A/N: A humble bow of gratitude to Luna, my beta, and to Anastasia, my partner-in-crime.


Salva Me

(Save Me)

Tayet screamed, beating her wings furiously, and the Dementors broke their circle, swooping down on the Order members as they Apparated around them.

From their position in the center of the park, Hagrid and Grawp watched as Voldemort pressed his wand into Hermione's throat.

Hagrid gripped his cross-bow tightly and growled as he saw Hermione go rigid. Around her and Voldemort and the tall Death Eater, he thought he saw a tinge of red in the air. He hoped it wasn't blood.

Not bothering to check on the position of the rest of the Order, nor to spot Nagini, nor even to move quietly, he charged toward the row of Death Eaters between him and the young witch.

Grawp's small, watery eyes narrowed and, roaring, he followed Hagrid, ripping a nearby tree out by its roots. He would smash whatever was making Hagrid unhappy.

Hearing Grawp's roar, the Death Eaters whipped around, wands flashing an array of curses that did little to deter the advance. Those in the direct line of advance closed rank, save one.

The Death Eater with the light grey eyes found that simply by not moving he had ended up standing behind the back rank. Glancing to see what those to either side of him were doing – backs to him, dropping into dueling stances, heads jerking side to side, checking for additional threats – he eased around and, careful to mask his wand, pointed it at the back of the Death Eater standing in front of him, silhouetted by the barrage of spells the rear guard was firing at Hagrid and Grawp.

Patience, Draco, old boy, he told himself silently. No way those oafs found us by themselves.

He waited, casting frequent glances to both sides to ensure that no one could see where his wand was really pointing.

While he waited, he wondered fleetingly what the real story was with Granger and Snape.

He hoped he'd live long enough to find out.

/x/

The one part of Hermione's brain that wasn't silently screaming was reciting a passage from her Defense textbook: "At point-blank range, the first effect of the Cruciatus Curse is to blind its victims. Whereas such effects are generally temporary…" With one hand still around Voldemort's finger and the other around Severus' neck, that same detached voice paused to note that her knees were starting to buckle.

Beside her, Severus held his neck and shoulders firmly rigid to support as much of her weight as he could without appearing to do so. Their Legilimantic connection shredded by the onslaught of Voldemort's rage, he could do nothing more to aid her. Knowing too well from first-hand experience that Cruciatus effects were cumulative – first physical, then mental – he silently willed her to stay on her feet, to stay strong, to fight…

But then he, too, was choking on his own breath. His eyes raking the trees wildly for the rest of the Order – Tonks' hair a beacon on one side of the constricting circle; Moody's eye glowing from between two Dementors – he felt all of his bonds flare simultaneously. Not yet, Harry… not yet… As he forced himself to stay standing, to draw breath against the white-hot bands around his soul, itself in agony for Hermione, and through her for himself, he realized the message behind Draco's blink – as the fighting hadn't reached him yet, the boy must have turned on the Death Eaters. Despite his own inner war, the palest shadow of a smirk crossed his lips.

Who's screaming? Who is that screaming? "At point-blank range, the effects…" Oh. It's me. Of course. "At point-blank range…" I can't see! "At point-blank…" Oh, gods, I can't see… "At point…" Severus, I'm sorry…

Her knees were going; she was falling. With her last moment of independent will, before body and mind gave in to the thousand hot knives slicing lengthwise into each nerve, each bone, she forced herself to release her hold on Severus' neck and let all of her weight hang from Voldemort's finger.

It snapped at the joint.

Good…

And Tayet's wings beat in panic; a plaintive "Squeep!" as Hermione fell, twitching, to the ground.

/x/

"Harry – stay behind us! Ron – Ginny – stay with him!" Arthur ordered, as a frenzy of Dementors broke away from the main circle to descend toward them. He planted his feet, eyes blazing, and cast his own Patronus to join Molly's and Minerva's, which were already shielding the three behind them from the descending Darkness.

Harry had already started to bolt toward the deeper trees in the park, and he stumbled as Mr. Weasley's order brought him up short. Ron's hand flew to his elbow, stopping his fall.

"Harry," Ginny hissed, her wand out, her eyes sweeping up to where the Dementors hung silently, ragged robes straining backwards as they forced their wills against the Patronus shields. "Fix your shoelaces. Now!"

Ron couldn't suppress a glance at his own, which he had double-knotted before leaving the Burrow. His relief at finding them still firmly tied was completely out of proportion, and, in it, he recognized his own rising panic. A glance at Harry, who had dropped to one knee, fingers frantically working at his trainers, and he felt a lump rise in his throat.

/x/

A blur of talons, beak, and feathers left a trail of black dust and blood on the pale hand with the bent finger.

Hissing, Voldemort snatched for the phoenix above Hermione's falling shoulder.

His hand closed on empty air, and he whirled around at the giant's roar.

/x/

Perched on Hermione's chest, Tayet spread her wings and eyed Nagini coldly.

The snake was circling, coiling around Hermione's ankles, twining up her legs.

Tayet's beak opening in warning.

Nagini's tongue flickering in response.

/x/

The ground shook as Grawp thundered toward the rear guard, the tree he wielded raising for a sweeping strike, curses and hexes flying toward him more erratically as each Death Eater in his way fought a split-second battle between loyalty and survival.

Some of the spells hit home, slicing his skin open, showering them all in a misting rain of falling blood.

Grawp would feel them later, if at all.

Draco jerked his head aside as a spatter of blood glued a stray wisp of hair to the corner of his eye. Squeezing his eye shut, ignoring the scraping hair on the surface of his eye, he clenched his jaw against the bone-crashing pounding of Grawp's footsteps and tracked the arc of the tree as the giant drew it backwards –

Patience…

As the tree whipped downwards to sweep the ranks of the Death Eaters, their line wavered and moaned as more than one tried to bolt.

Now.

Draco released the spell he'd been holding, then another.

Those who had tried to run were still falling slowly as Draco threw himself sideways, dragging his mother down with him, out of reach of the furiously whistling branches as they whipped past overhead.

In a breath of treason against a chorus of snapping tendons and shattered bones, Voldemort's rear guard was destroyed.

/x/

As the Dark Lord's concentration slashed toward the rampaging giant, Severus' mind was once more his own.

Behind him, the steady blue glow of the Orders' Patronuses and the brighter flashes of individual duels as the Death Eaters closed the circle around the Dark Lord. To one side, another blue glow, punctuated by the gleam of Moody's eye. To the other, the flash and fade of curse and countercurse as Lupin tried to fight his way to Tonks under a lowering cloud of Dementors. The glow of Tonks' Patronus fading as the Death Eaters closed on her.

Knowing that Lupin couldn't make it in time, Severus' gaze grew detached before it returned to Voldemort.

Before him, the Dark Lord was gliding carefully sideways, his wand deceptively lazy in his good hand, biding his time, not wasting a single spell against the bleeding giant who was, even now, stepping aside for Hagrid, the tree falling, forgotten, in his hand.

An inner release; an easier breath, another. So, Draco still lived. Perhaps he had run.

Knowing that Harry must yet be behind him, behind the thick of the fighting, Severus kept his wary eyes on the Dark Lord's back, dropping quickly to one knee to check Hermione

But instead of Hermione's body, his hand brushed scales, and he jerked his hand away, muscles freezing as Nagini hissed a warning.

Tayet's glare fixed on the snake, snake returning the bird's gaze impassively, sliding higher, closer on Hermione's body, tongue flickering toward the exposed skin at her stomach.

Her twisting fall had loosened her blouse, her smooth skin vulnerable to Nagini's deadly caress…

Severus' hand clenched on his wand – no – the snake not his to kill – a whispered urgency: Protect her, little one.

His duty still before him, he stood guard, apart, distinguished from all others in his utter silence.

/x/

"What's happening?" Harry whispered.

"Can't see much," Ron said tightly. He had not just seen his mother's Patronus flicker. He hadn't.

"Get ready," Ginny said quietly, to Ron.

She had.

/x/

A low note, so low it cut beneath the raging shouts and cries of anguish and destruction full around them. Tayet's throat widened as the note took on a darker shape, pitching lower, a drone of anguished fury and vengeance promised should the crawling thing with its bold, looping tongue dare one single scale closer.

Nagini froze.

A flick of Tayet's head, an ancient dance – a seduction – the song so soft, so quiet, only for the snake, only for her, for Nagini, only for her, all for her…

Nagini's eyes a shadow softer, chin a fraction higher…

… all for her, its rhythm specific, its modulations coiling, calling, the song of the snake, the blackened siren, beckoning, up, up…

… entranced, still, empty eyes a following, no consideration, no story, just instinct…

… all for her, Tayet's neck a calculation, a variable, a constant, a low keen, a plaintive cry, a plea, a wish …

… and Nagini's head arose from Hermione's body, into the air, her movements a mirror of Tayet's own, her head higher, higher, Tayet's neck outstretched with the low song entwined invisibly around the snake's throat, higher, higher still…

… and seeing the snake about to strike that precious phoenix, Hagrid took aim and fired.

The bolt took Nagini through the eye.

And a flash of green light flew from Voldemort's wand, heading straight for Hagrid's heart.

/x/

As Molly fell, drained, panting, her youngest son stepped forward to take her place, his Patronus blazing forth, called from a memory so early he barely remembered it himself.

A sparkling of lights, a hush of snowfall – and the crinkling rustle of paper, a soft teddy happy in his arms.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw the light fade and, for a moment, his own Patronus wavered, but he heard Ginny's voice soft and low behind him.

"She's just knackered, Dad. Harry has her."

"Good lads, Harry, Ron!" Arthur shouted. His Patronus shone with full intensity once more, in defiance of the dampness on his cheeks.

/x/

"HAGGER!" Grawp bellowed, charging forth to knock his body out of the path of the light.

Hagrid shuddered as he fell, inches from Draco, who quickly rolled himself and his mother out of the way.

Whether Hagrid had been hit by Voldemort's curse or just by Grawp's sudden, sweeping blow, from where he lay among the dusty leaves, Draco could not tell.

He cradled his mother's head against the hard path as the battle raged around them.

/x/

Tayet backwinged away from Nagini's sudden thrashing, seeking the safety of Severus' shoulder as the snake's heavy coils writhed inward, constricting on themselves, sending dark sprays of blood spattering over Hermione as the soul-fragment within expended a last frenetic attempt to control the dying body.

"Squeep?" Tayet crooned softly, peering through Severus' hair as the coils began to lose tension, glistening in the reflected lights from spells.

Severus did not answer her. In the chaotic spectrum of flashing light and ever-changing shadows from the duels ranged around them, the blood on Hermione's face, on her skin, looked black.

He could not answer – not with gesture, nor with words.

For one last moment, he, Hermione, and Tayet existed, an island in a war in which both sides accounted them their own, and Severus' world narrowed.

He was scarcely aware of Voldemort's howl of cheated rage as the Dark Lord flew toward the giant...

… nor of Grawp batting Voldemort aside, picking up Hagrid's limp form and charging through the Death Eaters and Dementors surrounding Tonks, sending friend and foe tumbling aside with raging sweeps of his free arm…

… nor of the cries suddenly choked from those whom fate, decision, destiny or fear had placed beneath Grawp's indifferent feet as the giant blindly obeyed the one order he had ever really understood.

Severus' focus was all for Hermione as she lay, bloody and still, in the garish glare of forbidden spells and the counterspells of those bound – By what? By choice? By nature? By accident? – to stand against them.

Hermione stirred, her shaking hand fighting its way free of the limp, heavy coils, coming up instinctively to wipe her face, smearing the snake's blood across her cheeks, her forehead…

As Severus and Tayet watched, insensible to the chaos around them, Hermione worked her other arm free, shoving the dead snake finally aside, hands reaching for the solidity of the ground, seeking a clear space to plant her feet, slowly rising.

Her hair a gritty, bloody mass, hiding her face, she gestured uncertainly toward where Severus had been standing, where he yet stood.

"I'm right here," he thought quietly.

Her head turned toward him and he inhaled sharply – the smeared blood on her face a mask out of which her open eyes stared, unblinking, as the lights flashed directly into them.

Her thought, when it came, was a brittle rigidity of fury and fear. "I can't see."

"I know."

The silence hung between them.

Hermione's face seemed to search for his eyes, her fists clenched at her sides.

In a flash from behind him, in the shadow cast by his own body, Severus saw the silk package she held tightly within her grasp, saw a bit of white as she drew out the new wand.

In her mind, she felt a fluttering, silken caress – his hair, his cloak, his thought, his soul – the sound of wind, and she wrapped her mind around it –

and Severus smelled rain –

and they nodded.

Gathering his will from the contradictions of his soul, Severus drew his old wand for the last time.

He did not need to say the words aloud, and perhaps he should not have done, but with Hermione, bloodied, blinded, proud before him, his lips parted, and, his voice echoing in her soul, he breathed the words of the trapping spell, the words that would ensnare them both in a final, unforgivable dance with death:

"Foris Clausa."


Note on chapter title: Like "Dies Irae," the phrase "Salva Me" ("Save Me") is from the text of the Requiem Mass.