment to consider the irony of Apparating on the very lowest floor, the Department of Mysteries. But he could only consider it for an instant. There were Death Eaters down here in droves. Curses were flying in every direction and Harry was not spared from them all. He did manage to miss all the Killing Curses, but when his face began to swell and grow so heavy that he dropped to his knees, it took a well-placed countercurse from one of his fellows to bring him back to his feet. More than ever, he appreciated the idea of doing this in groups rather than alone. Everyone was stronger when they had people behind and next to them.

It felt like hours before they'd secured the floor. Most of the Death Eaters had ended up dead. If not from a Killing Curse, from their own wand. But Harry and the others had managed to round up three of them and put a Bodybind charm on them, leaving them helpless. The Ministry could deal with them later.

Once that floor was cleared, it was time to move up to the next. The theory was for everyone to clear their own floor and then to move to the next highest and so on, until eventually they would all be on the top floor, with one free Ministry. It was perhaps idealistic to hope that it would work out so easily. They were vastly outnumbered and surprise was really the only thing they had on their side. Surprise and Harry Potter, though Harry wasn't inclined to count himself on the list of assets.

When they raced to the next floor, they found a heavy fight still in progress, and it did not look as though the Death Eaters were losing. Glancing around, Harry saw at least two of those on his side on the ground, though whether dead or injured, he couldn't tell. But right now, that didn't matter. There were Death Eaters to be dealt with.

Another eternity later, that floor was cleared. There were no live Death Eaters to show for this one, though. Harry was exhausted and could feel the sweat and blood mixing as it ran down his face and back. It was a disgusting combination, and one that Harry had never thought he'd need to feel again. Some in his group – there were only three of them left – felt that it was time for them to take a breather, if only for five minutes, before going to the next floor.

Harry vigorously vetoed that idea. The thought that he should give up for any length of time when there were still things to be done was awful for him. It would be as if he had backed down in that last fight with Voldemort. He could never have lived with himself if he'd done that, just as he wouldn't be able to live with himself if a single person died because he wasn't there to make sure it didn't happen. Hermione had called it his Martyr Complex, and he hadn't disagreed with it But that didn't mean that he wasn't going to do it.

He gave them all the option of staying or coming with him, and to a man, they all agreed to come. He was relieved; he hadn't fancied the thought of going it alone. He had nearly always had people behind him, supporting him, and it was when things went most badly that he was doing it alone.

It was a relief to find that the next floor up was already deserted. It made Harry feel as though there were still some competent people around to fight Death Eaters. It occurred to him that this was Felix's group, and that made him grin. Of course Felix was competent. At least when he wanted to be.

So they went up to the next floor. That was where they found Felix, and only Felix's group. The rest had all been killed. Felix wasn't looking so great, and there were only two of his left. They were losing against the Death Eaters. With Harry and his three, they made a complete group, and were able, in the next eternity, to win back the floor.

By the time they did so, though, Felix was on the ground. His breathing was harsh and gasping. Harry didn't know any Healing charms, he had never bothered to learn them. A quick question to all of the rest and found that none of them did, either. There was only one thing to do. He Apparated Felix to Mungo's, and hope that they'd just take care of him.

Then it was time to put Felix out of his mind. Then it was time to keep going. This wasn't the first time that he'd lost someone dear to him in the midst of a battle. It was difficult to force his mind back to the task at hand, but it had to be done.

Things got progressively worse as they went up. The Death Eaters had clearly been expecting something and had massed their people near the top floors. It had resulted in wholesale slaughter that made even Harry feel a little sick. They hadn't been quick about some of the deaths, and it looked that way. The floors were practically slick with blood. Harry felt no qualms at all about throwing Killing Curses out; not after what they had done.

But despite that, it had to be admitted that they were losing. There were just too many Death Eaters. They were too strong, too well entrenched, and had vastly more familiarity with nasty curses than any of Harry's people did, and weren't afraid to show off that knowledge.

Harry was ready to call it quits. To just get everyone out of here and come back another day to finish it off. But he didn't really want to; to leave now would be a huge psychological victory for the Death Eaters and a huge psychological loss for his own. He didn't know that he'd be able to convince anyone to come back to fight at the Ministry if he gave up now. At the same time, he didn't want to get all of his people killed. That would be just as crushing.

He was trapped in indecision. This had happened before. He was stuck between the safe choice and the hard one. The safe one and the dangerous one. It was like him to pick the more dangerous route, but that inevitably ended up in more people dying. This time, it might well end up with him being among them. If that wouldn't be a victory for Voldemort, he couldn't think what would be.

That was what made his mind up.

They kept fighting. More and more of them died with each passing eternity, and Harry ended up a little more wounded than he might have liked. They were still losing, were still suffering, but they were taking out Death Eaters, one by one. They were probably going to lose, but they would take out Death Eaters with them.

That was why when it happened, Harry thought that he was hallucinating. He thought he saw someone at the other end of the floor, casting curses with great skill. It looked an awful lot like Snape. He blinked a few times, tried to clear his head, but when he looked back up, Snape was still there.

It was a Snape that looked very real. This Snape was frail on his feet, but the curses were working. Harry was frozen, watching the man. It didn't sync with anything else that he'd seen from Snape in the past forever. It was only when a curse flew past Harry's ear that he was jolted back into action. He tried making his way across the room to see if this was a hallucination or the real thing.

It was the real thing.

He didn't know what it was about Snape's presence, whether it was just a refreshed body rather than one exhausted from fighting for the past ten eternities, or if it was Snape's skill in cursing people, or something else entirely, but the fact was that his presence was helping. It only took half an eternity to finish up that floor, and it seemed to take less time as they continued ascending, until they were back on the top floor. All that time, Snape had not said a word to any of them, and it was that that made Harry think that this was some utterly bizarre hallucination.

Somehow. Somehow it all got done. Somehow, they were standing on the top floor of the Ministry, alone. No Death Eaters. Just the ten of them. Ten, out of thirty-six, with a few having been Apparated to Mungo's in various states of health. Maybe five of them would live. Heavy losses, all said and done.

On the other hand, they now had the Ministry back. And Snape, standing ostentatiously aloof from the group, was the only one that could be thanked. It didn't make any sense why he was here fighting, didn't make the slightest sense in the world, considering that he had been catatonic not that long ago. Now he had just defeated all of his own friends, fighting for Harry Potter. It made Harry's head hurt to think about it

But he really did need to thank the man. This wouldn't have worked without Snape.

So he walked over. Snape was now sitting against a wall. His eyes were closed. He might well have been asleep. Harry didn't want to be looming over him, so he sat down as well. He didn't want to actually touch Snape, was afraid of what the reaction might be, so he just said, "Snape?" When Snape didn't respond, he said, "Severus? Are you awake?" Still no response. Harry couldn't believe that he'd go back to catatonia right after something like that.

Just as he was about to get up and walk away, Snape said, "Clearly you have no conception of a man needing to rest."

Harry turned back to Snape. "I just wanted to thank you. You are the reason that we're both here right now."

"I know that, Mr. Potter."

"Do you need help getting back home?" It was then that Harry realized that Snape shouldn't even be able to be here, because of the collar. He decided to worry about that later, it paled in comparison to everything else.

"I assure you I will be fine, Mr. Potter."

"I don't believe you. I'm going to Apparate you back home. You will stay there until I can get back. There may be some things I need to do here before I can come back home."

"Get your face in the papers, you mean? The ever arrogant Mr. Potter." Without another word, Snape took out his wand, waved it, and Disapparated.

Harry swore. That was just like Snape.