Chapter 43
Umbridge reached the top of the path, her stubby wand outstretched towards him. Snape folded his arms and merely raised an eyebrow by way of a greeting, especially since she was rude enough to have her wand drawn already.
"I expect you know why we are here, Snape," she began, still slightly out of breath from the long walk up from the school gates.
"I have no idea, Dolores," he drawled. "Why don't you enlighten me?"
"Minister Umbridge to you!" she retorted, a ridiculously cross look upon her face.
He pretended to think about it.
"I don't think it really matters what I call you, Madam," he replied, at length.
"You may be correct, Snape, for I am reliably informed by my Deputy Minister Shacklebolt that you are not to be trusted! That you are not a wizard who should be working in my esteemed administration!"
"I do not work in your self-esteemed administration. I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts School, and was appointed by the Dark Lord himself."
"The school is under the control of the Ministry of Magic! Therefore, you are a member of my administration. Do not be pedantic, Snape!"
He was rather enjoying riling this hideous bitch, although a part of him still wanted to vomit in sheer terror of what they were attempting to do, to bring down two psychopaths at the same time.
"I answer only to the instructions of Lord Voldemort," he told her, firmly.
Umbridge narrowed her eyes, and took a few threatening steps towards him, and Severus closed his fingers around his own wand, which he was concealing behind his folded arms.
"Lord Voldemort will soon answer to me, you fool! Did you even read the documentation I gave you? The legislation against half-bloods has already been passed, and I now outrank Tom Riddle on every level. The Ministry is as good as mine!"
"Is that so?" hissed a terrifying, disembodied voice.
All colour drained from Umbridge's face, and she whirled around, looking for the source of the voice, although Voldemort did not yet reveal himself.
He and the Death Eaters had arrived an hour previously, alerted to Umbridge's imminent arrival by Snape's signal through the conduit of the Dark Mark. Voldemort looked even worse than when Severus had seen him the previous evening. He had been walking whilst heavily leaning on Lucius Malfoy's ostentatious cane, thus depriving Malfoy of his wand, which was stored inside. The Dark Lord's eyes were painfully red, his skin stretched paper-thin across his gaunt features.
Riddle was secreted not far from where they now stood, having found himself a ringside seat for the altercation. The other Death Eaters were distributed through the grounds, having heeded Severus' warnings that there was to be no fighting within the castle walls, not since the horrendous damage that had been caused just a few months previously, and that they personally had been forced to repair. No doubt the lazy bastards didn't fancy that job again.
Umbridge stopped searching for the Dark Lord, and turned her beady eyes back upon him.
"Have you … tricked me, Snape?"
"Not at all, Dolores. I was ably assisted by your new Deputy Minister, whom you appointed yourself."
"Shacklebolt? Where is he? He did not report for work this morning."
"No idea," Snape lied, knowing that Kingsley was Disillusioned and standing on the steps of the castle. "But I suspect that locating your rogue deputy is the least of your worries at present."
"I do not know what you are talking about, you odious man! I have been told, from a reliable source, that you, with intent to sabotage my administration, have taken confidential information that you were given by me, before the Dark Lord."
"I have indeed, Madam. Your requested changes for the school, and for wizarding society as a whole, gave me great concern. I believed that you were acting in your own interests, and by marginalising half-bloods, you intend to place yourself in a position of greater power, above the Dark Lord."
"Everything I have done has been leading to this moment, and a greasy excuse for a teacher will not ruin it! I will run this country as it should be run! I Will. Have. Order!"
"I can only presume that was your plan when you removed the Imperius Curse from Pius Thicknesse," Severus replied, coolly. "You wanted him out of the way, knowing that it would mean the death of an innocent man, who was an excellent Auror with an impeccable record and a loving family. You threw Thicknesse before the mercy of the Dark Lord, so that you could take his place."
Her face blanched.
"How did you know that? No one knows that!"
"Call it an educated guess," he drawled.
"Yaxley's Imperius curse would have worn off eventually, or he would have forgotten to keep reapplying it," Umbridge replied, retaining her composure and dismissing his accusation. "I just expediated the process."
"So where does this leave us, Dolores?"
"Where it leaves you, Headmaster Snape, is under arrest for treason against the Minister for Magic! I shall be very happy to see you languish in Azkaban under the strongest charges!"
She indicated for the Aurors, the corrupt ones who had attended the school with her, to move forward and place him in magical handcuffs. Before they could reach him, however, Voldemort cancelled his Disillusionment charm, and there he stood, a hideous presence, leaning on the borrowed cane.
All around him, there were puffs of grey smoke as the accompanying Death Eaters cancelled their own charms and materialised into view. The Aurors she had commanded began to retreat to their original positions, cowed by the mere sight of so many dark witches and wizards before them.
"Minister Umbridge," Riddle began, his voice quiet and threatening, but speaking with clear difficulty, his chest heaving with effort.
Shit, was the psychotic deviant about to expire from old age, or from his horrendously fractured soul, before anyone could have the pleasure of killing him?
"I am most displeased with you, Dolores," Voldemort continued. "The laws you have introduced pertaining to the status of half-bloods, these were not passed with my instruction."
"That matters not … Mr Riddle," she replied, a simpering smile upon her face that belied the shocks gasps from the Death Eaters at her lack of respect at disregarding his title. "The laws have now been passed, which means that as a pureblood, I outrank you. And since I am already in the position of Minister, that means I have the final say on all legislation, I think you'll find."
If it hadn't been so fucking serious, Severus would have laughed at the sight of this preposterous pink nightmare talking to Lord Voldemort as if he were a recalcitrant child. She certainly had balls, there was no doubt about that. Possibly real ones.
Voldemort lifted the Elder Wand towards her, the wand he had stolen from Dumbledore.
With cat-like reflexes, she cast an Expelliarmus upon it, not realising that Voldemort possessed the deathstick – the unbeatable wand. It remained firm in his bony, skeletal hand.
"You dare to try and disarm me, Dolores?" he screamed. "You dare?"
Every Death Eater and every Ministry worker was focused on the altercation between Lord Voldemort and Dolores Umbridge. The rancid, decaying wizard versus the puffed-up peacock – both yearning for power, both willing to kill the other for it.
Neither of them, and no one else, apart from Severus, saw the red-headed young wizard striding up the hill from Hagrid's hut, wand in hand, the burning desire for vengeance upon his face. The door of the hut was open, and Hagrid was standing there with Garth, both their faces etched with concern.
Charlie managed to get right up to Voldemort before the Dark Lord noticed him, his wand extended in the face of the wizard who had viciously murdered his entire family.
"A Weasley?" Voldemort laughed, his rage with Umbridge temporarily forgotten as he looked cursorily at Charlie's red hair. "Didn't I kill you all?"
The Death Eaters fell about laughing, like the mindless sheep that they were. Charlie stepped even closer to Voldemort, so close that his booted feet were touching the Dark Lord's bare ones. He brought his ruddy face, glowing with health and vitality, right up to Riddle's, which looked like a death shroud in comparison.
Charles bared his teeth in anger, breathing deeply through his freckled nose, and filled his eyes with righteous fire.
"You. Missed. One."
Before Voldemort could reply, Charlie vanished.
Well, he didn't entirely vanish, for he was larger and more threatening than ever before.
He had transformed into his Animagus form, right there in front of everyone, and had risen into the air before the Dark Lord even had time to react.
Charles Weasley was a dragon, a magnificent Romanian Longhorn, his scales glinting forest green in the morning sun, with enormous gold horns jutting straight forward out of his head, which was topped with a huge tuft of Weasley-red hair.
The dragon's eyes were as full of fury as Charlie's had been. Severus watched the huge beast draw back its head, take a deep breath, and only just had time to throw up a shield charm around himself. With one huge exhale, the dragon breathed a tsunami of fire, hitting Voldemort in the chest, and continuing to blaze at full pelt until the bastard was nothing but a pile of charred ash on the ground.
The Death Eaters stood rigid, evidently too stupid, or in the case of Lucius Malfoy, too drug-addled, to see the danger they were now in. Charlie Weasley was avenging his family, who had been killed not only by Voldemort, but by curses cast from the wands of a myriad Death Eaters on that fateful day of the final battle.
Severus strengthened his Protego as the dragon took another deep breath, before blasting another wave of fire that engulfed every Death Eater he could see – spreading the flames back and forth, razing them all down until there was nothing left of them but a pile of cinders.
Umbridge's Ministry toadies stared in horror, and Kingsley's Aurors began to pop into view, cancelling their Disillusionment charms, realising that there would be no Death Eaters to arrest, now, since Weasley had just barbequed them all.
Shacklebolt walked towards Severus, and they both looked at the huge dragon still above them, flapping its huge wings to create heavy gusts of wind on the ground below, wind that blew the piles of ash it had created all over the school grounds and beyond.
Dolores Umbridge reacted first.
"Unnatural filth!" she shouted, at the dragon. "Unregistered Animagi are against the law!"
The dragon looked down at her, almost with disgust, as it continued to flap its wings, creating dust and havoc below it.
Umbridge raised her wand, pointing it directly at the dragon's heart.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Severus watched as the murderous green jet left her stunted wand, almost in slow-motion, and headed towards the dragon, towards Weasley.
From the corner of his eye, a tiny shape came into view, a miniature version of the Longhorn that Charles was transformed into. With great effort, Garth launched himself into the air, in front of his beloved master, taking the full force of the Avada in his little chest, sending him spiralling out of the air, down and down, until the little dragon hit the hard ground with a sickening thud.
The huge dragon made a noise of terrible pain, that was truly awful to behold, and many of those watching, horrified, covered their ears.
It reared its head back, and breathed the same wave of fire at Umbridge as he had upon Voldemort, not letting the torrent of flame cease until she was nothing but a pile of pink dust upon the ground.
Rearing its head again, going after the group of Ministry workers who had supported Umbridge, Severus knew he had to stop its rampage.
"Charles!" he shouted into the air. "Stop! These wizards are not Death Eaters, they simply made the wrong choices. Let Kingsley and the Aurors deal with them. Do not take anything else upon yourself."
The huge dragon appeared to hear him, and fell from the air, landing gracefully next to the body of the tiny one, and transformed back into Charlie Weasley, who fell to his knees and picked up Garth's body, holding it to his chest, tears flowing freely and unashamedly. Hagrid was already halfway up the hill, heading towards Charlie with what looked like basket of supplies from his Care of Magical Creatures classes, perhaps thinking he could repair the little dragon.
Let him try, Severus thought. Let him at least try.
Kingsley Shacklebolt asked Severus to release the school wards, and gave the order for his Aurors to start arresting the Ministry workers who had turned rogue, those who had shifted their allegiance to Umbridge in their own pathetic pursuit of power.
Magical handcuffs were applied to the new prisoners, who seemed happy to be arrested, rather than incinerated by an angry dragon.
They were then transported to the holding cells in the Department for Magical Law Enforcement; the Aurors and Kingsley Apparating in and out of the school grounds as they did so.
The doors to the school were thrown open by Sprout and McGonagall, and the Ministry workers who had suffered badly under Umbridge's regime came rushing through the courtyard, and jubilation could be seen on their faces and heard in their voices, for they would rebuild the Ministry for Magic, under Kingsley Shacklebolt, who, with Umbridge's death, would have been immediately promoted to Minister.
Severus could not think of anyone braver, or cleverer, for the job.
-xxx-
Hermione and Remus saw Garth go down, from their vantage point at the window of Severus' office, and screamed in horror. They had both been spectators for Charlie's amazing show, as their friend had wreaked his revenge for the callous murder of his family. Impotent, but obeying Snape's orders, they had watched, frustrated, but resigned that there was nothing they could do to help.
When Kingsley began rounding up the prisoners, Remus could wait no longer.
"Accio Snape's broomstick," he cast, waving his wand vaguely.
A tall cupboard pinged open, and a handsome racing broom came flying out, and hovered at Remus' hand.
"Are you coming, Hermione?" he asked, immediately getting astride the broom, admiring it.
She shook her head. There was nothing in the world that would entice to fly out the window on a broomstick. That Gringotts dragon had ruined her already dubious appetite for flying forever.
Remus rose in the air, and guided the broomstick out of the long, narrow window, leaving her quite alone in the office, and she watched him fly to down to the scenes of celebration below, although he headed straight for Charlie, putting a strong, comforting arm around the other wizard's shoulders, and must be offering words of consolation.
Poor Charlie. He had achieved the unthinkable and taken down not only Voldemort, but Umbridge, and all the Death Eaters as well.
How unfair that Umbridge's final spell had been to cast a killing curse at him, which had ended up being taken by the innocent and trusting Garth, who had given his life to protect his beloved master. Hermione began to weep for his loss, and for yet another life taken cruelly from Charlie Weasley.
Looking down at the courtyard, she could see Snape commanding Ministry workers, taking charge, organising Disapparitions, for all these people must be returned to the Ministry somehow, although they seemed reluctant to leave.
The dark, surly wizard was an individual among a crowd of sameness. His sheer height held him above most of the others, but it was more than that. His bearing, his sheer power, his self-control and his neutral demeanour meant that he was someone to be held in esteem, treated with respect. To have prostrated himself before Voldemort for that long … it must have sickened him.
Suddenly, her stomach lurched, and she felt the familiar thrum of the compulsion ripple through her body.
What?
They had satisfied the compulsion with full intercourse last night, and if Voldemort was dead, surely the compulsion had died with him?
But no, it was definitely happening, and she began to shake in fear. Had Professor Snape been wrong? Was she to be afflicted with this curse forever, because Voldemort had not lifted it from her with his wand?
No, please. No.
If the compulsion never left her, then he would never believe that she truly wanted him.
-xxx-
Remus arrived in the courtyard after his brief flight down from the headmaster's office, landing next to Snape, and handed him his own broomstick.
"Just borrowed it for a few second, Severus," he smiled, putting the broomstick firmly back into its owner's hands, enjoying the nonplussed look on the slippery Slytherin's face. "Very nice broom. Very nice."
Remus Lupin walked freely outside for the first time in months.
The piles of ash crunched under his worn, brown shoes, and he looked down, for this mere charcoal was the remains of Voldemort, and of the Death Eaters that Charlie had incinerated. One of them was Antonin Dolohov, who had killed his wife, and taken away Teddy's mother. Bile rose up in his throat. Dolohov was now dead, but nothing would bring back what the dark wizard had taken from him.
"I am sorry, Dora," he said, quietly, grinding the ash beneath his feet and kicking at it viciously.
"Remus," said a deep voice behind him, and he swung around to see Kingsley, with his arm around a familiar-looking woman, looking pale and unwell, but it was his mother-in-law, nonetheless.
"Andromeda!" he exclaimed, reaching for the woman who had lost her husband and her daughter to this wretched war.
He held her carefully, for she felt thin beneath his embrace.
"Thank you," Lupin whispered. "Thank you for caring for Teddy when I could not. I am so sorry for what happened to you."
"My first act as Minister was to release all prisoners held on unfair charges," Kingsley advised him. "Madam Tonks appeared to be first on my list."
The new Minister winked.
"I believe she will be safe with you?"
"She will indeed. Andromeda, you will come home with me? Teddy is there, and … and there's someone else I'd like you to meet."
"Yes, my son," Andromeda replied. "I would be happy to come with you. As you know, I now have nothing – no possessions, no home."
"You will be compensated, Madam Tonks," Kingsley assured her. "It will take some time, but the Ministry will compensate all those who have suffered financially under Umbridge's rule."
"Until then, my home is yours," Remus told her, belatedly remembering that Grimmauld Place was Hermione property, and that he ought to ask her first, but it was a bit late for that now.
He walked back over to where Charlie and Hagrid were still crouched on the grass, tending to Garth.
"Charlie," he said, quietly. "Shall we go? We can take Garth back to Shell Cottage. There is … there are, plenty of beautiful spots near the beach where you can lay him to rest."
Hagrid clapped Charlie on the back as if to encourage him to stand up, which he did, holding the lifeless body of the tiny dragon heartbreakingly tenderly.
"You did well, young Mr Weasley," Hagrid told him, and Charlie nodded in response, taking Lupin's arm and allowing him to Apparate him away.
-xxx-
Severus began to tire of all the commotion.
The clearing of the grounds seemed to be well under the control of Shacklebolt, McGonagall and Sprout, so he discreetly made his way across the courtyard and back into the school, following the familiar corridors that led the well-worth path to his office, where he had secreted Miss Granger, and where, incredibly, she appeared to have stayed, despite Lupin escaping on his own purloined broomstick.
He entered his office to find it empty.
Sending his broomstick back to its storage cupboard with a wave of his hand, locking the office door behind him and taking off his outer clothing, he walked through to his bedchamber, totally surprised to find Granger in the middle of his made bed, wearing what appeared to be nothing but his thin black dressing gown, and there was a pile of her clothing on the floor.
Her face was streaked with tears, and flushed red. He rushed around to the side of the bed and sat down next to her, taking her hand.
"Whatever is the matter? I presume you saw the events unfold from the window? I apologise for securing you in here, but I could not risk you getting involved, and possibly coming to harm. And please, do not cry for that dragon. I know that Garth was rather endearing, but …"
"I'm not crying about any of that!" she shouted, suddenly.
"Then, what?"
"Voldemort is dead," she said, flatly.
"Yes," Severus replied. "Yes, he certainly is dead."
Granger looked up at him, her eyes bloodshot from crying.
"The curse did not die with him, Sir. I am still compelled. It must be a curse that has to be removed by the caster's own wand. The compulsion came upon me about half an hour ago, and is steadily increasing."
"That is impossible," he replied. "When a caster dies, any active spells they leave are automatically cancelled. That is how the basic laws of magic work."
"It must be wrong. I am compelled, I know I am!"
He smiled, undoing a few buttons on his shirt, and loosening his cuffs, before kicking off his shoes.
"Granger."
"Yes?"
"The basic laws of magic are not wrong. If you are feeling anything similar to the compulsion now, then these are … your own desires. Voldemort's curse died with him, I promise you."
The beautiful young witch stared at him, comprehension dawning slowly but surely.
"But then, that means …"
"So it would seem."
"Would you kiss me, Professor Snape?"
"If that is what you desire, Miss Granger."
"It appears that I do," she smiled, slipping her arms around his neck as he moved his face towards hers.
"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, just as she claimed his mouth, drawing him into a kiss that took his very breath away.
He plundered her mouth, with her full consent for the very first time, and it was exquisite. Severus could not help but push her back against the pillows, in a bed where they had made love so many times, but they were here for the first time completely free of the compulsion.
Gasping as he felt her small hand trail down his shirt front, he was surprised to feel her magically unfastening the remaining buttons before heading to the crotch of his trousers, grasping at the buttons and zip she found there.
"Hold on, Granger," he breathed, covering her hand with his own. "You do not have to do anything just because …"
"I want this," she insisted, shaking his hand off and continuing with her task. "I need to prove to myself that I am not going mad."
"Why would you think you are mad?" he asked, gulping deeply as she achieved success in her endeavours to free his cock.
"Because, I have known for a long time now, that … that I love you. And you keep telling me that I don't, that I only think that way because of the compulsion curse. I know you want to reply that I couldn't possibly love you, but the truth is, Sir, I do. And I am very sure of that."
He stared at her, at her beautiful, honest face, with her now-experienced hand beginning a slow tug upon his penis. It was wonderful. After all, he had taught her himself.
It was time to return her honesty.
"I have loved you for many a month now, Granger. But I would never have told you that whilst you were still compelled."
"You didn't need to," she replied, gently encouraging him to move on top of her, wiggling her bare pussy into position under his erection. "I could see it, even if though you never said it. Your actions, your care, the very depths of your eyes – they all betray you, Sir."
"Severus," he corrected, using his hand to fold the bulbous head of his cock inside her. "Always Severus, from now on."
"Please make love to me, Severus," she asked, pushing her hands down the loosened waistband of his trousers and clutching his bum cheeks.
"With pleasure," he enunciated, slowly sliding the remainder of his dick into the warm, wet place he loved so much. "With very great pleasure, Hermione."
He held himself above her, pushing open the front of his dressing gown that she wore, so that their bare chests were pressed together, and took a handful of firm breast, cupping it in his palm and tweaking the nipple into a hard peak that he could suck upon.
She gasped as he changed the pace of his thrusting, going a little faster now, but still taking his time as he pushed her hair back from her face and littered kisses all over it, ending up at her lips, which he captured for a deep, long-lasting snog.
"I want to do this with you forever," she breathed.
Snape raised an eyebrow as he continued to ease himself in and out of her.
"Well, that can be arranged, should it truly be what you wish?"
"Arrange it," she gasped, and received a particularly deep thrust in return.
"Don't tempt me, witch," he warned, "for I am at the very limit of my endurance, when it comes to you. If you ask me to make you mine, then I will, and I will … unghhh … never let you go. So, be warned."
Her eyes glittered with mischief.
"Arrange it," she repeated, squeezing her inner muscles so they gripped him even tighter.
"Fuck! Fucking hell, Hermione!"
She did not answer, but raised her eyebrow in a parody of his own patented expression.
"Marry me, girl," he begged, desperately thrusting into her. "Marry me, and stay with me forever, because I cannot bear the thought of living one more day without your annoying self in my bed and my life."
"I shall annoy you forever, Sir," she grinned, drawing him down for a kiss as he continued to fuck her. "And in case you're unsure, that was a yes."
Severus leaned over her, allowing his hips to fly free as he drove them both towards their completions, thinking how damn inappropriate it had been to propose marriage whilst fucking her, but struggling to give a single shit about conventions, right at that moment.
"You'll stay with me?" he gasped, reaching his orgasm and spurting his love inside her, forcing himself as deep as it was possible to be.
"Until the very end," she confirmed, folding her arms around his back and holding him so tightly against her, that he hoped she would never let go.
