"Harry," Hermione breathed, only realizing a second after she'd uttered it that it wasn't perhaps wise to alert Voldemort of the presence behind him.

She needn't have worried, however, because at the precise moment that Voldemort's face crumpled with contempt and realization at her words, Harry sent a stunning curse straight at his back. The evil man before her went rigid, and would've toppled right onto her if she didn't side step him.

"Harry," she muttered again, rushing at her disheveled friend with a warmth that surprised even her. It felt longer than she'd realized since she'd seen a friendly face, aside from Severus's.

Harry met her halfway and the two collided into a compassionate, joyous embrace. "You're here," she breathed into his mop of untidy raven hair. "You're really here, I thought…Merlin, I thought we'd die here."

Harry pulled back to seemingly gauge her health and when he seemed satisfied enough that she wouldn't immediately keel over, he grinned goofily and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Gods, is it good to see you, Hermione. It's been half a week since we started searching for you." His breath caught, unaccustomed to the ball of emotion currently lodged in his throat. "I truly didn't know if I'd see you whole again."

Hermione rubbed his arm comfortingly. "But how on earth did you know we'd been ambushed?"

"Dumbledore is the Secret Keeper of Snape's private home in Lyon. He felt it the instant the wards were breached, and he roused the rest of the order and I."

Hermione furrowed her brow. She glanced at the man lying frozen at their feet, and shied away from him unconsciously. "But what now? What about the…the horcruxes," she whispered the word, "and if the order was with you, where are they now? You can't truly be alone—"

Harry held up a hand to stem the incessant flow. "Who lit the fire under your arse?" he exclaimed, earning himself a quick smack. "Firstly, no, I'm not alone. The building is currently surrounded by the Weasleys, Neville, Luna, and several of the professors. We've got Kingsley and a slew of Aurors currently parading these hallways, taking out stray or awakening Death Eaters. And Dumbledore is seeing to the, erm…" Harry cocked his head uncertainly. "The complications."

Hermione nearly felt lightheaded. After months and months of torment and dread, Harry's pronouncement felt too good to be true. Could it be—could it really be—over?

And then she remembered the Potions Master bleeding out on the floor not ten feet behind them.

"Severus," she exclaimed, and turned on her heel. She practically leapt over Lord Voldemort and collapsed to her knees by Snape's side.

He now lay in a pool of his own blood. His face was explicitly ashen, paler than she'd ever seen, and she felt frantically for a pulse, convinced she wouldn't find one. And so it was a pleasant surprise when his skin moved very lightly-very weakly—but definitely, beneath her fingers.

How could I have forgotten? she berated herself. She smoothed away his hair and strived to see through the tears that welled surprisingly quickly. Behind her, she felt Harry's inquisitive eyes glaring holes into her head but she found it only too easy to ignore. The crazed panic she'd grown so familiar with bubbled in her stomach.

Behind her, footsteps joined them. She and Harry turned simultaneously, cautiously. Hermione snatched the wand nearest her and mimicked Harry, who'd already raised his. They needn't have bothered, because Hermione could see the Headmaster's twinkling gaze from where she remained crouched beside Snape.

"Evening," he murmured politely as if making an entrance to afternoon tea, not the battle that would determine the fate of the Wizarding World. In a matter of seconds, he took in the precarious state of his dear old friend and his countenance darkened accordingly. "Does he have a pulse, Miss Granger?"

Somehow, seeing the professor so forlorn only worsened her anxiety. She nodded. "It's slight, but it's there." She glanced down at the man in question. "It won't be there for long though, Professor. We've got to move him."

The Headmaster inclined his head in agreement and turned his attention towards Harry, who was watching the exchange before him with an expression that would've suited witnessing an alien abduction. His jaw nearly hit the floor, it dropped so far.

Neither Hermione nor Dumbledore, who clearly knew more than he was letting on about the situation between the girl and the Potions Master, chose not to enlighten him quite yet. Instead, Dumbledore murmured, "It is done, Harry. There is nothing stopping you."

Harry righted himself, and eyed the Headmaster. He nodded deeply, gravely, and Hermione marveled then at how mature her friend appeared. Gone was the goofy grin and childish ambivalence to which she'd grown accustomed. In their places were undeniable strength and an extraordinary amount of bravery. She'd known him since he was eleven years old, but in that moment he was her superior.

He was their only hope.

Harry stood to full height and addressed the room, but his eyes landed on Hermione. "Clear out before I lift the stunner."

There was a moment of silence, before—

"Absolutely not."

Harry groaned inwardly. "Hermione, it is the only way." He considered her for a moment. "You need to get Professor Snape out. He needs you now."

Hermione ignored the discrete inquiry behind his mention of Snape and addressed solely his words. "Professor Dumbledore can see to it that Severus gets medical attention. I'll stay with you. As back up."

Harry shook his head and covered the distance between them in three simple strides. "It has to be he and I, Hermione. It must be solely the two of us, or else I can't compete. I can't be worried about you—though I know you can hold your own," he added quickly before she could protest. "I need to know that you're all safely outside the perimeter." His goofy smile returned but she knew it was more for her benefit than anything. "Don't worry, Hermione. I know what I'm doing."

That was perhaps the first time in their seven years of friendship, and adventure, that she'd ever heard those words from Harry's lips. That assurance, mixed with the encouragement scrawled across Dumbledore's face, prompted her to do the unthinkable.

"If you get yourself killed, Harry, I'll never forgive you," she murmured half-heartedly before engaging him in a bone-crushing hug. Before she could cry, she enlisted the Headmaster's help in levitating Severus. She followed them out to the entrance of the hallway where she paused and glanced back.

Her best friend had his eyes closed and his wand steady. Hermione's chest hitched and she prayed to Merlin that this wouldn't be the last image she had of him.

Swathed in a helplessness she really didn't care for, Hermione followed Snape's floating form out of the dungeon and into the dawn, where she gasped her first lung full of fresh hair in half a week.

Immediately, she was swarmed by an army of well wishers who expressed their exclamations of joy at the sight of her safety. She was passed around the order, continuously enveloped in countless pairs of arms.

When the greetings were through, it was Ron who spoke first. "Where's Harry?"

Hermione and Dumbledore exchanged a look. "Inside," Hermione said at last, "ending this war."

Her chilling pronouncement was met by an eerie silence, and they all turned as one to peer at the door to the warehouse. Whomever would exit would determine the fate of the their world.

And there was nothing to do but wait.

*BREAK*

In the nearly twenty minutes since Hermione had exited, the only change had been Dumbledore's departure. He'd gone to deposit Severus at the Hospital Wing before he could lose any more blood, only to reappear moments later.

"Poppy's working on him," he said to the group at large, but his eyes were on Hermione's.

"Was she hopeful?" Hermione asked despite how constricted her throat felt. She had to be hopeful, she was Madame Pomfrey.

Dumbledore looked at her for a long moment. "She will do her best."

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek and wished she hadn't asked at all.

Inside, an internal battle raged. Two men she held very dear to her heart were both currently fighting for their lives, and Hermione's nerves were strung so tightly worrying for both of them. She clutched Ron's hand for much needed support while Mrs. Weasley rubbed her back and tended to the multitude of wounds she'd received in captivity.

The silence was getting to her. She just wished someone would speak because her mind was currently a whirlwind she could not piece together. She'd never felt so jittery, so nervous, in all her life. The odds of one of these men surviving weren't exactly favorable. The odds of both of them surviving?

Dear Merlin, help them.

The group's collective anxiety swelled when the door to the warehouse creaked open ever so slowly, and they all caught their breath as one.

And out rolled the severed head of Lord Voldemort.

Author's Note: Full of action! This was a fun one to write, actually, I like writing about Harry quite a bit.

Well, as always, PLEASE PLEASE review. They truly motivate me more than you can know. Without them, writing all this feels pointless-why adhere to a mute audience?

Tell me what you like, what you want more of, or even less of! This little story of mine IS actually coming to an end now. But it might not be over just yet.

I've got a sequel in mind!