With one final slash of his wand, Severus destroyed the last remaining piece of furniture in the unused classroom, then sank to the floor amidst the smoking rubble with his head in his hands. He was soaked in sweat and literally shaking with rage, grief, regret … it was nearly impossible to put a name to the feelings that were manifesting themselves as nearly uncontrollable surges of magic – an unfortunate side effect of Occluding for so many hours at a time.

His thoughts ran wild with recollections like memories in a Penseive, now free from the confines of his highly compartmentalized mind.

The battle had been fierce, but somehow he had managed to evade all of the hexes and curses sent his way from his former colleagues and comrades from the Order. Meanwhile, he had, whenever possible, shielded them from harm by diverting Dark spells or killing Death Eaters himself … whenever he thought he could get away with it. It had been terrible watching those he knew fall, but his main goal had been to get to Potter and ensure his understanding and safety until such point as he reached the Dark Lord.

…

When the castle wall fell in the courtyard, Severus's undetectable Shield Charm had been the only thing keeping Potter from being crushed by debris. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord had chosen that exact moment to call Severus to his side, where he was forced to remain until the very end. With each new report of casualties, Severus had been sure he would learn of the boy's failure. Yet, miraculously, Potter and Weasley survived … until their deaths, of course. Knowing that Granger was on her way, Severus had held back, hoping to spare at least one student, one Order member, a horrible fate.

…

Hearing Jugson and Selwynn's lewd comments had almost made him blow his cover to kill them before she ever arrived. But slowly, a plan had formed in his mind. She was clever, even if he had never been allowed to admit it in the past. Perhaps he could save her, not just to assuage his conscience but also to help him finish this once and for all. Seeing her grief, then causing her fear and humiliation, had been difficult, but at least he had taken her to safety and maintained his cover. What would come next was anyone's guess.

…

He had flown to within 30 meters of the castle steps before landing and closing his eyes. He had needed a moment to recompose himself - or, at least, his Death Eater self. He had been far more shaken than he had realized to witness the deaths of Potter and Weasley. Severus had been released from the Unbreakable Vow to protect Harry when Dumbledore died, but that hadn't stopped him from nearly vomiting at the knowledge that he stood by and did nothing whatsoever to prevent it from happening. And while he may not have liked Weasley, he had always respected Arthur and Molly. He couldn't save their lives, but couldn't he have tried to spare their son?

Shaking those thoughts from his head, he had pulled his cloak around him like a shield, Occluded his mind once again and walked the remaining distance to the castle.

…

Crucio. It had been all he had known for several minutes upon his return to the Dark Lord. Apparently, the castle had refused to grant his Master entrance to the headmaster's office. Though he had writhed in agony, his heart soared to know the castle was continuing to protect him, in its own way. He would do everything in his power to return the favor.

…

The smell of burning flesh had been putrid, invading his nostrils and even settling somehow in his mouth, but he had endured it, knowing the deception that was Granger's body had gone entirely undetected. In fact, the Dark Lord was so delighted to have "the complete set" that he had sent Jugson and Selwynn back to the edge of the forest to retrieve Potter and what was left of Weasley. Their remains had been dumped on top of Granger and countless others – some students that had been found dead within the castle, others Order members who had been hastily collected from the courtyard – and the whole lot had been torched in some kind of hellish bonfire just outside the castle's main entrance.

The Death Eaters danced around the flames and celebrated with Hogwarts' finest brews, but one stayed silent, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, taking in the scene with his usual cold demeanor. No one had been surprised, and for once, Severus had been grateful for his reputation as a cold, heartless bastard who never took part in the festivities.

…

He had finally exited the Great Hall, released from the waning revel at last to go prepare potions for the wounded Death Eaters. Once that task was complete, he would be allowed to retire for a few days to rest and "celebrate" before returning to the school – his privilege for being one of the Inner Circle. The other, lower-ranking Death Eaters would see to repairs and security at the school and at the Ministry.

Once out in the main corridor, he had come face-to-face with the true extent of the destruction that had taken place within the castle that had been his home nearly his whole life. Seeing the stairs littered with bodies, blood and debris had been the final straw. With a snarl of rage, he thundered toward the dungeons. Flinging open the door to an unused classroom, he had barged in, warded it nine ways from Sunday and given in to his misery.

…

Returning to the present, he lifted his head and saw the destruction all around him. Casting Reparo, Severus watched as all the desks, chairs and bookcases became whole once more. How many times have I destroyed this very classroom after a meeting with Evil himself? He gave a huff and a shake of his head. It is just as well we never had need of this space for students. Otherwise, Merlin only knows what I might have done instead.

Once he ensured that all was in order, Severus left the classroom and briskly walked down the corridor to his lab, where he hoped to spend only a few hours brewing before escaping the castle and attending to one Hermione Granger, currently lying unconscious in the lounge of his unplottable, secret-kept hidey-hole.

Entering the lab, Severus felt an immediate sense of calm. One cannot make potions in the same space year after year without feeling at home and at peace in the place. He removed his robes and coat, cast a drying charm on his sweat-soaked hair and shirt, and rolled up his sleeves. Collecting several ingredients, he set about preparing the elixirs the Dark Lord had requested, thankful that experience and muscle memory allowed his mind to wander during the task.

The last twenty-odd years had been one long nightmare. If it wasn't the Dark Lord consuming him, it was thoughts of Lily and regret over his role in her death. He swore to protect her son, only for Potter to recklessly make his way from one near-death situation to the next, usually dragging his friends into the mess along with him. Just like his father, Severus mused. And in the end, they both fell to the same wizard.

Albus had ruled with an iron, albeit benevolent, fist, but he had come to love Severus in his own way, just as Severus had returned that sentiment, hungry for someone, anyone to show him some compassion and tenderness. As a result, Albus' request for a merciful – and strategic – death only added to Severus' torment. Then followed three of the worst years of his life, having to continue his quest to bring down the Dark Lord from the inside without the benefit of any support or assistance from the Order.

The Order. He nearly kicked his workbench in disgust. They abandoned me without so much as a by your leave. They left me to wallow in the Darkness as though it were the inevitable conclusion of my sorry life. Bastards.

Forced to play the role of evil Headmaster, Severus was reviled by students and staff alike. He couldn't give away his true loyalties by showing fairness and kindness to all and sundry, but he did make sure that punishments were less … severe … when he was able to intervene. Didn't they understand that I was protecting them from far worse fates? Didn't they realize that sabotaging my every move only made it more difficult for me to insulate them from the Carrows' sadistic tendencies?

Despite his best efforts, there were tragic losses. Little Anna Wainthright, a Gryffindor whose tiny body couldn't recover from the severe beating received at the hands of Amycus, the swine. And Michael Bellamy, a Hufflepuff killed by a gang of Slytherins whose thirst for revenge led them to slit his neck because he dared to say something about their Dark Marks.

McFarland, Slytherin – raped and left to die outside the gates of Hogwarts after she refused to be take the Mark.

Alden, Gryffindor – poisoned, quite dramatically, at dinner for holding hands with a Muggleborn.

Johnson, Ravenclaw and Muggleborn – eyes gouged out and throat slit for merely existing.

The list of names went on, each face forever etched into Severus's psyche. And now, he could add to that list. Minerva. Filius. Pomona. Arthur. Molly. Nymphadora. Lupin. Potter.

The boy had shown far more courage during his last moments than Severus had expected. But then again, so much had happened over the last several years that one could hardly be blamed for not foreseeing it all – not even the nearly omniscient Albus. Potter's whole life had been lived for one final moment. He was the last Horcrux, destined to be destroyed by the Dark Lord himself, whether either fully understood why or not.

And the way things ended … well, it was more than Severus could have asked for, really. Potter managed to kill the snake before his death, so now all that was left was to find a way to kill a quite-mortal Dark wizard, a task that he planned to complete posthaste, no matter the cost to himself.

Shaking his head, he thought, Come now, Severus. You know it is not that simple.

The Dark Lord was cunning, and it would be difficult to attack him without raising an alarm first. Possible, but very, very difficult, especially since it appeared he found out about the Horcruxes in those last few minutes of Potter's life. However, the greater issue was how to do the deed so that it actually mattered. After all, the Death Eaters were many; surely another would rise from among their ranks to fill the vacancy left by their dearly departed Master. One who had the power and means necessary to overpower the others.

"Lucius," he hissed, before resuming his task of crushing lionfish spines with more force than was strictly necessary.

No, he would have to bide his time until the way forward was absolutely crystal clear. And after the events of the last 24 hours, that point in time seemed further away than ever. Never, not once in all the years of tedious planning with Albus, had he ever considered a future in which every single member of the Order was gone.

Oh, they knew they were outnumbered, but based on the intelligence he had supplied for so many years, they also knew they had the advantage in terms of strategy and sheer magical power. The Dark Lord was exceedingly powerful, yes, and a few among his followers – namely, Severus, Lucius and Bellatrix – were nearly unmatched in their fighting ability. But the vast majority of the Death Eaters were merely adequate, surviving on luck more than skill.

But it appeared that luck – and time – had been on the Dark side during the battle at Hogwarts. Too many years had passed since Severus had traveled in the Order's circles. And even when he did, he wasn't entirely sure they ever trusted him. In truth, he had no idea how many members had still been alive before yesterday. There had been several casualties during the minor skirmishes he had observed over the years. But how in the name of Merlin has the entire Order fallen? It is completely unthinkable. There simply is no contingency plan for this.

Of course, it really shouldn't have come as a surprise. Without their spy, the Order had no way of knowing when or even if such a battle would ever happen. Indeed, the day's events had taken Severus himself by surprise. It seemed that the Dark Lord had kept certain details close to the vest, not sharing them with even his most trusted servants.

It had taken everything Severus had to remain impassive once he realized what was happening. Oh, how he struggled as he heard the battle reports roll in. His wand arm itched to curse those who gloated over particular inventive killings, but he knew he had to stay the course until Potter arrived for the final confrontation with the Dark Lord. It was the only way to ensure that events unfolded as intended.

Thanks to his position as headmaster, he had kept somewhat loose tabs on the trio over the past three years via Phineas Black's portrait in his office, but that intelligence was limited and sporadic. Severus, of course, knew of the Horcruxes and tried to find out what they were and where they were located. But in the end, the best he could do was provide very limited and extremely covert assistance to Potter and his friends – medical supplies near places they were known to be; clues to discover and, hopefully, interpret and use correctly; a sword that just happened to have belonged to Godric Gryffindor …

The last remaining Horcruxes – the diadem and the cup – had been the most elusive, but based on what Severus could glean from Potter's mind before his death, both had been found and destroyed. As, of course, had the snake and … the boy himself.

Damned prophecy. So many dead in the name of Potter and words uttered by a half-mad, sometime Seer. And for what? Nothing … there is nothing left to save even if I can manage to kill the Dark Lord. Well, except for …

The Granger girl. Now that had been an unexpected development. If he could convince her of his loyalty to the Order, then perhaps he wouldn't have to work alone in his quest to end the war.

But therein lies the problem, does it not? I have to convince her, and that task will make resisting the Dark Lord seem like a stroll along the Thames on a fine summer day. He let out a mirthless laugh. Who would have ever thought I would cower at the notion of trying to persuade a bushy-haired know-it-all that I am all that is left of the Light?

Making the final clockwise stir in the Burn-Healing Paste, Severus doused the flame and, as he had done for each of the three previous potions – indeed, for nearly every potion brewed for the Dark Lord over the past several years – he carefully dropped in a single spider eye, rendering the entire cauldron full of potion 60 percent less effective. It would look the same and smell the same, but it would take much longer to heal even the simplest wound. I do what I can, he thought with a smirk.

Crating everything up and returning the lab to its previous pristine condition, Severus swept out of the room to deliver the goods to the Hospital Wing and get the hell out of there before the Dark Lord changed his mind.

A/N: Sorry to stop here, but it seemed a logical place to end this chapter. Thanks again for the feedback. Love it or hate it, let me know.