Author's Note

Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!

Any dialogue you recognize comes from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Most is changed at least a bit though to fit right. This takes us to the end of the book, though there is a bit of a familiar treat in the next chapter ;)

I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I don't own anything.


Ch 33: The Reason Why

"He's gone," Harry said, and Ron's hands instantly dropped from her.

Hermione shoved past the boys, uncaring if she hurt them as she stumbled and scrambled to get to Severus. Each step took entirely too long and her legs threatened to give out when she finally caught sight of him crumpled on the floor. He was choking, gagging on blood as it surged from his throat, so very much like Lavender's had only minutes earlier.

Except he was clearly still alive, where the pretty, previously vivacious blonde hadn't been.

"What would help?" Ron asked, kneeling beside her.

"What?" she asked distractedly, her hands trembling as she covered Severus's, pressing his harder against the wound to stem the crimson flow.

A vein had burst in Severus's eye, turning the white a cloudy red, though the inky depths tracked each of her movements, somehow as alert as ever. As though even death couldn't dim his voracious and sharp intelligence.

And somehow he seemed to see her – truly see her – as he never had before.

"Trust me, I get it. What do you need?" Ron asked more insistently, splitting her attention and breaking the spell the onyx gaze had woven over her.

Somewhere in the back of her mind it registered that Severus's attack had managed to shake Ron from his previous stupor, though mostly she was caught up in worst-case scenarios and fear of losing the man she loved. Because honestly, only Severus mattered to her right then.

"I don't know!" she wailed, shaking as her tenuous composure finally shattered. She couldn't think. Couldn't concentrate. And worst of all, she couldn't save Severus.

"Think, Hermione. You know what to do – you always know. Take a breath, and tell us what we can do to help you. Let us help you save him," Harry said kindly.

"Yes. Save him," she said, clinging to the idea, grabbing on as though it were a life preserver. "Uh…I…Th-there's an Anti-venom Potion in my bag. He made it, and I took some. Please get it for me," she managed, struggling to concentrate as one of Severus's sticky hands grabbed hers. The grip was terrifyingly weak, and the blood caused his fingers to slip over hers until she was the one grabbing his to hold on while still trying to stem the rushing flow.

"Mem…or…," he tried, letting his gaze quickly flick towards Harry, who'd knelt on Severus's other side after spelling and barricading the door Voldemort had exited out of.

More blood surged between their clasped fingers when he tried to speak, and worry made her breath hitch, pain knifing through her chest.

"He watched them. He knows what he has to do, but hush now," Hermione tried, forcing a teary smile as she jerkily nodded, insisting, "you're going to be just fine. Save your strength. You'll be just f-fine."

It frightened her how similar she sounded to Ron. Particularly given how that had turned out, but she refused to think on it just then. Severus's hand squeezed hers harder in response, and the gesture tore a ragged sob from her tight chest. It felt as though her rib cage had been broken wide open and her heart and lungs were being used as a punching bag, her guts spilled out onto the floor to trip over.

"R-Ron," she urged, desperate to get the antivenom in Severus before it was too late.

Blood positively soaked the front of his robes as well as the spot she was kneeling, the sticky warmth around her knees beginning to cool. And Severus's normally sallow complexion was starting to look waxy and ashen, more grey than olive.

"Yeah, I think –"

"It's that one," Harry said, pointing at Ron's right hand where he held two different phials. Hermione realized she'd never bothered to label the potion, so he'd probably been checking all of the potions in her bag one-by-one.

"Got it," he said, trying to hand it to her. Hermione couldn't take it though, so Harry reached across Severus to accept it.

"Move your hands," Harry coaxed, unstoppering the phial.

"What? No! He'll bleed out," Hermione argued, blinking against the tears blurring her vision, "besides, he needs to drink it.

"Oh. Here, Snape," Harry said awkwardly, tipping his head back then slowly and carefully pouring the potion into his unresisting mouth.

Beneath her fingers, Hermione could feel his skin knitting together, though his complexion didn't improve, and his eyelids had become heavy, only barely staying open as they continued to watch her.

"Did it work?" Harry asked, looking to her for confirmation, but Severus had been significantly worse off than Harry had been. Getting bit in the neck had practically guaranteed that the venom reached his heart before they'd administered the antivenom, and she didn't know what to do for that.

"Should I give him a Blood Replenishing Potion too?" Ron asked, holding up a bottle in each hand and mimicking balancing them. "Or dittany?"

"Yes…I think…," Hermione said hesitantly, though uncertainty gripped her. She'd been out of it when Severus had treated Harry, then she'd left the room to start the potion, so she'd not known all he'd done for her friend.

How would the different potions react? Was there any ingredient that would produce a negative reaction if mixed? She wasn't even entirely sure what had gone into the Anti-venom Potion.

"Should we try it?" Ron persisted, when she didn't move and the clock continued to tick.

"I don't know. I don't know," she said pitifully, fighting the urge to hyperventilate. Severus's eyes had closed and not reopened for nearly a full minute.

"W-w–" Severus gasped, pausing to cough. Blood bubbled from his lips, popping and spraying tiny scarlet drops over his chin, like shimmering rubies. Hermione shakily wiped at them.

"I think we should at least try the Blood Replenishing Potion," Ron declared, pouring it clumsily into Severus's mouth. Most of it missed, spilling down his cheek to mix in the blood drying in his dark hair. "Sorry," he muttered, and Hermione heard the wince in his voice.

"Maybe we should give him a second dose. I'm not sure he got enough in the first one," Harry suggested, already rummaging in her bag to locate a second phial.

Taking too much was dangerous in itself, but given the amount of blood he'd lost, Hermione didn't honestly think it could make things worse. Severus seemed to agree, because he didn't resist when Harry tipped the second bottle of brownish-red potion to his lips.

Severus inhaled deeply once Harry finished, turning his head from the son of the woman he loved, and finding Hermione once more. His hand tightened over hers and he seemed to force his eyes open as he gasped, "Her…mine."

It seemed to be all he could manage, the exhalation zapping the last of his strength as his eyes closed again, his dark lashes fanning his cheek with a frightening sense of finality.

"You've got to fight. You said you wanted to live, so do it, Sev," she reminded him, wishing…well, wishing for a lot of things.

Her pleading had no effect on him. His breathing was shallow, too shallow, and his eyelids didn't flicker at all. He was unconscious. Utterly still.

"Is there anything else you want to try?" Ron asked, resting a supportive hand low on her back.

Hermione ran her wand unsteadily over Severus, murmuring the diagnostic spell she'd read about, but never tried. Information appeared over him, hovering in the air in glowing wisps of colored light, but she only understood a tiny fraction of it, and she cursed herself for her ignorance.

He was hypoxic, but she didn't have any potions, nor did she know any spells to get his oxygen circulating again. Though perhaps that was a good thing. Doing so might inadvertently make him worse since there were probably still traces of the venom in his system.

"Anything?" Ron asked, frowning as he stared at the fading script.

"I'm not a Healer. I can see a few problems, but I don't know how to fix –"

"You have fought valiantly." The words filled the space, drowning out the rest of what Hermione had planned to say. All three froze, initially fearing that he'd returned to the Shrieking Shack and was with them again. But as the voice continued, Hermione realized it was being projected to all of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts. "Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Vodemort is merciful."

"Merciful? He's a bloody monster. A coward," Hermione screamed, jumping to her feet and kicking a crate across the room. Shrilly, fueled by rage at the events of the night, she screamed, "He doesn't even fight his own battles, not to mention the rest. Look what he's done! Look who we've lost, and we don't even know who else –"

"Quiet!" Harry ordered, covering her mouth to hear when his name was mentioned.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

Hermione gasped, dread curdling in her stomach. She'd spoken too soon. It'd be a massacre if Voldemort joined in the fighting. And there'd be no way to end it until after Harry –

"Hermione, I'm sorry, but I've got to go. I have to…," Harry said, as though she'd spoken aloud to remind him.

"Harry," Hermione began, shaking her head as she looked back at Severus's supine form. His chest was only barely rising and falling. "I can't leave him."

"We can't let Harry go alone either," Ron argued, face scrunching as he recognized the tight spot he'd put her in.

She shook her head, gasping, "I…."

But there was nothing else she could say. No excuse. No justification. Nothing.

She was needed elsewhere, and Severus would have been the first to tell her to go. Duty had almost always come first for him. It was one of the things she'd always admired about him.

"He's alive. That's huge – all things considered. Is there anything else you know to do for him?" Ron asked, not unkindly or unsympathetically, though Hermione knew what he was going to say next. She didn't bother responding, because there wasn't, and they all knew it. "Believe me when I say I understand, but we need to get back to the castle. We need to see what's happened, and we need to support Harry. It's up to Snape now to fight to live."

That's what she was afraid of. Would he bother trying?

Was she enough for him to want to try?

"Voldemort took the snake with him. It's still alive. Remember what you told me," Ron continued, and she hated that he was right. "Harry's got a different mission now, so it's down to us to kill Nagini."

"I know," she acknowledged painfully, moving to press a chaste kiss against Severus's pliant lips. The herbal and metallic taste of blood and potions made her sad that she might be missing her final opportunity to truly relish his kiss.

Once more she fleetingly brushed her lips over his, whispering, "I'll be back soon. You better hang on until then or I'll never forgive you, Sev."

"You'll handle the snake then? You'll make sure my…." Harry began when she stood again, finished saying goodbye, but he trailed off before acknowledging what would happen.

"Harry, come back to the castle with us first. Please," Hermione insisted, not wishing for him to be alone now. He'd been alone for so much of his life.

Just like Severus.

If he lived…if he'd have her…she'd make sure that wasn't his future.

"Hermione –"

"Please, Harry," she begged.

"It'll be easier to reach the Forbidden Forest from there," Ron added hollowly, though they all knew it for the lie it was.

But the truth was, that precious hour Voldemort had allotted them was already dwindling away far too fast. Every second together was precious.

And since it seemed they were both searching for any excuse to prolong the inevitable, Harry reluctantly capitulated. Probably because he wanted to ensure Hermione didn't just lay down and quit fighting then and there as she watched over Severus.

She wouldn't do that, of course not. She was a fighter, same as them. And it was what they both wanted for her.

It seemed to take no time at all to return to the castle. The journey back was infinitely shorter than the one to reach Severus. Probably because she was dreading the aftermath so much.

"Lucius told Voldemort about the spell and Snape's betrayal," Harry said, glancing at Hermione, but mostly addressing Ron.

"I heard. He gave up Snape to cover for Malfoy's absence," Ron replied. "Bit shocked he cared enough about the git to bother – especially given the state he was in when we saw him last."

"I'm honestly surprised Malfoy stayed hidden and didn't try something," Harry said dryly, reluctantly admiring that Malfoy had truly changed sides.

"Bit hard to do with Tonks and her mum keeping him on lockdown," Hermione forced herself to say, wondering if anything else important had been said that she'd missed when she'd been fighting to get to Severus.

She could still see the half-crescent gauges she'd dug in Ron's forearms. They went well with the blisters from the fiendfyre and the remnants they'd missed from the Lestrange vault.

"Fair enough," Ron said, nodding as much as he could while crouched over in the short tunnel. "Did you hear the other bit though? About the wand?"

"Yeah. He believed killing Snape would give him power over the Elder Wand," Harry said, triumph ringing in his voice.

"But we saved Snape. He's still alive," Ron countered, not sure as to the source of Harry's glee. Honestly, Hermione was a little lost as well. Sometimes it really was impossible to follow the logic in his train of thought.

He's still alive.

That part she centered itself in her mind. Hearing that reassurance made her heart skip a beat.

"Right," Harry said distractedly as they entered the castle.

"You think that means it still won't work for him?" Ron prodded.

"I told you earlier. It doesn't matter. I –"

Harry broke off as they stopped just outside the entrance hall. His gaze had wandered far enough to catch sight of what lay beyond, and it was enough to have him inhaling sharply.

Hermione followed his line of sight to see all of the tables had been moved, and in their place were two long rows, one with those already injured, Madam Pomprey rushing up and down the length as she tried to treat everyone at once, and the other…the other contained the dead, lined up, evenly spaced as though they'd already been placed in their graves.

She couldn't look away. Several of the white-draped figures had people gathered around them, most of whom were crying. There were so many. Far too many that they'd already lost, and it wasn't even over yet.

How many more would join them before they finished this?

Harry was apparently thinking the same, because he asked, "You know what you need to do?"

"Yes. Harry," she answered, noticing that her voice had turned as thick as mud – as thick as Harry's.

One look was all it took to know he was bracing himself for what was to come. He understood, and was prepared to meet his fate head on to prevent anymore from joining those already lost. No more delays. No more miracles.

This was it.

Hermione threw her arms around him, squeezing him fiercely as sobs clogged her throat. She swallowed compulsively, hanging onto her composure with only the jagged tips of her torn nails. Somehow she managed to hide the majority of the pain she felt at what was about to occur, the last year and a half having been good practice for that much at least.

"Watch his memories when tonight is over. I think you'll believe the truth more if you see for yourself," he whispered.

"What are you talking about?" she choked out.

"You'll see," he said roughly. "At least one of us will have a happy ending."

When she released Harry, Ron was there, taking over the hug as she stood there, dazed, and trying to process Harry's prediction. Hermione heard Ron speak, though he tried to be quiet, "Mate, there aren't words."

"Look out for each other. It's not over yet," Harry replied, his trademark emerald gaze glistening like real gems when the light reflected off the damp surface.

Then he turned and headed back out of the castle, back straight and stride steady. Hermione knew she'd never have been able to face the same with as much bravery and courage as Harry was demonstrating. There was no one in the world quite like him.

"Hermione, I know tonight has been hell for both of us, but I need you right now. Fred…," Ron said suddenly, and Hermione realized he'd caught sight of his family through the open doorway, and was bracing himself to enter. "I don't know if any of the others…."

She blinked, not having considered the possibility that they might have lost any other Weasley's that night. The possibility was too tragic to even contemplate, but Ron had likely been thinking of little else.

"Let's check on your family," she urged, taking his hand to help lead him inside and lend him strength as he'd done for her several times in the last hour.

With each step, it felt as though the room grew colder, all warmth having previously escaped the room, rushing out to avoid disturbing the dead. It was different than with a dementor, but just as poignant.

The familiar sight of Remus Lupin had her stumbling and gasping. He'd never even met his child. Tonks wasn't due for days yet. It was all wrong, made worse by his appearance. All of the stress and weariness had eased from his face, leaving him looking younger, much closer to his true age than Hermione had ever seen him look in life.

Lupin was finally at peace. The sort of freedom he'd never found in life. Finally, he was reunited with the rest of the Marauders.

Lupin, Severus's last contemporary.

If Severus died too, Hermione didn't think any from their year, from any of the Hogwarts houses, were alive. No other that she was aware of had managed to survive both wars.

She'd been in such denial the last time she'd spoken to Lupin, stating so adamentaly that she'd give Severus his freedom after the war. Unless he directly asked for that, there was no way she'd ever willingly give him up. This night had taught her that much at least.

And Harry…what he'd just said…what he'd just suggested….

The sharp pain in her hand broke her from her thoughts, and Hermione realized Ron had frozen at her side, but he was staring fixedly at the floor, terrified of what he'd see if he looked up. Quickly, Hermione scanned the rest of the row, and sighed in relief at finding the rest of his family all alive and gathered together.

"It's all right. They're all – everyone else, I mean – are okay, just there," she murmured, encouraging Ron to see the truth for himself.

She squeezed his hand again as he dared a hesitant peek.

They'd already passed Lavender, Parvati sitting beside her and sobbing as only a best mate could when losing someone so dear to them. Ron, luckily, could wait a bit before processing the pain of that loss. Just now, his family needed him, and he needed them equally as much.

Hermione watched as Ron released her hand and went to two of his older brothers, each of whom immediately embraced him. The remaining redheads stood in a huddle, lanky arms wound around one other to form an impenetrable knot.

Ginny stood off to the side, looking restless and angry. Tentatively, Hermione approached her, calling, "Ginny?"

"Don't. Please, Hermione. I…I can't," she said, shaking her head in quick, little jerks. Hermione saw her swallow compulsively, but she had no idea what to say. Nothing would soothe the ache Ginny must be experiencing, and she had yet to learn the worst of it – Harry. "I have to get out of here. I have to do something," Ginny said woodenly, searching the room for an escape.

"I think they could use some help outside, bringing in the…those lost," Hermione suggested awkwardly, wincing as she avoided saying the word dead.

"Right," Ginny replied, rushing out without another word to her grieving family.

Hermione didn't blame her. She longed for something productive to do as well. Anything to occupy her mind and prevent her from hurrying back to Severus's side where she wouldn't be of any use to anyone.

Anything to keep her from considering what was likely happening to Harry at that very moment.

If only she could press pause on the world. It might be better not knowing the outcome. At least that way she could pretend it would all work out all right. Pretend that her friend needn't sacrifice himself. Pretend that her husband would survive, and that Harry was right in what he believed, or discover for herself that Severus had come to love her as much as she loved him.

The sound of a sixth year whimpering drew her attention, and with it, the room came into sharp focus like the edge of a knife. The colors seemed to brighten, instantly intensifying, and the chaotic noise buffeted her, descending with a vengeance.

And just like that she was back in the moment, abruptly aware that she didn't have time to wallow in self-pity. The young girl's obvious need drew her closer, and Hermione busied herself with trying to relieve what little she could of Madam Pomfrey's obvious burden. Hermione joined the healing matron, and set about seeing to the minor injuries, putting the knowledge she'd gained this last year, as well as the potions Severus had supplied her with, to good use – succeeding every bit as much now as she had failed earlier when trying to help him.

At one point, Kingsley's soothing voice, a balm to her weary soul, floated her way, asking, "- fighting moves back inside the castle?"

"We will respond as we did earlier," Professor McGonagall replied, tucking her hair back into the tightly confining bun she usually doned.

"And the dead? Should they remain here?" Kingsley asked, glancing around at the roughly fifty individuals that had already given their lives that night. "This is the largest area off the entrance hall. It would be best to contain the fighting to one area if possible. There are too few of us now to spread out as we were before."

"They'll pick us off one-by-one if we can't help each other," Professor Sprout announced bluntly, voicing Kingsley's unspoken worry. The Herbology professor was sitting on the floor, tending to her bleeding leg. Hermione hadn't even noticed her before she spoke the harsh reality of their situation.

"We will not let that happen," Professor McGonagall said, troubled. Her frown more pronounced now than it usually was when she was discipling wayward students. Her words lacked any measure of significant confidence.

Looking around, it wasn't hard to imagine why. Aside from Kingsley, there were very few left that had any true experience fighting Death Eaters. Their side was vastly outnumbered and morale was low after losing so many already.

"We haven't much time left. Where can we move…," Kingsley began before trailing off as he looked sadly at where Remus lay.

"What about Firenze's classroom?" Hermione suggested, inserting herself into the conversation. The room was just off the Great Hall and was certainly large enough to lay everyone out. It would be easy to seal it up until the end too. Those lost would be protected from further harm.

Professor McGonagall gave a startled jump at the sound of her voice and turned disapproving eyes on Hermione for eavesdropping, all while shrilly exclaiming, "Miss Granger!"

She didn't feel the least bit guilty, too anxious to learn what the plan going forward was. Her former Head of House's disapproval quickly morphed to relief as she reached to rest an assessing hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"You're all right, I see," she concluded brusquely, giving Hermione a once over. "We've all feared the worst this year."

"We've made due," she responded, recognizing that there wasn't time to recount any recent events. Hopefully, they could catch up later.

"You've made an excellent suggestion, Miss Granger," Professor Sprout said, nodding and smiling fondly before moving to stand.

Hermione flushed at the praise, despite the inappropriate timing. Pleasing teachers would forever be a satisfying experience, and one she strove for. Funny how with Severus the dynamics had changed so much that she couldn't really picture a time when he'd even been her professor.

"I'll spread the word then," Kingsley said, the deep, slow resonance of his voice offered some much needed soothing comfort for the morbid task. The sound an echo of James Earl Jones's iconic voice.

Once the announcement was made, most everyone began collecting the dead and ushering the magically floating bodies into the nearby classroom.

Mr. Weasley scooped Fred up, and insisted on carrying him without any magical help; his stoicism heartbreaking to witness. Hermione was surprised when he managed without any appearance of effort or visible struggle. Fred's burly build couldn't have been light, and Mr. Weasley wasn't in the fittest condition thanks to age, stress, and being overworked for years now.

Once Mr. Weasley and Fred were out of sight, Mrs. Weasley renewed her sobs. Bill immediately moved to embrace her while Percy and George went to help move Remus, and Ron found Lavender.

Hermione considered going to him to help, but ultimately decided that would make things harder for him. Her presence would likely remind him of how much more fortunate she'd been than himself. Because honestly, what could she say? I'm sorry? I'm worried about you? I wish this hadn't happened? No matter what, it would just be something stupid someone said when people were grieving that didn't mean anything, and only served to make the sayer feel better. Or it would sound selfish and poorly timed. Particularly when the person she loved might have survived where his hadn't.

To that end, Hermione returned to helping the wounded as best she could until Neville and Luna found her.

"Hermione? You all right?" Neville asked, searching around the emptying room and scanning each of the people darting about.

"Yes, you?"

"'Bout as expected. Where's - oh, there he is. Ron!" Neville called across some people's heads to Ron, who'd just reentered the Great Hall. When Ron looked up, Neville gestured him over.

"What is it?" Hermione asked anxiously, noticing Neville's agitation as Ron came over, Ginny rushing towards them as well from a different direction.

"Why hasn't Harry come back yet? He wasn't with you earlier. I've been asking around, and no one has seen him," Ginny said hotly, suspicion making her eyes narrow as she pinned her brother with a quelling look.

"That's what I was about to ask," Neville added meaningfully.

"He's…well, he…," Ron tried.

"You let him go off on his own, didn't you?" Ginny accused, horror drenching her in an instant. "How could you?"

"It wasn't like that," Hermione tried, bracing herself to explain, but there was no need.

"Harry Potter is dead." The words rolled over the castle like a violent summer storm, sudden and inescapable, darkening the world and seeming to permanently blot out the sun as the world drown.

Hermione had lost track of the dwindling hour, though somewhere in the back of her mind a timer had continued its ominous countdown. Yet somehow it still came as a shock to her when Voldemort announced Harry's death. In that moment, Hermione felt like the world had collapsed around her. She'd not realized she'd been using the injured to avoid recognizing what was about to happen until it was already over.

Until it was too late to intervene – not that she could or would have. This was the path fate intended them to traverse, for better or worse.

As though they'd choreographed it, Ron and she took off in sync, racing out of the castle ahead of the rest, Neville and Ginny less than a half step behind, and McGonagall not far off.

The sight of Hagrid carrying Harry's limp form stopped her cold, like slamming face-first into a brick wall.

"No!" The denial burst from her before she could stop it, ripped from her chest with a piece of her heart still clinging, bloody, to it.

The agonized word was echoed by several others, but it didn't change the truth. Nothing could do that, and knowing it was coming didn't do a thing to properly prepare her. She wanted to rage. To hit things. To scream and tear her hair out. To claw at the ground until her nails tore.

Why did it have to be this way? Why did Voldemort have to exist? Why was there so much hate and prejudice in the world?

As if in answer, Neville stepped up to go head to head with Voldemort. Hermione was amazed by his show of strength, though she honestly shouldn't have been. She'd been catching glimpses of it for years now. And from the first moment of their reuniting, she'd seen and respected the leader he'd become in Harry's absence, taking over when one was needed most.

"Kill the snake!" Ron cried, urging Neville to do what they'd as yet been unable to do. "It's the only way!"

It was too much. All too much.

Hermione felt like she was underwater as she watched the events unfold. It wasn't until Neville swung the sword of Gryffindor, slicing Nagini's head clean from her body, that Hermione emerged, driven to finish what they'd spent years attempting to do – defeat Voldemort once and for all.

Fighting commenced all around her, and Hermione lunged into the fray, firing spells at every Death Eater she saw as the crowd closed in around her, swallowing her and carrying her towards the Great Hall.

She was barely inside the room, aglow with starlight, when she heard her voice. A voice from her nightmares. Impossible to forget.

"Mudblood," Bellatrix hissed then giggled maniacally. "Now I can finally finish what I started. Avada Kedavra!" she cried.

Hermione lunged aside, watching as the deadly jet of green light sailed past her head, missing by two inches at most.

"Stupefy!" Hermione was back on her feet and firing at Bellatrix before the crazed witch had a chance to try and kill her again.

The battle raging around them faded away; a television muted and dimmed. All of her attention narrowed down to the cruel, pitiless woman before her.

"Deletrius!" Ginny called angrily, darting to Hermione's side, eager to help. Desperate for an outlet for her rage.

The spell missed, but managed to completely disintegrate part of the wall it hit behind Bellatrix. There was no time to marvel at the possibilities of what Ginny's spell would have done if it had managed to strike Bellatrix head on.

More spells were fired and Ginny and Hermione ducked and danced out of the line of fire as Bellatrix rattled off killing curse after killing curse, most without even bothering to aim properly.

Luna appeared after Hermione lunged out of the way of some unknown silent curse Bellatrix spat at her, the orange flame sparking erratically. Then it was the three of them all dueling Bellatrix, yet somehow they remained evenly matched. Her insanity made her fearless and reckless. That recklessness made her bold in a way none of the others were truly prepared to be.

"Ah!" Hermione hissed as a purple jet seared her shoulder like a flaming whip. The skin sizzled, and her shirt smoked.

A sheen of sweat broke out on her skin and pain made her sight blur, so she dropped back a few steps to let Luna and Ginny take over until she could shake it off. Surprisingly enough, it was the first time in quite a while she'd even noticed how her body felt like it'd been put through a meat grinder then roasted on a spit. Must be all the adrenaline flooding her system.

"You'll all go the way of Potter! You think - Avada Kedavra - even if three of you pathetic children fight me, you'll beat me! Never! The Dark Lord trained me himself! Avada Kedavra!"

"Harry," Ginny gasped. The realization that he was well and truly gone had her tripping up momentarily. Luckily, Luna was there to keep Bellatrix occupied as Ginny recovered from the shock of her revelation.

"Avada Kedavra," Bellatrix hissed, insanity flickering like wildfire in her eyes.

"Colloshoo," Luna said while Bellatrix was turned towards Hermione, but she sensed it and managed to deflect the sticking spell that would have prevented her from dodging curses so adroitly.

It was almost harder facing Bellatrix with three of them, each trying to fight and dodge oncoming spells while staying out of the others' ways. Each was forced to spend more time maneuvering around the others, so all of them would end up out of reach of Bellatrix's spells while also not inadvertently putting someone else in the line of fire. All while trying to take down a madwomen intent on killing all of them. It was exhausting, and her Hogwarts education hadn't properly prepared her for the rigors of a real, honest, fight-or-die duel.

"Expulso," Bellatrix cackled while hopping around like a crazed rabbit. "What's wrong, Mudblood? Fight back! Or are you scared? Shall I have you cowering and begging on the ground like last time? Hmm?"

The reminder enraged Hermione. "Petrificus Totalus!" she screamed, wanting nothing more than to make Bellatrix be the one helpless and at Hermione's mercy instead.

The spell passed close enough to ruffle the sleeve of her robe, but did nothing to impede her continued onslaught of spells.

"Stupefy!" Ginny and Luna both fired at once, but Bellatrix conjured a shield just in time to avoid them. It seemed no matter what they tried, she was always just fast enough to avoid getting hit by their spells.

"Avada Kedavra! AVADA KEDAVRA!" Bellatrix screeched, spittle flying from her contorted mouth as she dished out death like sweets on Halloween.

"GINNY!" Hermione tried to warn, the green flash of a Killing Curse flying straight at the petite redhead. The name shredded Hermione's throat like choking on a thousand knives.

Hermione froze. It was the worst possible thing a person could do in the middle of a fight for their life, but it happened all the same. Everything slowed down, then it became clearer like frost melting on a glass window on a wintery day.

Luna and Hermione exchanged horrified looks, then as one turned to take on Bellatrix once more, but Mrs. Weasley was already running forward, screaming, "NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"

A second later she was ordering everyone back to give her room to take on Bellatrix. Hermione recognized the look on the other, usually maternal, woman's face. It was the same expression Ron had worn earlier.

A desperate desire for vengeance.

It fueled the Weasley matriarch now. She would see all those responsible, for the loss of her son and the boy she considered hers, pay. And they would pay dearly for the destruction they'd wrought.

It was no wonder the Weasleys were all such firecrackers. They clearly took after their mum. Though it was still a shock when Mrs. Weasley aimed a Killing Curse at Bellatrix, and Hermione was even more amazed when that was all it took to silence the insane witch once and for all.

Hermione didn't think anything else had the ability to stun her so thoroughly, but she was proven wrong a moment later when Harry suddenly appeared before the room – directly opposite Voldemort.

It was impossible.

He'd been dead. He'd let Voldemort kill him.

But there he was, vitality practically vibrating off him.

Dumbledore had obviously been the most clever man she'd ever met. She really should have known that the old man would have had one last trick up his sleeve. It all made perfect sense too, particularly after Harry explained things.

Hermione listened raptly, as engaged as the rest of the room as she listened to Harry's tale. At least until he mentioned Severus. Then her heart nearly stopped.

"Severus Snape wasn't yours. Snape was Dumbledore's, Dumbledore's from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can't understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?"

Respect for her husband underlined Harry's question. Hermione detected Harry's uncontestable belief in Severus's loyalty. Whatever he'd seen in Severus's memories had been enough to convince him that Severus's actions had always been for Harry's sake.

Hermione only wished she'd seen them for herself as Harry had suggested. There were still so many questions plaguing her – including Harry's conviction that she'd get a happily ever after.

"Snape's Patronus was a doe, the same as my mother's, because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from the time when they were children. You should have realized. He asked you to spare her life, didn't he?"

"He desired her, that was all, but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him –"

"Other women?" Harry asked mildly, a small smile coming over his face as though recalling a fond memory. "Yes, I suppose you could say that. You're right, he did find another, a witch he loved even more than my mum – my best friend, Hermione. But her blood, not that it matters, but it's not what you'd consider worthier. She's Muggleborn, you see, same as my mum, but I'm sure you know that. Snape married her over a year ago, and you tried to kill him earlier tonight because of it."

The pronouncement finally stirred the audience, and several loud gasps rang out through the room. Hermione felt heat bloom in her cheeks, but she resisted the urge to duck her head or try to hide from the sudden scrutiny as several people glanced her way, including several of her former professors, and Severus's colleagues.

She wasn't ashamed of marrying Severus, despite what he feared.

Could they have been united under better circumstances? Certainly. But that didn't alter the outcome, or the journey they'd traveled together.

She'd unequivocally fallen in love with him. And she knew the best and worst of him, so she knew it was real.

And because if what Harry was saying was the truth, then Severus did return her feelings. And honestly, Harry had no reason to lie now. The reference to his mum would have been sufficient on its own.

"He wouldn't dare marry the chit. He merely shagged her. I killed him for his betrayal," Voldemort hissed, fury making his tone more serpentine than ever.

"Dumbledore performed the binding ceremony right here in the castle after your Death Eaters attacked her. Snape was always Dumbledore's spy, and when your actions threatened another woman he loved, you ensured that no matter what, he would do whatever it took to work against you and bring you down. Because it was the right thing to do, but also for Hermione."

"Dumbledore –"

"Dumbledore was already dying when Snape finished him!"

"It matters not! What do I care who Snape was loyal to? I killed him, crushed him just as I have all obstacles in my path. I crushed him as I did your mother, as I will her once this is through, because you've failed! You've failed, Potter, in ways that you don't understand!"

"I understand far more than you think. I know what you believe –"

"He intended Snape to be the true master of the Elder Wand, but I –"

"You're wrong again, Riddle. You've been so very wrong all along. And not just because we saved Snape – yes, didn't you hear me say try earlier?" Harry revealed, smiling wider.

"No," he denied, betraying a true hint of fear, as well as genuine disbelief that he might have been thwarted right under his very nose.

"He's recovering as we speak, I've no doubt. He has much to live for," Harry said softly, and Hermione knew it was because he wanted that for both Snape and herself.

"No. That's impossible. No one can recover from –"

"We gave him the antidote after you had Nagini bite him, but that doesn't matter. Not in this. But before you try to kill me, I'd advise you to think about what you've done…. Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle…."

"What is this?"

Hermione felt as confused as Voldemort sounded. At least until she remembered discussing how to mend a soul the previous summer when they were still at the Burrow. Was Harry trying to save him? Was he honestly trying to get Voldemort to repair the damage to his soul after everything he'd done?

Only Harry would even bother trying. Only Harry would be so bold as to call him on this.

"This is your last chance, it's all you've got left…. I've seen what you'll be otherwise…. Be a man…try…. Try for some remorse…."

"You dare – ?"

"Yes, I dare. I told you. I told you it didn't matter. Even if you'd succeeded in killing Snape, it wouldn't matter. Your plan failed. He never beat Dumbledore. They arranged everything between them. It was planned! But what's more, Snape wasn't the true master of the Wand. He never won it."

"But then, Potter, Dumbledore as good as gave me the wand! I stole the wand from its master's tomb! I removed it against its last master's wishes! Its power is mine!" Voldemort crowed triumphantly, completely missing the way Harry shook his head almost pityingly.

"It's not yours. It was never yours, Riddle. Possessing it isn't enough. Surely you've noticed that tonight. The wand chooses the wizard…Draco Malfoy won it from Dumbeldore before he died."

Then Harry was nodding, recognizing the dawning comprehension morphing Voldemort's features into a mask of shock and outrage. It twisted almost at once into one of cold calculation.

"I know what you're thinking, Riddle, but you're already too late. I overpowered Draco just a few days ago, before he too changed sides," Harry announced, unintentionally rubbing salt into the monster's wounds. "Yes, he turned against you as well, just after I took this from him."

Harry held up the prized wand to show it off, and Hermione thought that maybe his actions weren't entirely unintentional, after all.

It was then Hermione understood what Harry had been trying to tell them before. All that he'd already sorted out about the wand. He'd known this would happen. It was why he'd not cared if Voldemort got ahold of Dumbledore's wand.

"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it? Does the wand in your hand know its master was Disarmed? Because if it does…I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

A split second. That's all the longer Voldemort gave himself to contemplate Harry's words before he fired on him, shouting, "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry was ready, defending himself with his signature move, returning, "Expelliarmus!"

A loud bang ricocheted throughout the room, the echoes still ringing as Voldemort fell. He looked like a cut tree as he toppled backwards, crashing to the floor with a final, absolute, thud as Harry easily caught the soaring wand that so many had made a fuss over.

En masse, the crowd rushed Harry, dragging Hermione along in the unstoppable current. As relieved as she was that Harry had once again managed to cheat death, every molecule in her body screamed for her to go to Severus. Bodies pressed against her, and she elbowed and shoved at them to free herself from the thick of the well-wishers.

A tap on the shoulder near the outskirts had her turning to find Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick.

"Is it true then?" McGonagall demanded, face pinched tight. "What Potter said about Severus," she clarified.

"Yes," Hermione replied crisply, bracing herself against the censure she was sure her mentor intended to display.

"He's truly alive? Where is he?" Flitwick asked quickly, his voice squeaking on the last word.

"The Shrieking Shack. He's hurt – I have to go," Hermione said in a rush, her whole body leaning towards the door, particularly now that the crowd was truly behind her and she had a clear path to the front doors.

"I should have known he'd –"

"Nevermind that now. We'll have time for regrets and apologies later. Filius, can you see to it that Poppy is ready for us while we retrieve him?"

They weren't angry or disapproving. The knowledge stilled Hermione for a single beat of her heart. These two had once been friends of Severus's. Perhaps they'd been hoping for an excuse to explain his actions all along. And now they finally had all of the answers.

More than that, they weren't railing at her for being involved with a professor they'd suspected was a Death Eater for nearly a year.

A distant memory whispered through her mind. The story of McGonagall's own doomed love. It was possible she understood Hermione's position better than she'd dared hope for.

"Of course!" he agreed, slipping away, his head quickly disappearing among the crowd given his short stature.

"Professor –"

"Let's be off then. The Anti-Apparition wards are still down, so best you take my arm, Miss Granger, it'll be faster, " McGonagall said briskly.

"It's Snape," Hermione corrected, placing her hand on the other woman's arm. Snape. A name she was proud to carry. A name she wasn't giving up without a fight, though hopefully that would not be unnecessary.

A small smile softened McGonagall's ordinarily pinched lips just before they were squeezed into nothing.

Between one second and the next Hermione was at her husband's side. He was still unconscious, and his breathing was labored, but at least he was still breathing. His skin had taken on a wax-like appearance that was completely colorless, nearly translucent even.

"Oh, Severus," McGonagall whispered, waving her wand until Severus was hovering before them. "What have you gone and done to yourself this time?" she muttered, shaking her head as though he was once again one of her misbehaving students.

Before Hermione could comment or demand they hurry along, her body was being sucked into a straw for a second time only to be expelled an instant later.

Hermione squinted against the bright light and blinked several times as her eyes adjusted before she could make sense of where they were. The hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey immediately began waving her wand and clucking her tongue, tsking at the state Severus was in.

"Can you help him?" Hermione demanded, moving to follow her as she directed Severus into a bed in the corner.

"You'll need to give me time and space to work," the matron replied.

"Please, I need to know he'll be all right," Hermione persisted, trying to get a closer look as she dogged after them.

"I can't know until I have a chance to look him over," Madam Pomfrey bristled.

"But please can't you –"

Out!" she barked, drawing a curtain sharply around the bed, and effectively blocking Hermione from seeing as she worked on her husband.

"He's in the best hands possible. If necessary, she'll contact St. Mungo's for help," McGonagall said reassuringly. "Regardless, he'll live. He's like that."

A soft, lilting voice stopped Hermione from responding. "Harry's gone to the headmaster's office with Ron. I'm sure they're waiting for you, and wish you to join them. Besides, it will probably be easier waiting with them, than it would be here."

Luna. The ethereal blonde drifted over, nodding at Professor McGonagall as she passed.

"I want to be here in case anything changes," Hermione argued, watching the curtain as though she'd be able to see through it at any moment.

"It sounds like it will be a while. I can wait for you," Luna offered, holding out one of the Galleons they'd been using for messaging the D.A. "I'll send a message if there's an update, but you should see Harry…and Ron wasn't looking very well."

Reluctantly, Hermione accepted the communication coin and trudged up to the headmaster's office, because her friend was right – she'd go insane waiting without anything to occupy herself with. Her "brothers" could use her help now, and they were welcome distractions.

"The thing that was hidden in the Snitch, I dropped it in the forest," Harry said vaguely, his voice drifting towards her as she approached the heavy wooden door that had been left open, as though in silent invitation for her to join them.

"You used the stone?" Professor Dumbledore asked, sounding mildly curious. Hermione was intrigued as well as she slipped in behind him. Harry had desired the stone above all the other Hallows.

"I spoke with my parents, Sirius and Remus too. They were with me before I died. I saw you too then," Harry continued, speaking to the previous headmaster's portrait.

Ron and Hermione exchange worried looks, but neither interrupted to demand a full explanation.

Hermione took a second to look Ron over. He was doing far better than she'd expected. She wasn't sure if it was shock or because he was so relieved not to have actually lost Harry too on top of the rest. Probably it was a combination of the two.

Idly, she wondered how long this state would last.

"I think you're wise to have discarded it. But what I wonder most is… Will Severus make it?" Dumbledore inquired, causing both of the boys to look at her.

"I reckon he should," Ron replied with a bit of a forced snort. "Stubborn bloke like him? I'm betting he'll stick around just to criticize Harry for taking his time ending things and sharing all of his personal business with everyone."

Hermione sighed, appreciating the attempt at humor, but she was too tense to even try returning the banter. "Madam Pomfrey has him. It's…too soon to know for certain."

"For what it's worth, I spoke with my mum…," Harry said, looking distinctly uncomfortable, "she never knew how he felt. She thinks it's because it wasn't real. It was never more than a crush. What he has with you is real. Dumbledore said the same. So…so you've got my support. Clean slate from here on out."

"You're suggesting we pal around with him?" Ron's horrified look made her laugh a bit hysterically. The very idea of them playing Exploding Snap or arguing over Quidditch after dinner was not something she could properly envision.

Or was that precisely what her future would consist of?

If Severus survived, would he welcome her friends? Did he understand that they were a package deal? Harry and Ron were practically the only family she had.

"I doubt that will be necessary. Harry, are you truly sure he…."

"I think you should watch his memories," Harry suggested for the second time, nodding at where he'd left them in the Pensieve on the ancient wooden desk. Even from where she stood, Hermione could see a young Lily's smiling face looking out at her as it swirled around.

"I couldn't. They're too personal. It'd be such an evasion of his privacy. He only ever meant for you to see them, and he didn't think either of you would live for long once you had," Hermione denied, though every bit of her longed to see them.

If she couldn't be with Severus while Madam Pomfrey treated him, watching his memories was the next best way to be close to him.

And of course there was the promise of answers. The elusive answers to every question she'd had for months and months. All right there for the having…taking…

Looking to Ron for guidance was no help, as he merely shrugged, untroubled by the ethical dilemma she faced. He'd never minded poking his nose in where it wasn't welcome.

"I don't know…," Hermione tried, wanting to honor Severus's wishes.

"Watch them. We'll wait for you here," Harry insisted, collapsing into the nearest chair.

The temptation was too much to resist.