Typical Disclaimers Apply

A/N: There is a direct quote in this, but it's not italicized.

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She could have been sleeping, from the looks of it. Snape had seen people die before; the killing curse hits them and their faces are a silent scream that won't disappear and the funeral has to be closed-casket. Not Esme. She was…serene. Almost childlike. Not that hers would be an open-casket funeral…he thought bitterly.

Snape lifted his sleeve and wiped away some of the blood on her face. She really shouldn't still be bleeding; her heart had stopped beating, after all.

Unless…

He put two fingers on her neck, but was only met with the frozen blood in her veins. She wasn't coming back.

Tears built up in his throat. He had to tell them, he had to tell Sirius. A pang went through his chest. Sirius had the necklace, and he'd never be able to return it. If he could return her necklace, fulfill her last wish…He had to find them, but he couldn't leave Esme. Once more, he picked her up, walking slowly this time. They'd have to find out the hard way.

The stars were still shining. It couldn't have been passed one in the morning, but still on the very tip of the horizon, he could see something other than black. A nearly invisible strip of bluish-purple, blending into the sky as if it were all part of an oil painting. It was so slight, but it seemed to warm his cheek like a blast of summer sun.

Esme would never see another sunrise, he realized with a start.

The thought hit him like a ton of bricks. She'd never again laze by the lake, dipping her ankles in the water. She wouldn't take ridiculous amounts of points from Slytherin again. The girlish teasing she loved was done. She'd never have more than a single grey hair. She was trapped in twenty-three forever, until her body decayed into the ground.

People hadn't noticed him trudging up the grounds and into the castle, carrying a dead body. But then he realized that he wasn't the only one. Old students were being carried by even older students, their faces slack in death. Hordes of people trekked into the Great Hall, carrying their dead. Esme wasn't the only one who would be trapped in youth, he thought bitterly as a boy no older than sixteen was carried in by an old Quidditch player. Quidditch. He wondered if the school would ever play again.

Inside the hall he finally saw what the pilgrimage had been for. Dozens of bodies lay in a row, some with their eyes still open, gazing at the star-littered ceiling. Others looked like they'd simply fallen asleep, and they could jump back to life.

Snape swallowed. The Weasleys were already looking over a body. He could only see a spark of red hair between them.

Ginny, who'd been kneeling by the body with her parents, looked up and saw Snape. Their eyes met for a moment before she looked at the body in his arms. All she needed to see was a strand of long black hair. "NO!" she screamed and pointed. "Murderer! MURDERER!" The effect was instantaneous: Both Arthur and Molly leapt up. Arthur was the first of them to realize what—who he was holding. His already tearstained face went slack. Ginny jumped up, drawing her wand, her eyes brimming with tears as they flashed furiously. Molly, pulled her back. "No," Ginny sobbed. "Not her. Not my sister…"

Molly looked deep into Snape's eyes. In a single glance he tried to tell her everything, everything he'd held back from Esme, from everyone, and hoped she'd understand. He lay Esme down next to her brother. George looked at the body and looked away rather quickly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Ginny stood, held back by her parents, tears cascading down her cheeks. "You…" Her parents shushed her.

Snape stroked her hair once again, his hand gliding down from temple to shoulder. He tucked the grey strand behind her ear, leaned forward, and kissed the top of her head. He looked up, hoping to see her smile one last time. That was it for him. His head dropped down and his whole body shook with silent sobs. Tears tracked across his cheeks. Everything he hadn't told her, all of the wasted time, pretending he didn't care…He could have saved her. He could have warned her a long time ago that Voldemort was looking for her. He could've sent her away; kept her safe…it didn't matter anymore.

He rose unsteadily to his feet, his cheeks still wet. Ginny looked away as quickly as she could, but Molly approached him. He stiffened.

"I knew," she said softly. "I always, always knew." She embraced him tightly, gently patting his back. "Who—?"she whispered.

"What does it matter," he asked miserably, pulling away. "Revenge won't make any difference."

Lucius Malfoy appeared in the room. For a moment, he stared at Esme, but Arthur glared at him and he broke his gaze. "You're wanted," he said to Snape.

Snape nodded, finally murmuring in a strangled voice, "Okay. Tell him I'll be there." He turned away from the bodies and the grieving families.

"He'll kill you, you know," Ginny said coolly. Snape turned around, thinking she was talking about Harry. She stared at him, an open, honest stare. "He's going to kill you. And walking right into him isn't what Esme would've wanted." It hit him. She understood, just as Molly had understood, and just as Esme had understood.

"I know," he said softly, turning away. "I know."

0o0o0o0

Esme watched the whole thing. She watched her father as he noticed who was in Snape's arms. She watched her mother finally realize what Snape had always felt. She watched Ginny, as realization washed over her like the proverbial flood. She watched alongside Fred.

He'd been waiting for her. "I knew Mum and Dad wouldn't be that lucky," he'd said darkly, his gaze flicking from his body to Esme's.

"Bellatrix Lestrange got me," Esme said conversationally. "What about you?"

"It was a stupid accident," he muttered. "You know, everything would've been fine if you'd stayed in the room like you were supposed to and I spent five extra minutes locking up the store like George asked."

Esme didn't say anything. Was it true? Would everyone be safe if they'd just done what they were told? Spirits wandered around her. She wondered if they would still be alive if they'd obeyed every order. "We should go follow Severus," she said softly.

"You want to see him die?" Fred asked coldly. Esme's heart sank.

"He might not get killed," she whispered. "Voldemort might just want to—to talk," she finished lamely. Fred finally looked at her, his brown eyes softening.

"Esme," he said gently. "You're not—you can't help him, none of us can."

"I'm going, Fred," she snapped.

"Esme—" She stormed off, with Fred at her heels, protesting all the way. Snape had gone through the doors to the Great Hall; he'd probably left the school.

"Now, if I was an evil overlord, attempting to take over the world and perhaps get a nose job, where would I hide?" she wondered aloud. "There aren't that many great hiding places in this school."

"Esme, please," Fred begged. She turned on him, her eyes flashing.

"What's he going to do, Fred?" she growled. "Kill me?"

Fred shook his head, "Not you." Esme stared at him for a moment before storming off again, aiming towards the Womping Willow. The tree stood still, but the night wind tickled one of its branches ominously. Esme proceeded with caution, ducking the seemingly frozen branches. "The tree's not going to hurt you," Fred said, walking smoothly through. "Where are we going?"

"There's a passageway down there," she whispered. "It's where I first met Sirius. I wonder, if I'd never followed him that night…Maybe you, maybe me, maybe this wouldn't have happened." She looked at the star-spotted sky wistfully.

"You can't possibly believe you have that big an affect on the world, can you?" someone called from behind them. They both turned quickly, recognizing the impish smile and shock of pink hair.

"Tonks!" Esme cried in a mix of a giggle and a scream.

"Bellatrix," she said simply.

"Me too!"

"She's definitely in the running for the 'Worst Aunt Ever' award," Tonks said, grinning. Her smile faded and her features sobered, "Have you seen Remus?"

"Oh, Tonks," Esme whispered, remembering the bodies in the Great Hall. Tonks's face crumpled and for a moment she looked like she might collapse. "I'm so sorry."

"I think I'll just stay here," she said tightly. "I'll wait for him."

By herself, Esme slid into the, fortunately open, trapdoor, alone. The dusty old rooms were achingly familiar of the days she'd spent with Sirius. There was the room in which she'd attacked Snape, hoping to keep him quiet while Sirius told his story. The bed where Ron had laid, the corner Harry and Hermione had been backed into, the space on the floor where Wormtail had finally been revealed. Sirius and Remus had stood like brothers, reunited for the first time in so long. Now Remus was gone; she hadn't seen Wormtail, so he had to be gone; she was gone.

Esme heard voices above her. Some good soul had left all of the doors open, showing her into a large room filled by Snape, Voldemort, and a horrible writhing snake, suspended in midair. The look on Snape's face was one of pure terror, while Voldemort watched him with a cold sort of amusement. Harry, the good soul who had opened the doors, stood less than six feet from either of them. Neither of them seemed to notice him.

"I must master the wand, Severus," Voldemort was saying. Esme had no idea what he was talking about, but it seemed important. Snape's lips and hands were shaking. "Master the wand, and I master Potter at last." With a sudden swish of his wand, the writhing serpent seemed to be careening towards Snape, fangs bared. Esme felt sick. Voldemort hissed something and Snape screamed, and before Esme could do anything, he was on the ground, struggling, clutching at his wound. Esme didn't even feel the screaming sob escape from her, as Harry rushed forward, collecting a strange blue substance bleeding out of Snape's face. His black eyes stared at Harry, but rolled over to Esme and, for a split second, glowed with recognition before permanently dimming.

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