A/N Um... some of this might be a little gross to read? So, fair warning.

Chapter 40

Stepping through the doors into the ballroom was like stepping through a portal to hell. The smell… The smell alone was horrific. Thankful it wasn't close to a full moon, George had to cast a bubble head charm just to stand in the room. People lay everywhere, writhing and moaning in agony, the floor beneath them a shallow pool of bodily fluids. The shining gilded finery of the room stood in stark contrast to the gore that now coated everything.

A string of unintelligible expletives left the mouth of the Georgian wizard beside George, though the meaning was clear enough. "I was under the impression there were fewer than thirty expected. What is this?"

George swallowed down the urge to vomit. "Snape said, he said there were only around twenty marked Death Eaters. From what he could tell, anyone who openly supported the Dark Lord was here. With the time release on the ward, there wasn't time to change the plan. God, this is horrific. We can't… Ambrosi, we can't allow this many people to languish like this until they die."

"No." He looked around, spat beside his shoes and strode forward. "No, we can not. Let's find this Dark Lord. Ensure he and his horcrux are destroyed. Then we need to get out of here and decide what to do."

On the far side of the room was the dais that Snape had mentioned and what once might have been a beautiful throne. Now, it was covered with gore, sloughed off the man that lay across it.

'Man' hardly seemed an apt word to describe what was left of Voldemort. He had looked better, more human, when George had seen him during the final battle the first and last time he'd seen him.

There was no skin left to speak of. Red, twisted flesh covered his body, holding in the now liquified viscera. Any hair he may have had was gone and his eyes were like that of a dead fish, filmed over and staring at nothing. On his chest, what might have been Slytherin's locket was melted into his sternum, the chain no longer visible.

"He looks dead. That horcrux certainly is." George swore and turned away, the sight certain to haunt his nightmares for years.

Humming, Ambrosi drew his wand and waved it over the former Dark Lord. "You are right. He is dead. Lucky, by the looks of it." He stepped back and glanced around. "I think my calculations may have been a bit off. I anticipated him lingering for a few days." Squinting down at the corpse, he shrugged. "Then again, he was holding it in his hands."

George nodded but did not look back, choosing instead to inspect the nearest bodies, all in similar states. "I don't know if anyone else is dead yet." He cast the same spell Ambrosi had a few times to be sure. "Maybe one or two. Do you have any bright ideas to quickly and… humanely end the rest of them?"

Ambrosi sniffed. "Perhaps. Come, let's get out of here. I do not care to risk overtaxing the protective charm. And your wife needs you. Your uncle too, I think, although he did not ask as she did."

He grit his teeth against the sorrow that wanted to pull him under again. Not yet. Not now.

Safely back outside the wards, they gathered up a still shaken James and traumatized Snape and apparated back to the tent. The trip seemed to have shaken James awake and he was immediately demanding to be allowed to leave. When he asked to go to Dumbledore, George nearly kicked him in the mouth. Only reminding himself that it wasn't his fault, not really, saved the younger man.

They settled for binding him and using a sticking charm to keep him in place just outside the tent. Snape, not wanting to go inside, volunteered to sit and watch him. Claiming to let the family have privacy, Ambrosi stayed with them.

With three deep breaths, George dove in.

Hermione was there immediately, tears, fresh and dried, glittering on her face. As soon as she saw him, she stepped into his arms, burying her face in his chest. Over her head on the other side of the tent, Gideon sat on a camp stool, hunched over a sleeping Fabian. From where George stood, he looked dead already. Then his chest shuddered and his face twitched. Alive still, then.

"George." Hermione peeked up at him, her voice low so she wouldn't be overheard. "He… he asked us to end it for him before…" No. "Ambrosi says the potion he gave him will keep him comfortable until he… until he passes. Maybe two or three days. Gideon was so angry… Oh God, George. He doesn't want to just let him die. But we can't force him to stay. We… we can't, George."

"Fuck, Hermione." The dam broke. Old pain that had started to ease felt afresh. His uncle's torment reminded him of his own, and yet was so much worse. How could this have happened again?

But George had seen the inside of the ballroom. If the tortured bodies there were any kind of indication of Fabian's future, he knew that forcing him to linger was unacceptable.

"You're right." He sniffed and wiped his eyes. "Shite, you're right." Dropping a kiss to her forehead, he grudgingly crossed to kneel beside Gideon.

When he noticed him, he lifted his head to look at him but his face twisted and he looked away. "Did she tell you?" His voice was haggard and low.

"Yes."

"How could he… how could he ask me to just let him die? We don't have to. We can figure something else out…"

George wiped his face on his shoulder and looked at Fabian. He wasn't as bad as the party goers at the manor, but how much longer would that be true? "You didn't see, Gid. Ambrosi, if anything, undersold how bad it is. Don't force him to suffer longer than he has to."

He jerked his head around, looking at George with angry confusion. "What? I'm not killing my brother, George. I thought you, at least, would understand."

Opening his mouth, nothing came out. He dropped his gaze to his lap and shook his head. "You're not killing him, Gid. You're just… letting him die." He glanced at Fabian and dropped a heavy hand on Gideon's shoulder. "You're right, I do understand. I know—" he blinked hard and cleared his throat. "I know exactly how this feels, Gid."

Not knowing what else to say, George stood, squeezing his uncle's shoulder. "I've got to go. We need to finish up at the manor but… have Hermione send me a patronus if you need me."

He didn't wait for a response before leaving them alone. Gideon would have to wrestle with this for the rest of his life and George did not envy him. But he would be there for him when he was ready to start living again.

Still not able to fall apart, he pushed out of the tent to find the others. They looked up when they saw him and Hermione held her hand out to him. He took it, dropping his arm around her and joining the conversation.

"Now that the radiation has had a chance to settle, our charms will last longer. First priority is quick death for victims. I have remedy for this." Ambrosi pulled a fist sized glass vial from his bag. "As long as the room is sealed, this will kill everyone in minutes. Very fast, painless."

Hermione, who had been chewing on her lip while he spoke, eyed the vial nervously. "A poison gas? Ambrosi, have you got any other war crimes in that pack of yours?"

He only shrugged. "I'm currently involved in more than one war. I prefer to be prepared." The vial disappeared back into his bag. "Then I will siphon away the radiation as we planned."

"I'll help you with that. It will be faster—"

"No."

Hermione looked up at him as if she hadn't heard him right. "What?"

Nodding to Ambrosi—who immediately turned to inspect a nearby tree—George pulled her around to face himself. "I said no. I don't want you there."

She huffed, annoyed. "George. You didn't want me at the shack either, but you'd have died if—"

He shook his head emphatically. "This is different. We're not walking into a booby trapped horcrux hidey-hole. There isn't any immediate threat at the manor…"

"Then why—"

"Because I do not want you there. It's… Hermione, what we did… I don't want you to see."

Her arms crossed stubbornly. "I am not a child, George."

"I know that." He sighed heavily, gripping her shoulders. He needed her to understand. "But this is different. I wish I hadn't seen, but I did and it's going to haunt me for the rest of my life—made all the worse as it was my idea to start with. Please, Love. I don't want you touched by this."

Her face fell and he could see that she was hearing him. "But… if it's so bad, why do you need to shoulder this alone?"

"Because I can, and there's no reason for you to be there. Ambrosi doesn't need your help." He glanced back at the tent. "You're needed here. Keep an eye on James and be there for my uncle if he needs you. I told him to send me a patronus if he needs me."

Her eyes widened and her arms slid around his waist. "Oh God, George. This isn't how this was supposed to go. It's not fair."

"No, it wasn't. It isn't." He pushed a stray curl out of her face and kissed her. "When all of this is over, I'm going to fall apart a little. Maybe you will too. But we'll get through it together, like last time."

"Ok." She sniffed hard and wiped at her eyes, nodding. "OK. I'll stay here. I love you."

He brushed a tender kiss on her forehead and caught Ambrosi's attention. "I love you too. Send a patronus when you need me."

Dragging Snape to his feet and casting a last minute stunner at James, they spun on the spot. They landed and started back across the lawn.

"You made the right decision, George. In my experience, women are more easily damaged by this kind of horror." He gestured vaguely at himself. "It affects them differently. More… emotional."

George let go of Snape, assuming he could walk on his own and scoffed. "Maybe. But that's not why I did it. Hermione is a brilliant witch, extremely capable and, unfortunately, battle weary from far too young an age. There is very little I have been able to or could ever have protected her from. Less still that she would accept. But she's still my wife. So, unfortunately for her, I'm always going to want to protect her whenever I can. She didn't need to be here. I don't want her to have these images in her mind for the rest of her life, and the guilt for having caused them."

"Hmm. Well, whatever your reasoning, it was sound."

As they entered the ballroom again, Snape groused, "I wish I was your wife. I don't want to be here either. And I bloody did this. Why am I here? What else do you need from me?"

George shot him a disgusted expression. "We're cleaning up, obviously. You know the charms for making things airtight, yea? Get started over there."

"Fine."

It only took a quarter of an hour to seal the room off. House elves could have done it faster, but they'd been ordered to flee the manor minutes before the radiation dispersal. George didn't want them to witness this hellscape either

"Now what?" Snape picked his way around writhing, moaning bodies until he was standing beside George and Ambrosi.

Ambrosi drew out the vial again. "We leave and I toss this in. Everyone dies, and then we commence clean-up."

"Should we make this look like a dark magic accident?" George looked at his comrades.

Snape glared at him. "It already looks like a dark magic accident. No magical authority would even consider anything else."

"Perhaps, perhaps not." Ambrosi looked around grimly. "Did Lucius Malfoy specify if he wanted family home back? We could always try Fiendfyre."

"I'm sure he does." Snape arched his brow and looked around too. "However, if it comes down to his family manor or us staying out of Azkaban, I'll happily tell him to get over it."

"Right then." George felt grim. "Let's finish this and get out of here before anyone else turns up."