Ch 28 Aftermath
Severus' POV
It was over.
It was truly over.
Severus wasn't sure how to think or even feel.
It had finally happened. The thought he had been dreaming about for years and praying for when the first war had ended. Before his spying and lying had come o an end. But now so did his fighting.
He was finally free.
He had his hand constantly pressed up against his left forearm. Expecting to feel the familiar burn of its master's existence. But it didn't. It didn't even leave him with a single ache or pain. And he wondered if when he rolled up the sleeve what he would see left Or if anything at all.
This time there would be proof of his demise. No doubts about his death. No false celebrations this time around. Voldemort's body was right here in front of him. His pale skin had dark veins almost like black. His red snake-like pupils were open and dulling by the second. There was no blood or gore or anything of the sort. No his body was simply sprawled on the ground half hazardly.
Eventually, they would burn it. There would be no funeral and definitely no burial. No one wanted to risk even the slightest of possibilities that someone would try to bring him back. They couldn't do it with ashes.
Anything he felt for his old master back when he was a child was paved over with anger and resentment from years of use, abuse and deceit. He may have been willing to join his cause when he was 16 but then proceeded to spend over 20 years plotting his demise. There wasn't any excitement or elevation. Nor was there sadness or empathy. All he felt now was a relief. Any happiness would come much later when the realization truly hit him. Unlike the rest of the order who would no doubt throw a party tomorrow night.
He wasn't sure if it was him or Potter the killing blow. Though if Potter complains he might be willing to ease his conscience and take credit for it.
And from the look of him beside him. Later down the road, he might have to consider actually speaking to him about it much to his displeasure. Though no doubt Black will take up that mantle.
He was breathing heavily. And there was a glaze over his eyes. As if he wasn't quite sure what he was seeing. But despite that, there was a wave of calmness coming off of him. A weight lifted off of his shoulders. Something he could relate to.
They were able to surprise them. Voldemort and the Death Eaters. That had gone according to plan. But the fighting itself was like any other battle. Unpredictable and could turn in anyone's favour. Luckily it was theirs.
He remembered fighting alongside Potter against Voldemort.
Potter was surprisingly holding his own. He didn't simply just defend himself. No, he attacked with a vengeance. There was no speaking. No need to delay this by mocking or provoking the other. It actually worked out well that he had Potter by his side. He could see the anger on Voldemort's face, having to fight both of them. And it brought him an ounce of glee.
The fight didn't take long but lasted longer than he expected. But once his wand was disarmed out of his hand. Neither of them hesitated by casting the Avada Kadavra. He didn't look away at all when the duel green light flashed and encased Voldemort. No, he was unable to look away. In fact, he had to see this through to the end.
He hadn't taken much notice of the other death eaters up until that point. No, his sole focus was on killing Voldemort. But once his body fell. That's when chaos erupted.
Bellatrix's scream of outrage and sorrow pierced through the air. Her shriek was loud and vibrated throughout the air. It was startling and would make most freeze cold in their tracks. This wasn't simply a scream of anger. No this was pure anguish mixed in with the mind snapping. But then she started fighting her opponent much more fiercely. He saw a glimpse of curly brown hair. And for a minute fear flooded him before he pushed it back down. Some Death Eaters had tried to escape. While others continued to fight to the death.
He moved on to the closest person and continued to fight. The magic flared throughout his entire body, strumming and pounding in his heart. He could feel the power coursing through him and he aimed it at every threat he saw. Most of his opponents were easy enough to defeat. While some caused him to break a sweat. However, he allowed the knowledge that Voldemort was dead and victory was close to push his movements. It motivated him to keep moving despite the sweat dripping down his face and the ache starting to descend down his wand arm.
But it was all worth it at the moment.
When the battle was all over, then the aftermath began.
Smoke was filling the air. And bodies littered the ground. Some of them were dead while others were just injured or unconscious. Either way, they would have to be counted and restrained.
He knew that it technically wasn't over until they had confirmation that the ministry was once again secure. But that could wait. The hardest and most important part was over. And the rest of what the order didn't really concern him. No, there was only one thing he had left to do.
He looked at all of the faces of the people sprawled out on the ground. Hoping she wasn't one of them.
He could see where most of the order was gathered. Near the south end of the field. And figured it was best if he simply made his way over there. No doubt that was where any medical services were set up. And it was possible his assistance may be required.
Walking through the open field, though littered with people, felt like a much longer walk than it should have been. Time seemed to have slowed down just like the blood rushing in his veins. The fire in his blood had distinguished and now he was just tired. He felt like he was walking in a daze. The grass was trampled in many places revealing the dirt underneath. While other areas were scorched with magic.
He passed by some of his previous students, stunning some of the surrendered Death Eaters and levitating them. Their wrists were bound together. And their wands were either already confiscated or littering the ground somewhere.
He was pleased to see the cold pale face of Bellarix on the ground and dried blood on her throat. He couldn't help but wish he had been the one to do it. But he was glad that she was simply dead and not going back to Azkaban.
He held no pity or remorse for his fallin brethren.
There was never a sense of commodity with him and the Deah Eaters. Perhaps in the first week, there was excitement over being with like-minded individuals. At least that was what he thought. Soon he realized how wrong he was. And then it was way too late. He was surrounded by psychopaths and rapists. And there was no escape. Instead, he was forced to be alongside them for over two decades. Pretending he got at least some small amount of satisfaction with their cause. It wasn't as if he was well-liked by the others either. He held a specific position within the ranks. And any punishment he received was quickly forgiven. While the others strived and competed for recognition.
A wicked sense of pleasure went through him at seeing Dolohov howl and squirm on the ground in pain over his missing arm.
He didn't see the Malfoys anywhere. Either they had left the battle early or didn't bother to show at all. He wasn't sure which one was better. And though he knew they would no doubt be arrested eventually. He couldn't help but wish they had a good head start. There was a point in time when they were good companions to him. That time has long since passed now.
He felt himself stop and stare at the unmoving body of Lavender Brown. For a second he had mistaken her for someone else. And though her death was sad and could have been avoidable. He truthfully was only partially saddened. Merely by the fact that someone so young had died. He didn't know much about her and could recall ever speaking to her. He acknowledged her sacrifice and hoped that wherever she was now was satisfied with knowing that she acted like a true Gryffindor and that her death was not in vain.
He was relieved that it wasn't who he was searching for though. He did' want to even think about his reaction if he saw her dead. Let alone what he would do. He was a selfish man after all. Especially now with an open future ahead of him.
And yet the thought nagged in the back of his head as he passed by others and didn't see her.
As he made his way closer to the gathered group, he could hear the crying of several people.
Most noticeable is the crying of Molly Weasley, who was hunched over one of the Weasley twins. She was stroking his red hair through the bandages that covered half his head. Blood was seeping through where his ear should be. But other than that he was still smiling on the cot that had been set up. His twin was nowhere to be seen while the youngest boy and his sister were standing nearby.
They weren't the only ones.
There wasn't a tent erected or anything. But there were several cots lined up in four rows along with some stretchers put off to the side. In the middle of it, was a table filled with gauze and potions as well as bowls and other cleaning supplies.
As he walked to join them he noticed that there were more dead Death Eaters. They weren't lying on any cots but were dragged over to the side until someone decided what to do with them. Though he couldn't bother to care who they were. Thankfully there didn't seem to be any more dead students. Though some were severely injured.
He could make out some people running into each other's arms and hugging joyfully, while others cried over their fallen friends.
Hesita Jone's cold and dull eyes were open and gazing at him as though they were lifeless.
Seamus Finnigan's left arm was broken and was currently being wrapped up.
Lee Jordan was wheezing in pain from his abdomen. Someone was shoving a potion in his mouth and telling him to lie down and sleep. That he would feel better once he woke up.
Hannah Abbot was breathing heavily as she lay unconscious, though at first glance he couldn't make out what was wrong with her. Though she had already been attended to.
McGonnagol was sitting on a cot looking a lot more tired and worn out than her age would suggest. He had a feeling that this would be her last battle. And the way she gripped her leg as it trembled beneath her despite no pressure gave Severus the impression that in the future he might have to get used to her walking with a cane.
The Patil sisters were working to try and fix someone's leg. He couldn't make out their faces. It was too twisted in agony and covered in blood from a still-bleeding head wound.
Black had a large cut on his shoulder and was whining and fussing over practically a scratch.
Black stopped talking for a second when he noticed him. Their eyes met and they both nodded to one another. Then Black continued flirting with the Matron while he continued on his way.
Those that weren't injured were standing idly by the end of the camp near the end of the field. Some were standing while others were anxiously pacing. He seemed to gravitate and make his way over here. He could see as some people made their way over. And he kept searching the crowd. Analyzing every face he could until he spotted hers.
His eyes strayed when a silver and blue Lynx jumped into the air in the middle of their camp. The tail floated and blended into thin air like a mist. It opened its voice, but already everyone stared at it with bated breath.
"It's over. The ministry is secure of any outward death eaters. And a revaluation will be commenced to seek out any others. Though we expect many to run. We are already forming a team to investigate. We are already meeting with the Prophet to spread the news that this war is over." He was able to use the galleons that Hermione had made in her fifth year to get into contact with the other team and communicate their success.
It seemed that it was a victory on both fronts.
But not for him. Not yet.
He wouldn't call this a victory until he saw her. But as the moments passed and as he continued to breathe. He felt his throat tighten a little more each time. Until it felt like he was suffocating.
No one noticed his distress. Nor would he draw attention to himself. He didn't want to worry the others with her lack of appearance just yet. He still had hope that she was alive.
And yet every second that hope felt like it was fading.
Where was she?
She had to be here somewhere. Either walking around binding Death Eaters or even helping treat the wounded.
He had to find her. To see her okay.
He needed to know that this plan or even the end of the war was worth it.
If she wasn't here then he would be experiencing a hell worse than death. Worse than spending years lying and manipulating and pretending to be cruel and sadistic and okay with it as a spy. Worse than being constantly injured.
He would just be done.
There is no going forward in his mind if she was gone.
He thought that there was nothing left for him before he fell in love with her. He had never been more wrong.
He thought he knew what his breaking point was.
No.
She would be his undoing.
He heard her before he saw her.
"We need some blood-replenishing potions." She was struggling under the weight of Longbottom. Who seemed to be struggling to stay upright.
"He was hit with a modification of the slicing hex. He might have nicked an artery. Before dittany can be applied he will need to be checked for dark magic." She helped get him into a cot on the ground before Madam Pomphrey took over. She didn't seem to object. She was pleased with her instructions and the care he would receive. She seemed too tired to take part in the actual healing. Which was a smart idea.
He didn't move toward her or call her name. He just stood and watched her.
She ran a hand through her hair. And found herself struggling with where to stand and even look for that matter. She didn't want to be in the way. But he knew that if she was needed she would want to be helpful. She looked like she was in good shape. There was dirt and mud on the bottom of her pants and some rips and holes in her sweater. But he was relieved to see no physical injuries or blood other than a few scrapes. Though he knew that the emotional and psychological weariness of the day was starting to affect her. She looked like she was ready to collapse and fall asleep. Though she forced herself to stay upright.
Her tiredness and weariness completely disappeared as she was surrounded by Potter and Weasley. The boys completely surrounded her and their attempt for a three-way hug had her completely engulfed. He knew how hard this was on her. And by association, them as well.
She smiled and laughed with them but her smile quite reached her eyes. In fact, her eyes wandered and strayed over their heads. She was looking for him. And the small gesture made his heart beat a little faster.
He knew he should go over there. But he figured he would be kind enough to let her have this moment before he stole her away. Because he honestly had no clue when he would let her out of his sights again.
He knew the moment she saw him. Her eyes widened and a small, wobbly smile filled her face. He couldn't be sure but it looked as if her eyes were even tearing up.
She ran up toward him but stopped a foot away from her. She was taking even deeper breaths than before. But it was more so from calming down and relief. Her eyes swooped over him and took in every detail just as he did moments before. He was surprised she didn't launch herself at him in a hug. He knew she was a bit more open to physical contact than he was. And sometimes restrained herself, especially in public to make him comfortable. But right now he didn't care
Her gasp of surprise was audible as he grabbed her by the waist and tucked her inside his arms. She didn't hesitate though and wrapped her own arms around him.
He wasn't sure how long they stayed in their embrace. But he didn't care. Her head was tucked underneath his chin, and though her loose and frizzy curls tickled his chin, he didn't dare to move. The scent of smoke filled his nose along with something distinctly her. The cold that had seeped into his bones when searching for her had completely disappeared as the heat from her body warmed him.
"Severus", she breathed heavily as she disconnected. Her cheeks were flushed red. She wasn't unsteady on her feet at all. And in fact, looked quite tempted to launch herself back into his arms.
"Every time I look at you, I think I fall a little more in love. I am constantly reminded about the things I love about you." He wasn't quite sure where this was coming from but he was not going to stop her. She seemed slightly dazed and confused and was struggling to put her thoughts together. But she wasn't going to stop now and wait for clarity. No, she needed to say this now.
"I didn't want to say it before the final battle. I didn't want you to think that I was only saying it because of the possibility one of us may die. But now I couldn't live with the regret of you not knowing. And I know it's happening really quickly. And You obviously don't have to say it back." He found her blabbering quite cute. And though he was tempted in telling her to shut up, he knew that there was a more effective way of doing so.
He cut off her nervousness by swooping down and kissing her. Her hands wrapped up and around his neck as she moved on her tiptoes to reach him better. Her lips were dry and chapped. And he was pretty sure he could taste dry blood on her lip. It didn't stop him from consuming her.
Her lips parted slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside. The warmth inside him started to lower and settle in his stomach.
She didn't have to tell him that she loved him. He already knew that. Just as he knew he loved her.
He smiled into the kiss and could feel her mirroring his actions. There was no subtlety in their movements. Who cared that people saw them? They were probably already planning to celebrate in their own ways. She and he were just getting a head start.
It wasn't just that this war was all over. But he and she could finally, truly begin.
Note: I will most likely not post next week. But by the latest I will have the next Chapter on the 10th. Get ready guys. The final chapter is coming soon.