Severus hadn't been bothered by nightmares about Hermione going through a brutal death in the week that had passed since their visit to Saint Mungo's and the exposure of his love for her. He walked through the corridors, watching carefully for any rule-breaking students and muttering the incantations to stop any disillusionment charms or things being used. The only students still at the school tonight were all first years and the few unlucky souls whose parents or guardians hadn't deigned to sign their permission slips, leaving them in the school and not at Hogsmeade, where almost the entire student body was at the moment. Those who had stayed behind were all in their common rooms—or they were supposed to be, anyway—and those in Hogsmeade would be heading back in a few hours.

Severus stopped when he heard an almost inaudible footstep behind him. He turned around and was surprised to see Hermione standing there, completely visible. He raised his eyebrows and she smirked at him. "What are you doing walking the hallways at this hour, Miss Granger?" he asked, imbuing his accusatory professor's voice into his words.

She bit her lip and smiled, finally releasing it when she noticed his annoyed scowl. "I thought it would be a bit harder to sneak around behind you, Professor, but I guess not."

He shook his head and smirked at her, and she smiled. She had come to recognize that depending on his mood and the reason behind it, his smirks could be just as good as—and convey the same emotions as—a real smile. Scowling at her, though his glare was missing its usual ferocity, he said, "How I could be a spy for Dumbledore and a double agent against the most powerful dark wizard in the world and make it out alive but fail to notice that I'm being followed by a girl with not even half as much experience sneaking around as I have, I'll never know."

Hermione smirked back, looking satisfied. "I just know you; how you move, where you look when you're suspicious. It's been easy to get past your guard."

He frowned, but his glare and his scowl vanished. His eyes twinkled in the low light of the corridor, but Hermione could see that they were like dark, melted chocolate. She didn't know that he was thinking about the time they had apparated back from Saint Mungo's and shared an invisible embrace under a disillusionment charm. "Sneaking around has been something you've been uncannily terrible at since you were a student," he remarked, watching as she frowned at him.

He couldn't help but notice how much he liked it when she looked mad or frustrated like that, when she wasn't truly upset, just a bit irked. Had he been anyone else, the word cute or adorable might have crossed his mind to describe her, but as he wasn't the kind of person to use those words or even think them, they did not. Instead, he allowed himself to enjoy admiring her beauty for a few seconds until her face cleared and she ruined the moment by stepping closer and saying, "Well you never actually caught Harry, Ron and I all those times we did."

He smirked down at her and closed the space between them but didn't touch her. Then he reached up, brushing a stray curl from out of her face. He looked confident and smug to her when he did this, though inside he was still rather unsure of himself. "Believe me, I was completely aware of every single time you and your renegade friends tried to slip out of your common room or make mischief; I simply hadn't the time to bother with the matter because I had more important things to do."

"Like stopping a dark wizard," Hermione supplied, causing him to smirk again.

"Indeed."

They walked back towards the teachers' lounge together, making their way slowly and comfortably through the halls and corridors of the dungeon. Lately, the lowest floor of the school—not including the Chamber of Secrets, of course—had become quite a familiar place to Hermione, and she had grown used to it, so much that she even liked it. They didn't walk arm in arm, but were satisfied by just each other's presence as they walked, Hermione laughingly remembering some of she and her two friends' more rebellious and risky escapades while Severus smirked.

Hermione talked and laughed quietly, keeping her voice down enough that it didn't echo off the walls, only because she didn't want to disturb—or catch the attention of—the Slytherin students who were in their common room, which the two teachers were passing the entrance to. They continued walking and Hermione lapsed into silence, allowing herself to enjoy being alone with Severus for a while.

They turned a corner and both of them stopped dead in their tracks. Hermione clamped a hand over her mouth in time to stop the gasp of surprise from leaving her lips and stared in disbelief; there was a man in front of them dressed in a dark cloak, pacing back and forth and muttering under his breath. It occurred to her that he didn't know the password, for which she was thankful, though she wondered how he had known where to look for the secret entrance to the teachers' lounge. He didn't see them standing at the end of the corridor, even when he turned and took several steps their way before changing direction again. One look at his face and Hermione knew who he was and why he was so desperate to get into the teachers' lounge.

Severus was only momentarily baffled and then acted quickly, allowing his instincts to take over. He placed a hand on Hermione's arm and took several quiet steps back, pulling her with him gently as they backed around the corner so that the pacing man was out of sight. Severus pulled out his wand and pointed it at her, opening his mouth to put a disillusionment charm on her for her own safety, but both of them froze when a voice from behind them rang out.

"Ah-ha!"

The two waited, paralyzed, until the voice said menacingly, "Turn 'round."

Hermione held her breath as she turned on the spot, Severus doing the same beside her. They found themselves facing a short, thin man who grinned at them, missing several of his front teeth. Hermione didn't recognize him, but Severus obviously did by the way that he tensed. There was silence for a moment. Severus had his wand in hand, but Hermione's was tucked in her robes and out of reach with the wizard pointing his wand at her. He looked at Severus but kept his wand directed towards Hermione's chest. "You make one wrong move and she dies," he threatened.

Severus stayed silent, so Hermione did as well.

The man grinned even wider, displaying holes in his gums where more teeth were missing, and said, "He said you'd never listen or back down if it was your own life at stake, but for her . . ." he paused, his eyes flicking to Hermione before he looked back to Severus and finished, "you'd do anything if it meant she would live . . . or would die quickly and painlessly, at least."

Hermione was trembling, and she hoped that the death eater couldn't see it.

"Now," he said, licking his lips as his eyes darted over Hermione and then back to Severus once more, "back 'round the corner you go."

Severus glanced at Hermione and dipped his chin, indicating that they were to obey the direction given them. She took another deep breath as they turned around and stepped back around the corner. Severus had a wand, yes, but if the death eater sent a spell directly at Hermione, especially now—as his wand was pressed against her shoulder—he would kill her before Severus could do anything to stop him.

Terror hadn't yet set in and Hermione felt rather numb with shock. She trembled in anticipation of what would happen to them, to her, but didn't feel afraid. Wondering at this revelation, she took a few more small steps forward at the death eater's prodding. Severus was right beside her. He was looking calm and collected on the outside, as always, even cold or uninterested, but on the inside he was panicking. He had already lost the first woman that he loved to one dark wizard and he would not let it happen again. However, at the moment he didn't see a way to stop it happening, especially as the death eater behind them took his wand. Oh, how simply Excellent. Now they would both die painful deaths, unless-

His thoughts were interrupted when the voice of the man pacing in front of the secret entrance to the teachers' lounge burst forth loudly. He had seen that the very two people he wanted to meet were actually not locked behind the unyielding and stubborn entrance after all and approached, looking quite pleased with himself. "Snape," he spat at Severus.

Hermione, still quite numb, was feeling even more reckless than the day she'd first gone to Severus' classroom. She glared savagely at the two death eaters, who were now circling them, one on each side as they walked slowly.

"Rookwood," Severus returned just as ferociously.

Hermione glanced sideways at Severus and then back at Rookwood, who had stopped in front of her. He lifted his wand, pressing it under her chin and forcing her to raise her head and look him in the eye. He raised his eyebrows, eyes roving over her with a distant hunger in them. Hermione was disgusted by how ugly his face was, twisted and grossly maimed, she could only guess from the dark mark's retribution. She stared right back when his eyes returned to her face, and their dislike of one another was mirrored in their two faces. "So," he said, keeping his wand pointed at Hermione but looking to Severus, "This is the whelp, is it? The one who's been in all the headlines with your name this past week? Severus Snape; how he survived Nagini's attack. The miraculously-surviving potions master of Hogwarts finds love in a former student," he quoted brutally, obviously enjoying that he could taunt the two.

Hermione kept her face impassive; she'd read all the articles about herself and Severus. Most of them were full of lies, especially those in the Daily Prophet, but Xenophelius Lovegood had interviewed them and published a truthful, much more realistic and honest article about their relationship in the Quibbler. She had already made faces at the names of the articles, swore under her breath—in spite of her usually having good manners—at some of the things particular articles said about her, and cursed the day that Rita Skeeter had decided to pursue a writing career.

Severus' face was a mask of unfeeling, cold hardness and it became apparent rather quickly that the failure to respond or react properly to his taunting by both of his prisoners irked Rookwood greatly. Clearing his throat, he started on a new subject. "Well, I've come to get my revenge, in case neither of you two guessed."

Severus and Hermione remained silent.

"However," he continued, "We can't have curses and screams and things echoing around down here; they'd attract unwanted attention. Now, I'd take you somewhere far away where no one would bother us, but that blasted McGonagall's put those enchantments against apparition on the damned school again and it took us long enough to get in here. So, we're going to stay in the school, but not in this particular level."

Hermione swallowed. Though she didn't want to believe it, she had the sudden inkling that Rookwood was taking them to the Chamber of Secrets. There of all places, no one would bother them or hear what was going on, and with the basilisk dead, there was nothing to fear. But could Rookwood speak parseltongue? If he could, then he'd take them all of the way into the actual chamber itself, she guessed. But if he could not, then they wouldn't make it inside. He seemed rather sure of himself, though, and Hermione was positive that he could in fact speak to snakes like Harry could. She thought briefly of the Room of Requirement, and then reminded herself that the death eaters didn't know where it was.

Sure enough, Severus and Hermione were poked and prodded by the two death eaters' wands and herded like animals to the bathroom where Moaning Myrtle lived. Or rather, Hermione thought dryly, where she had died. The bathroom was just her usual place of choice to haunt and mope around weeping and picking at the spots on her chin.

However, when they entered the bathroom, the ghost was nowhere to be found. Wishing for once that the whiny brat was actually around, Hermione sighed as they went towards the sinks. Sure enough, Rookwood could speak parseltongue. Or he knew enough to make strangled noises until something happened. A few strange hissing and rasping noises and they entered the tunnel. As Hermione had expected, they entered the actual Chamber of Secrets. She disliked seeing the huge skeleton of the dead basilisk, remembering how she and Ron had come down to kill one of Voldemort's horcruxes during the last battle.

Severus had been watching Hermione's face out of the corner of his eye. He didn't know whether to be awed or worried over her expression; she looked as if she wasn't really all that scared. In fact, by the glint in her eye, he thought she must be planning something daring and stupid. He tried to catch her eye, to convey the message that she really shouldn't try anything, no matter how reckless she felt, but she didn't seem to notice. Terror had seized Severus, and his chest felt as if it might explode, it hurt and pained him so.

Smiling triumphantly, Rookwood stopped them in the middle of the chamber and had them turn to face him. They weren't far from the dead basilisk, which he looked at with the face of a victor who is unashamed and proud. Hermione rolled her eyes at him, but if he noticed, he gave no sign.

Rookwood had his wand in hand and Severus' tucked in his robes. Hermione longed to reach for her own, but before she could think over some kind of plan for escape, Rookwood was talking again. He yelled a hex and pointed his wand at Severus, who flew several feet away and landed on the hard, smooth stone floor on his back. He rolled onto his side, hidden partially under his dark cloak and glaring up at Rookwood. "Get up," the latter spat at him.

Hermione swallowed and watched as Severus stood, still glaring ferociously at Rookwood. The enemy pointed his wand at Severus again, and Hermione longed to draw her own wand, but the second death eater was watching her with his wand pointed at her chest, waiting for her to move. "Petrificus Totallus," Rookwood yelled, and Severus' arms and legs straightened and he started to fall backward, his body prone and paralyzed. Rookwood yelled some other spell that put Severus back standing straight and held him there because his own feet could not. "Now," he yelled, seeming to like the sound of his voice echoing off the walls of the chamber when he spoke, "You get to watch your precious witch die slowly and I get to enjoy torturing her before the merciful act of ending her life is necessary."

Hermione stiffened, and she saw Severus' eyes turn cold and black at Rookwood before he looked at her and they turned the darkest brown she'd seen yet. He was apologizing with his eyes, and she knew it, but she ignored it. This was not his fault. She would never blame him, no matter what pain she went through because he loved her. She remembered being tortured by Bellatrix LeStrange and flinched inwardly at the recollection of just how painful the cruciatus curse was. Nevertheless, she still felt a bit too reckless. "I have a name," she called to Rookwood, her sudden words causing the shorter death eater to jump in surprise.

Rookwood turned and walked up to her. Glancing at Severus from time to time out of the corner of his eye, the man reached up and ran his fingertips from Hermione's brow to her chin, along the side of her face. "Hmm," he mused, "no wonder he fell for you. Beautiful." Then he leaned closer and whispered, his breath hot and rancid on her face, "You do know that he never loved you?"

He leaned back, gauging her reaction. She gave none, though she was still trembling, as she had been earlier.

He leered at her, looking irked that she had given no response. He leaned in so close that his lips brushed her cheek and he whispered against her skin, causing chills and shivers of disgust to run down her spine. She did not flinch away from him, however, when he said, "Desire. Something someone in her teens would probably understand well? Lust. He never loved you. Never wanted you, not really. Do you understand?"

In spite of being shorter than him and feeling meek and very small and helpless, Hermione held her head high and kept her face impassive.

Rookwood was obviously angry that she gave no reaction and stepped back, pointing his wand and booming, "Crucio!"

Hermione could handle the pain on her feet only a few seconds before she fell to the ground. There were not words to describe the sheer agony that came when the cruciatus curse was used. This wasn't her first experience with it, but the pain was still even sharper and more excruciating than she had cared to remember.

Severus watched, unable to flinch, unable to cry out, unable to blink or look away as Hermione was writhing on the ground, screams of raw and utter pain leaving her and seeming to carve misery into his soul. This was it. He could do nothing. His mind was the only thing he was in control of anymore, and without a wand and the ability to move any part of his body, he was utterly helpless, forced to watch the woman he loved as she died.

Hermione screamed again, unable to stay strong and silent as she wished she could. The hot tears pouring down her cheeks weren't from the pain. After a certain amount, she was sure that pain no longer called tears. No, these tears were cried out of frustration with herself for not having complete control and staying silent during her torture. She curled into as tight a ball as possible, still screaming and crying, her chest heaving with sobs that were released as screams, but the pain continued and only seemed to steadily worsen.

After what seemed like an eternity of torture, the pain lessened and Hermione began to go numb. Darkness was closing in around the edges of her vision and red lights continuously burst before her eyes. She was too exhausted and weak even to cry out in pain anymore and just lay there, still squirming and writhing, but the pain continued to lesson as she started losing her grip on consciousness. She had the faintest idea that she would have to give in to the darkness and oblivion, and once she did it would be a blissful freedom from everything, but then the faces of Neville's parents floated before her eyes momentarily and she decided that she couldn't let her mind be taken over or ruined by the pain like them, not if she had a choice. She couldn't become like Neville's parents or her own.

Holding the flickering image of herself in a hospital bed at Saint Mungo's beside her parents' in her head, she used it as motivation. Stay strong. Don't let the darkness take you. They need you to stay sane. Severus needs you. Mum and Dad need you. Neville needs you. Harry needs you. McGonagall is counting on you to be safe and protect the school. Elise needs you.

At the thought of the little girl, who was so much like a slightly altered image of her own young self, Hermione found strength that hadn't been there before. It was when she pushed the darkness away for good that the pain came back in full. But now she welcomed it. Pain. It meant that she was still alive, still able to feel emotion and physical pain or relief. She was going to count on that pain to keep reminding her that she wasn't dead yet. She wouldn't let herself slip into wishing that death would just come. No, she had other people to think about.

Severus watched her struggle, though he was only aware of glimpses of it because he knew her well, but couldn't read her thoughts. Rookwood and his accomplice were completely unaware of Hermione's battle with herself and then her triumph against them, and Rookwood continued to torture her, his face twisted even more badly than before in a gruesome smirk as he watched her writhing in pain.

But she had reached the point she wanted to. No more tears fell. No more screams and sobs echoed around the chamber. She had found her strength and her control in remembering other people and that they needed her. She writhed, squirmed, cringed, trembled, even shook violently as she dealt with the agony of the curse, but she didn't cry out again.

Severus watched her in an agony of his own. He felt her triumph when she battled her own desire to just let go, but now he could see it; she was losing it. No matter how strong her resolve, her body was going to give out some time. There was no way, even with a brave, remarkably resilient mind and determination, that her physical self could last as long as the mental and emotional. He was proud of her for a fleeting moment because of her complete control as she lay in silence, going through misery and a living hell but not making a sound. But then he saw it coming; she was letting go. Not with her mind and her spirit, no, there she was still fighting, and hard. But she just couldn't handle it anymore.

Hermione took a shaky, shallow breath, her entire body shuddering at the effort as she struggled to breathe and face the pain at the same time. She found one last bit of strength and used it. She knew what was happening. This was the end. This was it. She was going to go and join Harry's parents and his god father and Lupin and Tonks, and Fred Weasley and Collin Creevey and everyone else they'd lost. She felt annoyed that this, after the war, was the way she would go, but also felt proud that she had lasted so long. Summoning all of her remaining strength, she raised her head and looked upon the man she loved one last time. Their eyes met and there were mutual apologies, hers for not being able to hold on longer and his for bringing this way of ending about. There was also one last look of deep love and adoration shared between them before Hermione could do it no longer and let her head fall back to the ground. The darkness was closing in again, but this time she welcomed it. Why not greet death as a friend? She had lived a full life, hadn't she?

Between her adventures with Harry and Ron, her graduating school and starting out on her own as a teacher, falling in love with Severus and becoming a mentor and example to her students, she felt accomplished enough to let life go. Sure, she would have loved a few more years to live her life a bit longer and do more things worth remembering, but if helping to defeat the greatest dark wizard of all time wasn't something worth being remembered for, she didn't know what was. In spite of the still-biting pain seeming to course like fire burning through her veins, she smiled faintly and gave in. Before the darkness came, there was an explosion of light above her and the pain was gone and someone was yelling, but then there was nothing but blackness and peaceful bliss.

Severus watched her giving up. She needed to. She should have done this so long ago, and not put herself through all the suffering that wasn't necessary. He was still unable to move. She smiled weakly and he saw it in her eyes, though they weren't turned towards him; she was dying. He turned his eyes and looked in shock and surprise when someone new entered the chamber. A familiar face, set on a thin neck and wide shoulders that were on a tall, slender body, showed from under white-blonde hair and unnaturally pale skin. The smirk that usually graced Draco Malfoy's face wasn't present, however. Instead, he was grimacing as he yelled, paralyzing the shorter death eater with the same spell that held Severus and disarming Rookwood in almost the same moment.

Rookwood turned on Draco, stepping backwards and almost tripping over Hermione's body as he backed away, wandless and unarmed. Then he remembered Severus' wand and pulled it from his robes, yelling a curse at Draco. But the pale young man was ready, and he was determined not to lose. Severus stood, still frozen in place and being held by Rookwood's spell, unable to move or assist his former student as a duel formed and took place before him, bright lights and spells flying over Hermione's limp, lifeless form as hexes and curses were yelled and screamed from one side of the room or the other, bouncing off the walls and rebounding as several echoes, until the chamber sounded as if it held a full-blown war between two armies of wizards rather than just a duel between two men, one old and the other young.

Draco was looking better than he had in years, not depressed or miserable and no longer a forced servant of a threatening dark lord, but rather a young man with a mission to, for once in his life, do something for those who were on the good side. Rookwood was slowly backing towards the basilisk skeleton, though he didn't seem to be aware of what was behind him. He stepped on a fang that was lying on the floor and it rolled under his foot, and he stumbled backwards. Draco screamed, "Expelliarmus!" and Severus' wand flew through the air towards him. Draco turned his wand to Severus and muttered the counter charm against the petrifying spell, but there was really no need; Rookwood stumbled a few more steps backwards and his foot caught on the lower jaw of the basilisk, and he toppled over backward, landing on his back with his shoulders hitting hard across the line of giant fangs still attached to the snake's jawbone.

The venom was still in the fangs, and Rookwood didn't have long to live now that his shoulders had been gashed by the large teeth, and he knew it. He looked around at them all, wide-eyed and incredulous. "How," he spluttered, but already his eyes were rolling and his veins were burning. Before he could say more, his head fell back and lolled to the side. He was dead.

Severus didn't care to retrieve his wand, and as soon as he was free and could move he fell to his knees at the sudden need to carry his own weight. He scrambled on all fours to where Hermione lay, not caring about anything but her. He knelt by her side, cupping her small, delicate face in his large hands. "Hermione, please," he gasped, his chest already beginning to ache with the agony and pain as it had when he knew that Lily was dead. He lifted her form, cradling her in his arms and blinking through tears at her pale face. She was his everything. She had saved him from a life of misery. She had made life worth living. She had made him believe that he could be forgiven and that his past didn't define who he was in the present. She had made him feel loved as he never had before, not even by Lily, as she hadn't been in love with him. Hermione had made him believe that it was all right to let Lily rest, to let her go, and move on. She had made him believe that he could love again. She had showed him how beautiful the little things in life could be if you looked at them with the right perspective.

Draco walked past his old professor and head of his house, picking up the man's wand and walking back to him to return it. He held it out, but Severus didn't look up. Swallowing, Draco set the wand on the floor beside its master and watched as Severus laid her back on the floor, looking into her face as tears streamed silently down his face. Draco stared up at Severus in amazement; never had he known the hard potions master to show emotion that was anything but angry or cruel. And now . . . now he was . . . crying?

Draco looked down and Hermione and moved to her other side, across from Severus. He looked at Severus' face for his consent, but the older man didn't even acknowledge that the younger was there. For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy had done something truly good, and for the first time in his life, he didn't mind that no one was recognizing him for it or praising him. He knelt at Hermione's other side than Severus and he too looked down into her face. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat as he looked at her face. For the first time, he actually thought she was beautiful. Not the kind of physical beauty that he had looked for in girls when he was in school, no, there was a stronger, more definite, more admirable beauty that seemed to emanate from her, changing the atmosphere. He did think her face beautiful, but he knew that she did indeed belong in Gryffindor; her heart was nothing but brave and loyal and determined. And she had died that way, not accepting defeat until she could fight no longer.

Draco looked down at her still, pale face. It was strange, to see Hermione Granger facing him and not giving him a glare or a smirk or a dark look or a scowl. Her face was smooth, free of lines that came with worry or pleasure, and free of emotion. Even with the lack of emotion, she looked rather peaceful, he thought, as her lips had smoothed from their faint smile that she had died with. Draco started in surprise when Severus suddenly let go of Hermione and threw himself in the opposite direction, stumbling around like a drunk man but letting out the most pained, miserable, agony-filled sobs and moans that Draco had ever heard. He stared, wide-eyed, and watched as the dark-looking man pulled at his hair and his clothes, stumbling around with his hands on his knees to support himself as he was doubled over in pain that went beyond the physical. He stumbled and staggered, having left his wand on the floor beside Hermione, and ran his hands over his face, straightening momentarily before he fell to the floor and sat, crying. Tears streamed freely down his face and his shoulders slumped as his body was racked with sobs.

Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing at all. He had failed the woman he loved yet again. She was gone. Never again would she bite her lip and smile at him when he glared at her. Never again would she laugh at something he said. Never again would she look into his eyes with that everlasting love and patience of hers. Never again. He would never feel her warm lips pressed to his again, never hear her lovely laugh or her soft voice, ever again. He would never again hear her say his name, never feel the fear and the thrill spreading through him when she touched him, never be able to look her in the eyes again and tell her that he loved her.

Draco swallowed yet another lump in his throat when he tore his eyes from the lamenting man a few paces away and looked down at Hermione again. He found himself overcome by his own emotions. No, he'd never been fond of the girl, but she had helped to kill Voldemort, had been a good example in school, had come back and become a teacher. She had saved Draco's life. And much as he disliked the man sometimes, she had saved Severus, and that meant the most to Draco. Also, even though she had been hard on him, Harry and Ron had been worse and she had never been as savage as either of them. After all of her achievements, it just seemed such a shame for her to die here, in the school, after the war, when things were supposed to be safer. Draco let out a bark-like laugh that came out as more of a gasp and realized that he had tears pooling in his own eyes.

No, he rather loathed Hermione Granger, and he knew she had felt the same for him. But for her to go like this, it just . . . wasn't fair. It wasn't right. And looking at the nostalgic, mournful man across the chamber, Draco knew that they had really shared love. Real love. Genuine, sincere, honest love. The kind that couldn't be faked or imitated, the kind that couldn't be forced. Draco knew that Severus had loved Harry's mum, but it was obvious that because she had never returned his feelings, he hadn't felt as strongly for her as he had for Hermione. Losing Hermione, Severus had lost half—if not more—of himself. And Draco knew it.

Draco looked down at Hermione. He didn't know what he was doing, but he bent closer to her face, and blinked to try and clear his blurry vision. "I- I don't know if you can hear me, Granger," he said, stammering and surprised that he was talking to a dead person. "But," he went on, "I want to say thank you. Potter and Weasley saved my mother, and you saved me. Even mother's grateful for that. She'd never say it . . . not because she isn't thankful . . . just, you're a- a mudblood, see, and sh- she can't bring herself to let go of her pride. B- but I can. I am. Now. I'm sorry for everything I did. I know most of it wasn't actually done to you in particular, but I am sorry. And I want to say thanks . . . for everything. You saved my family from Voldemort. Thanks."

He fell silent, still pondering why he had felt the need to apologize for everything, to her. Especially when it wasn't her he'd done most of the terrible things to. But it had felt necessary, and she was so good, so pure, died so brave and honest and still loyal and without having turned her back on what was right, it had just felt right to apologize to her, as if there was some kind of redemptive power in the deed. But only if the words were said to her. No one else seemed worthy.

Draco looked up when a dark form came into view in the corner of his eye. Severus was standing over him. He knelt and put his wand in his robes. Then he nodded tersely in the direction of the shorter death eater. "Bring him."

And those were the only words spoken between them, though Severus' eyes thanked Draco, both for coming and fighting his former allies and for what he had said to Hermione. Draco nodded and he used a charm to float the paralyzed death eater, picking up his wand and stowing it in his own robes. Severus picked up Hermione's limp, crumpled form and carried her in front of Draco and the death eater, and they left the Chamber of Secrets. They went to McGonagall's office, where she was sitting behind her desk looking over papers when they entered without knocking. Severus refused to let go of Hermione for the longest time, but finally consented to take her to the hospital wing and to Madam Pomfrey.

He laid her on a hospital bed and went to wake the school healer. She came bustling out as soon as she heard and went to look at Hermione, but Severus was in pain whether he looked at her or not. Thinking that he might lose his mind or collapse from the pain in his chest if he looked at her again, he left the hospital wing after a quick explanation to the healer and went back to the headmistress' office, where things were then sorted out and explained.

Draco explained how he had come about turning up at the school and in the Chamber of Secrets, Severus explained everything before that, and bit by bit things were pieced together. McGonagall ruled that they could contact Kingsley and Harry in the morning and until then use a strong sleeping potion to keep the remaining enemy under control. Severus left and returned with the potion, which they forced down the death eater's throat. He passed out soon enough and then it was back to talking. Severus and Draco had only just risen from their seats to leave for their rooms for the night when a silver patronus came through the door and stopped in the middle of the room, speaking in Madam Pomfrey's voice.

Thank you all again for reading. I love you all! Please, please, please review if you have a moment; it means the world to me. Thanks! Tell me how you liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Love me for it? Hate me? I would understand both! haha. But thanks again for reading and to all of you who have reviewed. This is NOT the end of the story, so please don't give up on it and stop reading. I promise, there is more and it doesn't end here. Thanks again! Much love to every single one of you! ~Taelr