The first day of May was promising to be a glorious one. When Samara left the house, and walked towards the forest in the early morning, the sun was already drying the dew off the flower strewn meadows, and the birds were singing. It would be a beautiful day. The bottles of Cruciatus potion clattered happily in her bag. She smiled at the thought of her wonderful secret. She knew she was running a risk each day she went to work, but this made it all worthwhile. One day, she would be able to treat the Longbottoms, but, for the time being, it would be too risky, not just for her, but for Severus, too.

When she passed the orchards, she noticed that the horses seemed strangely alarmed. They trotted up to her, snorting, and followed her up to the edge of the forest, from where she would Apparate to London. Was anything in the air, a thunderstorm maybe? But there wasn't a cloud in sight. She couldn't understand it, and it made her feel slightly apprehensive.

* * *

Some five-hundred miles up north, someone else had far less trouble interpreting the signs correctly. Severus Snape knew what was coming. And as he watched the sun set from his office high above the lake that same day, he was certain that he would not see it rise again. The Dark Lord had sent a message, alerting him that Potter might try to break into the castle, and it could only mean one thing: The time had come.

He had put the most powerful protections around Hogwarts, and every passage was guarded by Death Eaters and Dementors. There was no way for Potter to enter unnoticed, not even under his cloak. He would be caught. And then, while they waited in his office for the Dark Lord to arrive, he would have the chance to tell the boy what had been Dumbledore's last mission for him, the fact that Potter himself was a horcrux.

Severus had been most upset, when Dumbledore had disclosed this piece of information to him. He had felt betrayed, angry that the old wizard was willing to sacrifice Lily's child that, after all he had asked of him over the years, her sacrifice would still be in vain.

But, as was typical of him, Dumbledore had not given Severus the full story. As usual he had just pointed him in the right direction, and relied on him to work it out for himself. And so he had. The prophecy had given him a clue, while another hint was the significance Dumbledore had placed on the Dark Lord using Harry's blood to create his new body. Through months of research and reading into the ways of ancient magic, he had filled in the rest.

His hand stroked absentmindedly over the heavy, leather-bound tome on his desk. Yes, the Dark Lord had to kill Potter. But by doing so he would only kill the piece of soul that he had forced upon the boy, while Potter himself was tied to life via blood bonds, because the Dark Lord had unwittingly anchored the boy's life to his own. As long as Potter did not fight back, he would once more be the Boy Who Lived. If, on the other hand, he tried to kill the Dark Lord, the two would annihilate each other. But how was he to know?

And so there was more that he had to tell Harry. It was contrary to all he had been told. All those years, he had been led to believe that his purpose in life was to destroy the Dark Lord. That task, however, would fall onto Severus. He looked up towards the empty frame of Dumbledore's portrait.

'That's what you intended me to do, isn't it?' he thought. 'That's why you wanted me to kill you, because you wanted me to have your wand, the death stick. But, thanks to your lack of trust in me, that part of your plan has failed.'

Yet, he hoped that it would not matter. He still had the element of surprise on his side. He just had to make sure he caught the Dark Lord unaware, that he did not give him a chance to defend himself. And in his mind, like so many times before, he played out what he imagined the final show-down would be.

A Death Eater meeting would be called. The Dark Lord would want his followers to witness the murder of Harry Potter, to finally prove to them that the Boy-Who-Lived stood no chance against his powers. He would cast Avada Kedavra, and Harry would crumple to the floor. Severus would be the first to move amongst the awe-struck Death Eaters, kneeling down beside the boy's body to check for a pulse. And he was confident that there would be one.

Then, completely unexpected, he would whip around, drawing his wand. The Dark Lord would be caught by surprise in his moment of victory, slain by the hand of the one he trusted most. It would be easy. He would not even have to say the words. All he would have to do was think of how that man had cold-bloodedly murdered Lily, how he was going to take the life of an innocent baby. And if that was not enough, of how he had killed poor Charity, or of all the times he had tortured a defenceless victim. Oh yes, it would come naturally. And Severus would relish that moment, the one he had waited for all those years. He would see the look of shock on the Dark Lord's face, the glint of red extinguishing in his eyes as he fell, nothing more than an empty shell. He would enjoy every second of his retribution, his sweet revenge.

He wondered how the other Death Eaters would react. There were some, he was certain, who would secretly breathe a sigh of relief if, the Dark Lord was gone. The Malfoys, for instance; that family had suffered too much under the Dark Lord to still be truly loyal to him. Others, opportunistic cowards like Crabbe and Goyle, would probably look to him as their new Lord, awed that he had defeated the two most powerful wizards of the century. But then there were those who believed fervently in the cause, those whose loyalty for the Dark Lord bordered on insanity. Bella, Dolohov even, they would not let the murder of their beloved master go unpunished. He would have a few seconds at best, before he himself would be struck down by several outraged Death Eaters.

And in his final moment, he would accomplish what had been the sole purpose of his life ever since that fateful Halloween. Finally, he would be able to repay his debt to Lily. By casting his own life as a shield between Harry and his enemies, like she had done all those years ago, he would renew her protection, so that they would not be able to harm the boy.

Severus paced about his office, while it got darker outside. He did not feel like lighting a candle or a fire, and soon the room was only illuminated with moonlight reflected by the dark mirror of the lake. What was one supposed to do with the last hours of one's life? For a moment he considered whether to write Samara a note, but his heart was numb, and it was better to keep it that way. He glanced up at Albus' portrait, hoping for a word of encouragement to ease the waiting, but his old mentor was still absent. And so he spent the time like he had the rest of his life, alone.

He told himself that he would welcome death. It would be a relief, to be released from a life that was forfeited long ago, a life that had offered him little apart from pain, humiliation and duty. So why was there this anxious flutter to his heartbeat, why did his hands suddenly feel clammy and cold? Supposedly, it was only natural. Every living being instinctively tried to avoid death, but it was something that willpower could easily overcome. Lily had not blinked an eye, and neither would he.

He tried to imagine her smile, but his memory of her was fading, and, like so many times lately, the blurred image of her face morphed into Samara's features. He reached into an inner pocket of his ropes, and withdrew a photograph that was torn along one side. It was a blessing that he had found it amongst the clutter at No 10 Grimmauld's Place. It would provide him with a little comfort on this loneliest of nights.

Suddenly, after he had been looking at Lily's image for what seemed like an eternity, the wait was over. He felt the dark mark burn, as Alecto had called the Dark Lord. It could only mean that Harry had been caught. His pulse accelerated with apprehension, but after only a short moment of putting his thoughts in order, he put the photograph back into his pocket, walked out of the room with purposeful strides, and descended the spiralling stairs. First, he checked the Carrows' office, but nobody was there, and so he set off on the long walk towards Ravenclaw Tower. The castle was awfully quiet at this late hour, as if Hogwarts was holding its breath.

When he heard the footsteps of a group of people approaching around the corner, he stepped behind a suit of armour, taking his wand out of his pocket.

"Who's there?" he heard a clipped voice ask.

It was Minerva.

"It is I," Severus replied, as calmly as he could, stepping out of his hiding place.

She, too, had her wand out, and to his surprise she was alone. He was sure that he had heard the footsteps of more than one person. His eyes darted into the air around her, looking for the tell-tale signs of Potter under his invisibility cloak. Mundane things often gave him away, like little bits of dust floating in the air. He was barely aware of his conversation with Minerva, the words came out of his mouth almost automatically. Unable to detect anything, he decided to confront her.

"Have you seen Harry Potter, Minerva? Because if you have, I must insist -"

He realised he had made a mistake, when her wand suddenly lashed out at him. But his reflexes were good. His Shield Charm met her curse with such force and swiftness, that she staggered backwards, pulling down a torch from its bracket with a flick of her wand as she did so. In midair, the flames transformed into a ring of fire that she sent towards him, transfiguring it into a great black snake, before blasting it to smoke. For a moment, Severus thought it had only been a threat, but then the smoke solidified and reformed into a swarm of flying daggers. He pulled the suit of armour in front of him like a shield, and escaped them only by a hairsbreadth, while they sank into its chest with resounding clanks. He gasped, realising that the niceties were over, that her curse had been intended to kill. Now he was certain that Minerva was lying, that she had indeed seen Harry.

To make things worse, Flitwick, Sprout and Slughorn came now running down the corridor to Minerva's help. Flitwick hexed the suit of armour behind which Severus had taken refuge, to start slashing out at him. He did not want not duel and potentially hurt his allies, nor did he fancy taking on four of them, so he decided to make a run of it. He threw the armour back at them, and sprinted down the corridor. But his attackers came hurtling after him. Thanks to being somewhat younger and fitter than his pursuers, he managed to gain a few paces on them, but he had nowhere to go. Without thinking, he ran into a classroom, and jumped through the window.

Once more, the fabric, with which Samara had lined his cloak, magically halted his fall, and he came to land quite gently in the courtyard below. He only sustained a few minor cuts on his hands from breaking through the glass, and that hardly mattered.

He briefly considered his options. If Potter had escaped the Carrows, and was wandering around the castle under his invisibility cloak, he stood little chance of finding him alone. It would be better to join the Death Eaters. They would use Dementors to trace Potter, and he had to be there when he was caught. He gathered himself up, and continued running towards the perimeter wall. He jumped, and the cloak carried him far higher than his muscle power could, over the wall and down again. From there he could Apparate to Hogsmeade.

* * *

Samara had still been inclined over a book in her office at this late hour, when Poppy's owl-shaped Patronus appeared in her office.

"The battle has begun, we are fighting. If you can come, I could use your help here," her godmother's voice had echoed.

Samara had called back all the doctors and nurses, and asked them to be on stand-by to treat any injured transferred from Hogwarts. Now the wards and corridors where bustling in busy preparation. She had instructed a colleague to go through the records to see which patients could be released early, in case they needed the space for more serious cases. Meanwhile, Samara herself packed her medicine bag with supplies to take to Hogwarts. Submerging herself in work was a welcome way of easing the anxiety that tortured her heart. Tonight everything would be decided, and she shuddered to think just how much was at stake.

The hands of the clock over her door were moving close to eleven o'clock, when she reached for her bag, and walked out of the door, down the corridors past the nurses that scurried about, preparing the wards. She stepped out through the glass of the display window, with the ugly peeling dummies in their Seventies' attire, into the deserted back alley. As the fresh evening breeze hit her face, her eyes widened in surprise at what she saw. There, under the street light, stood Godric.

How had he got there? As usual she had Apparated into work this morning, leaving the horses at home. Godric shook his head up and down, and his hooves pawed the pavement impatiently. She climbed on his back without hesitation, and he immediately pushed into the air with powerful strides, while she clung on to the wild curls of his mane. They were going so fast that the cold wind whipped tears into her eyes.

Before long, they had left London far behind, and the lakes and snow-covered mountains of Scotland shimmered in the darkness beneath them. When they descended upon Hogwarts, the castle was ablaze with the raging battle. Grateful for the fact that they could not be seen, she asked Godric to land close to the hospital wing. She jumped off his back, and sneaked towards the building, and through the back door. Poppy was relieved to have her for support, and together they started to lay out everything they might need in order to treat those injured on the battlefield.

All the while, Samara's thoughts were with Severus, wondering where he was, and on which side he was fighting, hoping that no harm would come to him. The possibility that she might find his body sprawled out on the battlefield was too painful to even consider.

* * *

Severus was lying on the floor in the Shrieking Shack. His fingers felt warm blood gushing from the deep cuts in his neck, as he desperately tried to staunch the bleeding, knowing he was unlikely to succeed. He could taste blood in his mouth, felt it trickling down his throat. The door of the shack closed with a bang as the Dark Lord left. He was alone.

His mind was racing, his time was running out fast, and the burning pain in his neck was nothing compared to the knowledge that he had failed. He had seen it coming, knew what the Dark Lord intended to do, and yet he had been unable to prevent it, had been caught out by the snake. He had been desperate to find the right words to convince the Dark Lord to let him go find Potter, but he would hear none of it. He had concentrated hard to blank out his mind, when he looked him in the eye, while his heart was pounding with angst, to conceal just why he was so desperate to find Harry. Find him before the Dark Lord did, be alone with him even for the briefest moment.

Now, everything was at risk, all that he had lived his miserable existence for during almost two decades. He had been ready to die for Lily's son, ready to deny the happiness of which he had a taste. It would have been his final atonement - but not like this, not like this. He could sense his powers leave him through the steady and unstoppable trickle of blood, the cold blanket of death descending upon his consciousness to smoother out his life. And just as he was surrendering to hopelessness, out of nowhere, Harry crouched before him.

Severus gathered all his strength to reach up, seize Harry's robes, and pull the young wizard towards him. There was no time to explain, he could hardly speak, there was only one way.

"Take - it. Take - it."

He was appalled at the gurgling, rasping sound that left his throat. And then he surrendered to Harry his most treasured and most feared memories in a silvery thread. It did not matter anymore, let the boy know everything. For once, he was grateful for Granger's quick-wittedness, as she conjured a flask into which Harry transferred the shimmering substance with his wand.

The boy had never looked more like his father. But for the first time, Severus did not feel the usual hot twinge in his heart at the sight of Harry's face. At last, he had forgiven.

It was done, and there was only one thing he longed for.

"Look - at - me," he whispered.

And as his black eyes met the green ones, he saw her, while darkness enrobed him.

Severus walked down a dark tunnel towards where Lily stood, surrounded by an unearthly light. He was not afraid to die; she was coming to get him. He looked into her green eyes as she smiled at him, her long chestnut hair falling down her back, framing the beautiful face that he had longed so much to see. He hugged her, and held her in his arms, and it felt just like he remembered, just like the time he had walked her home after the cinema on the last day of the summer holidays, before they went back to Hogwarts for their fourth year. It was his sweetest, most treasured memory, the one he recalled in order to produce his Patronus, the one he had not given away, and was going to hold on to as he took his last breath. Lily had kissed him on the mouth, his very first kiss, shy, and clumsy, and innocent, before Petunia had opened the door, looking at him reproachfully.

"Lily, I'm so sorry... Please forgive me," he murmured into her hair.

"I have. I only wish I had forgiven you sooner, and tried harder to preserve our friendship. So many things might have been different."

"That... I meant the prophecy, I gave him the prophecy, Lily. I never forgave myself for that."

"Let the past rest, Sev, it cannot be undone. You have done enough to make up for it."

"Have I? Harry - I tried so hard to protect him, but I think I failed in the end."

She smiled, tears in her eyes.

"I never thought you would do that, but you did."

After several long happy moments, Lily freed herself from his embrace, and looked him in the eyes.

"You need to go back now, you've been here way too long."

"Go back? Where? I'm dead!"

"No, you're not. You can still choose, Sev, choose life."

"How? Where are we, Lily?"

"Where? In your mind, Sev! Only you will know the way."

The spell was broken, she was gone, and so was the light surrounding her. He was alone in the dark, lost. He started to panic, suddenly realising how much he wanted to live. Suddenly, he had only one thought, and hoping against hope, called her name: "Samara! Samara!"

* * *

Samara was stacking potions bottles from her bag onto the shelf in front of her, when she suddenly felt herself hauled into the air, and, after a moment of being in free fall, came to land roughly in front of a derelict building, with boarded-up windows and a lopsided roof – the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade.

When she realised that it was Severus' Portkey that had taken her here, her heart filled with apprehension. Where was he? She approached the shack, and hesitantly reached for the door, when the sound of a cruel voice right behind her stopped her dead in her tracks, and made her spin around, terrified. She scanned the surroundings, but there was nobody there. Then the voice resumed, and she realised that someone must be using a Sonoros charm somewhere in the vicinity. It was You-Know-Who. He was offering a truce if Harry Potter surrendered himself within the hour. She drew her wand from her robes, before opening the creaky door of the hut.

"Lumos!" she whispered, and the milky glow of her wand illuminated the dark form of a man lying on the floor in a pool of blood. "Severus! No!" she gasped in horror.

She knelt beside him, and seized his cold hand, her fingers clasping around his wrist trying to feel a pulse, but there was none. How long had he been lying there, was she too late? Judging from the amount of blood on the floor, there could be little left inside him.

"Please don't die on me!" she whispered, tears in her eyes.

As she bent over his pale face, her eyes were immediately drawn to the deep wounds disfiguring his neck. You-Know-Who's snake - she had seen this type of injury before. At the time, it had taken over two weeks to find an antidote against the venom. Meanwhile, they had been unable to stop the bleeding, and had kept the patient alive with hourly doses of Blood-Replenishing Potion. She had to act quickly, but knew exactly what she had to do. She reached into her medicine bag, and pulled out a small glass bottle, containing a dark green liquid. Then she let a few drops fall onto the cuts in Severus' neck. Within moments, the bleeding stopped. She ran her hand over the wounds, which closed under her touch, and left nothing but four bulging red scars.

She unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt and robe, pulled the sleeve up over his elbow, and inserted a needle into the crook of his arm. The empty eyes of the skull on the dark mark were glaring at her.

"I won't let you take him from me," she thought.

She took out a large bottle of Blood-Replenishing potion. He was too far gone to drink it, so she would have to administer it intravenously. It was not standard practice in wizard healing, but Samara's mother had been trained in Muggle medicine, and Samara had learned it from her. When she was done, she pointed her wand at his heart, the moment of truth. She could feel her own heart thumping anxiously.

"Revivo!" she whispered.

She put her ear down on his chest to listen, and was overjoyed to the point of tears when she heard a faint thudding there. Now all she could do was wait.

"Scourgify!" she whispered, making the sticky blood that was everywhere - on the floor, her hands, her robes, in Severus' hair - evaporate into nothingness.

Exhausted, she once more put her head down on his chest. Now his heart beat was steady and determined, while she listened in silent happiness. It was quite convenient, really, that he was unconscious. This way, she was free to lie near him, stroke his hair, and caress his hand.

After what seemed like a blissful eternity, he stirred. She sat up, and looked at his face. When he finally opened his eyes, his pupils wandered around disoriented, before finally coming to rest on Samara. She felt the warm glow in his eyes as they looked at each other in silence.

"Samara, my guardian angel, you are here," he whispered softly.

He seemed to be trying to remember what had happened. After another moment of silence, he spoke again.

"Help me get up; I need to find Harry."

"You are going nowhere, Severus, and if you so much as try to get up, I will petrify you. In case you don't remember, you have just nearly bled to death after You-Know-Who's pet got a little too cuddly."

"You don't understand - everything depends on it…please."

His voice, still faint as it was a big effort to speak, had a sudden urgency to it. And then he told her in as few words as he could manage what he thought had been Dumbledore's last plan, that crucial piece of information he had not been able to pass to Harry, because it was not a memory.

"Right," she said. "You stay here, and I'll find Harry."

"No, I will go myself. It's too dangerous, there are Death Eaters everywhere."

"But you have no idea where Harry is."

"He will have gone to use the Pensieve in my office."

"It's been over half an hour, he may not be there anymore. You didn't hear You-Know-Who's broadcast. He told Harry to come to the Forbidden Forest alone."

"Then that's where he will go. I will check if Hagrid is back. If he is, it seems unlikely that Harry would not say goodbye."

"First drink this, it will strengthen you."

She poured the content of a bottle into a goblet, adding a swig from another flask, and handed it to Severus, who downed the liquid in one gulp.

"What have you given me? This isn't helping," he whispered.

"It will help. It's just Strengthening Solution and a little of your favourite – Dreamless Sleep. You didn't really think I was going to let you wander about in this state? Now don't move until I'm back."

His eyes widened in shock, as he tried to protest, stretching out a hand to hold her back. But before he could say anything, he was overcome by sleep.

Looking at his peaceful face, she wondered how long the effect of the potion would last. She had only given him a small amount, for fear of overdosing him in his fragile state of health. She took her wand, got up, and disappeared into the darkness.

The last thing Severus heard, before drifting off, was the creaking of the door, and, a few seconds later, hooves thundering off into the distance.

A/N: This chapter really was the reason I wrote the whole story. So I'm absolutely dying to know what you thought of it. Please, please take a moment to review!

Btw, the beautiful flying black horses with their psychic ability are inspired by my own lovely black thoroughbred. He can't fly, of course, although sometimes it feels like he does. :-)