Severus Snape was not noted for being a happy bunny. He may, in the privacy of his – or Hermione's quarters – achieve the state of happy bunniness, but as no one but Hermione saw that, it could be disregarded. The innocent bystander, if such a thing exists in a world full of sin, watching the events of Thursday evening would have noticed that Severus was a very unhappy bunny indeed.

He was risking his newly acquired girlfriend in a reckless endeavour in the company of The-tit-who-lived, his ginger sidekick, and a boy so stupid he couldn't boil water without burning it. It was a recipe for disaster.

It was only the knowledge that he had Smudger and Minerva backing him up that persuaded him to carry on. That and the thought of all the nagging Hermione would do if he backed out now.

They assembled in the Hog's Inn in Hogsmeade looking furtive and like they were up to no good, which meant that they blended in with the other patrons. Longbottom was late, as usual, and scurried into the pub looking sheepish and very nearly tripping over his robes.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "But Mr Phrense wanted me to stay late to do some potting on."

Severus didn't roll his eyes, because Hermione had sharp elbows, but it did nothing to put his mind at ease.

"Never mind, lad. You're here now," Smudger said. "Sit down, and take your weight off your feet."

Neville subsided onto a bench, and was handed a pint, which he clutched tightly to him.

"Right, so now we're all here," Severus said with a pointed glance at Neville. "Now we can get on." He drew out the flask of carefully prepared polyjuice, and passed it to Smudger. "I've added an extender to it, so it should last a bit longer. It makes it taste worse, I should warn you."

Smudger grinned. "It's not that nice to start with."

Severus grinned back, before he realised that the boys were watching them with interest, never having seen him smile before. He scowled at them, and they took a sudden interest in their pints.

"Sup up lads," Smudger said. "We've got an important appointment, and we wouldn't want to be late, would we?"

They supped up slowly, savouring every drop of what could be their last drink. It was a shame it wasn't a better pint really. He couldn't remember a worse pint, not on any of the boys' nights out. They may not be fussy drinkers, but they had standards, and this was definitely sub-standard.

There weren't any nibbles either.

If they got out of this alive – when they got out of this alive – he was going to make sure that they had a damned good party. They'd invite The Lads, and get the pub to lay on some special nibbles, and he'd raid the last of the funds that Dumbledore had given him for bribes and other incidental expenses, and they'd have some fun. As far as he was concerned, it would be the Revel to end all Revels, and Smudger could even play darts.

Pints supped, they departed for the Mission with suitably grave faces.

They apparated to the Meeting Point in two groups. It had been tacitly agreed that Severus and Harry should be kept apart as much as possible. In fact, it was clear that Severus should be kept apart from almost everyone. He was a bundle of nerves, and inclined to take them out on anyone available, though he was still sensible enough not to try that with Hermione or Minerva.

Smudger just ignored him; Smudger was used to it.

Smudger, Hermione and Severus went on ahead, to check that the apparition point was clear. Once they were sure that there was no one around who shouldn't be around, Smudger nipped back to fetch the Minerva and the boys, who popped into existence a couple of minutes later.

"Do we all know what we're doing? Minerva and Neville will stay behind, whilst we take Potter and Weasley inside at wand point," Severus asked.

Everyone nodded, though neither Minerva or Neville looked very happy about it. Both of them had now realised that there was every chance they would miss all of the fun, and were prepared to be sulky about it.

"No last minute questions," Smudger asked. "Now's the time to pipe up, if you have. It's no good thinking of something when we're in the thick of things, is it?"

Everyone shook their head.

"Give it another ten minutes," Harry said, unable to resist the urge to show off, though he doubtless thought of it as making a valuable contribution, "And then we'll head off."

Smudger dropped the carefully purloined hair into the polyjuice, and took a long swig from the bottle. "Dear god, you weren't joking," he spluttered. "That is disgusting."

Severus watched the transformation with a professional interest, then pulled his mask out of his pocket, and buffed it on his robes before handing it to Hermione. "You look awful," he said.

"I feel awful," Smudger agreed. "I look like a ponce."

"Not quite you don't. You need to put on the special, poncy robes to look like a real ponce," Severus replied.

"Good point." Smudger disappeared behind some convenient bushes to dress, away from the prying eyes of Young Ladies, and emerged several minutes later trying to arrange his robes in some semblance of order.

"Bloody hell, you look just like Lucius Malfoy," Neville said, and then blushed. He gave Severus a worried look, clearly expecting house points to be deducted, or some sarcastic remark.

"I should bloody hope so," Smudger said. "That is the point, after all."

Hermione walked round Smudger, checking to see whether he was up to scratch. Severus glared at her. It was bad enough her taking an interest in Lucius' arse when it was attached to Lucius, but now it was Smudger's arse and that was beyond the pale. "You'll do," she said. "Though you still look a little crumpled."

"I've obviously just been involved in some life or death struggle with awkward Mudbloods," Smudger said. "So I may have been forced into some evasive actions that led to me getting crumpled, and no one's going to ask me about it, are they? 'Cos I'm a snotty bastard at the best of times."

"When in doubt sneer at people," Severus said. "It's what Lucius would do."

Hermione had worn her robes under a cloak, so all she had to do was slip it off and stuff it behind a bush, then put on the mask Severus had given her. "Bloody hell," she said, her voice heavily muffled. "I can't see a bloody thing."

"Well try not to fall over your own feet," Severus snapped.

Hermione put her hand on Severus' sleeve. "I promise I'll be careful."

"Good," he replied gruffly. "See that you do. If you get yourself killed, I warn you I shall bring you back from the dead just to tell you how stupid you were."

"And the same goes for you too," she said fondly.

Harry realised with a sinking feeling that Hermione wasn't going to get over this any time soon, and was only brought back to the matter in hand by Smudger thrusting his wand into his throat. "If you could manage to look a little frightened, Harry, that would be helpful. Try and think of something nasty – potions classes for instance."

Severus drew his wand as well, and grasped Ron firmly by the arm. "Neville, give us a quarter of an hour, to give us a chance to deal with whoever's on guard. Otherwise, if you hear our signal, come dashing in."

"What signal is that," asked Neville.

"The sound of screaming. Whether it's ours or someone else's," Severus said dryly. "Do try not to get yourself killed."

"I didn't know you cared, Snape," Harry said.

"I don't, but Hermione does, and she'll never let me hear the end of it." He couldn't understand why Harry smiled at that; he was perfectly serious.

"Off we go," Smudger said brightly, muttering a little more quietly, "And best of luck to us all. I need my head examining for agreeing to this."

Harry found himself held in a vice-like grip, and a very silky voice in his ear, making his blood run cold, which said, "Now come along quietly there's a good little Boy-who-lived, and I won't hurt you just yet."

Peter Pettigrew was a Gryffindor, a traitor, and no one doubted that a rat was the perfect representation of his character. He was also a superb administrator. He did all the dirty jobs, the ones that no one wanted to, and this didn't mean torturing, raping or otherwise having fun. It meant keeping the minutes of meetings, preparing the Memos, keeping track of the petty cash, and generally issuing polite reminders to people who had forgotten to pay their dues for the month.

He was always surprised that more people hadn't worked out that keeping the minutes of the meeting was almost as good as making the decisions. A missed word here and there, a certain amount of discreet editing, and a meeting in which it was decided that Lucius Malfoy should be in charge of a particular project rapidly became one in which it was decided that Avery should do so.

Depending on the project, it was perfectly possible to extract bribes from both parties to arrange things to their satisfaction.

Nor had people appreciated the power to be gained by sitting by the entrance of His Lordship's room. He could see who was coming and going, and who was in favour or not, and if he pressed his ear against the wall he could usually make out what was being discussed. And if all that failed, then His Lordship could usually be persuaded to discuss the week's events when Peter was oiling his scales. Oh no, His Lordship had no secrets from Pettigrew

He knew he was despised; he was used to that. But what he was now was rich and despised, whilst before he had been merely despised.

Nor was he entirely stupid. He could see that matters were coming to a climax soon, and had taken the necessary steps to remove himself from the scene of the conflict. He had already secured His Lordship's signature on an order that he should perform some unspecified and secret task in the South of France and, if things went badly, he could conveniently forget to come back. If all went as planned, he would return to His Master's side, and complain bitterly how he had missed out on all the 'fun' whilst he had been busy elsewhere.

And if any of his colleagues tried to suggest that he had run for cover at the first sign of trouble, well, they'd find out exactly what power knowledge could bring. He knew where the bodies were buried. Literally, in some cases.

And who'd dug them up, and why.

But he'd never been invited to the after-Revel drinkies at Malfoy Manor, and this was something that rankled with him. Why? Wasn't he good enough for them? Wasn't he Pureblooded enough? Or were they just jealous of his closer ties with His Lordship. That had to be it, jealousy.

Well, he would just have to find some way of reminding Mr Malfoy that he was a force to be reckoned with, and that he should put aside his petty vanity for the sake of the greater good, or His Lordship might just find out about his pet Mudblood. And that wasn't going to go down well, was it? Let Lucius find out what it felt like to spend a couple of minutes under Crucio, and see how he liked it?

Pettigrew was so absorbed in thought, that he barely noticed the black-shrouded forms stalking towards him until their shadows slanted across his page. "You're in my light," he complained, not bothering to look up. "And I've got to get these notes finished before tomorrow."

"This is rather more important than your notes," Lucius drawled.

Pettigrew looked up, mouth open, to remind Malfoy of just how important these notes were, and to complain about how unappreciated his contribution towards running things was, when he recognised Harry. He squealed in alarm, and jerked away from him, nearly falling off his chair.

"So, if you'd announce us to His Lordship…" Lucius continued, in the same, affected manner. "Chop. Chop."

"His Lordship left strict instructions he wasn't to be disturbed," Pettigrew replied, determined to be awkward. "Not for anything."

"For heaven's sake, man. Don't be as big a fool as usual. I rather think His Lordship will be very eager to see us."

"That may be," he replied. "But I don't have the authority to let you in. You know what he's like when he's having a nap. It's more than my life's worth to let you in. Why don't you park the prisoners in a cell somewhere, and I'll let him know as soon as he wakes up?"

"Well, if you won't do it the easy way, we'll have to do it the hard way," said Smudger grasping the man by his robes. He pulled Pettigrew towards him, and quietly and efficiently chinned him. He slumped to the floor like a sack of potatoes, and Smudger made no attempt to slow his fall. "I've been wanting to do that for ages," he said. "D'you know he tried to make me pay my subs twice last month? An accounting error, he said; bloody cheating, that's what I call it. The bastard won't be doing that again."

"It's a shame we didn't have a chance to ask who else is in there," Severus said sourly. "I don't like surprises."

Smudger shrugged unrepentantly. "You couldn't trust anything he said anyway."

Hermione pulled off her mask, and huffed a piece of hair out of her face. "If he's asleep we've got the element of surprise. That's good isn't it?"

"I dunno. You remember what he did to Lestrange when his slumber was disturbed. It wasn't pretty, was it?" Smuger shook his head sorrowfully. "It took ages for him to find his ears, and even longer to stick them back on. Poor sod."

Harry looked green. He wasn't sure whether Smudger was pulling his leg or not, but he wouldn't put anything past Voldemort. "What can we expect when we get in there?" he asked.

"The room's about twice the size of this one. There's another room off it, on the left hand side, and we can expect the Lestranges at least to be in there, maybe others as well. The idiot that built this place had delusions of grandeur, so there's pillars and vaulting and arches everywhere. Suits His Lordship's warped world view down to the ground," Smudger replied

"If he's having a nap, he'll be dozing on a bed in the right hand corner. You can't miss it; it's covered in snakes," Severus added, grasping the door handle firmly. "On the count of three. One, two, THREE," he shouted, and threw the door open.

Harry and Ron rushed through the door first, and veered in opposite directions to divide Voldemort's fire in the approved Auror fashion. Smudger, Hermione and Severus followed in quick succession, and found what little cover the room offered: a pillar here, a sofa there. They needn't have bothered: roused from sleep so abruptly, he was in no condition to fire off hexes. It took him several seconds to realise what was going on, and several more to find his wand, giving both Harry and Ron time to cast first.

And that would have been that, if it hadn't been for the Lestranges bursting into the room. Bellatrix shrieked like a banshee and wildly fired hexes in all directions, laying down covering fire so that Rodolphus could reach Voldemort's side, presumably with the intention of laying down his life to protect his master. He didn't look too keen on the idea. Bellatrix clipped Ron, who went down hard. Instead of doing what Severus would consider to be the sensible thing and concentrating on taking out His Lordship, Harry dashed over to check that Ron was alright, giving Voldemort time to cast a hex at Severus before rolling off the bed and out of sight to join Rodolphus.

Severus' hastily cast Protego deflected the hex, which rebounded onto a hideous vase and shattered it.

"McNair will be upset," Smudger said. "He bought that for His Lordship special – the creep."

"Have you got some Gryffindor in the family tree?" Severus responded, casting a nasty slicing hex at Bellatrix, who yelped when it hit home.

"No," Smudger said.

"Then stop acting like a tit, and concentrate on the job at hand. We can work out the smart Slytherin dialogue afterwards… Watch out, there's more of them," Severus shouted as two more black-clad figures ran into the room. They checked, assessed the situation, and then retired rapidly behind a pillar. There was a scuffle as they chose the same pillar, until one of them was forced from his hiding place to shelter behind a rather inadequate table.

"I'll keep an eye on those two," Hermione said. "You concentrate on the others." The one hiding behind the table incautiously poked his head out to see what was going on, and was rewarded with a hex that parted his hair.

"Fuck. I missed," Hermione said, wiping her sweaty palm on her hand.

"Never mind that," Severus replied. "Just try not to get hit. Smudger will want his robes back in once piece, and I feel the same way about my girlfriend."

Hermione patted his arm affectionately, but didn't take her eye off her targets.

"Oi," shouted Smudger. "You two, Perkins and Smith, isn't it? If I were you, I'd start reconsidering your options right about now. This might be a good time to lay down your wands, and let discretion be the better of valour."

Perkins and Smith didn't lay down their wands, but neither were they taking a particularly active part in the fight. They were neutral, for the moment, until they could work out which was the winning side.

"You bastard, Lucius," screamed Bellatrix. "You two-faced backstabbing bastard. I've never liked you."

"That's not what you said last month when you tried to get into my robes," Smudger shouted back, winking at Severus. "What was it you said, something about me being the consummate Slytherin and how that idiot of a husband couldn't get it up any more."

There was a wail of outrage from behind the bed; Rodolphus wasn't taking the news of his wife's infidelity well. His head shot up above the edge of the bed to make his feelings known, and Ron fired off a Stupefy that caught him in the chest. There was a loud thump as Rodolphus hit the floor.

"Alright," said Severus. "We need to get Bellatrix out into the open. Ideas anyone?"

"I was thinking that someone could dash out into the open and draw her fire, giving someone the chance to hex her whilst she's distracted," Smudger said.

"Sounds good," Severus said. "I take it you're volunteering?"

Smudger snorted.

"Toss a coin then?"

Smudger nodded, and fumbled in his robes for a knut. Smudger flipped the coin, caught it smartly, and slapped it down on his palm. "Heads, or tails?"

"Heads."

"Sorry mate." Smudger showed Severus the coin: tails.

"Shit."

Severus took a deep breath, gathered his robes around him, and prepared to make a run for it. "You all set?" he asked Smudger, who nodded his confirmation, and then he was off – shooting out of his hiding place like a startled rabbit.

Bellatrix missed with her first hex, but not with her second, and he felt a shooting pain down his wand arm. He stumbled, slipped, and was horribly aware that he was about to fall flat on his face – in front of bloody Potter too! – and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The floor was hard. It was a trite thing to think, but all the breath had been knocked from his body, and he really wasn't up to forming complex thoughts. He tried to get his breath back, expecting to be hit by some hex at any moment, and was on the point of making a spirited crawl for safety when a heavy foot came to rest on the back of his neck with unnecessary force.

A heavy foot with a pointy heel, which could only mean Bellatrix.

"Now we are going to be sensible about this, aren't we children?" she said spitefully. "One false move and we'll just have to find out how much skin a man can lose before he dies."

"Why should we care?" Potter said. Severus felt reluctant admiration for the boy; that was precisely the line to take, though he wished that it had sounded rather more like a bluff, and rather less like he meant it. You didn't have to be a tactical genius to realise that he was in a rather sticky situation. One that was likely to get a lot stickier in both the literal and metaphorical sense.

He supposed that if their positions were reversed, Potter might take comfort in knowing that he'd sacrificed himself for a good cause. Well, he didn't find any comfort in it, and would like to test that theory by actually being able to swap places with Potter.

Bellatrix laughed, which sent a chill down his spine. She only laughed like that when she was about to do something really unpleasant. "Crucio," she said, and the world went away, and all he could feel was his blood boiling in his veins, and all he could hear was someone screaming and it was him.

Hermione watched in horror as Severus's body convulsed in agony. Smudger's arm shot out and grabbed her very firmly. "Not yet," he hissed. "Just wait."

Hermione's vision blurred and she blinked away tears. "Someone has got to do something," she said.

"Just wait,"" Smudger repeated. "Just a little longer. Bellatrix is expecting you to do something. We need her to turn her attention to Harry and Ron before we make our move."

Hermione nodded. He was right, but it was hard to crouch there and do nothing whilst Severus was in pain. She mentally rehearsed a list of the worst curses that she knew; Bellatrix was going to pay for this.

Neville, waiting patiently outside, heard the screaming. "Is that the signal?" he asked nervously.

Minerva cocked an ear to the sound. She didn't think it was the signal at all, but someone was in trouble, and she wasn't about to hang around here when she could be in the thick of things. "Absolutely. Come on then."

They ran down the corridor, towards the noise. Neville reached the door first, and grasped the doorjamb to keep himself upright. That must have been what his parents looked like, when Bellatrix was torturing them, before she burned their brains out in pain and terror.

"You!" he shouted. "I'll kill you."

"I don't think so, little boy," she mocked, and turned her wand on him "Crucio!"

Neville ducked back through the door, knocking Minerva backwards, and the curse missed. Hermione saw her chance, and with an almighty shriek launched herself across the room. Bellatrix, unprepared for the full frontal assault, gaped at her, giving Hermione the few seconds of surprise she needed to bring the woman to the ground in a rugby tackle.

Hermione elbowed her viciously in the gut, to prevent her getting enough breath back to hex anyone, and then took her by the throat and banged her head into the ground repeatedly. "Don't," she said, in between each contact. "Don't – ever – lay – hands – on – my – boyfriend – again."

Neville poked his head round the door, and watched Hermione round-eyed. How he'd dreamed of doing the same thing to Bellatrix, how he'd dreamed of the way she would beg for mercy and he would show none. Not that Bellatrix was doing much begging with Hermione's hands round her throat. He realised that, peculiar as it might seem to him, Hermione must be really fond of Professor Snape, love him even.

She always was a bit odd – all that reading must have turned her brain.

Voldemort was also transfixed by the sight of his most dangerous Death Eater being throttled by a mere Mudblood. How dare she? How dare she touch one of the Inner Circle with her filthy Mudblood hands? She wasn't worthy.

Neville saw the movement from the corner of his eye, and realised Voldemort was about to hex Hermione. "Watch out," he shouted.

Hermione rolled onto one side, taking a limp Bellatrix with her, who took the full force of the hex in the back, shielding both Hermione and Severus.

Harry shouted, "Avada Kedavra!" but Voldemort cast a shielding charm, and it deflected onto the wardrobe next to him. The wardrobe groaned ominously. Neville, in all the excitement, fell back into the drills they had gone through with Dumbledore's Army and shouted, "Tantellegra!" which was deflected by the shield too.

What a stupid hex to use, he thought. Voldemort seemed to think so too, and hissed at him, "Prepare to die, boy. You are no match for me…"

Minerva shoved Neville to one side, and prepared to cast a hex of her own.

He didn't manage to complete the sentence. The wardrobe had been unaffected by the Avada – it wasn't living, so how could it die – tantellegra was a different story. The wardrobe had feet, and the feet wanted to dance. With a squeak and a creak and a groan, it slowly and ponderously began to dance.

The old legs couldn't take it.

There was a crash, then a moment when everything seemed to stand still, and then, inexorably, the wardrobe toppled over, crushing Voldemort beneath it.

Silence.

Then the twin clicks of two wands hitting the ground.

And then the plaintive voice of Severus, "Is someone going to give me a hand or not? I'm in bleeding agony here."

Hermione heaved Bellatrix to one side, and half-crawled, half-rolled to Severus. "Oh my poor dear, are you alright?" she crooned.

Harry and Ron expected him to snap something rude at being asked such a question, when the answer was obviously 'no'. Instead Severus opted for the approach that Molly would call 'dying duck in a thunderstorm' - and which would have got a Weasley nothing more than a rap round the ear with a wooden spoon – and allowed himself to be gathered into her arms to have his forehead gently kissed.

"Are we sure he's dead," Harry asked.

Severus rolled back the sleeve of his robe to reveal a bare, white arm. "Oh, yes," he said, his voice slightly quavering. "He's dead." Then he turned and hid his face against Hermione, his shoulders shaking. It wasn't clear whether he was laughing or crying or whether it was just the after effects of the Crucio, but everyone took a sudden interest in something, anything, else to give him a moment of privacy.

"If I were you two, I'd scarper," Smudger said to Perkins and his mate, who were looking lost. "Leave your wands there, and I'll see you get them back."

They looked like they were going to argue – no wizard would surrender his wand – but thought better of it. No doubt Aurors would be there fairly soon, and it was obviously a very good idea to be very conspicuously elsewhere when they arrived.

They scarpered.

Bellatrix whimpered, obviously coming round from whatever Voldemort had hexed her with. Smudger gave her a measuring glance, and then looked at Neville. "Are you sure you don't want to give her a couple of kicks while you've got your chance?"

Neville shook his head. "Hermione seems to have done a good enough job."

"She was hurting Severus," Hermione said indignantly. "Poor thing."

Severus smirked at the boys. He was going to milk this for all it was worth.

Smudger shrugged, and then Stupified Bellatrix. "Well if you're sure…That should hold her till the Aurors get here."

"You know," Severus said thoughtfully. "We might want to have a quick rifle through Pettigrew's papers - preferably before the Aurors get here. You never know what we might find."

"You mean we might find evidence against other Death Eaters," Harry said. "We could pack the whole lot of them off to Azkaban for good."

"Yes, that's exactly what he means," Smudger replied, giving Severus a meaningful look.

"And then we'd better get our stories straight," Hermione said.

"What do you mean, Hermione," asked Neville.

"I'm damned if we're going down in history as the people who brought down Voldemort with Tantellegra," Smudger said indignantly. "You can see the headlines in the Prophet now – Terpsichorean Tragedy Terminates Tyrant. It's not going to get the girls, now is it?"

Neville looked thoughtful. "Girls?"

"Girls, lad. Girls of the female persuasion," Smudger said.

"Gosh," Neville said.

And Severus laid his head back on Hermione's lap and thought of all the blackmail material that they were about to uncover, and how the story of Voldemort's fall was going to put Neville and not Potter in the limelight, and he smiled the smiled of a very happy man.

Severus Snape was, at last, a very happy bunny.