A/N: I tried to keep this chapter light and fluffy. I promise. Only, well, the bunny didn't like that. Towards the end, this chapter contains violence. So, you're forewarned.

Letting Go

The rest of September passed by uneventfully. Much to her displeasure, Celes was still stuck in the hospital wing under Pomfrey's careful eye, while Toby was forced to attend practice after practice. Kai was so desperate in his quest to win Ravenclaw's first championship in decades that he had the team practice two times a day, mornings and evenings. It didn't matter if it was rainy or sunny. They'd still be out there practicing.

Toby had never realized before how much effort and sacrifice Quidditch players put into their sport. It was much more than he had ever given them credit for in the past. In fact, he could now understand why some of his students who were Quidditch players were so tired in his classes. With the amount of practices and the high-level of physical activity, it was quite frankly a wonder how those students could roll out of the bed the next morning. He knew that he was certainly having problems with that nowadays.

Every day for the past several weeks after his evening practice he would come visit Celes in her private hospital room and sit with her. It was something he knew they both looked forward to. More often than not, in fact, he found that if she was having a bad day at the start of his visit, she'd be smiling by the time he'd leave.

After yet another grueling practice in a rainstorm, he slowly sat down next to Celes's bedside. He stifled a yawn immediately and groaned quietly, rubbing at his tired eyes. He caught her amused look instantly and frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said with a smile, her attention quickly returning to her magazine.

"I'm glad you find my exhaustion humorous," he grumped.

"That's not what I find funny. Promise."

"Oh?"

"It's just amusing watching you try to hide it from me."

His frown deepened. "Well, if that's the case, then perhaps I should retire to my room for the evening and leave you here all alone." He made a motion to stand, stopping when she grabbed his arm a second later.

"Or you could just come over here and lay beside me, Mr. Grumpy."

"So you can watch me fall asleep? I think not."

She snorted. "Actually, I was suggesting that we both sleep."

"Oh." Knowing now that she, too, would be sleeping made him relax slightly. She, after all, needed sleep more than he did nowadays. So, with a slow nod, he moved towards her and settled behind her on the cot. He chuckled quietly when she curled up against him a moment later. "Better?" he remarked with a smirk.

"Funny. I was going to ask you the same thing."

He snorted and kissed the top of her head. Today was definitely a good day for her, he decided. She needed more of those in his opinion. She then held the magazine up in front of her again, which drew his attention instantly. His eyes quickly passed over the article she was reading before his brows knit together.

"Is that the 'Hero of Hogwarts' edition?" he asked quietly.

"You mean, all about the evil bat of Hogwarts?" she teased, glancing up at him. At the sight of his mild glare, she laughed. "Yeah. It is. It's actually rather interesting."

"Interesting?" He wasn't certain if he liked the sound of that.

"Well, it seems that Snape was born in the poor side of Cokeworth."

He snorted. "There's a rich side? Must have missed that part of town."

"His mother was a three-time Gobstones champion, and his father was known for running the largest gambling ring in Western England," she read.

Sounds about right, he thought with a shrug.

"Let's see here." She smoothed the magazine down to make a big show out of it before she read aloud again. "He grew up in a row house on the very end of Spinner's End next to the river. He's an only child and spent much of his youth at the abandoned park on 13th street."

"Actually, it was 15th street, but honestly what's a few blocks?" he remarked dryly.

"He was best friends with Lily Evans, whom readers will recall is Harry Potter's mother. However, it would seem that some type of falling out occurred during their fifth year. When asked, Harry Potter was unable to give further comment on this matter and merely stated that it was a private matter between Professor Snape and his mother (Lily Evans-Potter). One does wonder just what it was that occurred between them, but it would seem only the Nargles know that answer, as my daughter would say."

The way she read that caused the laughter to pour out of him. It was utter ridiculousness.

"Maybe I should ask those pesky Nargles sometime?" she teased.

He rolled his eyes. "You know very well what occurred between us."

"Yeah, but maybe the Nargles have something to add. Like how amazing you really are."

He scoffed. "Hardly." He then motioned back to the article. "What else is there?"

"Shortly before the tragic events of Godric's Hollow, young Severus took the available Potions post at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He soon became the youngest professor on staff, as well as the youngest Head of House in Hogwarts' history. It can be assumed it was during his tenure here at Hogwarts that he met his wife, Aurora Sinistra, the current Astronomy mistress at Hogwarts."

"Can be assumed?' That's all?" He snorted again. "Doesn't say much for Lovegood's father's investigative side, does it?" He smiled inwardly when he heard her soft laugh.

"Sources close to the couple—"

"We have people close to us?" he cut in. "Interesting."

"Probably referring to Minerva, I'd imagine," she answered with a shrug. She then cleared her throat before she continued. "Sources close to the couple stated they were unaware of the couple's romantic involvement until this past May."

"Rather enlightening to hear that you can, in fact, mask your emotions every now and then." He half-laughed when she playfully punched his shoulder.

"Arse." She then sighed. "Little is known of the couple's relationship. However, considering the dangerous times we were in, this is no surprise."

He frowned inwardly. That was all the hard-hitting facts it had? No. That couldn't be it. "Anything else?"

She shook her head. "Not really." She then turned the page. "Most of this actually is highly speculative. At least ninety percent, I mean. The rest is like biographical stuff that one could find in the Ministry."

"In other words, Lovegood's father didn't do his research."

She laughed softly. "Or we were just really good at keeping secrets."

"Or that," he agreed. "According to Luna, this is the biggest edition of the Quibbler yet."

"And yet it barely has any substance," she commented. "Sort of sad if you think about it."

"Oh?" he replied with a raised brow.

"It's just everyone deserves to hear the true story about—"

"How selfish I was."

"No." She sighed. "It may have started out with you doing it for selfish reasons, but I like to think your reasons changed in the later years."

He chuckled softly. "In other words, you like to believe I matured."

"Yes." She then glanced up at him. "Is that so wrong to think?"

"I haven't a clue," he replied with a shrug. "However, and I mean this in the best possible way of course, you always see the good in me."

"You made a mistake," she started to argue. The moment he sighed heavily, she frowned. "I know. That annoys you greatly when I say it, but it's the truth. You were a stupid sixteen-year-old who wanted to kick the shit out of people who made your life a living hell. Show me an adolescent who wouldn't do the same."

"Potter."

"Harry had a support system," she countered. "He had friends who would build him back up whenever people picked on him. You didn't."

"Oh? I take it then that Rosier and—"

"Rosier and Avery were groomed at birth to be Death Eaters, and you know it." She slowly pushed herself up to look at him properly. "You could not have known what would happen. No one could have predicted any of it." When he turned away, she gently grabbed his chin. "Listen to me. You had a difficult childhood. Your only friend in the entire world was sorted into a different House. You tried to make it work. You did. But she still got torn one way and you the other. They whispered their lies in your ears to cause further separation, further strife between you two. So, your friendship broke piece by piece until one day, after yet another round of humiliation at the hands of Black and Potter, you lost your temper and snapped."

He closed his eyes and felt his shoulders slump.

"And when you snap, you lose all sight of yourself and others," she continued, her hand cupping his cheek tenderly. "You become blinded by the rage inside that you've held back for so long. All that anger, all that fury, all that hatred comes bursting out of you then. Like a dam giving way to the flood waters, your emotions pour out of you, and you can't hold them back anymore. And after it's all over, you're left there standing forced to pick up the pieces."

"It doesn't excuse what happened."

"You made a mistake. A horrible and tragic one, yes, but a mistake." She sighed, her eyes softening. "Congratulations. You're human, Severus."

He huffed and glanced away again. "I should've known better."

"You were sixteen! Not exactly an age known for having the mental maturity to choose life-altering decisions correctly. At that age, all your decisions would be emotionally charged. Like every other damn adolescent in the world."

"Well, I chose wrong!"

"Yes you did. However, you have something now that you didn't have then."

He groaned inwardly. "I hardly doubt having you—" He nearly yelped when she hit him upside the head unexpectedly a second later.

"No, you dunderhead. It's called 'hindsight."

He frowned. "Now, you sound like my mother."

She smiled warmly. "I'll take that as a compliment. Thank you."

"Yes, because being utterly mad is clearly a compliment," he remarked snidely.

"I'll tell her you said so," she replied happily, once again settling against him.

"Insufferable woman," he mumbled under his breath. He then let the silence settle around them for several minutes as he held her in his arms. As the silence stretched on, his mind slowly returned to a few hours earlier in his private room in the Ravenclaw dormitory.

"It will work out in the end," a soft voice stated to his left.

"I wish I shared your optimism," he dryly replied with a sigh. He rubbed his face tiredly before he glanced at the Ravenclaw ghost. Helena smiled warmly towards him, though, floating near the end of his bed.

"The Friar's been watching her, as has the Baron," Helena softly reminded.

"I know. I just wish I could help her."

"Oh, Severus," she laughed softly. "You are." She floated gracefully closer. "Sometimes we don't notice the good in our deeds until after the darkness has passed."

"And just what good am I doing her exactly?"

"You are being her husband, supporting her and being there when she needs you. Like me, she knows not when to ask for help or forgiveness for that matter."

He frowned. "She has nothing to apologize for, though."

"Oh?" the Grey Lady replied quietly, an amused look on her pale face. "Then she was not the one who leapt before she looked?"

"I agreed to her idea, Helena."

"Because you care for her and wanted to see her succeed." She smiled faintly as she met his disapproving look. "Both of which show how good of a man you truly are."

"Helena—"

She then sighed softly. "Oh, Severus. It is in these few moments that you remind me so much of another tortured man, one who wears his chains quite literally."

He sighed, rubbing his face once more.

"It'll all work out in the end. Trust me," Helena said quietly.

"She's hurting. Badly. And I haven't a clue how to help her," he admitted, looking to her.

"You are helping her, Headmaster."

He stiffened instantly. "Don't call me that. I resigned."

"And as we have stated before, we did not accept your resignation."

"You don't have the authority to accept or decline it," he argued, knowing it was a futile attempt. He'd had this same argument with the ghosts and portraits for the past two months with no sight of victory on the horizon.

"You are a part of us, Headmaster. Just as we are a part of you."

He groaned loudly and punched his pillow. "I don't want this. Do you understand that? I just want to live my life for once without having anyone pulling the strings."

"We are hardly pulling strings," she drawled with a soft laugh.

"You're still controlling my life, Helena," he pointed out angrily.

The Ravenclaw ghost was silent for a few moments. Her sad eyes held his before she finally spoke again. "You are free to do whatever you wish."

"Funny. I don't feel like I am," he replied bitterly.

"Enjoy life. That is all we require of you."

"For now," he huffed. "But someday you'll need more from me. That's how it's always been in my life. One day you'll all decide that what I give you isn't enough, and pretty soon I'll be back in the same boat I was in before."

"I assure you it will not be the case this time. We did not bring you back that day just so you could live a life full of pain again."

He blinked. "Bring me back?" he breathed, feeling his blood stop in his veins.

"Protect. Defend. Love. Rebuild." She had chanted the same words he had heard as he lay dying in the Shrieking Shack. And just like that, he understood. Hogwarts had been the one to save him, not Albus. The castle, the ghosts, the portraits, every bit of magic in its magnificent walls had yanked him back from Death's clutches somehow. "We chose you, Severus, because we know you will succeed."

"Toby?" Celes's soft voice suddenly cut in, pulling him from his thoughts instantly. "What are you thinking about?"

He remained quiet for several moments before he glanced down at her. A part of him wanted to tell her. Another part was fearful of what would happen afterwards. Finally, he sighed and hung his head.

"I'm still headmaster," he said quietly with a sigh.

She looked up at him with a lopsided grin. "I know that, silly. Remember? You opened the passage to the office and let Minerva and us up there so we could tell her the truth about us. Sort of hard not to notice after that."

He opened his mouth to argue but quickly closed it. She had a point. It was rather obvious after that.

"You're not mad?"

"About what?"

He bit his cheek to keep his usual sarcasm at bay. "You're not mad about me still being headmaster?" he asked quietly.

"Of course not. You're a good headmaster."

He couldn't hold back his snort of disbelief. Him, a good headmaster? Now, he knew she had spent way too much time locked up in the hospital wing. That was like saying Neville was good at Potions. Fat chance of that.

"Don't laugh," she replied with a frown. "I mean it. You're a good headmaster."

"The castle was practically destroyed," he said bluntly. "Fifty people were killed. Not to mention the number of students who were subjected to Unforgivables on a daily basis. Let's be honest. Please." He sighed softly, holding her kind eyes. "I was the worst headmaster."

"No you weren't. All of that was a result of Albus and his influences, not you."

He shook his head, though, refusing to hear her. She could always spin his darkness just the right way to absolve him of any guilt. That was if he'd let her.

"Fine. Don't believe me," she huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "But it's the truth. You're a good headmaster. Why else would the Board not accept your resignation?"

"The Board did accept it," he pointed out immediately.

"What?" She stared up at him, clearly confused. "I don't understand."

"The Board of Governors did accept my resignation. Every single one of them, Celes." He then ran a hand through his hair as he glanced out the window. "Only, it seems, the ghosts and portraits and, let's be honest here, the whole damn rest of the castle believes they have more authority than the Board and, therefore, can force me to remain as headmaster. Against my wishes and the Board's wishes."

"Why?"

He glanced down at her and shrugged. "To hell if I know."

"You mean you haven't asked?" Slowly, she turned so she was facing him more.

"Of course I asked," he snapped, feeling the familiar irritation bubbling up again.

"Then you have to know why."

He clenched his jaw and quickly glanced up at the ceiling. Oh, Merlin above, give him the strength. Listing all the ingredients for Polyjuice in his mind, he drew in slow breaths to calm himself. As soon as he reached the boomslang, he looked back at her.

"If you must know," he started very slowly in his best 'I'm annoyed as hell so tread lightly' voice, "the reason I was given is that by mending our relationship with one another, we will somehow restore Hogwarts to its usual splendor. Which is utter crap if you ask me." As he watched her mull this information over, he felt the pit in his stomach widen. "Celes," he warned.

"I know. I know," she responded rapidly, holding her hands up protectively. "It's complete nutters. But—"

"No. No 'buts."

"What if it's true?"

He groaned instantly and hung his head. Dammit.

"You told me once you felt as if you were connected with the castle. What if that's true? What if every headmaster and headmistress, upon taking the post, shares a link with Hogwarts?"

"Then the castle would have known that I hadn't killed Albus and never would have accepted me as headmaster since there was already a headmaster," he pointed out.

"Unless—"

"Stop," he begged, his face souring. He truly didn't want to hear her go on about possible theories that proved that. Sighing softly, he grabbed her hand a moment later and rested it against his chest. "Listen to me. We have enough on our plate right now. We do not need to add healing a castle on top of it all. Now do we?"

"No, but—"

"No 'buts," he cut in again, giving her a hard look. "We have put others before us for decades. This time we come first. No more for the Greater Good." He then grabbed her face when she opened her mouth to argue. Staring deep into her eyes, he simply declared, "Fuck the Greater Good. We're putting ourselves first this time, Celes. I mean it. I don't give a damn about anyone else and their pain. I only care about your pain. That's it."

"I'm fine, Toby," she said once again, continuing her mantra.

"Physically, yes. I know that you've healed from your injuries. I can see that clear as day. However, we both know that you haven't healed mentally from your emotional trauma yet. Now don't mistake my words for me asking you to fake it or rush your healing. I'm not asking for any of that. It'll take time. I know that. Which is why I come here every day. To see how you are and support you on your recovery." He then sighed again. "But I can only do so much, Celes. The rest you have to do."

"I know," she argued. "And I've been trying. I just don't like talking to death about it."

"No one enjoys speaking about unpleasant things."

"It's not that," she countered, shaking her head. "It's just I don't know how to describe what I'm feeling. Yet at every turn, there Pomfrey is, asking me once more about my feelings. Like this time will be different."

"You're frustrated."

"Ugh, don't you start, too," she groaned. "I've had my fill of Mind Healers in my life."

He snorted softly with a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I'm not, Celes. I'm merely working something out in my mind."

"Like what? How messed up your wife is?"

"You're not," he whispered before he pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead. She was undeniably frustrated. Like he had been in the beginning of his therapy sessions. However, he could hear in her voice that she at least wanted someone's help. It was just that she didn't appreciate Pomfrey's so-called methods, which was something he could understand.

"Toby?" she said quietly several minutes later. "Do you remember awhile back when we shared that memory? Of that night, I mean?" She chewed on her bottom lip nervously as she waited his answer.

"I do." He watched her nod slowly before she folded her hands neatly on her lap and glanced down. Her classic display of guilt he recognized instantly. He, however, remained silent and waited for her to continue. He knew she would eventually. After she figured out how to ask him properly, that was. It was fine, though. He'd be patient.

"We never finished it," she whispered, swallowing.

"We did not," he agreed quietly, watching her closely.

Gradually, her eyes peeked upwards towards him before she quickly glanced back down. "Could we?" she mouthed, her arms now wrapped protectively around her.

"If that's what you want," he replied. He wouldn't make that decision for her. She had to.

"You'll be there with me again?"

"Every step of the way."

"Good."

He nodded slowly before he motioned for her to lean back against him again. With her back now against his chest, he held her protectively in his arms. Drawing in a slow breath, he emptied his mind before he spoke.

"Close your eyes." He waited until she had and then continued. "Breathe in." He felt her chest expand underneath his left arm. "Breathe out," he directed a moment later, feeling her chest shrink. "Breathe in." He gently placed his two fingers against her temple. "Breathe out." He could sense her relaxed state of mind and then closed his eyes himself. Images rushed to the forefront of his mind, and soon he found himself immersed in her memories of that fateful night.

Leaning against the low wall of the crenellated ramparts of the Astronomy Tower, Aurora looked out onto the grounds as the stars twinkled above her. Suddenly she gasped and clutched her chest with wide eyes. One of the lower level windows on the far side of the castle had burst unexpectedly. However, it was the huge, bat-like object that had emerged a moment later from the large hole and flew off into the darkness that had her the most shocked.

"What the hell?" she mouthed. The answers clearly weren't going to come, though. Turning away, she headed for the spiral staircase to return to the castle and headed towards the direction of the now broken window.

She was halfway there when she found herself suddenly jumping back when the stone statues came to life. As the statues rushed past her then, her hand instinctively went to her abdomen, thankful that her robes hid the baby bump. At the feel of the slight nervous kick from their child, she rubbed her belly gently in hopes that it would calm the baby again.

"Aurora!"

Her hand fell to her side instantly as her head snapped towards the person who had called out her name. Her insides knotted even more as Minerva rapidly approached.

"What's going on? Where's—" Her voice suddenly trailed off when Minerva gently grabbed her upper arms. The knot in her stomach grew then. Without a doubt, she knew now that Severus had been driven from the castle. Likely by Minerva herself.

Minerva's green eyes were hard and full of determination. A woman clearly ready to lead her troops into battle, it was noted in hindsight. Behind the Head of Gryffindor was the surging group of students, Order members, and professors heading into the Great Hall, all ready to sacrifice their lives for the Greater Good.

As Minerva's face softened slightly, she gently brushed back a few of Aurora's stray curls in a motherly manner. "I want you to know that I understand. I do, Aurora."

Aurora stared deep into the sad green eyes of her mentor. Understand what exactly? That Minerva had just tossed out a victim of Albus's cruelty? The words never left her mouth, though. Instead, Minerva pulled her into a fierce hug the next moment, full of love and sadness. As if the older witch believed in her heart this was the last time she would ever see Aurora alive.

"I hope for your sake you're right about him, my dear," Minerva whispered in her ear before she pulled back. All the emotions that had been in the older witch's face, the warmth and love, suddenly vanished. "Your services here are no longer required, I'm afraid," McGonagall stated briskly, the coldness entering her voice as if she was speaking to someone else. "Leave this castle at once or else I shall have you physically removed."

Stunned, Aurora stared at her mentor of twenty-one years before she noticed the other professors glancing towards her suspiciously. Without another word, she turned away and left, heading to her tower. She had to find Severus. She had to.

As the memory faded, another quickly took its place. The crenellated ramparts of the Astronomy Tower soon reappeared as Aurora once again stood at the top of the tower, searching the massive grounds for her husband. She knew he was out there. Somewhere. He wouldn't have left her there all alone.

Her eyes narrowed a moment later on a dark figure near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Could that be him? She couldn't tell from this distance for certain. She then saw a brief flash of light from a wand. At the sight of a series of large fireballs heading to the castle soon after, she inhaled sharply and ran down the ramparts towards her trapdoor. She'd be a sitting duck if she just stayed up there.

The first fireball slammed into the large Great Hall window, shattering it instantly.

The second barreled through the North Tower, sending brick and mortar flying.

The third struck the base of her tower, nearly sending her to her knees from its force.

From then on, Aurora's tower shook violently from the fierce blasts. She scrambled to her trapdoor and climbed down the ladder in order to reach safety. Swirling black robes suddenly were behind her, whipping around in the strong wind. She was on her guard now, her wand in her hand. It wasn't enough, though. A long pale hand suddenly covered her mouth and an arm wrapped around her before the two Disapparated.

When they reappeared in the middle of a familiar sitting room—the cottage's to be exact, her supposed attacker released her before the figure took a step back to reveal himself. It really was a wonder how they were still married.

"Severus?!" Aurora hissed, growling a moment later before hitting the black-clad man's shoulder. "You bloody damn arse. I could have killed you! What the hell were you thinking?"

He, however, said nothing.

"Answer me, Severus. What were you thinking?"

"Remain here" was the quiet reply before he Disapparated soon after.

"Oh! You son of a bitch! Like hell I'll remain here, you bloody bat."

The memory skipped ahead once more, their surroundings blurred for a moment before the Headmaster's office came into clear view. Jets of light flew every which way as three figures, Aurora being one of them, dueled. Knickknacks on the desk burst when they were hit by a curse or a hex. Loud explosions rocked the room every now and then. Blood spattered the walls once or twice. However, the three continued. A proper duel to the death it seemed.

One of the two Death Eaters suddenly slashed the air with his wand, a red jet of light zooming towards her. She cried out, unable to get out of the curse's way in time. It struck her left shoulder and sent her flying back against the mirrored cabinet where the Pensieve usually was. Little shards of glass tinkled as it fell against the floor. She lay motionless for a moment, propped up against the cabinet.

"Stupid bitch," snarled the other Death Eater.

His companion walked towards her, wand still in hand. The Death Eater spat on her a moment later before snickering when she moaned and moved her head slowly. "She ain't so tough now, is she?" He grabbed a hold of her dark curls and yanked her up by it, forcing her to stand. "Huh. So you're Snape's little Pureblood whore."

"I'm his wife, you moron," she hissed, sounding deadly herself. "And when the Dark Lord hears that you just—" The Death Eater holding her backhanded her instantly.

"Listen here, sweetheart," he sneered. "You don't get to make demands anymore. You see, you ain't off-limits." He chuckled darkly. "In fact, let me tell you what's going down right now, hmm? Your precious husband is getting his just desserts. He's lost his value, you see? So, the Dark Lord's tying up the loose end all pretty. Bye-bye, Snape. Won't miss ya."

"You lie."

Both Death Eaters, however, chuckled evilly.

"Is that so?" The Death Eater not holding her grabbed her face then. "You know, I'm looking at you right now, and I don't see it. Just what is it about you that's just so damn special, hmm? What do you think, Travers?"

"Personally, I reckon it's that he thought her blood would rub off on him, Dolohov. You know how bad he's been trying to play the Pureblood."

"Or maybe it's because, unlike you two idiots, he prefers a warm bed and sex whenever he wants," Aurora said nastily. She clenched her jaw when they chuckled again.

"Yeah," Dolohov replied, leaning towards her. "About that. You see, sweetheart, we can have sex whenever we want to, too."

"Just we don't got to worry about her saying she's got a headache or nothing with our approach," Travers added darkly.

Unable to hold back her fiery temper, Aurora brought her knee up into Dolohov's groin and slammed her head back against Travers's. She was tossed down onto the floor instantly as a result. Scrambling to her feet, she started to rush towards the door. Before she reached it, though, a curse hit her hard in the back and sent her sprawling back onto the ground.

"You stupid little bitch!" Dolohov snarled, advancing towards her with his wand drawn.

She groaned softly but quickly turned and flicked her wand at him, no words leaving her lips. At the sight of Dolohov's doubling over and screaming, she knew she had hit him. She then sent another Cutting Curse at Travers, missing this time.

"Crucio!" Travers yelled as she flicked her wand again at him.

The intense pain flooded her nerves moments later after it had struck her. She tried to escape the thirty seconds of boiling hot, blinding pain before the spell was finally released. Shaking horribly now, she tried again to hit Travers with a curse. It struck a portrait instead.

"Crucio!" Travers yelled again, this time holding the curse even longer on her.

Her screams tore out of her. Her body tensed up completely and bowed again like a scene from the Exorcist. Her vision blurred until all that was left was black, but still the pain came. No part of her didn't feel the hot, white, searing pain of his Cruciatus.

When finally the curse lifted and she fell limply back onto the floor with a thud, she lay shaking horribly and gasping desperately for air, choking around her own vomit and blood that had collected in the back of her mouth. Her lungs burned. Her throat raw. Blood everywhere.

Just when she thought it was over, a hard boot slammed into her back. She cried out, but no sound was heard. Another boot slammed into her abdomen, causing her to curl even more in on herself protectively. Unable to fight back now because of the intense pain and horrible shaking, she lay there as Travers and Dolohov repeatedly kicked her all over.

After one of them slammed their boot against the side of her face, she soon found herself struggling to stay conscious. A part of her welcomed the approaching darkness with open arms. At least the pain would stop then was her belief. But as she felt herself start to slip in and out of consciousness, panic surged through her. If she gave in now, she would never know his fate, if he lived or died in the battle. She would never see him again. Never be able to tell him how much she loved him. Never caress his cheek and stare into those dark eyes of his. No. All that would remain is emptiness and darkness. Nothingness.

No. It would not end like this. She would not leave him. Not leave him alone again. A silent cry tore from her lips.

As her vision blurred and then focused every now and then, she noticed the growing river of blood flowing from her. She couldn't help but recall that he had been so happy when they learned of her pregnancy with their first child. Guilt tore at her. She'd leave him utterly destroyed this time. All because she had to open her mouth. Foolish dunderhead.

She needed to tell him how sorry she was. She needed him to know that she loved him. That she hadn't meant to hurt him. That she'd always be there with him.

With all her strength, she pushed past the blinding pain that filled her every nerve and crawled towards the doors to find him. With all her soul, she cried his name aloud so he'd hear her, even though only rasps left her white lips. And with all her love, she sent him every last bit of it so he'd know that he would never truly be alone.

Nonetheless, she only reached as far as the middle of the office before she was grabbed roughly from behind and yanked her upwards. She moaned, her head lulling to the side.

"Say hello to Snape in hell for us, will ya?" Travers drawled, his wand raised ominously.

Tears streaked her bloodied and bruised cheeks. She had failed. He'd never know now.

However, before Travers could cast his spell, a blinding light filled the room followed by a feeling of weightlessness. Images then flashed in her mind, too quick for her to decipher properly. Soon after, she was bathed in a series of warm lights. First red, then blue, next green, and finally yellow. With the lights, strange voices whispered around her in a manner similar to if she were underwater and being serenaded by the merpeople. And then came a sense of something she couldn't fully describe. It was good, but that was all she knew.

Slowly coming back to himself, he drew in a series of breaths. His eyes reopened as soon as the last of her memories faded from his mind. He found himself staring out the window of the hospital wing and exhaled quietly. He could feel her heart racing as he still held her protectively.

"Toby?" she said shakily.

"I'm here," he replied, unable to think of anything else to say.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

He closed his eyes and drew in another breath before he pressed a kiss against her head. "Oh, Celes," he sighed somberly. "When will you realize that you did nothing wrong, my love?"

"I-I did."

"You didn't," he countered before he urged her to turn and face him. "Listen to me. Please." He waited until she looked up into his eyes. "You did not kill our daughter." When she opened her mouth to argue, he quickly pressed a finger to her lips. "Hush." A pained look crossed his face then before he continued. "You have to let go of this misplaced guilt. It's only tearing you up inside. You didn't kill her. I promise you that." He gently brushed back her curls in his familiar loving manner. "You have no reason to feel all this guilt. Not for any of that." She opened her mouth to argue again. "You. Did. Not. Kill. Our. Daughter," he repeated, emphasizing each word. He then cupped her face in his hands. "Our daughter died due to the actions of Antonin Dolohov and Michael Travers. Not you. You didn't kill her. I swear to it. Please, I beg of you. Let go of your foolish guilt and place blame where it is due. On them. They are the ones who took her from us." He rested his forehead against hers. "Don't let them take you from me as well. Please, Aurora. Let go of your guilt and forgive yourself."