Alright…so… you will hate this chapter. But don't jump to conclusions, alright? I'll update the betaed version when Sylvia Potter, my amazing beta, sends me the corrected chapter 44. Until then you'll have to cope with this. I know. Nasty.

All reviews for chapter 43 will appear at my lj. Click on the homepage on my account info.

Oh… I should let you know that chapter 45 will be the last one so.. cries … read and review now that you have the chance! Thanks for everything…and… enjoy.

Chapter 44: There are places I'll remember

It is very difficult, when walking near the cliff of death, to rationalize many of yours thoughts. Such was the case of Severus, as he lay on the floor covered in blood and bruises. He was dying trying to protect the one who had stolen his heart; his true love, Hermione Granger.

"Oh, Severus… I pity you, really. I never thought you would sink to such a level of incapacity," Lucius said, laughing incredibly hard. His face had no scratches or marks of any kind due to the fight that was taking place in his private chambers. Severus, however, was finding standing up quite a difficult task and thus he knew that the only thing left to do was to serve Hermione as a shield from evil. As long as he was to live not a centimetre of her pure skin would be corrupted by sin. Even if his legs failed to stand or his arms to move, he would give everything of him in order to protect her. Ultimately, his life. And he had no problem whatsoever because death was just another step in this crude battle.

Severus' whole body was now pressed entirely on the wooden floor boards that were not as warm as the rest of the room and that calmed the wizard's pains for a little though incredibly satisfactory period of time.  Crawling towards Hermione without raising his eyes, he stretched his arms as far as he could in a T position, as Christ had done once as a sign of redemption. Not that Severus believed in such things, of course.

"See, Severus, dear?," Lucius enquired sarcastically standing near the Potion's Master, looking down at him, "I promised Death would come your way. And I've delivered. How does it feel to be near death, to see her in the face? It must be awful, really. No," he said, putting his index finger over Severus' lips, "don't speak. I was only asking a rhetorical question since I highly doubt I will see death any time soon, mate. And, please, do not waste your energy explaining to your wife how scared you feel at the moment because, and make no mistake here, she will experience the exact same emotions soon after you embrace your fate...," he explained using Severus' same words.

"You will not die," Hermione whispered near Severus' ear. Her face was puffy and purple because of the New Dark Lord's previous tortures but she had promised too; he was going to live and enjoy the green grass at Snape's Manor again, perhaps, she thought, holding the hand of an incredibly smart witch that could perhaps, make him as mad as she had made him during deep conversations regarding Potions, Muggle literature, cigarettes and dark coffee, and love. And pleasure. A girl that would arouse in him deep feelings; that would challenge him to experience the unknown; the uncertain: love in all of its forms.

To speak about love you must experience it, someone once said. I cannot agree more. And so did these two characters that standing near the abyss were able to rejoice in the love that they share for the other; a love that nothing- not even power, not even cruelty, not even the end- could break for it was stronger than any other thing they had experienced in their lives and much more fulfilling too.

Severus closed his eyes, as to enjoy the velvet of Hermione's voice. He searched for her hand and caressed the skin softly, being extremely careful with her wounds. He did not particularly like to touch the name of another man in her body, but he did it anyway because he knew that this might be the last time he was ever going to feel another human being's warmth.

"You will not die," Severus repeated, for the first time looking at her in the eye. He moved his sore hand from her palm to her face and caressed the broken flesh and the blood that had curved a path from her forehead to her chin, "What have they done to you?," he asked while cleaning Hermione's tears away with one finger. She sighed painfully at her husband's touch; feeling dirty at what they had made her do.

Lucius was witnessing the whole scene, getting from it a particular type of satisfaction. He walked all the way to where his brown leather sofa was, sat in it and unzipped his trousers without the couple noticing. He was doing it in such a quiet way that Severus wondered why his rival hadn't separated him from Hermione Granger. But soon enough, all thoughts unrelated to his wife disappeared. Nothing matter but her security; nothing matter but to express the love he had felt for her since the very first moment he had laid eyes upon her. Well, perhaps not the first time.

Sitting on the leather and stroking his member repeatedly, Lucius thought of Hermione Granger naked with his name all over her mixed with blood, sweat and saliva. He closed his eyes and thought of his tongue exploring her curls- the one's he had seen but never touched- and of his evil fingers- acid fingers- destroying her inside. She would scream louder and louder with each thrust of his fingers and bleed like a bloody virgin as he pulled her hair a little bit. She would devour his manhood and swallow every drop of wickedness that came out of it. And she would not enjoy it. But, indeed, he was getting pleasure out of the whole fictional situation.

He opened his eyes only to find love all around him.

No.

The room hadn't changed a bit; it was still dark and gloomy. His victims' bodies hadn't changed a bit; they were bleeding and painfully holding to what little life they had left. His feelings hadn't changed a bit: he still wanted to slowly kill them. Then, what had changed?

The situation, perhaps: His victims were sharing a kiss of love. A kiss that he might have never shared with a single soul; a kiss that he was never to share with anyone.

That alone pushed Lucius to the edge of insanity. He was going to have her. Yes. He was going to rape Hermione Granger like he had first intended to do it. He was going to kill Severus in front of her with a single curse after stabbing his heart repeatedly with his stick. Yes.

So he ran, ran, ran and ran because time was too precious to waste it. Lucius felt the desire- no, the urge- to kill the bastard kissing the girl in front of him. So, as he approached Severus, he raised his black stick and grabbing the snake's head, he placed it on Severus' back. And said:

"Very nice, Severus. Very nice, indeed. But that's enough,"

And with one single but strong push, he stabbed him. Severus' opened his almond shaped eyes as wide as he could and caught a glimpse of how his wife's big eyes seemed lost in desperation. He collapsed on the floor and bled without closing his eyes.

The ceiling was white; as white as it had never been: as pale as the snow covering Hogwarts in winter, pale as Hermione's skin. Oh, God! How much he would give in order to spend one more winter with her! But that was not to happen. And when Lucius' green eyes-the eyes of a Snake- stared at him for the last time in his life, he knew what he had to do. He had to die. But somehow, he had to make sure that his love was going to live through this experience. He needed to make sure. And when he heard the old man's voice he grinned with such sincerity that Lucius was repulsed to see a former Death Eater grin like a stupid fourteen year old.

"I would sincerely recommend you, Lucius, dear, to drop that wand of yours," someone said from the doorframe. The bodies of what seemed seven masked Death Eaters were flying in the air by the mere power of his mind, "I am afraid, Lucius, that these men were under the impression that something remarkably important was about to happen here and I decided to follow them. I do hope you don't mind me interrupting," he said, placing those men in the floor boards and raising his wand up high.

And suddenly, the white in the ceiling spread to the walls, the furniture, the floor boards and even the people standing on that awfully dark room. Severus felt the whiteness enter his body and repair his soul- not his flesh- like no Potion could have done. And so, Severus smiled. His job was done. Now, he could close his eyes and rest forever knowing for certain that someone would look after dear Hermione dressed in white like the Helen of Troy of Contemporary times. His wife, his life... his everything was safe now. And so was he even though that was of no importance.