A/N: Wow, long time no see. I've started to recover from my life. MANY thanks to all my wonderful reviewers – you must hate me! I hate me! Special thanks to my 50th reviewer. Smurf off! Question: Does anyone know how to make stars show up? They won't anymore! :(

Chapter Seven

Hermione Granger, clad in her dressing gown, was pacing in her room. It was well into the night, and she should have been asleep long ago. However, the return of her best friend's birthday gifts had caused her too much worry to return to the land of the unconscious. After sending off an owl to Ron, she'd waited.

And waited.

It had been several hours since she'd sent Pig back, and she was starting to think that maybe she had over-analyzed the situation. Or perhaps Dumbledore had taken care of it? She sat on the edge of her bed, frustrated. She would have received some word, had that been the case. Wouldn't she?

She'd considered waking her parents, but knew she only wanted their moral support, and had decided to let the two dentists sleep. So she sat alone in her bedroom, nearly sick with worry over her best friend. It was more than she could handle, and she was close to taking some of the floo powder given to her by the Weasleys and floo'ing to Grimmauld Place.

Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt when she heard a sharp knock on her bedroom door. Rising quickly, she pulled the door open. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of her Potions professor, dressed in what appeared to be Death Eater attire, on the other side of the door. He looked worn out, and none-too-pleased to be there. He swiftly walked in and silently closed the door behind him. He reluctantly turned to face her. He opened his mouth, but seemed at a loss for words, and just as quickly closed it. He furrowed his brow, and looked thoughtful.

Hermione felt like she was about to be ill. She knew there was only one reason why this man would be in her room at this time of night, dressed the way he was. She slowly dropped onto her bed.

"Harry," she whispered. When he said nothing in reply, she cocked her head to look at him. He again looked reluctant to meet her eye. He gave her a curt nod, quickly turning away from her gaze. She took in a sharp breath.

"Is he..." she was confused, and didn't know how to express herself. "That is to say...Did You-Know-Who-? Is he captured? Is he hurt?" Her eyes started to tear up, and her breath was coming in quick, shallow gasps.

Finally working up the courage, Snape knelt in front of the sitting girl and looked her straight in the eye. "I have no easy way to tell you this, Miss Gra-...Hermione...and I would be doing you no favors by attempting to beat around the bush." She nodded for him to continue, unable to speak. "Harry is dead," he said softly.

Hermione let out a loud sob, tears pouring down her face. She collapsed forward, into the arms of her startled Potions professor. He gasped and looked down at the curly mane of brown hair. He felt her tears soak through the thin fabric of his Death Eater robes. Totally in shock, and completely at a loss as to what to do, he cautiously put her arms around her. She hung onto him for dear life.


Minerva McGonnagal was in shock. The Headmaster had just roused her from her quarters and informed her that Harry Potter was dead. He had left her in the hospital wing to keep an eye on the Weasley children. The twins and Ginny were sitting dejectedly around a bed the housed the youngest Weasley boy. Nymphadora Tonks was pacing around. Minerva was at a loss. She was never one to show her emotions to the world. How could she help console these children, who had lost one of their closest friends?

All the while she couldn't help thinking of Lily and James, and how upset she'd been when they were murdered. She had so much wanted to keep Harry away from his wretched Muggle relatives, but Albus had claimed it would all be for the best. And look what had happened! She couldn't help but feel guilt, thinking that perhaps she could have done more. But as it was, she was still suffering from her injuries from the previous school year.

She stood stoically by the doors of the infirmary, leaning gently on her cane. She watched as Ronald Weasley slowly awakened, and grieved with his brothers, sister, and friend. She wasn't sure what to do, so she remained silently in the corner, preparing to escort the small group to Gryffindor Tower for the evening.

At that moment, Severus Snape entered the Hospital Wing. The group by the bed all looked up in shock when they realized that he carried in his arms a very distraught looking Hermione Granger, who had her head resting on his shoulder. He walked to the nearest bed and gently placed the young woman down on it, his face void of emotion. Ron jumped up and literally ran towards his best friend.

He stopped next to her bed, where Hermione had yet to extricate herself from Snape's arms. "Hermione," was all he managed to get out, and it sounded more like a sob than a name. Slowly, Hermione turned her tear- streaked face towards him. Snape waited for her to pull away, not really attempting to himself. Finally she pulled back, stood up next to Ron, and wrapped her arms tightly around him. He did the same, and the two friends collapsed to the floor, weeping over the loss of their closest friend.


Later that evening, the group of students had been left to their own devices in the Gryffindor common room. Tonks had returned to Grimmauld Place, and their parents were being kept in a guest suite near the teacher's quarters. Fred and George were on either end of the couch; Ginny sprawled out between the two of them, her head resting in George's lap. Ron and Hermione were intertwined in one of the large velvet armchairs in front of the fire. A tray of food was set out before them, placed their by the Hogwart's house elves, but none of them had any appetite at all. They stared blankly at the flames, tears still coursing down Hermione's face. She snuggled into Ron.

"I can't believe it," she whispered, the first thing to have been said by any of them since her and Ron's breakdown in the Hospital wing. Ron replied by nodding his head stiffly, resting his chin on top of her hair.

"Wasn't he supposed to be safe?" Ginny squeaked, lifting her head out of her brother's lap. Everyone turned their head towards her. George patted her hair, making her lie down again. She sighed miserably. "Sorry," she whispered, closing her eyes.

Ron wrapped his arms around Hermione. She let out a small whimper. "That's what I thought too," she muttered as she leaned back and slowly drifted off to sleep. She dreamt of watching Harry and Ron play quidditch, and woke up feeling rather empty.


Harry Potter laid sprawled on his back. He was aware of two things – one, he was in an immense amount of pain, and two, he was freezing. Being aware of these things, however, he knew he wasn't dead. He tried to ponder how it could be that he had again survived the killing curse – or several – but the thought caused him more pain, so he decided against thinking all together.

Not yet willing to open his eyes and acknowledge his surroundings, he slowly attempted to turn himself onto his stomach. White hot pain coursed through his entire body, and he let out a groan. The sound reverberated through his head, causing him even more pain. He squeezed his eyes tightly and held his breath. The pain slowly lessened. He moved his right hand around cautiously, trying to asses his surroundings. No wonder he was so cold – he was lying on ice! He could feel a mound of snow next to him, and if he concentrated very hard, he could feel soft snowflakes land on his cold cheeks and nose.

'Maybe I am dead,' he thought quietly to himself. If hell consisted of fiery pits, perhaps heaven was a "Winter Wonderland", so to speak? Would see Sirius? James and Lily? 'But would I be in so much pain if I was dead??'

His insides turned to ice when he heard the crunching of footsteps in the snow. He squeezed his eyes tight again when his vision was flooded by light, despite his eyes being closed. He held his breath and listened intently. The noise had stopped right next to him. Curious, yet cautious, he slowly opened his eyes.

He was met by the face of an angel.