A/N: Well, I managed to get another chapter out in record time for me recently and boy is this one a doozy! I do hope you all find a way of enjoying this update! Back in Book 3 I got a lot of criticism in how I wanted to move the story along, and truthfully, it was a bit discouraging. But I've made my peace with writing the story the way I want to. If it does well, great, if it doesn't, it's unfortunate but it's been a hell of a ride!

All that to say, I hope you really have been enjoying this book so far and let this chapter be no exception!

Chapter VI: The Sinner and the Saint

(Daphne P.O.V)

As a witch, weird things were commonplace. As a pureblood, even more so. Daphne's status had given her glimpses into deeper magical mysteries that the average half-blood or muggle-born would never have been able to see, so when Daphne Greengrass says that something is strange, it should resonate. Daphne found the Vampire Queen's blood mist form beyond strange.

Daphne had once read that only those directly from the line of the great vampire Dracula had the power of the mist. When Alucard, Dracula's son, slew his father, the ability should have died with him until Alucard demonstrated the form himself. The blood mist acted similarly to the fog that coated wizards when they apparated. However, those wizards, smoke as they were, were still tangible. Harry and Daphne had learned rather painfully, Carmilla was not.

"Bombarda!" Daphne bellowed, her voice filled with authority. Carmilla only smirked before she turned her head to red mist and allowed the spell to fly through her.

The wall behind the undead queen ruptured. Dust from the destroyed stonewalls clouded Daphne's cyan-turned eyes, and a sharp pain filled her gut. Blood trickled from her lips. She trembled and looked down at the nails of the silver-haired vampire that dug deeper into her stomach. Daphne bit back a scream. She refused to give the demon the satisfaction of her agony-filled scream.

Harry growled ferally and swung at Carmilla. There was a manic glaze over his emerald eyes, and the vampire's lip trembled slightly. Daphne grunted at the haste removal of Carmilla's nails from her core. The walls shifted around her, the floor shook beneath her, and her vision spiraled with every stumbled step. Harry's arms surrounded her; steadied her.

"Sorry," Daphne muttered, "Got careless."

Harry shook his head, "Don't worry about it. Get back to base. Dr. Thatcher will patch you right up." The glare Harry held was that of an animal, though Carmilla only grinned at him, "I'm going to take care of her."

"How?" Daphne groaned, "We can't even touch her?"

"Is that doubt I hear in your voice, Princess?" Harry smiled. He smiled his trademark, lopsided grin that never failed to put her at ease, "I'm Harry Potter, remember. Doing the impossible is my thing. Now go!"

Daphne forced herself forward. Every step, every twitch of her muscles, every breath she took made her body burn. If Daphne cut her arm open, she wouldn't have been surprised if fire sprung out from her skin. She gripped her chest desperately and leaned against the alley wall to catch her breath. Why can't I move? Her heart pounded in her ears. What's happening to me?

"What's the hold-up, Daphne!" Harry shouted between spells, "You gotta get out of here!"

"Oh, don't be so hard on the poor girl," Carmilla cooed. She fidgeted with the ring on her middle finger and phased through the attacks with that eerie grin. "I assure you that she's doing her best. I've never really cared much for snakes, but his snake, it's venom is something else."

Poison? Daphne snarled at the idea. She clawed at the remains of the stone wall to hold herself up. Her legs shook beneath her like her body was a stone held up by two weak twigs. "Truthfully, the fact she's still standing is a testament to the girl's willpower. You should be proud, Potter."

Daphne could see the gears turn in Harry's head. The words of Mad-Eye two years ago echoed through her mind, Corner and Longbottom can hold their own; the rest of you are liabilities on the battlefield. She fell forward on her knees with a thud. Blood spread from the knicks on her kneecap, and her jaw shook with the urge to force back a scream. She twisted herself around, and blood gushed from her wound onto her palm, "Sectumsempra!"

Carmilla's head whipped towards Daphne. She'd phased out too slowly. After all, to the descendent of Alucard the Great, a poisoned teenager was hardly a threat. Blood trickled down her cheek, and Daphne smirked at the faraway look in the vampire's reddened eyes. The spell had been off-target but had scratched her. For what Daphne presumed may have been the first time in centuries for the monster, she bled.

Carmilla's hand brushed against her cut. Her finger shivered at the sight of her blood that spewed involuntarily from her skin. "No, no, no," She whispered and licked her fingers like a kitten, "The blood of Alucard can not be wasted. Forgive me, Lord Alucard."

A droplet of blood fell to the floor, and Carmilla screamed. She fell to the group and lapped up her blood from the pavement. Harry stepped back, disturbed. Daphne couldn't blame Harry; the sight alone made her nauseous. Carmilla pressed her palm to her cheek and closed the wound before she gulped down the mixture of dust and blood.

She smiled with a face caked in debris and then released a cackle that Daphne thought only belonged to witches in Muggle Fairy Tales. "You dare touch me! You dare make me bleed! I will rip your head from your shoulders and bathe my lord's tomb in a pool of your blood for your transgressions!"

"Charming," Daphne mumbled. A poor choice of last words, she thought. Carmilla moved through the air like an eagle. Had the poison not been so painful, she may have thought of Harry or Astoria, but only the fire in her blood filled her mind. Her wand slipped from her hand; she'd lost the strength to hold her grip, then the world flashed blue.

Daphne couldn't quite see anything anymore. She wasn't sure that she was even on the ground anymore, but it didn't matter. Land, Air, Sea, it didn't change the fact her body screamed like she'd gotten dipped into a lake of fire. The sparkle of flames vibrated in her ears, and distantly, she heard Harry, "Nobody touches her!"

New hands held her. They weren't as coarse and calloused as Harry's but were strong all the same. It was funny; in a way, Daphne couldn't see, and all the noise around her sounded muffled, yet she was sure she'd been in the man's hands before.

"Stay away from-" Had been all she'd been able to make out of Harry's roar. He sounded angry and nervous, but Daphne had no idea why. The hold felt so comfortable like she was a child again. She felt at peace.

It's okay, Harry; Daphne wanted to say the words. She wanted Harry to feel the same peace she felt. It doesn't hurt anymore. I feel nothing now.

Her throat gulped down something syrupy and saplike. Warmth and a low hum filled her ears and body. Screams, shouts, whispers, Daphne couldn't make out the difference anymore. "Forgive me, forgive me." Those words, she could even tell if they were hers or not. Loss of control, she'd always thought that to be a major fear of hers, but now, she felt nothing. No pain, no joy, no anger, no worry- she felt nothing at all.

(Harry P.O.V)

Love is described often as an emotion of great power and joy. Harry had discovered multiple times that it could also be an emotion of great agony. Agony, like the pain he felt when Daphne hit the ground when he'd been unable to rush to her side and do nothing for her. Harry had visited hell a fair share of times; he'd buried several comrades, but those hurt differently than the pain he felt at Daphne's bedside.

The blood mist, the death eaters, all of that flashed before his eyes like a film he couldn't unsee. Voldemort tormented him in the past. The Dark Lord's methods were cruel and vindictive, but Carmilla taunted him. She mocked him in a way that infuriated him. It wasn't like the assaults to his confidence that Voldemort delivered due to the power gap that once rested between them. Harry knew he could have killed the Vampire Queen if only he'd been able to hit her.

A vortex of wind manifested itself in his palm. He sneered at the magic that so many other wizards would have loved to be able to cast without a wand and words. Harry himself had grown rather fond of the wind charm, but the fact that all he'd been able to do was contain the mist-woman in a tornado for moments at a time made his blood boil.

He'd dealt with wizards that overused their apparation skills. Smoke though they were, their bodies were still tangible. The mist of the Undead Queen boggled his mind. How could he kill something he couldn't touch? He reached out and rubbed his thumb against the top of Daphne's hand. The color had slowly returned to her skin, proof that the anti-venom had begun its work. She'd survive; that was all that held Harry steady.

Daphne's cloak and bag sat across from the bed they shared on a loveseat decorated with discarded effects. When Harry saw the bag opened and pulled from Daphne's back, he'd feared the worst; to his great misfortune, he'd been correct. Moody and Sirius had torn the bag inside out, but nothing radiated with the dark energy of a horcrux. If it was in there, it wasn't any longer.

Aside from Harry and Daphne, the room was vacant. Harry wasn't quite sure who he had to thank for that, but as soon as Daphne's condition had stabilized, the Order left them alone. Astoria popped her head in every hour or so for an update, but even she gave Harry his time. They were Gryffindors, after all, quite possibly the worst mourners of the four houses.

"Harry," Daphne muttered. The Boy-Who-Lived gripped his girlfriend's hand tightly. The blonde's head tilted from side to side, and desperation crept into her voice, "Harry, Harry, Harry!"

Her eyelids flashed open, and Harry gripped her shoulder to stop her jump from the bed. "Hey, hey," Harry said, his voice low and soft "You're okay, Daphne. You're home."

"Harry?" She whispered. Daphne turned from him, her eyes desperate to look at anything but him. "I'm sorry. I got careless and-"

"Stop that," Harry insisted. His fingers cupped her chin and tilted her back to his gaze. "Self-Pity doesn't suit you, Princess. Plus, it's not your fault."

"The cup." Daphne coughed and gasped, the venom not fully neutralized, "Harry, do we still have the cup?"

"That's not important right now," Harry said calmly, "Getting you better is the only thing I care about right now."

Her eyes sank, "So we don't have it then?" Her fingers clawed weakly at her sheets, "I had one mission, to retrieve the cup and bring it back here, and I failed."

"And now you're one of us." Harry smiled weakly, "We'll figure it out, Daphne. I promise, no matter what happens, we will win this war."

"You're awfully optimistic considering the circumstances," Daphne said.

"You're alive," Harry replied. "Merlin Daphne, you're alive. When the poison knocked you unconscious and that Death Eater took you from me-," Harry gritted his teeth, "For a few minutes there, I thought that I'd never see you again. When we found you still alive, it was a miracle. I don't care what happens next right now. I just want to live in the happiness that you're okay for slightly a little longer."

Harry brushed away Daphne's tears, "Also, I should probably be the one to apologize. Waiting for you to recover has been hell, and I know I put you through so much worse. I think I'm finally inspired enough to try to avoid dying now."

Daphne smiled, and a soft chuckle broke from her lips. "Yeah, it's really not fun to be standing where you're standing. Ass."

"Now, now, I admitted fault," Harry said with a laugh of his own, "No need to be so hostile." Their laughter softened when Harry palmed Daphne's cheek gently and placed a kiss on her forehead, "I love you."

"I love you," She returned. Harry crawled from the chair into the bed next to her. Her weakened frame felt safe and comforted in Harry's grip, and she purred from the warmth of Harry's chest against her back. "So what happens now?"

"Well, I'd love to, you know, do it," Harry said cheekily, "But Dr. Thacher told me that you had to refrain from any strenuous activites and-"

"Not between us, you idiot," Daphne laughed. Harry loved her laugh; they'd become an ever more solemn occurrence since the war began. She rolled to face him, and Harry swallowed, "I mean with the war. If they have the cup, then it's likely that Voldemort will return soon."

"And when he does, I'll kill him," Harry said firmly. "And if he comes back again, I'll kill him again. I'll kill him as many times as I need to, at whatever cost, as long as you and the Order are safe."

"What about Carmilla? How did you deal with her mist and-"

"You know Daphne," Harry interrupted, "Your pillow talk game needs a lot of work."

"Shut it, this is serious," Daphne hissed.

Harry frowned, "I know that. You know that I know that. But your physical recovery is also serious, and I know that you need to rest if you want to feel better any time soon." He sighed, "But because I know you and your obsession to know everything, I'll tell you this much. I only managed to contain her for a little while. It didn't matter how powerful a spell I threw at her; she was able to phase through it. I used the Ventus spell to keep her from reforming, which held her for a bit, but I still couldn't touch her. Honest truth is, I have no idea how to deal with her next time we meet."

"Maybe we can brainstorm," Daphne pushed, "What if we-"

Harry pressed his finger to her lips, "Michael and Claire reached out to Hermione and Neville. Everyone in the Order is already working on trying to figure out that ability of hers. Please, Princess, rest. If you don't, I'll call Dr. Thatcher, and she'll put you down with a horse tranquilizer; I'm not kidding."

"I hate when you're the one taking care of me," Daphne pouted, "You Gryffindors and your overprotectivness."

"I am what I am." Harry smiled, "I'm going to let everyone know that you're doing alright. I'll be back up later with food, but I should probably join the search through the Black Library."

Harry shuttered at the thought, though Daphne grinned with amusement. "Fine, but at least let me help you with a place to start. The Blood Mist, maybe it was just in passing or in something I read a long time ago, but I'm certain it's an ability of Alucard's bloodline. That might be a good place to start your search."

"Thank you, Princess, you're a lifesaver," Harry said. Daphne groaned when Harry's warmth left hers but made do with the heat of the covers. "Oh yeah, no solids for a couple of days, so what kind of soup do you want."

"Ice cream," Daphne grumbled.

"Soup first."

"Fine, Chicken Noodle," Daphne replied, "Then mint-chocolate ice cream."

"Chicken Noodle then mint-chocolate ice cream," Harry repeated before he shut the door to their room behind him. "Daphne Greengrass," He muttered to himself, "You're going to be the death of me."

For years, Harry had developed a short and concise list of things he despised. Of course, Voldemort and his allies were the first, but he was confident that research fell right beneath it. It wasn't that Harry hated to learn; he loved to gain practical knowledge. Foraging through piles of books, though, was more of a Hermione thing. He chuckled at the memory of the bushy-haired Ravenclaw. The words, well actually, in her tone banged in his head like a drum, and Harry rubbed his temples.

"Oh my god," He mumbled, his throat filled with concern, "I miss Hermione's random facts." He glanced down at his palms, "Maybe I am going mad."

The bushy-haired witch and the Longbottom heir filled his mind for a brief moment. How was the castle holding up? How was the S.P.I.R.E doing? How many had lost faith in him? Those questions hounded Harry, and so he pushed them away. There were more important matters to attend to.

Harry could have sworn in hadn't been that long since he'd been in a library. It felt like only a few weeks ago that he'd been in the castle, textbook, and parchment in hand to write some worthless essay. Now Harry could hardly navigate a library. Harry had hundreds of other things on his mind that made the Dewey Decimal Classification System's concept irrelevant.

"Doing alright there, pup?" Sirius asked. It shouldn't have been a surprise to see Sirius in the library; he was more invested than most in the war efforts, but Emmeline's comment of Sirius being allergic to libraries had still caused Harry the briefest moment of sheer confusion.

"Y-yeah," Harry said. "Daphne's awake, so at least the worst didn't come to pass." Sirius nodded, and Harry turned his attention back to the shelves, "Long shot here, but you don't happen to know anything about an Alucard, do you?"

Sirius froze in place. Harry could sense the discomfort in the wizard behind him. Harry faced his godfather once more, who blinked slowly and shivered, "Why do you ask?"

"I'm going to take that as a yes." Harry held Sirius' wrist softly, "Daphne believes there's some connection between Carmilla and Alucard. Even when she managed to cut her, Carmilla screamed for Alucard and drank her blood. It's too freaky just to be a coincidence."

"And of course, Alucard returns in some way just as the Black Family rises to prominence once more." Sirius knew something. He scanned the halls between the bookshelves like they were behind enemy lines, and this time, Harry had Sirius' grip on him as his godfather pulled him along.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked. Sirius said nothing and continued to snake him through the maze of shelves. They only stopped towards the far back of the library, where dust-coated books sat in horribly organized rows. Sirius' fingers traced the book's spines and stopped on one labeled: Edgar Allen Poe: Complete Tales and Poems with a Raven at the bottom of the spine.

Sirius tugged at the book, and Harry's pupils magnified. The bookcase parted to reveal another book hidden within the wood of the case. Harry wasn't sure if he was still asleep. He'd always been fond of cheesy spy movies, and this was a scene pulled straight out of one, but Sirius looked anything but amused. He reached out with hands that shivered and wrapped his fingers around the dusty book.

"Sirius, what is that?" Harry questioned.

"It's a diary." Sirius stated, "One that belonged to my ancestor, Eduardus Limette Black. He was another member of the family, like me. He's no longer on the tapestry." Sirius's breath was heavy, "Supposedly, in the early 1800s, there was a bit of a vampire problem led by this Alucard. At first, they attacked the wizarding world."

"Right, and then the wizarding world beat them back. Afterward, we negotiated, and they assimilated into wizarding society," Harry said.

"That is what's taught in history books," Sirius agreed, "But it is not accurate. The wizarding world struggled against the vampire threat, and they compensated by deciding to turn a blind eye to vampire attacks on the muggle world. It was pitiful appeasement, and Eduardus, a squib, was not going to stand for it."

"My ancestors tried to destroy this book," Sirius said. Harry agreed with the sentiment; the book looked to be in tatters, "Whatever witches and wizards he met on his journey must have been something special to have charmed the journal to be able to save even some of its contents from pure destruction. From what I heard rumors of when I was a boy, Eduardus slew Alucard with that sword that hangs over the fireplace. The sword that those of us with magic can't lift."

"Why is this not well known information?" Harry asked.

"Yes, because the wizarding world is just the type to admit they got their hide saved by a squib," Sirius spat sarcastically. Harry once more, relented in agreement. The wizarding world had made it quite clear, better to be a muggle than a squib.

Harry took the diary from Sirius and rubbed his finger over the battered cover, "I'll see what I can find in here. Even if we don't have the sword, there must be some talk of ways to beat the mist form at least."

"We'll keep searching for any other leads," Sirius said. He clutched Harry's shoulder, "Make sure to get some rest too. Nobody blames Daphne, but the fact of the matter is that with another horcrux in Voldemort's possession, he'll be back soon. You're our big gun, pup, we need you ready."

"I know," Harry said, "Don't worry."

(The Enemy)

For centuries, her skin remained unblemished and pure. Never once had her blood dripped into waste. To ruin and discard the gift of her blood, the gift of Alucard, was a cardinal sin. No, she hissed, I didn't waste it. It was her. Her bones resonated at the thought of the blue-eyed witch that dared to attack her. She rubbed her cheek, where the blood had spilled. She'd healed the damage, but Alucard's blood had already been wasted. Carmilla's finger tapped against her throne; Daphne Greengrass, I hope you died screaming.

Her head snapped towards the doorway, behind which a knock filled the otherwise vacant room, "Lady Carmilla, may I enter?"

She waved her hand, and the barred doors flung open. The hooked nose man walked patiently into the room and kneeled before her. "The preparations are nearly ready, my lady," Severus said, "I need only the cup now."

Her fingernails rubbed the rim of the golden chalice. She'd found it odd that Voldemort had selected a rather tacky cup of all the objects he could have chosen. Mortals, Carmilla muttered such strange creatures. She rose from her thrown and nodded, "Very well, let us be off."

"Your attendance is not required, my lady," Severus whispered. "If you have other matters to attend to, your time may be better spent there."

"Perhaps," Carmilla said, "But the man is the father of my child. I should at least be there for his rebirth. Wouldn't you agree, Severus?" The man nodded, and Carmilla gracefully descended the steps. "You know, Severus, I've grown quite fond of you."

"Is that so?" Severus replied.

"Indeed." Her eyes sharpened on the man's paled skin, "Normally, I despise mortals; they are weak and arrogant, much like that Bellatrix woman. But you," Her nails dug into Severus' skin as she gripped his chin, "You, unlike the others, know your place. You live to serve with no pride or malice. You understand that the weak die and the strong survive. But tell me, Severus, how would you like to join the strong?"

"What do you mean?" He asked with a tilted brow.

"How would you like to become a Vampire? To serve me and me alone?" Carmilla's grip on his chin dropped, and a smile bloomed across her face.

"I am not worthy of such a gift," Severus replied.

"Of course, you aren't. Neither is Greengrass, for that matter, but I offered it to him all the same. He did, after all, secure the cup for us." Carmilla purred softly in Severus' ear, "No mortal is genuinely worthy of receiving the gift of the great Alucard. Though all that is required would be for you to honor the gift you didn't deserve." Her teeth bared against the wizard's neck, "I'll give you some time to think on it, but know that the gift is one you will regret not taking."

"Thank you for the time to consider the offer," Severus said, "I will give you my answer shortly."

"I do hope you will make the right choice," Carmilla said, her lips pulled from his neck, "You mortals have a tendency of making stupid decisions."

They hadn't been too far from the tank that held the Dark Lord in stasis. Carmilla was not one to find the traditional, joyful, but a grin did crack upon her skin at the window into the nursery pod. A little girl floated in the blood, her frame still in development, but Carmilla couldn't help but admire her daughter, the next of Alucard's blood. The baby had taken her hair, and though bloodstained, the silver whisps atop her head swayed freely. Through her thin eyelids, the girl's hazel eyes swished curiously, and her ears, though rounder than that of a pure vampire, still shared a certain sharpness to them.

"Delphini," Carmilla whispered, "Dark Princess and Oracle of my power, soon, you will be ready." Her eyes glimmered with pride, and Severus stood there without a word to her side. "She's beautiful, isn't she, Severus?" Her servant nodded, "Tell me, how is my other project coming along."

"The Tonks man?" Severus asked. She nodded curtly. "Well," Snape stated, "He's far more motivated to resist your compulsion than even I suspected. Even when we sent him to the orphanage, I'm confident that he told Potter of the hospital's attack. If you want his full obedience, you'll have to turn him or make him a thrall."

"But where would be the fun in that?" Carmilla licked her lips, "I want him conscious of his actions when I send him to kill his family. He's incredibly resistant to the imperious curse, unfortunately, and even if he wasn't, I don't want him in a mindless haze." She traced her manicure nail against the stones of the manor, "Worry not though Severus, he'll break eventually, there is only so much of my compulsion one man can resist."

Her coat flapped in the draft brought in by the open windows of the Riddle Manor. Though cold had little effect on the undead. Try as she might, questions of her daughter plagued her mind with every step towards the chamber where Voldemort remained in stasis. Would Delphini be able to eat? Would she weaken in the sun? Would she be able to access the true gifts of Alucard? Remarkable of a specimen as the Dark Lord was, he was mortal to his great regret. A Dhampir, of Alucard's blood, Carmilla shuttered at the thought.

Voldemort's circle of 'servants' huddled around his glass chamber. A green, venomous concoction swirled around the Dark Lord's burned and battered body. She shivered at the sight of the Dark Lord. She'd mocked him quietly in the past. To be defeated by a mere boy was something to be laughed at until she had seen Potter's power for herself. It was only the gift of her blood that kept her alive. She'd lived many years, and never before had a mortal unnerved her quite like Greengrass and Potter. She would win; she was the superior race, but she'd only be able to rest after those two laid dead at her feet. She hated to admit it, but she needed the Dark Lord's help. He alone had the power to put that boy down for good.

What remained of his tattered legion stood at attention upon her arrival. They were little more than dogs, but they'd learned their place. Even Bellatrix stood at attention, though Carmilla still felt the daggers from the woman's eyes when the stupid witch had thought her not attentive. She'd tell the Dark Lord of this soon, and Bellatrix would learn her place permanently. It was a thought that tasted of the sweetest blood to her; perhaps she anticipated Voldemort's return far more than even she thought.

"Lady Carmilla." Jonathan's voice cut through the silence. She blessed his permission to talk. "All the preparations have been made. The revival solution is ready. All that's required is for you to drop in the cup. Once that's done, the Dark Lord will return, better than ever."

She nodded. The Death Eaters parted from her path. All but Severus, who she'd instructed to remain by her side. The man acted oddly, more so than average. She couldn't picture what it was, but there was something different in his eyes, or maybe in his stature. As much as she wanted to dismiss her hunch, her cautious nature had been what kept her 'alive' all these years. She had not the intention to stop that.

Two wooden steps led to a small platform that stood just even with the entry chute into the tank. Carmilla gripped the cup tightly in her hand. "All I have to do is drop it in?"

"Yes, my lady," Jonathan whispered, "Then please step away. The effects could be... volatile."

"Severus, open it for me," Carmilla ordered.

Severus nodded and waved his hand over the chute's lid and dispelled the cover. "Lily," He whispered, "I hope you've forgiven me."

"What was that?" Carmilla asked before Severus spun on his heel and shot a bolt of fire at the Undead Queen. The fire danced and changed into the form of a deer that blazed through the room. Quickly Carmilla tossed the cup aside and phased into blood mist just as the enflamed deer charged at her.

"Severus you fool!" Carmilla roared, "Why?"

"Today, I make my final amends," Severus smiled, "For a friend, I hurt so deeply." The hall cleared away from the flames. "I know that I can't stop you, but I will not be complicit, not again."

Carmilla's eyes flashed red, and with a roar, she lifted Severus into the air. He screamed as his blood curdled in his veins and his arteries. Though the man paid her no mind, his eyes rested only on the golden cup in the distance. The deer raced towards it, and Carmilla bellowed as the fire engulfed the cup.

"Damn you Severus!" She howled.

"Harry Potter," He muttered, "The rest is up to you."

A severe look of anguish raced through Snape's face, then suddenly, like a balloon, he popped.

A/N: One of those things that I really liked about Snape in the original series is that he was both a sinner and a saint. He was a character that needed to die for his full redemption and I think that my version of Snape deserved the same treatment. In fact, I wanted him to make sure he went out with a win and though he died, he still destroyed one of the horcruxes. Who knows how long of a delay that bought the Order, but he certainly didn't die in vein.

If you enjoyed this chapter, please be sure to Follow, Favorite, and Review! Until Next Time, Peace!