Snape rushed after Potter, who was running beside his friends as they were levitated to surgery. "What curse was used on them?" he snapped harshly. But Potter didn't answer, jogging along and whining self-indulgently as usual when there were only a few moments to save his friends' lives. Weasley, he supposed, would be no great loss, but Granger… He reached out and grabbed Potter's shoulder, spinning him round to face him. "WHAT CURSE?"

The brat's face crumpled in weakness. "I don't know. It…"

"Too busy saving your precious hide, Potter? THINK! They need you!"

The brat seemed to try to come up with some of his famous temper, but he was obviously past that, and Severus found it surprisingly easy to pity this person, half-mad with grief. "I wasn't saving... They saved me. I was…" A flicker of something showed behind the cracked spectacles as Potter seemed to remember just who he was talking to. Wordlessly, he pushed the hair out of his face, not even flinching as his hand passed over the awful burn. He leant forward and bent his head slightly as he had done before, in their Occlumency lessons.

Potter was inviting him into his mind.

It was wrong, it was stupid, it was unsafe, it was expedient, it was the fastest option they had. "Legilimens," Snape hissed, and fell into the teenager's mind.

--------------------------------

His first impression was of a jumbled mess: clearly, Potter had even less self-discipline than he had had when Severus had last been in his thoughts. This is what comes of being soft on the boy, he thought. He noticed that his thoughts were searing a path in their wake, like burning through underbrush.

"Gently." He felt Poppy's admonition as though she were there with him. "Grow up."

With an effort, he pushed his resentment aside. Immediately, the path before him cleared and the memory he sought burned like a beacon before him. Red and green and vile, it radiated pain, and he had to take a moment to steady himself before he could move closer. He wouldn't have thought the happy-go-lucky, pampered fool could bear that much pain in his empty head…

Grow up, Severus.

As soon as he heard and heeded the final admonition, he cleared the last hundred yards, finding himself in a ruined old house. Mansion, he amended. The three Gryffindors had apparently just destroyed the last Horcrux, Merlin knew the Prophet had made enough of a fuss about there being only one left – and were sheltering their heads from falling rubble, the stone foundations shaken by what had clearly been a massive blast. It was not the futile gesture that had saved them, though, but a protective bubble that Granger was maintaining with her wand. Really, what did someone as brilliant as her see in those two idiots, he grumbled.

All the more reason to save her life and not let your prejudices get in the way.

But then a high, cold voice rang out: "Expelliarmus!"

The teenagers had barely smiled at each other when the bubble burst abruptly, and He was there before them. His dreaded master whipped the trio's wands away from them. The Dark Lord appeared to have learned from his previous mistakes: he wasted no time gloating or explaining. With inhuman, impossible speed, he already had his wand pointed, and Severus found himself wondering whether the Killing Curse would be deflected once again by Lily's blood. Avada Kedavra, Snape recited mentally, waiting for the words.

He didn't use it.

Severus gasped at the curse he did use.

It was ancient, it was elemental, from a book long burned, in a language long dead. It seared out of his wand, impossibly fast, in a show of sheer brute strength: a solid wall of molten lava, with a searing heat that would melt solid rock into slag, hurtling towards the trio with unstoppable force.

Flanked by his two friends, Harry had no time to react, no time to scream. His eyes widened – there was no time for more than that – and even as he tried to push them behind him, his two friends turned towards him as one, their eyes locked on his, their backs to the curse, their shoulders touching, shielding him with their bodies…

That's your only talent, isn't it, Potter? he thought bitterly. Persuading your betters - who should know better – to die for you.

So much hatred, Severus, came Pomfrey's chiding tones. Really, where does it all come from?

Severus was sure he saw something ripple around them as the curse hit.

Then the curse exploded, deflected, rebounding back upon its caster. Severus watched in horrified fascination as the waves of flame parted, then rushed towards Voldemort at terrible speed, taking no time at all to swallow him up without a trace. He had not even time to scream.

The flames faded, leaving nothing but a few flakes of ash on the floor.