Chapter 25

"Being prepared to die is one of the great secrets of living."

George Lincoln Rockwell

The instant Nagini's severed head hit the ground, Civia leapt into action, blocking Voldemort's curse she knew would follow his scream of outrage.

Duels and fighting flared instantly, the battle already rekindled. She was the first to reach Voldemort, to dare draw him into a duel in his fiery rage—though his anger was a candle to the burning torch that was her own fury and sorrow, igniting them even more—exchanging a candle for a bonfire.

Merlin—look what had happened, she thought. The two people she would die for, the two she loved, were both surely dead, and it was most surely her fault. Severus—dear, dedicated Severus—would not have been attacked by that horrific serpent if she hadn't driven him from their sanctuary. And Harry, oh God, Harry—Lily and James's boy—her only blood left—he'd never have walked to his death if she'd been quicker and reached him in time to stop him.

As she threw a vicious spell at Voldemort, Civia engaged the darkest wizard of all time in a duel and suddenly realized that she no longer cared if she died or lived.

What life would it be, without Severus and Harry? Already, she was dead inside, as if her heart had died twice in a night—once with her husband, and yet again upon seeing Harry's limp form…

Tears were streaming from her eyes as she ducked and dodged and wove and spun, with the inky curls flowing through the air around her head.

Eventually, she was in the Great Hall, surrounded by duels—all of which had a student, member of the Order, staff member, student family member, friend, or ally as the victor—and had Minerva and Kingsley at her side. Civia was spread thin, involved in more than she should be, but no less than she would have it. Whenever possible, a spell was shot to a surrounding duel, aiding an ally and hindering an enemy. As it was, she was seriously involved in two duels—Bellatrix and Voldemort.

From the corner of her eyes, she watched as the three girls that were attempting to help her in dueling the female Death Eater nearly be hit by the Killing Curse. Minerva and Kingsley could surely manage for a moment—

And Civia leapt in front of the girls, pushing them back, taking up the duel with the mad woman that was her first cousin, once removed. "Back!" she ordered her students—Hermione, Ginny, and Luna, who all reluctantly fell back.

Bellatrix was cackling madly. "Couldn't save your nephew, could you, Snape?" she sneered, as if trying to insult her through Civia's married name. In response, she threw out a fearsome spell conjuring flames that surrounded the Death Eater, and Bellatrix visibly winced at the temperatures. Using the flames as a distraction, Civia sprinted closer and the flames dissipated, just before the Potions Mistress threw a Killing Curse out.

Bellatrix nimbly dodged, laughing, deranged, all the while. "Hit a sensitive spot, hm? I quite thought you and Snape were quite suited—two cowardly people who could only ever play with their potions kits!"

"Don't you dare call him a coward!" Civia spat viciously, as she jumped and rolled to avoid the Cruciatus Curse. "He had more brains, power, and bravery than any of you!"

"And who will you be forced to marry when the Dark Lord wins?" she taunted, "Because of your new status as a widow, of course. Not that you had much of a choice in the first place."

Fury swam in Civia's blood, making it boil. "I will never marry again!" she yelled, blasting away the Bellatrix's spells with no more than flicks of her wrist. "I love Severus and I'll never love another!"

The ferocity in her tone and determined set of her jaw only made her more intimidating, and with a diamond-like tone—hard, clear, and resolute—she exclaimed the words that were long overdue.

"Avada Kedavra."

The words, like her last pronouncement, echoed in the Great Hall, as emerald flew from her wand to Bellatrix.

The curse flew both slowly and swiftly—fast in speed but seemed slow in her perception, and both parties knew the effect before it happened. Bellatrix was in the middle of her deranged, exhilarated laugh when the Killing Curse hit her squarely in the chest. The gloating smirk froze, and her eyes bulged in a last moment of realization. Voldemort's second in command, the last Death Eater, collapsed to the floor, dead.

The crowd of survivors roared in victory, but then several things happened at once.

There was a yell of fury from behind her—Voldemort—echoing her own words. But as she spun, there was a brilliant flash of flames as Fawkes appeared and swooped down in front of her, opening his beak wide, and swallowed the Killing Curse. He burst into brilliant flames—causing many to scream—and fell to the floor, tiny, wrinkled, flightless in a pile of ash.

Further enraged, Voldemort threw another Avada Kedavra at her, though Civia instantly dropped to the floor, dodging the deathly spell, and scooped up the baby Fawkes into her pocket before righting herself.

Crimson eyes glittered malevolently as they bore into hers, each staring the other down.

"You'll pay for that, Snape," spat Voldemort, "just as your wretched nephew and bloody husband did."

He barely managed to parry her Sectumsempra curse, and then Voldemort's rage suddenly exploded with the force of a bomb, directed at Civia. While Minerva and Kingsley were thrown off their feet and landed some feet behind their previous spots, Civia was thrown almost directly straight up into the air. It was all she could do to try to protect the vulnerable baby phoenix in her pocket before she landed, hard, on the stone floor, her head connecting with it with a painful force that caused the Great hall to go black for a long moment before her vision cleared. Vaguely, she heard her wand clatter to the ground beside her. Then, she realized what had happened. As she'd been thrown into the air, someone had screamed "NO!"

Then, with shock and confusion, Civia watched, from the ground as someone pulled off an Invisibility cloak—Harry. Harry, her nephew Harry, dead Harry, was standing there…alive…not dead…

Harry was alive.

She watched, with spinning vision and waning consciousness as Harry and Voldemort circled, speaking…

Severus, she heard with a pang through her chest, and listened.

"…Severus Snape wasn't yours," Harry told Voldemort adamantly, "Snape was Dumbledore's, Dumbledore's from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can't understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle—especially since early last year, did you?"

Voldemort didn't answer, malevolent eyes glittering coldly, as if wanting to know what Harry knew before he killed the Boy Who Lived.

"For most of his life, Snape's Patronus was a doe, the same as my mother's, because he loved her most of his life, from when they were children to about last year. You should have realized. He asked you to spare her, didn't he?"

"He desired her was all," Voldemort sneered, "but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him, like the great Civia Potter—"

"Of course he said that," interrupted Harry, "And then last year he asked you to spare Civia, didn't he?" He paused, but didn't allow him to answer. "He was in love with Civia by then, and knew he was risking her life if you found out. He asked you to allow him to marry her if she was caught. And you played right into his hand!

"You never saw either of his Patronuses, before or after. It was an owl—it has been for over a year now. An owl—just like his wife's.

"If anything, that only put Snape's loyalty to Dumbledore and the Order more than ever before."

And they continued, the subject of Severus and herself dropping, blissfully…

At least they knew now…the secret would not die with her or, should her nephew fail, Harry. The Wizarding World now knew…that Severus was on their side, her side, the entire time.

Anxiety and pain were swirling in her, pain from injuries and anxiety for her only family left. But she clung with all her draining strength to consciousness; she had to know that Harry lived—

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Civia watched, desperately clutching at the last shreds of consciousness as the spells collided. Voldemort's wand flew into the air, into Harry's hand, and then—Voldemort fell, dead, with an air of mundane finality…

Harry had won. Voldemort was gone…

But so was Severus…her Severus… her husband… her love… her Severus…

Pain bloomed, simultaneously in her head and in her heart, and her eyelids fluttered shut as she slipped into unconsciousness, her last thought hardly a whisper, a whimper, a prayer.

…Severus…

As Harry was surrounded by cheering people, all but one of the most important to him, Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick were at that said person's side.

Civia certainly needed to see a Healer—soon. In her manic fervor to end Voldemort and his Death Eaters, she had disregarded her safety. She was bloody and, crumpled on the ground like that, looked tiny and vulnerable, like a small child. As the two Heads of House worked to get her to the Hospital Wing via a stretcher, Minerva tried to take inventory of the Potions Mistress' injuries.

She had hit the ground hard, and the noise her skull had made hitting the floor did not bode well. Almost certainly she had a concussion. Innumerable cuts were visible, as spells had managed to cut so deeply, even through the fabric of her filthy, blood-stained frock coat.

It was likely she had internal injuries too.

Blood slowly and gruesomely dripped from the spot on the back of her head when it had made contact with the ground, and from the corner of her mouth. From her pocket, the tiny, rather ugly, baby phoenix crawled out onto her stomach with a worried trill.

Minerva shook her head sadly. Civia would need to be strong and weather out the recovery…but what would be her motivation, the Transfiguration teacher wondered sadly. She loved Severus, she had since last year, and had even through his supposed betrayal…

If Severus was dead, Civia would not likely live long anyways.

After all, one could not live without their heart.