Chapter 10

Hermione watched Snape's face retreat into a brooding expression. He then stood, offering his hand, and they walked in preoccupied silence back to their rooms.

Snape sat in the chair across from her by the fire and presented no more conversation. As he gazed blankly into the fire, she knew his mind was engaged in guessing what dangers lay ahead. Taking a book to occupy her, she tried desperately to read, but her own mind was busy with the same pondering. She almost regretted insisting on going with him. Snape was more than qualified to protect himself, but she would rather be with him in the event something should go wrong. If he were hurt, no one knew where to find him in the manor. She stared vacantly at the words on the page, but they offered no consolation. Having just found this life, she wanted desperately to keep it, and if facing down Lucius Malfoy would do that then she was in it until the end.

He didn't speak, but with her eyes unfocused on the page, she saw him watching her from time to time. His face was set, exposing nothing of his thoughts, but his eyes looked uneasy, as if he were afraid that he might never look upon her again. She buried that notion. Everything would be fine. She was with Snape and he would not allow anything to happen to either one of them.

The afternoon passed entirely too quickly, just as time always does when there is an appointment you are reluctant to keep. The clock on the mantle told her that it was nearing sundown and the time for their departure was fast approaching.

A deep, silken voice shattered the nervous silence. "There is nothing I can say to stop you from accompanying me," he stated rather than asked.

"Nothing," she answered quietly. Her calm voice displayed none of her mounting apprehension.

He rose to his feet, his full height and countenance in his robes exceptional. Just as he had done the previous day, he walked to her chair and knelt before her, his face drawn and pale. "If something should happen…" he hesitated with a sigh.

"We'll be fine," she assured as much for him as for herself.

He shook his head. "If something should happen to me I want you to know that…"

"I don't want to talk about this," she interrupted, her stomach twisting uncomfortably.

"Please just listen," his voice was very soft. "You should know that somewhere so very long ago, amid all the chaos of the war, I acquired a deep respect for you." His eyes were softening as he spoke, his gaze unwavering. "I sat by your bed that night hoping that someday I would have a partner that even came close to being as brilliant as you." His voice was becoming diffident. "I did not go to you in Chicago to seduce you, far from it. I merely wanted to see what had become of the extraordinary girl I had come to admire so long ago."

She tried to interrupt, to tell him what she had mused over, but he raised a hand to her lips before he continued. "It was not until after you tried to capture my heart this time that I realized you already had. These last few days stand out as the greatest of my life. If I had my way, we would journey far from here and forget this ever transpired, but I cannot run. I have to face down the last demon that stands in the way of the rest of our lives." He paused, his gaze intensifying, "I could not go into battle without you knowing all of that."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled his face to hers and held him in a long kiss. The fear of going with him was replaced with the regret of not realizing how she had felt about him all those years ago. She repressed the tears that were screaming to fall as he returned the embrace, but too soon, he drew away and pulled her to her feet.

"We will group with the Aurors outside," he instructed. "Grasp my arm tightly and I will take us both to the manor."

She nodded. He took her hand and they left the dungeons, headed for their own final battle. She hoped he was wrong about everything, but the nagging fear in her gut told her that he wasn't. The walk through the castle and out through the gates was the longest of her life. She had gone into the battle at the Ministry knowing they would win. Now, she was going in hoping she didn't lose him.

Gathered outside, the Aurors were mulling about, discussing their plan of attack. An older man cornered them and lectured about procedure. She nodded as he spoke, but she paid him no attention. His advice would be of no use where they were going.

She could see Harry across the path, talking to another man she thought had been a few years ahead of them at school. There was no time to talk to him as they started the countdown to the group Apparition. She braced herself, trying to reassure herself that they were going to be fine.

"Three."

Nothing bad would happen.

"Two."

She was with Snape and he would protect her.

"One."

She was a powerful witch and she could protect him as well.

"Now."

Closing her eyes, she held on for dear life as the rush of wind hit her face and then pure adrenaline took over.

> > > > > > > > > >

After the deafening wind and the twisting of the journey, the manor loomed before them. Age had ravaged it. The formerly pristine flowerbeds that sat in front of the tall granite walls surrounding the house brimmed with overgrown weeds and the lamps that lined the top of the walls were broken and dark. The house was familiar to him, having spent so many nights pretending to drink and revel with the Death Eaters, all the while crawling out of his skin at having to be near them.

Snape had worked for Voldemort only as a potions expert--he took no pleasure in murder or torture. He had been compelled to join the Death Eaters by the malice and rejection of his father, who had died shortly after Snape received the brand of the Dark Mark. Luckily, the conviction and love of his mother pulled him from their clutches. She had told him many times to seek out Albus Dumbledore and put his life together. Her death had spurred him to do just that. His grief awoke a love he had forgotten he possessed, or more accurately beaten out of him by his father.

Albus had taken him in and given his life purpose. Now Hermione had given it meaning. The tug at his sleeve reminded him it was time to go in and protect what he had waited so long to find.

"The manor is large and there are many rooms," he told her as they walked up to the high stone fence. "Stay close to me and do not illuminate your wand until I do so." She nodded to him. "I have no idea of the wards he has in place, if any. We will have to deal with them as they come. Do not Apparate unless you are at least as far away as I brought us in."

She just stared at him impassively, "I'm not leaving without you."

He did not want to scare her, but she must be prepared. "You may have no choice."

Vines and leaves littered the path up to the vast house. Their feet crunched ominously as they slowly traversed the path and reached the large iron front doors with the silver serpent doorknocker.

He reluctantly released her hand and nodded as he silently illuminated his wand tip. She followed suit and he pushed hard against the rusted door, cringing at the voluminous rusty groan it made that echoed back at them from the spacious entry hall.

Leading the way, he entered stealthily, Hermione following close behind. Dust obscured the marble floor and all the opulent furnishings were gone. The circular room rose high into a two-story dome. There were double doors in front of them that he knew led into the dining hall and then the ballroom. Two staircases curved up each wall to a balcony that led to the private quarters of the house.

There were hidden rooms all over the mansion accessed from almost every room. Snape knew that Lucius had one favorite in particular, accessible through the study on the second floor. There was a false bookcase that opened only by password that led to a spacious room Lucius had decorated to resemble a muggle bedroom. He would kidnap muggle girls, usually quite young, and would confine them there, chained to the bed. He would regale Snape at meetings with the stories of how he pretended he was sneaking into their bedroom late at night and rape them repeatedly for days or weeks until he tired of them. Tiring of them meant that he would torture them mercilessly until death took pity upon them. Bile rose into Snape's throat at the thought of those poor girls, all those innumerable helpless girls he was powerless to save.

He motioned for Hermione to follow him up the stairs to the left. The conspicuous lack of guards was unnerving, but not entirely surprising. Lucius thought he was above error, but always seemed to make them to Snape's benefit. He trusted that luck was still with him when they reached the top of the steps and crossed the balcony toward the murky hallway that would lead them to the study. Before entering the pitch-blackness, he stopped, took Hermione's clammy hand and closed it around the fabric at the side of his robes. He squeezed to tell her it was all right and extinguished his wand. Hermione did the same and he led her into the darkness.

The corridor was wide and he was grateful for the lack of furniture as he felt their way blindly along the wall from the doorway. He could feel the hand clutched at his waist and hear her shallow breaths as they carefully stalked down the hall. He had found the first door, but needed the second. His heart was rapping horribly in his chest the closer he knew they were coming to the study.

As his hands touched the doorframe, he groped for the handle. Finding the cold metal knob, he paused. If he was right, they very well might be walking directly into battle. Feeling her tighten her grip, he slowly turned the knob. The door creaked on the hinges as he eased it open gradually. His hearing heightened from the edgy stillness, he winced at the sound.

As he pushed the door open, he was astonished to see books lining the wall to his left, illuminated in the warm glow of a fire. He saw a large armchair as the door opened further and then a desk in the center of the room, a glass of what looked like whiskey upon it. The desk chair was facing away, but as the chill spread through his body, he knew who was sitting in it. The bitter, haughty voice that spoke confirmed his suspicion.

"It's about time you got here. Where's the girl?"

Snape spun silently around, grabbed Hermione's shoulders, and pressed her against the wall beside the door. Leaning in close, he whispered quickly, "Stay here unless I summon you no matter what you hear. If I do not call you in a few minutes, I want you to run." He gripped her shoulders hard again before turning and entering the room.

Lucius was still blissfully ignorant to his presence. "Sorry, I seem to have come empty handed," Snape called to Lucius.

Lucius released a maniacal laugh. "I see you've come to take care of me yourself. Where's your little bitch? Surely you brought her along."

Snape laughed coldly, "Again, I must apologize. I do not have a bitch. You were always the one who liked to have those."

Lucius spun around in his chair revealing his skeletal face in the firelight. His eyes were empty, but his mouth curved into a malicious grin. "So Galena was wrong? You aren't fucking that mudblood hag?"

He should have known. How else would Fenrir have known where to look for Hermione? "So your mistress returned to you in your time of need, did she? I was unaware she still had a penchant for depraved psychopaths."

Lucius glared, "Look what spending time with you did to her. It's such a shame."

Snape was tiring of the senseless repartee. "Stand up and take your wand. I refuse to kill an unarmed man."

"But I am so enjoying our little chat." Lucius' eyed him crazily. "Where is she, just outside the door?"

Snape struggled to keep his face impassive as he said, "Why would I bring her? She failed to kill you the last time she had the chance."

Lucius laughed, "Ah, the love birds not getting along are they? I find that hard to believe."

Why was he dragging this out? Snape was becoming impatient. "Pick up your wand Lucius and face me like a man."

Again Lucius laughed, "You will have to find me one to face Severus. I know you're a half-blood, but that is no excuse to screw that ruddy sow. My friend, that is just unnatural."

Snape was anxious to get this over. He could have killed the bastard ten times by now but the man kept running his filthy mouth. Running his mouth, that was the answer. Why hadn't he thought of it before? Focusing his energy on the pitiless man before him, he took away his voice. "I will warn you one final time. Take your wand and fight me or I will have to take your life where you sit."

Lucius eyes sparkled as he smiled viciously, moving his lips but no words came out. Looking startled, he clutched at his throat. Snape smirked at his dilemma. "Did something finally go wrong with your tongue Lucius? It really was about time, don't you think? This ends now." Raising his wand, he quickly summoned the power for the curse.

Before he could cast the spell, he saw movement elsewhere in the room out of the corner of his eye. Snape twisted to his right as the bookcase swung forward. Behind it stood Galena, standing with her wand raised, pointed directly at him.

"It is too bad Severus. I had hoped it wouldn't end like this." She smiled maliciously before shouting the words of the spell.

It had all happened so fast that he only had time enough to send the same curse at Lucius, catching him unsuspecting. Snape saw him crumple to the floor and heard Galena's scream before the curse aimed at him hit directly in the center of his chest. He had time enough to hope Hermione would run before he knew no more.

> > > > > > > > > >

"Avada Kedavra!" Hermione heard a high-pitched voice yell. At almost the same time, she heard the same words roared by Snape, then an earsplitting screech and then what sounded like a body falling to the floor.

Unable to wait any longer, Hermione rushed into the room. Eyes frantically taking in the scene before her, she saw Lucius lying immobile next to the desk with Galena wailing at his side. As her eyes traveled back along the floor, she saw Snape lying only a few feet in front of her, his eyes open wide and lifeless. Her knees buckled as the realization washed over her. He was dead. The numbness spreading quickly, she crawled to him, cradling his head in her lap. Putting her fingers to his neck, she felt frantically for a pulse. Maybe, just maybe, he had survived. She felt nothing. The anguish tempered by fury swept through her body.

Tenderly placing his head back on the floor, she stood slowly, struggling with everything she possessed to remain calm long enough to destroy the woman only a few yards away.

"You killed him," she said in a horribly calm voice that seemed miles away.

The woman looked up at the sound of her words, mascara running with the tears down her cheeks. "Yes!" she screamed. "Look what he did!" She bent back over the body.

The heaviness in Hermione's chest was beginning to suffocate her. She wouldn't be able to stand much longer and she knew it. Summoning every ounce of magic she possessed, she spoke the words she knew would kill the woman and probably herself. The killing curse was painless and the woman deserved better than that. Hermione was going to shatter the woman's heart and it would take every bit of life she had left to do it. Raising her wand, she pointed it unflinchingly at the woman who was paying her no attention as she wept over that worthless body.

The same eerily calm voice that seemed so far away said, "Fractumpectus."

The brilliant yellow light hit the woman in the side and lifted her off the ground. Her eyes were bulging repulsively, her face contorted into a violent, soundless scream. Hermione watched with satisfaction as she writhed in the air until with a disgusting crack, her heart exploded still within her chest just as the yellow mist faded and she fell to the floor in a tortured heap.

Utterly spent, Hermione fell to her knees and crawled to Snape's side. His eyes were unchanged. He was still dead. The torrent of sorrow and despair hit her excruciatingly hard as her life was deserting her. Her vision was fading as she placed her head on his chest and released a cry of sheer agony just before the blackness took over and she suffered no more.

> > > > > > > > > >

As soon as the blackness engulfed Snape, he saw the remarkable lights just before opening his eyes.

> > > > > > > > > >

The swirls of color were glorious. Pale greens and vibrant pinks diverged into rich red and then fainted into exquisite purple advancing into warm black. The black transformed into a magnificent blue that drifted back to green and into a luminous yellow. The colors shifted back and forth through infinity. There were little glimmering stars within each color. They felt wonderfully inviting and reassuring as they winked at her from afar like beacons through the abyss of time and space. Hermione felt sad to see them fade because she would miss them. They were her friends in this place wherever it was she had been for what felt like forever.

As the colors faded entirely into black, she felt awareness assailing her. She was warm and her head ached dreadfully. She could smell antiseptic, chamomile, and that mysteriously sweet smell of rain late at night that she vaguely remembered loving. Everything except her head seemed in order, apart from the fact she appeared to be unable to open her eyes. She thought that was strange. The rest of her body felt normal and someone was holding her right hand. She tried to pull it away, but they tightened their grip. She thought that was strange as well.

The numbness was beginning to wear off and little flashes of memory were coming back too fast for her to appreciate. It was as though she was swimming up from the depths of the ocean and taking her first breath of fresh air in an eternity. The pain that throbbed in her head was overshadowed by the leaden weight in her chest as she remembered everything all at once. He was dead. Severus had left her and Albus must have saved her now insignificant life.

She began to sob, the tears coming fast and hot, stinging her eyes that were still too heavy to open. As they fell down the side of her face, she felt a hand stroke them away. She wanted those tears. She needed them to stay there because it hurt too much not to feel them. She struggled to open her eyes, to tell whomever it was to leave her alone because she needed none of their pity. All she wanted was to cry out this horrible ache that Severus had left behind.

When the light from the lamps hit her eyes, she squinted, trying to see through the offensive light the face of the person upsetting her. Her mouth was horribly dry and tinny. Swallowing hard, she strained to focus her eyes on the form sitting by her right shoulder. He had his head down and she couldn't see his face. Look up, she thought loudly. He apparently didn't hear her because he kept staring at the floor.

So constricted was her throw that clearing it was painful, but she managed to whisper, "What the hell do you want?"

"Welcome back Miss Granger." She was hallucinating because she couldn't be hearing his voice. He was dead.

"Who are you?" she whispered hoarsely.

"That must have been a terrible blow to the head if you have forgotten who I am." Why was she hearing his voice? She was certain she had successfully lost her mind.

"Shut up," she pled as the tears were coming harder.

"Calm down," he said quietly. "You are going to hyperventilate."

Her eyes thick with tears but finally used to the light, she forced them open the rest of the way to see who it really was. She must have been having a frightful hallucination because she could see his face. His brilliant face was looking down on her with concern in his eyes. In shock, she tried to sit up, but he put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back to the pillow. She could hear him, see him, feel him, and smell him, that glorious midnight dew, but it couldn't be.

"You need to rest," he soothed. "The battle is over. You need to heal."

Tossing aside his hands, she sat straight up, the blood rushed wildly to her head, making her dizzy and nauseous but she ignored it. Swinging her legs off the bed, she sat face to face with him. He certainly didn't look dead, but he did look bothered. Before she would allow herself to believe it, she needed to touch him, to prove he was real and not just an apparition. As her hand touched his face, he withdrew slightly and looked at her as if she were crazy. She didn't care because she was so very happy he was looking at her at all.

"What are you--" he began to ask until she interrupted.

"Shut up," she whispered. "You're alive."

"Of course I am," he said slowly.

That was enough for her. She threw herself at him, straddling the small wooden chair he was sitting in and kissing him deeply. Apparently shocked from her sudden attack, he was stiff but relaxed quickly and returned the kiss with all the passion she thought she'd lost. Absolute joy replaced the grief and sadness. She didn't care how, but he was alive, and that was all she needed to know.

> > > > > > > > > >

Snape sat in the little wooden chair hoping Madam Pomphrey didn't come walking in just yet. He had no idea how to explain this situation, and though he was appreciative, thought it best to put a stop to it. Dreams simply did not work this way.