Draco sat hunched forward with his head in his hands. He could no longer bear to look at the Vanishing Cabinet after having finally fixed it. The Dark Mark was beginning to burn more and more frequently lately—different now, like angry fire ants running down his skin. It had been itching so violently this morning he had to apply a special salve for scrapes and cuts his mother had brewed herself.

She'd insisted he take some of it, including pepper-up potion and a small vial of sleeping draught to Hogwarts this year. And though he had complained that he was able to take care of himself, he thanked Merlin she had added a salve; the sleeping draught over within the first few weeks of school. His mother, of course, couldn't have anticipated the never-ending nightmares and the torturous reminders Voldemort would inflict upon him. He himself couldn't stand to look at the Dark Mark, or rather the state of his arm, marred and inflamed by cutting at it and then his master's repetitive ire at not completing his task.

All of a sudden Draco heard a noise. He snapped his head up and tilted his ear toward the other end of the room where the entrance was. Someone had just entered the Room of Hidden Things. He made his way through the stacks of dusty old objects with caution. He considered drawing his wand in case it was Potter. He'd told the fool not to come back, not to try to speak to him, so why would he be here, unless to betray him, to destroy the cabinet and throw him and his family to the wolves—or more specifically, to Voldemort's pet snake.

He heard the echo of glass clinking and the shuffle of feet. Stepping back quietly, he crouched behind a clutter of old broken furniture, his wand drawn, waiting patiently, bidding his time. If it was Potter, then he'd disarm him, he'd—and then just like that, he heard the door close again quietly.

Whoever had entered had come in only for a moment, for whatever reason and then they'd gone.

Draco let out a breath of relief. He'd understood the risks when he'd confided in Potter and couldn't believe the irony of having to trust the one person who he'd not only despised but who was responsible for his father's imprisonment and the predicament he was now in because of it. And the only person he truly wished to have here with him had to be kept as far away from him as possible. Except she was never far enough. He had had to endure seeing her, everywhere. In his dreams, in his waking nightmares, in class and the corridors, in glimpses and stolen glances. And he missed the small things he hadn't even noticed while he was with her; the way her fingers ran over parchment, the way her curls would tighten and spring up as her hair went from wet to dry, the tip of her nose softly brushing against his; an Eskimo kiss she'd once said. Hermione was if nothing, affectionate. Even after breaking up she still insisted on loving him. Hadn't been able to stomach the idea of sitting in the stands at the Quidditch match but had shown her presence in some other way.

After he'd caught the snitch and won his house's praise, Draco had stayed behind in the Slytherin changing rooms till everyone else had left. He'd stepped into the showers, wrapped his arms around himself, curled into a ball against the wall and cried. He had finally caught the snitch, besting Potter, most likely winning Slytherin the Quidditch Cup, and he couldn't care less about any of it; could only listen to that voice, that gut feeling that told him he would not get to see his father again, would not get to bring his mother those chocolates she liked… and he would never—not in this lifetime, or any other—be with Hermione, because he knew with certainty that he would die. The only question now was who he would take with him.

Draco took the coin out from underneath his robes knowing he could not afford to wait any longer.

It was time.

Harry knew it had worked before he opened his eyes: the smell of salt, the sea breeze had gone. He and Dumbledore were shivering and dripping in the middle of the dark High Street in Hogsmeade. For one horrible moment, Harry's imagination showed him more Inferi creeping towards him around the sides of shops, but he blinked and saw that nothing was stirring; all was still, the darkness complete but for a few street lamps and lit upper windows.

"We did it, Professor!" Harry whispered with difficulty; he suddenly realized that he had a searing stitch in his chest. "We did it! We got the Horcrux!"

Dumbledore staggered against him. For a moment, Harry thought that his inexpert Apparition had thrown Dumbledore off-balance; then he saw his face, paler and damper than ever in the distant light of a streetlamp.

"Sir, are you all right?"

"I've been better," said Dumbledore weakly, though the corners of his mouth twitched. "That potion… was no health drink…" And to Harry's horror, Dumbledore sank on to the ground.

"Sir—it's okay, sir, you're going to be all right, don't worry!"

He looked around desperately for help, but there was nobody to be seen and all he could think was that he must somehow get Dumbledore quickly to the hospital wing. He should've told Malfoy that Dumbledore had found another Horcrux but he'd hesitated. Perhaps it was the part that still didn't trust Malfoy or the part that remembered his warning— Don't try to contact or speak to me. There are eyes everywhere in the castle— and he had left, only to tell Ron and Hermione he was leaving the castle while he was grabbing his Invisibility Cloak.

"We need to get you up to the school, sir," decided Harry. "Madam Pomfrey…"

"No," said Dumbledore. "It is… Professor Snape whom I need… but I do not think… I can walk very far just yet…"

"Right—sir, listen—I'm going to knock on a door, find a place you can stay—then I can run and get Madam—"

"Severus," said Dumbledore clearly. "I need Severus…"

"All right then," lied Harry. "But I'm going to have to leave you for a moment so I can—"

Before Harry could make a move, however, he heard running footsteps. His heart leapt: somebody had seen, somebody knew they needed help — and looking around he saw Madam Rosmerta scurrying down the dark street towards them on high-heeled, fluffy slippers, wearing a silk dressing-gown embroidered with dragons.

"I saw you Apparate as I was pulling my bedroom curtains! Thank goodness, thank goodness, I couldn't think what to—but what's wrong with Albus?"

She came to a halt, panting, and stared down, wide-eyed, at Dumbledore.

"He's hurt," said Harry. "Madam Rosmerta, can he come into the Three Broomsticks while I go up to the school and get help for him?"

"You can't go up there alone! Don't you realize—haven't you seen—?"

"If you help me support him," said Harry, not listening to her, "I think we can get him inside—"

"What has happened?" asked Dumbledore. "Rosmerta, what's wrong?"

"The Dark Mark, Albus."

Harry's blood ran cold as he followed to where she was pointing to, in the direction of the castle. There it was, hanging in the sky above the school: the blazing green skull with a serpent tongue, the mark Malfoy said he would leave to signal to Harry where he and other Death Eaters would be. But the coin—it hadn't… Dread filled him as his hand scrambled across his chest and around his neck.

The necklace and the coin which hung from it was gone.

Where it was now, he could only guess, was at the bottom of that deadly black lake or in the hands of an Inferi who had surely ripped it off of him while he was trying to escape. And he hadn't called the Aurors or alerted anyone to the Death Eaters Malfoy was bringing into the castle which meant that—

"When did it appear?" demanded Harry in an urgent panic as Dumbledore struggled to his feet.

"Must have been minutes ago, it wasn't there when I put the cat out, but when I got upstairs —"

"We need to return to the castle at once," said Dumbledore.

"No!" cried Harry almost startling both Rosmerta and Dumbledore who was already looking weak. "It's Malfoy—he's brought Death Eaters into the castle—Bellatrix—"

"Harry—"

"No, it is!" he insisted. "He's brought Bellatrix! He—" Harry had a role to play. "He's trying to kill you, Sir. We can't go alone, we need help!"

Madam Rosmerta had her hand to her throat in disbelief and Dumbledore's eyes were fixed onto him as though he could see more than what Harry was saying. "Rosmerta," he said though he staggered a little, he seemed wholly in command of the situation. "Send a message to the Ministry for the Aurors—Harry and I will go now but we need transport—brooms—"

"I've got a couple behind the bar," she said, looking very frightened. "Shall I run and fetch—?"

"No, Harry can do it."

Harry raised his wand at once and accio-ed the brooms to him. Two brooms had shot out into the street and were racing each other to Harry's side, where they stopped dead, quivering slightly, at waist height.

"And Rosmerta, do hurry," he smiled, as he mounted the broom nearest him. "It might be that nobody within Hogwarts has yet realized anything is wrong… Harry, put on your Invisibility Cloak."

Harry pulled his Cloak out of his pocket and threw it over himself before mounting his broom; Madam Rosmerta was already tottering back towards her pub as Harry and Dumbledore kicked off from the ground and rose up into the air. As they sped towards the castle, Harry glanced sideways at Dumbledore, ready to grab him should he fall, but the sight of the Dark Mark seemed to have acted upon Dumbledore like a stimulant: he was bent low over his broom, his eyes fixed upon the Mark, his long silver hair and beard flying behind him in the night air. And Harry, too, looked ahead at the skull, and fear swelled inside him. Not only was Dumbledore's life on the line, but Malfoy's too. For Harry had already failed him by doing the one thing he was asked NOT to do. Draco's words came back to him...

Hang on to that coin with your life.

As they flew over the dark, twisting lane down which they had walked earlier, Harry heard, over the whistling of the night air in his ears, Dumbledore muttering in some strange language again. He thought he understood why as he felt his broom shudder for a moment when they flew over the boundary wall into the grounds: Dumbledore was undoing the enchantments he himself had set around the castle so that they could enter at speed. The Dark Mark was hanging above the Astronomy Tower, the highest tower of the castle, a dark ominous cloud. Malfoy would be there with Death Eaters and Bellatrix… and possibly Snape.

Dumbledore had already crossed the crenelated ramparts and was dismounting; Harry landed next to him seconds later and looked around. The ramparts were deserted. The door to the spiral staircase that led back into the castle was closed. The green skull with its serpent's tongue glinted above them but no one was to be seen. Where the hell was Malfoy?

In the dim green glow from the Mark Harry saw Dumbledore clutching at his chest with his blackened hand.

"Professor, we need to—"

"Go and wake Severus," said Dumbledore faintly but clearly. "Tell him what has happened and bring him to me. Do nothing else, speak to nobody else and do not remove your Cloak. I shall wait here."

"But—"

"You swore to obey me, Harry—go!"

Harry looked to the door leading to the spiral staircase and back at Dumbledore. The mark was the sign. He couldn't leave Dumbledore like this but perhaps Malfoy had had to improvise and he should go and get help till the Aurors arrived. Definitely not Snape but McGonagall or someone else. This could still work if he acted fast.

"Alright," he said.

Harry hurried over to the door leading to the spiral staircase, but his hand had only just closed upon the iron ring of the door when he heard running footsteps on the other side. Malfoy he thought, or, someone else other than Malfoy who meant them harm. He looked round at Dumbledore, who gestured to him to retreat. Harry backed away, drawing his wand as he did so. He'd simply duel Malfoy as planned, chase him toward the Room of Hidden Things where he could escape. Make it look real, he'd said. Play the part.

The door burst open and Malfoy erupted through it shouting, "Expelliarmus!" Harry's body became instantly rigid and immobile, and he felt himself fall back against the Tower wall, propped like an unsteady statue, unable to move or speak under the Invisibility cloak. He couldn't understand how it'd happened—had Malfoy betrayed him—but Expelliarmus wasn't a Freezing Charm.

Then, by the light of the Mark, Harry saw Dumbledore's wand flying in an arc over the edge of the ramparts and understood it had been Dumbledore who had wordlessly immobilized him, and in the second he had done so, Dumbledore had ruined a perfectly good plan, dooming them all.

Standing against the ramparts, very white in the face, Dumbledore still showed no sign of panic or distress. He merely looked across at his disarmer and said, "Good evening, Draco."

Malfoy stepped forward, glancing around—Harry guessed, looking for him. His eyes fell upon the second broom.

"Who else is here?" he asked.

"A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?"

Harry saw Malfoy's grey eyes shift back to Dumbledore in the greenish glare of the Mark and then around the Tower. "No," he said. "I've got back-up. There are Death Eaters here tonight."

"Well, well," said Dumbledore, as though Malfoy was showing him an ambitious homework project. "Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?"

"Right under your nose and you never even realized."

"Ingenious," said Dumbledore. "Yet… forgive me… where are they now? You seem unsupported."

"They met some of your guard. They're down below fighting but I have other things to take care of."

"Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy," said Dumbledore softly.

"I'm just… I'm waiting for someone."

There was silence. Harry stood imprisoned within his own invisible, paralyzed body, staring at the two of them, his ears straining to hear sounds of the Death Eaters' distant fight, and in front of him, Draco Malfoy did nothing but stare at Albus Dumbledore who, incredibly was smiling back.

"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer."

"You don't know what I'm capable of," retorted Malfoy, "you don't know what I've done."

"Oh, yes, I do," said Dumbledore mildly. "You almost killed Katie Bell with a necklace intended for me and you poisoned your friend, Theodore Nott."

Malfoy looked as shocked as Harry was. Why would Malfoy poison another Slytherin? Had it been another failed attempt at Dumbledore's life that Harry was unaware of?

"Forgive me, Draco, but it was a feeble attempt… so feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart was really in it…"

"It has been in it!" said Malfoy vehemently who seemed to have been roused awake by his anger. "I've been working on it all year, and tonight —"

Somewhere in the depths of the castle below Harry heard a muffled yell. Malfoy stiffened and glanced over his shoulder.

"Somebody is putting up a good fight," said Dumbledore conversationally. "But you were saying… yes, you have managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school which, I admit, I thought impossible… how did you do it?"

But Malfoy said nothing: he was still listening to whatever was happening below and seemed almost as paralyzed as Harry was. He struggled in vain against the invisible bonds holding him only thinking he had to get free— somehow, someway.

"Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone," suggested Dumbledore. "What if your backup has been thwarted by my guard? As you have perhaps realized, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight, too. And after all, you don't really need help… I have no wand at the moment… I cannot defend myself.

"I see," he continued when Malfoy neither moved nor spoke. "You are afraid to act until they join you."

"I'm not afraid!" hissed Malfoy, who actually sounded very afraid. "Wh-where's Potter? Have you seen him?"

"Harry?" asked Dumbledore with raised brows. "Harry Potter?"

"Who else would I be talking about old man!" snarled Malfoy. "Have you seen him or not?"

"No."

He heard Malfoy utter a curse under his breath and reach for something around his neck with his free hand. The gold coin. He was trying desperately to contact Harry, who could only watch with trepidation as everything unfolded from the sidelines.

"I don't think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe… so tell me, while we wait for your friends… how did you smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it."

Malfoy looked as though he was fighting down the urge to shout or to vomit. He gulped and as though he could not help himself, he said, "I had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one's used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year."

"Aaaah." Dumbledore's sigh was half a groan. He closed his eyes for a moment. "That was clever… there is a pair, I take it?"

"The other's in Borgin and Burkes," said Malfoy, "and they make a kind of passage between them. Montague told me that when he was stuck in the Hogwarts one, he was trapped in limbo but sometimes he could hear what was going on at school, and sometimes what was going on in the shop as if the Cabinet was traveling between them, but he couldn't make anyone hear him… in the end, he managed to Apparate out, even though he'd never passed his test. He nearly died doing it. Everyone thought it was a really good story, but I was the only one who realized what it meant—even Borgin didn't know—I was the one who realized there could be a way into Hogwarts through the Cabinets if I fixed the broken one."

"Very good," murmured Dumbledore. "So the Death Eaters were able to pass from Borgin and Burkes into the school to help you… a clever plan, a very clever plan… and, as you say, right under my nose…"

"Yeah," said Malfoy who, bizarrely, seemed to draw courage and comfort from Dumbledore's praise. "Yeah, it was until..."

"Until?"

Until I lost the coin, thought Harry. Until you bound me under my cloak.

Harry watched as Dumbledore slid a little down the ramparts, the strength in his legs apparently fading, and he struggled fruitlessly and mutely against the enchantment binding him.

Malfoy watched with a resigned expression and did not answer.

"Tell me," said Dumbledore who seemed genuinely curious. "Were you sorry when your friend Theodore drank the poisoned mead that was meant for me?"

There was a pregnant pause.

"It wasn't meant for you," he whispered. "I gave it to him."

Dumbledore was eyeing Malfoy wearily. "Why pray tell, would you want to do such a thing? Perhaps to test it first?"

"Personal reasons," murmured Malfoy, his eyes glancing back to the door.

Dumbledore did not answer right away. Then after a few moments as though he'd misread something he said with a twinkle in his eyes "Ah yes... rivalry for the affections of Hermione Granger. A rather dangerous crush Draco."

If possible Malfoy became as pale as Dumbledore at that moment. "W-what?" he stuttered. "No—"

"Snape has been keeping watch over you on my orders."

"Whatever he's told you is a lie! He hasn't been doing your orders, he promised my mother—"

"Of course, Draco, but—"

"He's a double-agent, you stupid old man, he isn't working for you, you just think he is!"

"We must agree to differ on that, Draco. It so happens that I trust Professor Snape—"

"Well, you're losing your grip, then!" sneered Malfoy. "He's been offering me plenty of help—wanting all the glory for himself—wanting a bit of the action. 'What are you doing? Were you responsible for the necklace? That was stupid, it could have ruined everything.' But I haven't told him what I've been doing in the Room of Hidden Things… none of it matters anyway. It'll all be over soon."

"Very gratifying," said Dumbledore mildly. "We all like appreciation for our own hard work, of course… but you must have had an accomplice… someone in Hogsmeade, someone who was able to slip Katie the… aaaah…" Dumbledore closed his eyes again and nodded, as though he was about to fall asleep. "… of course… Rosmerta. How long has she been under the Imperius Curse?"

"Got there at last, have you?" Malfoy scoffed. "No wonder Snape's been able to pull the wool over your eyes. I removed the curse after—"

There was another yell from below, rather louder than the last. Malfoy looked nervously over his shoulder again, then back at Dumbledore, who went on, "So poor Rosmerta was forced to lurk in her own bathroom and pass that necklace to any Hogwarts student who entered the room unaccompanied? Tell me, how have you been communicating with Rosmerta? I thought we had all methods of communication in and out of the school monitored."

"Enchanted coins," said Malfoy, as though he was compelled to keep talking, though his wand hand was shaking badly. "I had one and she had the other and I could send her messages—"

"Isn't that the secret method of communication the group that called themselves Dumbledore's Army used last year?" asked Dumbledore. His voice was light and conversational, but Harry saw him slip an inch lower down the wall as he said it.

"Yeah, I got the idea from—" Malfoy pursed his lips till they were a thin line.

"She is quite remarkable, isn't she, Draco?"

Malfoy scowled. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do," smiled Dumbledore, and Harry saw his feet slide a little on the floor as he struggled to remain upright. "And as for being about to kill me, Draco, you have had several long minutes now. We are quite alone. I am more defenceless than you can have dreamed of finding me, and still, you have not acted—"

There was a bang and shouts from below, louder than ever; it sounded as though people were fighting on the actual spiral staircase that led to where Dumbledore, Malfoy and Harry stood, and Harry's heart thundered unheard in his invisible chest.

"There is little time, one way or another," said Dumbledore. "So let us discuss your options, Draco."

"I haven't got any fucking options!" hissed Malfoy. "He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!"

"I appreciate the difficulty of your position," said Dumbledore. "Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized that I suspected you."

Malfoy winced.

"I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had been entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you," continued Dumbledore. "But now, at last, we can speak plainly to each other… no harm has been done, you have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that Katie Bell and Theodore Nott survived… I can help you, Draco."

"No, you can't," said Malfoy, his wand-hand shaking. "Nobody can. I was taking too long. I thought… he's trapped my mother in our house. I've got no choice."

"Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban… when the time comes we can protect him too… come over to the right side, Draco… you are not a killer…"

There was silence filled only with the distant noise from below. When Malfoy finally spoke his voice came out small like a child's. "I don't want to be."

"Then don't…"

Malfoy did not speak. His mouth was open ready to say something—

But suddenly footsteps were thundering up the stairs and a second later Malfoy was buffeted out of the way as four people in black robes burst through the door on to the ramparts. Still paralyzed, his eyes staring unblinkingly, Harry gazed in terror upon four strangers: it seemed the Death Eaters had won the fight below. Bellatrix was not among them, neither was Snape and he wondered where they were in the castle.

A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle.

"Dumbledore cornered!" he said, and he turned to a stocky little woman who looked as though she could be his sister and who was grinning eagerly. "Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!"

"Good evening, Amycus," said Dumbledore calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party.

"And you've brought Alecto too… charming…"

The woman gave an angry little titter. "Think your little jokes will help you on your death bed, then?" she jeered.

"Jokes? No, no, these are manners," replied Dumbledore.

"Do it," said the stranger standing nearest to Harry, a big, rangy man with matted grey hair and whiskers, whose black Death Eater's robes looked uncomfortably tight. He had a voice like none that Harry had ever heard: a rasping bark of a voice. Harry could smell a powerful mixture of dirt, sweat and, unmistakeably, of blood coming from him. His filthy hands had long yellowish nails.

"Is that you, Fenrir?" asked Dumbledore.

"That's right," rasped the other. "Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?"

"No, I cannot say that I am…"

Fenrir Greyback grinned, showing pointed teeth. Blood trickled down his chin and he licked his lips slowly, obscenely.

"But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore."

"Am I to take it that you are attacking even without the full moon now? This is most unusual… you have developed a taste for human flesh that cannot be satisfied once a month?"

"That's right," said Greyback. "Shocks you, that, does it, Dumbledore? Frightens you?"

"Well, I cannot pretend it does not disgust me a little," said Dumbledore. "And, yes, I am a little shocked that Draco here invited you, of all people, into the school where his… friends live…"

"I didn't," breathed Malfoy who was not looking at Greyback; seeming not to want to even glance at him. "Aunt Bella was meant to come—"

"I wouldn't want to miss a trip to Hogwarts, Dumbledore," rasped Greyback. "Not when there are throats to be ripped out… delicious, delicious…"

And he raised a yellow fingernail and picked at his front teeth, leering at Dumbledore. "I could do you for afters, Dumbledore…"

"No," said the fourth Death Eater sharply. He had a heavy, brutal-looking face. "We've got orders. Draco's got to do it. Now, Draco, and quickly."

Malfoy's façade was waning. He looked terrified as he stared into Dumbledore's face, which was even paler, and rather lower than usual, as he had slid so far down the rampart wall.

"He's not long for this world anyway, if you ask me!" said the lopsided man, to the accompaniment of his sister's wheezing giggles. "Look at him—what's happened to you, then, Dumby?"

"Oh, weaker resistance, slower reflexes, Amycus," said Dumbledore. "Old age, in short… one day, perhaps, it will happen to you… if you are lucky…"

"What's that mean, then, what's that mean?" yelled the Death Eater, suddenly violent.

"Always the same, weren't yeh, Dumby, talking and doing nothing, nothing, I don't even know why the Dark Lord's bothering to kill yeh! Come on, Draco, do it!"

But at that moment, there were renewed sounds of scuffling from below and a voice shouted, "They've blocked the stairs—Reducto! REDUCTO!"

Harry's heart leapt: so these four had not killed their way here, but merely broken through the fight to the top of the Tower, and, by the sound of it, created a barrier behind them.

"Now, Draco, quickly!" said the brutal-faced man angrily.

But Malfoy stood still, his eyes darting across the room, and then to the stairs, stalling, waiting, hoping Harry or an Auror would make an appearance.

"I'll do it," snarled Greyback, moving towards Dumbledore with his hands outstretched, his teeth bared.

There was a flash of light and the werewolf was blasted out of the way; he hit the ramparts and staggered, looking furious. Harry's heart was hammering so hard it seemed impossible that nobody could hear him standing there, imprisoned by Dumbledore's spell—if he could only move, he could aim a curse from under the Cloak—

"I said I'll do it, and I'll do it!" shouted Malfoy, who'd been the one to stun the werewolf.

"Fine, do it, or stand aside so one of us—" screeched the woman, but at that precise moment the door to the ramparts burst open once more and there stood Snape, his wand clutched in his hand as his black eyes swept the scene, from Dumbledore slumped against the wall, to the four Death Eaters, including the enraged werewolf, and Malfoy.

The sight of Snape froze both Harry and Malfoy's blood. He'd come to do what he must've always known Malfoy to be incapable of—murdering Albus Dumbledore.

"We've got a problem, Snape," said the lumpy Amycus, whose eyes and wand were fixed alike upon Dumbledore, "the boy doesn't seem able—"

But somebody else had spoken Snape's name, quite softly, silencing the room.

"Severus…"

The sound frightened Harry beyond anything he had experienced all evening. For the first time, Dumbledore was pleading. Snape said nothing, but walked forwards and pushed Malfoy roughly out of the way. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word. Even the werewolf seemed cowed. The wretched traitor gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.

"Severus… please…"

Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.

"Avada—!"

A jet of white light hit Snape in the back, sending him hurtling toward the side of the rampart. He stood slowly, his black eyes wide, utterly bewildered. Everyone else turned to stare at Malfoy, who looked just as shocked as the others, his hand shaking so badly Harry thought he might drop it.

"What have you done boy?" hissed Snape; but Snape did not look angry, he looked afraid.

Then a hex was cast and Malfoy keeled over in pain. Fenrir grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and held him close. "Someone's in big trouble now," he crooned in his ear. His face twisted in disgust as he tried to break free from the werewolf only for him to dig his claws deeper where he was holding him, the wand jabbing against his throat in warning.

Harry struggled in earnest knowing if he did nothing now Dumbledore would be killed and perhaps Malfoy too. He cried out but his words went unheard and no matter how much he fought he could not move. Then in the next moment, Dumbledore called out to Snape again.

"Severus."

Snape turned back around to Dumbledore, a fleeting look—Harry thought he must have imagined—of anguish.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape's wand and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest. Harry's silent scream of horror never left him but Malfoy's did. They were both forced to watch as Dumbledore was blasted into the air: for a split-second seeming to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then falling slowly backwards, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.

A/N: Hi all. Hope everyone is having a brilliant day. Just wanted to say a couple of things real quick. 1. It was such a difficult choice to see how it would play out from this point on and I knew, either way, I was going to break readers hearts so... Sorry guys! 2. I tried to keep it as canon as possible and reworked some of the original text from HBP. 3. Thanks again to everyone for your reviews and loving support. I hope this chapter wasn't too sad to read because there is plenty of grief to come.