A/N: I don't really think I could ever tell you guys I have an excuse for this hideous, disgusting lack of updates. For I really don't have a big enough one. Ok, I could let you all know that really I am a secret agent from an Alien colony on Mars, but that's too believable to be true. So here it is: I just lost steam. I lost it one week, then couldn't face it the next week and then….it was lost. I tried in vain to catch the muses, to tie them down, but for the life of me I couldn't write more than a paragraph before giving up. I had the biggest writer's block ever. So, I choose the convenient time of a month and a half before my A Level exams to catch thousands of them and write again.

If I don't get into university I'm going to blame you guys!

You have continued to support me a whole year later, I just can't believe it. I just really hope you haven't lost confidence in me, and that you enjoy this next chapter as much as you did the others. Do not worry, I have enough steam to last until the end of this, the muses have been running wild. Sometimes I wonder if Mugfic is really alive ;0)

My proof reader (namely my brother) is currently away, so please excuse any grammar/spelling errors made at this ungodly hour of the morning! He'll be reading it soon, so if anything is drastically wrong the chapter will be modified at a later date :0P

Disclaimer: View previous please :0) If I miss out any from this chapter I'm sorry. But if anything looks familiar, then it probably belongs to somebody who isn't me. Like the Spice Girls and Shania Twain.

***

Harry looked around him and sighed. He couldn't make up his mind whether remaining naked or getting changed would be better. On one hand, he would be dressed, feeling much warmer, and be able to hide his very private bits from the spying eyes of the annoying Sam (although, to be fair to Sam, he was really only staring at Frodo's very private bits.) However, the clothes he was looking at weren't really that appealing. They were soggy with what Harry could only hope was blood and beer. Harry could cope with the bloodstains, but if the yellow stain wasn't beer he would be very distressed.

Of course, Harry hadn't noticed the brown streaks on the insides of the slacks he was inspecting yet.

"Nasty orcses clothes. Don't wants to wear these do we? No no no!"

Harry hissed and threw the clothes at Sam, who was busy dressing Frodo.

"Pipe down! Just wear them and be grateful of them!" Sam shouted at Harry, throwing the clothes back in his direction.

Harry stuck his tongue out at Sam when he wasn't looking, and then as an added bonus flashed his middle finger, before grudgingly pulling on the disgusting garments.

"We is used to the finest silks and velvet clothes, isn't we, precious?" Harry boasted. Sam raised an eyebrow suspiciously. Harry continued as he put on armour over the clothes,

"All year round we have little silk panties on under our robes and no one knowses!" Harry burbled happily remembering all the times he sneaked into Hermione's room to get his hands on a pair without her knowing.

And all this time poor Hermione believed they were disappearing because Dobby had some kind of sick crush on her.

After several minutes of contemplative silence over the thought of silk underwear by all three, Sam made the smart suggestion of actually leaving the tower and getting their asses to Mount Doom somehow. They crept as quietly as one can when wearing lots of squeaky, clinky and rusty armour. The creeping outside the tower went well for about five minutes, before Harry stubbed his toe on an ever so conveniently placed brick.

"OW! Its hurts! It hurts usss! Oh the pain! The torture! The agony! Nassssty!"

Harry threw himself onto the ground, and rolled around with his foot in his hands. Sam and Frodo nodded in sympathy, for stubbed toes can be extremely painful –especially for men. For although they have managed to all the fighting down through the centuries, they have a very low pain threshold. And they love to over-react. Give a man a cold, and he'll think he is dying of a severe and painful illness. What saps.

All the commotion had attracted nearby orcs to the bare bushes they had been trying to creep behind. The orcs joined Sam and Frodo by nodding in sympathy when they saw Harry.

"Ooo, that looked like a nasty toe stub, that one," said Sympathetic Orc #1.

"True, true," replied Sympathetic Orc #2.

Once Harry had pulled himself together, the two orcs glared at the three.

"What you doing out of ranks?" asked (now Un-) Sympathetic Orc #1.

Sam fumbled around blindly for the right words,

"Um….ah….we were just…um…."

Harry butted in,

"We was just going for a tinkle, weren't we, preciousss?"

Sam looked bemused for a moment, then nodded,

"Yes, yes, we were just going for a…tinkle…"

Unsympathetic Orc #2 nodded at them,

"Very well, I won't ask why all three of you lads decided to go together because that's your own sick business. Now, get back in line!"

The three did as they were told and joined the massive orc army that was gathering just across the road. Funny, they hadn't noticed them before when they were creeping. Apparently, they were heading for The Black Gate, which was the exact opposite of where the three needed to go.

Oh well, I'm sure they'll make it there eventually. If you follow your dreams, you can go anywhere!

Well, within reason.

***

Lucius tried his best to saunter down the corridor to the Headmaster's Office, which was currently under the control of Voldemort. He kept playing the last few minutes over and over in his head. One moment he and Draco were having fun with Sorty the Sorting Hat, and were looking forward to lobster, and the next moment Draco was a canary! It had all happened so fast. But, damnit, if any of Dumbledore's lot even mentioned torture in front of Draco, he would crack and reveal all of the tippy-top secret plans!

Lucius had managed to escape, but knowing the mood that Voldemort had been in since Dumbledore was rescued he wasn't so sure if he'd really got the better deal.

He approached the door carefully and gently knocked. No reply being heard, Lucius pushed the door open cautiously.

"Oh most gracious and bountiful master, I bring news…."

An empty whiskey bottle cut him off mid sentence as it smashed against the door. It muttered an apology to Lucius as it fell to the ground in pieces. Lucius gave a worried laugh and murmured,

"….perhaps now isn't the best of times…."

Voldemort twirled around on the chair to face Lucius.

"No, no…please, do tell me what my pathetic excuses for minions have done now. Let me guess, you've told Dumbledore every single one of my tippy-top secret plans? Hmm?"

"Well….umm…I…." Lucius was cut off once again, but this time by Voldemort. He had picked up a flower from his beautiful arrangement on his desk and was slowly pulling off its petals to his slow and deliberate words.

"Let me see… I love Lucius… I love him not….I love Lucius and I…." Voldemort ripped one of the petals off with more violence than necessary, causing the flower to wriggle free of his hands and scamper across the floor to a dark corner. Voldemort stared at the remaining petal in his hand and looked up at Lucius.

"…love him not…"

Voldemort raised an eyebrow, and Lucius gulped.

He then had a sensation of something trickling very slowly down his leg.

***

Ron stared glumly ahead of him as he hung onto the reins of his horse. He wasn't really bothered with where he was going or what his horse was doing, which was just following the crowd. Conformity is such a wonderful thing. He had heard mention of one final fight – the one final fight for Middle Earth. Ron had thought he'd just been in the one final fight for Middle Earth and won, but apparently not. It turned out that Sauron had an even greater army than Ron had realised, all hiding away in Mordor. Rumour had it that they had taken time out of fighting to practice for a talent competition coming up.

Ron sighed. Hermione had left him to go and talk with Aragorn and Legolas, and giving his horse a small kick to speed up he began to muse over the bitter and violent thoughts in his head. Involving Aragorn, Legolas, a samurai sword and a feather. Looking up he noticed Gandalf giving him a funny look and, worried Gandalf could read thoughts, he changed his line of thinking back to Hermione. He had thought that she had finally given up on them, but that was just a dream, he supposed. It was all so frustrating; he just had really begun to believe that she cared for him, especially when he heard she had taken up his sword to fight. It was all so….romantic.

Ron made a disgusted face, and muttered to himself,

"I should really stop this kind of thinking before I begin to cry and wish I had Thelma and Louise to watch. Worse still, I think I'm having the urge to listen to the Spice Girls and scream 'GIRL POWER'!"

Having said the last couple of words a little too loudly, he received curious looks from Gimli, who grinned and said,

"I'm with you all the way, lad!"

Ron gave Gimli a blank look, before ignoring the dwarf and going back to his thoughts.

Hermione looked over to where Ron was in the sea of horses and armour. He was looking in her direction, which obviously meant he was watching her every move in Hermione's mind. Because that's what she did when she fancied the pants off someone. I mean, that's what she did with Aragorn! She took this opportunity for her big moment, her one big dramatic scene, and threw her little Elf-English dictionary at both Aragorn and Legolas. By some miraculous timing and careful aiming, it managed to hit Legolas in the forehead, only to rebound and hit Aragorn in the nose. Hermione's chest swelled with pride and she began to shout at them,

"I've had it up to here with you!" she indicated up to there with her hand and continued, "You are no better than any other men I've ever come across, vain and conceited, full of yourselves! Not caring about the little people below, who look up to you and admire you, who adore your every move! You just strung me along for fun, laughing at me, not caring about the fragile heart you held in your hands! Well, that's it, no more! I've realised what real love is, it's caring, kind, always there, and it saves your life when all others ignore your pleas! I've found real love now, and you have lost me! I've found real love, in Ronald Weasley! And it's him I love…it's him I want…."

Hermione continued her nonsensical declaration of love for the red-haired boy with the colony of freckles on his face for several more minutes. It wasn't particularly great, or beautiful, or even logical – but it was a declaration. People around her stopped to stare at her shouting at the open-mouthed (and slightly bruised) Legolas and Aragorn.

Ron glanced over to the commotion that Hermione was making. He couldn't really make out what she was saying, but he supposed it was something to do with fancying the pants off Aragorn and Legolas. They were gawping at her like she was an alien, hah, thought Ron, she's probably showing them her breasts or something. He tore his eyes away and sagged, I've never even seen a real pair of breasts. I'm such a loser. I should just run away, leave, disappear. Or let an orc gut me like a fish. Whichever is handiest. Then maybe Hermione will realise how much she really needed me.

Oh, who am I kidding?

She probably wouldn't even notice I'd gone.

With tears in his eyes, Ron kicked his horse sharply and pulled out of the mass when no one was paying attention. He then rode off in the other direction, without anyone even giving him a second glance.

What a rebel and non-conformist that horse is.

Meanwhile, Hermione was finishing off her declaration.

"…so I'm going to go over there now, away from you two and to a REAL man!" Hermione gave her horse a light tap and pulled away from the two, to go and join Ron. She smiled sweetly and called out,

"Ron! I love you!"

Expecting to see his red face and red hair across the crowd making his way towards her, she kept her horse still for a moment. All around her, horses were surging forward in waves. After several minutes of Ron not appearing, Hermione was left very much alone - staring at thousands of horses' backsides.

She choked on her tears and whispered,

"…Ron?"

***

Snape shifted uncomfortably on his saddle, which was digging into him in a very painful manner. Gandalf wasn't talking to him after the incident with Denethor, as Pippin had accidentally mentioned to Gandalf about Snape whispering to Denethor. Well, he hadn't really accidentally mentioned, more like Gandalf cornered him and forced him into telling the truth by threatening to cut Pippin off from seeing Snape ever again. Poor wee lamb burst into tears and admitted everything he had seen and heard.

So, Gandalf had rounded on Snape and shouted at him until Snape couldn't take anymore and admitted what he had done. But, he added, it was what was going to happen anyway because Denethor was a loon, so he shouldn't really get the blame for welcoming the inevitable.

On those words, Snape was back in rabbit form and hopping around angrily. Of course, the positive side of this was it did mean he was able to widdle on Gandalf's white robes without being called all the most rude and colourful names under the sun.

However, regardless of Gandalf's serious loathing of Snape, he had been ordered to ride with him to the Black Gate. Gandalf decided he wanted to keep a watchful eye on Snape, and this time not fail in that task. Pippin had been banned from seeing Snape, and was currently riding on ahead of him with Merry. Every now and again the little hobbit would turn sadly round to try and wave at Snape when Gandalf wasn't looking.

Snape's newly acquired paperweight-cum-palantir had been taken and hidden by Gandalf while Snape was incapacitated for several lettuce filled hours. That irritated Snape a hell of a lot, as he had to endure a lot to get it. For example, looking after Pippin, watching Denethor be engulfed by flames and then grabbing the burning hot paperweight-cum-palantir from Denethor's hands without Gandalf seeing. Well, ok, watching Denethor burn was rather amusing, but still – Snape went through hell for that thing. And now it was lost to Gandalf the White-With-Piddle-Stains.

Snape scowled to himself and began to muse over how he could get the thing back.

Several minutes later, while Snape was locked deep in thought, he heard a hard thud. In the same split second Snape caught sight of Pippin grinning before turning back to Merry he realised where the thud had come from.

Wincing, he doubled over – Pippin had just hurled the thing which had landed with that hard thud, and accurately hit right between Snape's legs. His eyes were watering as he straightened up his back and looked down. There, sitting between his legs, was his new found and stolen paperweight-cum-palantir.

Already, clouds of red and purple were swirling within it and a harsh voice spoke,

"Finally. God, I've been trying to contact you for days. Where the hell have you been?"

Snape rolled his eyes,

"Gandalf stole this off me. Its not like I did anything wrong, the stupid old man."

Sauron murmured in agreement, then said,

"I've some good news for you Snape. We've killed the hobbits. My idiotic pea-brained army managed to do something right. We even have a rather fetching mithril shirt to prove it. Aren't you happy? Everyone around you is going to DIE! And we can be together at last!"

Snape felt a sickening feeling in his stomach because of two things: One, Sauron was proposing he was to be with him, which quite frankly was disgusting. Two, looking round him he saw all the men, all the people fighting for good, honour and truth…Snape shook himself out of the second thought quickly, because who the hell cared if they died? Who cared if Gandalf was killed? Or if Pippin was chopped up into little pieces?

A small voice in the back of Snape's head said,

"…I do…"

Snape jumped,

"Who said that?!"

"Umm…who are you talking to Snape?" asked Sauron with worry in his voice, "I mean, I know you look mad because you are talking to a paperweight, but you're beginning to look mad even to me!"

"Nothing, nothing…I was just thinking aloud…." Snape shook himself and smirked, "So, you were saying? All of these men are going to die?"

"Yes. Every one of them. It's over, it's all over...Middle Earth shall be mine…finally…MWAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAA!"

Snape gave Sauron several seconds to regain his composure – he knew how it went with evil warlords and their laughs. They like to overdo it.

"Anyway, I must dash, we're having a talent show later tonight you know! I'm pretending to be Shania Twain, and man, I feel like a woman!"

With those words, the paperweight-cum-palantir went black, and Snape was left feeling very confused.

This was because for several moments he, Serverus Snape, had had pangs of conscience…pangs of concern for those around him. Ok, he reasoned, maybe they were just pangs of concern about being able to save his own ass.

In more ways than one.

***

A/N: Hey :0) I ended this chapter totally different from what I had planned in my mind, but I liked it. I'm sorry if the chapter is a bit depressing! I hope it's up to your standards, it's been quite hard getting into this style of writing again, so I really hope it worked out ok.

I can't believe Snape is finally acting like a caring human ;0)!

Thank you! (Sorry if I've missed any of you guys out)

Beena-Pani

JediHermione

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Mary Snape

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I_Love_Da_Horsy

Mandy Snape

Charlotte Black

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OliversGirl

Rurounix

Crazyrickmanian

Talagand – I know they are intelligent, I just love exaggerating characters. Plus I think Pippin's admiration of Snape is cute.

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Mysterious Anonymous Reviewer

Dead Lenore – What a lot of reviews, thank you for your consistent feedback of every chapter! I just couldn't get over them, you really got me back on my feet and writing again!