A long night it was, for Severus, Hermione, and everyone who was fighting. Even after the sun rose, the cries of dark curses could still be heard loud and clear through the biting January air.

Soon, men with frostbite on the outer extremities began joining the other victims in the Hospital Wing, forcing Hermione and Severus into making heating potions, which took time away from the more valuable things they needed to be brewing. She finally mustered up the courage to take a peek outside of their curtain, to see the situation in the Hospital Wing. Injured men were lying everywhere, all the beds had been taken up, and since there was no time to Conjure or Transfigure addtional beds, patients were sprawled all over the place on cloaks, robes and large blankets.

Hermione forced back a yawn. They had been at it now for eight hours. Oddly, this time it seemed longer than it had a year ago. Oh right, she reminded herself. Last year I had not spent the three nights before the battle shagging with a professor, therefore I had an adequate amount of sleep. She performed a fourth re-energizing spell upon herself. It was like drinking coffee, but the energy lasted for a longer period of time.

Severus saw Hermione point her wand and mutter the spell yet again. He sighed, it had been terribly irresponsible to keep themselves up shagging the last few nights. They needed as much rest as they could get. He was fine, used to long nights such as these, but poor Hermione was falling asleep on her feet.

"Love, why don't you rest for a while. You need to be at your best to brew most of these potions, and I'm fine here," he suggested to the bleary-eyed young woman in front of him.

She smiled and complied. She returned to his chambers, happy to finally be able to shut her eyes.

Four hours later, she was awakened by a house elf. "Miss Granger. The battle! 'tis over!"

Hermione shook her head groggily. Surely she had misheard the elf, it was only noon! "Over?"

"Yes Miss! Over!" The elf began to jump up and down, apron strings becoming loose with her excitement. "You must go straight to the Hospital Wing!"

Hermione bolted upstairs and down the hall to the Hospital Wing, robes flying behind her, hair bouncing wildly. There were many men still lying out on the blankets, robes and other paraphernalia used for beds, but the situation did not seem as desperate as it had earlier.

Hermione had no need to guess who had won the battle, judging by the grins and whoops coming from the "good side". She did not see many familiar faces, and worry mixed with dread began to pool in the pit of her stomach. Brushing that aside, she went to find Severus.

He was still bent over in deep concentration, mixing yet another potion. She silently tiptoed up behind him. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached around him and covered his eyes with her small hands.

He jumped slightly, startled, but then relaxed as he realized who exactly it was that was blocking his vision. He placed his cool hands over her warm ones, removing them from his eyes. He turned around, a gentle smile covering his features. "I suspect you've heard the news?"

Hermione grinned. "We really won?" It seemed so incredible, and the battle had not lasted long at all.

"Yes love. It was your friend Mister Potter who delivered the fatal blow I've been told. Come, we can go celebrate now." He turned to leave, but Hermione grabbed onto his sleeve and stopped him.

"Severus. I think they should all know, about us. I'm sick and tired of not being able to tell the world how much I love you. I just want to be able to run outside and scream out how much I am completely in love with you–" she was cut off by the sound of the material of the curtain sliding back, exposing both of them to the entire room.

Hermione turned beet red, it was clear that everyone had heard her confession, as most were gaping in shock at the two of them. Madam Pomfrey looked as though she was about to pass out. Severus attempted to show no expression, but it was clear that he found this situation highly amusing, because his mouth began to twitch upwards at the corners. For about a minute, the Hospital Wing was relatively silent. Even the injured looked on in interest, or at least those who could.

Hermione regained control of herself. "Um, hello all? Congratulations on winning?" she tried to divert attention away from herself and Severus for as long as possible, until she could come up with a marginally plausible explanation.

Cheers and whoops went up all around the large room. But not all victories are completely sweet, and Hermione knew in a couple of hours that they would know exactly how many had been lost. She hoped it had been less than the last battle. She had not known anyone who had died then, and she prayed for those who did, and also that she did not know victims now.

Four hours later the final tally had been made, forty nine Death Eater fatalities and only twenty-two of their side. Dumbledore gathered everyone to the Hospital Wing so that he could give his speech.

"Congratulations to you all on your brave and valiant battle," the wizened wizard spoke, sapphire eyes shimmering like the two jewels they resembled. "We are proudly victorious and I am happy to report that the remaining one hundred and twenty-three Death Eaters have been sent to Azkaban, to serve until they receive the Kiss. But as we all know, twenty-two of our finest were lost today. And they are..."

As Dumbledore continued down the list, Hermione watched numbly as more and more strong men broke down as their brother's or best friend's name was read out. "Charlie Weasely, Neville Longbottom..."

That was it. The tears fell as Hermione imagined the kind, always smiling face of Charlie and Neville's innocent, usually sheepish grin being gone - permanently - from her life. Severus wrapped a sympathetic arm around her, he still showed no expression, but his eyes were brimming with emotion. He had taught each and every one of those young men for seven years, and no matter how he had felt towards them as a student, he gained respect as they matured and became the fine, brave soldiers he had known.

She glanced up at him, just as one single tear fell from his left eye. It was the most moving sight she had ever seen, this cold rock of a man, showing sorrow at the loss of ten Gryffindors, seven Ravenclaws and five Hufflepuffs.

An hour after Dumbledore had finished, Madam Pomfrey assured them, grinning mischievously, that they did not need to brew any more potions, and they could return to Severus's chambers, or do whatever they pleased...

AN: There, done with this chapter! I do apologize again/in advance for the time lapse(s) as the end of school is coming up meaning...exams and projects. Yuck, yuck, yuck. I will try my best though!