A/N: As this is the last chapter, there is a VERY IMPORTANT author's note at the end. Again, a huge thanks to all those who reviewed!
Guest: I'm really glad you like the plot :)
When Snape glided down into a clearing close to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where the Dark Lord had, in his preliminary battle plans, decided to gather his forces, he felt a sudden wave of hopelessness envelop him like shroud. Perhaps it was the effect of the dozens of Dementors hovering nearby, but it may as well have been the sight of other vile creatures slowly trickling into the open space, giants and Acromantulas the most prominent among them. How could the castle defendants ever hope to win against such a force? Unless Potter found whatever he was looking for fast, which, Snape hoped, was what would trigger the Dark Lord's anxiety over Nagini's safety, the school would end up being a pile of rubble within hours.
Speaking of the Dark Lord, Snape was surprised not to find him present to oversee the battle preparations and wondered what his absence meant. It was an unexpected hindrance; if he was to find out whether he was already keeping the snake close, he would have to go looking for him, which would take precious time. Every minute lost could cost somebody their life.
For now, however, he had other worries. Bellatrix came bearing a message from the Dark Lord that he was to lead the Dementors into battle; had he unknowingly displeased his master to have been given such an ungrateful task? Or was he just being paranoid and the Dark Lord had simply given him the job because he believed him to be the only Death Eater strong enough to handle it? Either way, he could not afford to fail.
Following Dumbledore's order to stall the attack as much as he could, he lingered in the clearing until all the other groups had left, making sure to keep his distance from the cloud of misery the Dementors carried with them wherever they moved. If anyone asked him why he had not set out with the others, he could always say he had wanted to avoid sowing despair among his comrades, which is why he waited until they were well away from the creatures' ominous aura. However, as he finally decided it would be suspicious if he stayed in the clearing for much longer and waved for the Dementors to follow him in the direction of the castle, even he could feel their presence starting to affect him once again. Some of the more eager ones could obviously contain their hunger no longer and glided closer to feed off the only living target nearby – him. All of a sudden, his mind was filled with images of Dumbledore falling over the battlements, only to be replaced by the horror he had felt when the Dark Lord announced he was going to murder the baby Harry Potter, which then gave way to the helplessness that had engulfed him after learning Miss Lovegood had been taken hostage. What use was there going on? The world was a cruel, unhappy place, and when the Dark Lord took over, he would take care of making it even more so. There was no one to stop him; not he, not Potter, not anybody else. Good people would die. Why did he not just give up now? The darkness had been calling to him all his life; he may as well accept its call.
NO! It was as if at that moment something in his brain woke up, and decided to put up a fight. Perhaps it was triggered by his vision of Miss Lovegood in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, because it was then that he remembered the world tour they were planning together, and the mere memory caused the darkness to lift as if by magic. How could he ever have thought of dying when he had a dream to pursue?
Holding onto this thought worked nearly as well as a Patronus Charm would. Imagining the various places he and Miss Lovegood were hoping to visit seemed to create an invisible shield of happiness around him that the Dementors were unable to penetrate. With an angry hiss, they drew back as if burned, not daring to get near him again all the way to the castle. He finally let them loose near the greenhouses, which seemed to be empty, figuring they could do no damage there until they found someone to prey on, which would take time. And time was exactly what Potter needed.
Meanwhile, his task was to find the Dark Lord. When he had questioned Bellatrix about his whereabouts back at the clearing, she had only told him she had last seen him at Malfoy Manor after Alecto's call, where he had given out orders and then Disapparated to an unknown location. For all Snape knew, he could be practically anywhere. Having no idea where to start looking, he ran towards the nearest sounds of raging battle, concluding that if his master were to make an appearance, it would be here, to help lead his fighters to victory. Finding himself a hiding place behind a pillar, he carefully surveyed the ongoing fight for any sign of the snake-like man, but all he could see was a group of giants and Death Eaters trying to break down the heavy wooden front doors, while Order members, teachers and students alike, were firing spells down at them from the castle windows. Another giant was lifting a masked Death Eater in through a window on the first floor. It did not look good. The occupants of the castle were obviously vastly outnumbered, and if something did not happen soon, their defence would crumble like a house of cards. Wishing to help at least a little, he glanced around to check that the coast was clear, then aimed a Stunning Spell at one of the Death Eaters' backs, knocking them out. One down. Satisfied, he finally left his hiding spot and went to join the battle.
He did not fight for long. The giants had just succeeded in bursting the front doors open when he heard a voice from behind calling his name; whirling around, he came face to face with Lucius.
"The Dark Lord has sent me to find you," the blond man informed him sombrely. "There is a matter he wishes to speak with you about."
"What matter?" asked Snape, turning back just in time to dodge a spell cast at him from one of the windows.
"He did not tell me," said Lucius bitterly. "He degraded me to a mere messenger."
Snape's gaze briefly wandered to his face: he noticed one of his eyes was closed and puffy. It seemed that, after the fiasco with Potter's escape, the Dark Lord had made a regular punching bag out of him. Incompetent as he was, Snape could not help but feel sorry for him. Of all the Death Eaters, Lucius was the closest to what he would call a friend, taking him under his wing both when he had first arrived at Hogwarts and after he had joined the Dark Lord's ranks. He had shown him kindness when many would not.
"Where shall I find him?" asked Snape, unsure how to respond to Lucius's complaint. "There has been no sign of him since the battle started."
"He's in the Shrieking Shack. But before you go, tell me: have you seen Draco?"
Snape shook his head. "No. I presume he is still in the castle. The front doors are now open; you can go and search for him if you wish."
Lucius grimaced. "Without a wand? That would be pure s-" He broke off in mid-sentence, suddenly looking defeated. "Then again, why not. My life hardly matters now. I only want to make sure Draco is safe."
He took a couple of steps towards the fray, then stopped and turned around again, as if struck by a sudden idea.
"If I don't return, will you watch over Narcissa and Draco? Make sure they survive?" he asked.
"Don't be silly, Lucius," Snape scolded him. "You will return."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Who can tell anything for certain these days? So please, Severus. Promise me."
"Very well, then. If it helps put your mind at ease... I swear to watch over your wife and son."
The blond wizard gave him a grateful look. "Thank you, Severus. I apologise for holding you up. You had best get to the Dark Lord before he grows impatient."
And so the two men parted, one heading towards the castle, the other towards the Whomping Willow. Perhaps he had been infected by Lucius's defeatist attitude, but as he neared the tree, Snape could not shake off the feeling that he was walking into a trap. An image of a bird flying into an open fox's mouth settled in his mind and would not go away. If only he knew what the Dark Lord wanted with him. It might be something trivial, like a report from the battlefield, but then he remembered Dumbledore's warning and felt a sudden shiver run down his spine despite the warm spring night. He quickened his stride; the sooner he got to the Dark Lord, the sooner he would learn what his summons was all about.
Having covered the journey through the underground tunnel leading to the Shrieking Shack in record time, he found his master pacing impatiently in a dimly lit room, tapping his wand against the palm of his left hand. Nagini was right next to him, encased in a transparent sphere floating in mid-air. So the time had come. If he made it out of the room alive, he would have to find Potter and give him Dumbledore's message right away.
However, the Dark Lord had barely uttered a few sentences when Snape knew, beyond all doubt, that that would not be the case. As soon as the wizard mentioned his new wand and that it did not work for him as he had hoped it would, it was as if all pieces of a puzzle he did not even realise he had collected suddenly fell into place. One of Ollivander's memories he had pushed aside as it was not connected to the information he had been searching for. Dumbledore's cryptic questions about whether the Dark Lord was satisfied with the wand he had stolen from his grave. His own role in Dumbledore's demise. Almost as if he was using Legilimency, he could see now, with frightening clarity, what was going on in the Dark Lord's mind, why he had called him back.
It was all about the Elder Wand and its allegiance. Ollivander believed, and had surely told the Dark Lord, that the allegiance of another's wand could only be won by overpowering its owner. Knowing the Dark Lord, there was no doubt that in his eyes that could only mean ending said person's life. Ergo, if he ever wanted to gain the wand's full potential, he could not allow Snape to live. He had to kill him by his own hand.
Then again, what if the Dark Lord was wrong? What if overpowering did not necessarily mean murder? Dumbledore had already been wandless when Snape had killed him, disarmed by Draco. What if the wand's true master was not he, Snape, but Draco? The question was, would it change anything if he was? Would he really be capable of sacrificing the boy's life to save his own? Especially after promising Lucius to protect him?
All this flew through Snape's mind in a matter of seconds, and it only took him another second to decide that if anybody was to die, it would be him. He would never be able to live with himself were he to decide otherwise. However, that still left Potter. Let the Dark Lord do what he must, but he had to find the boy first, had to give him the message, or else his death would be in vain, followed by the deaths of many others. He would not allow that.
And so he pleaded with his master, pleaded as he had done only once before when he had been desperate to save Lily, to let him go find Potter, to bring him to the Shack. His pleas, however, fell on deaf ears: no matter how he formulated his request, the Dark Lord remained adamant that Snape stayed where he was, that Potter would come to him of his own accord, and eventually it became clear to Snape that he was not going anywhere, not ever again. He was going to die in this stinking Shack, just as he almost had many years ago when he had stumbled across Lupin in his werewolf form. The man might as well have finished the job then, there would have been no difference. He had failed his mission, failed Lily, failed Dumbledore, failed the wizarding world ... hell, even Miss Lovegood by not staying alive to join her on her world tour. But, perhaps worst of all, he had failed himself. Having flirted with death for most of his life, he had always imagined that when it finally came, he would face it fearlessly, with dignity. Now it seemed even that was to be taken from him, for as the Dark Lord continued to speak, leaving Snape in no doubt as to what his fate would be, his traitorous body reacted just like anyone else's would: with pure terror. Waves and waves of it washed over him, causing his stomach to clench so tightly he nearly vomited, and his hands to shake like an old woman's. He loathed himself for it. He had hoped to die bravely; instead, he would die a coward, trembling with fear and all but begging for his life.
When the Dark Lord eventually announced his death sentence, he raised his wand on pure instinct, useless as it was. And then Nagini's sphere rolled on top of him, and he screamed as the snake's fangs sunk into his throat, but mercifully the pain he had expected never came. Perhaps it was because the venom was meant to numb the victim, to paralyse them to prevent them from escaping, he did not know, but he was thankful that as he slowly slid to the floor, all he could feel was the hot blood gushing from the wound in his throat as he pressed his fingers to it and nothing else.
He was only vaguely aware of the Dark Lord leaving the room, as his head was spinning and his vision had become slightly blurred. That is why he thought he had to be hallucinating when, all of a sudden, Potter's face appeared before his own. Had he so wanted to speak to him that he had created his image in his mind just before he expired? But no, as he experimentally reached out his hand to touch him, he felt solid fabric beneath his fingers, which meant the boy had to be real. Unable to say more than a few words due to his damaged throat and knowing he had little time left, he did the only thing he could think of: he released the memories he had been instructed to share with Potter from his brain, plus a few more for higher credence lest the boy did not believe him, letting them leak out of his eyes, mouth and ears. He just hoped the dunderhead would know what to do with them, but then he saw someone handing him a flask, and that was when he finally realised that, by some strange twist of fate, he had managed to fulfil his mission after all. The rest was up to Potter.
With life slowly draining from his body through every drop of blood that fell to the floor and the boy still kneeling in front of him with an air of helplessness about him, on a sudden impulse he asked him to look at him. He could not help it, he could not resist, for as Potter obliged and their eyes met, he suddenly had the feeling that it was Lily, not her son, who was there with him, come to say goodbye before he drew his final breath.
'I did what I could,' he whispered to her in his mind.
'I know,' he thought he heard her say back.
However, once he had satisfied his need for vindication, at the end of the day it was not Lily whom he wished to devote his last thoughts to. Fascinated though he had been by her, there was another person who had beaten everything she had ever given him, without whose support he would never have got this far, with whom he had spent the happiest moments of his life.
Miss Lovegood.
Disappointed as he was that their world tour would never come to be, what they had shared in the short time given to them was enough for him to die happy. For with the girl he had found true friendship, learned that caring for someone did not necessarily bring only pain. He had been given the chance to see glimpses of the outside world, things he had not even known existed. But, above all, he had discovered the immense power of a simple hug. And so, as darkness finally claimed him, that was where he imagined himself to be: back in his best friend's soft embrace, where nothing could ever hurt him, not even death.
A/N: All right, folks, this is where canon ends and where this story can end as well if you want it to. However, I would like you to let me know in a review or PM if you want to see Snape revived so that I can develop his relationship with Luna further. And if so, would you like me to only publish when I have the whole thing written so that I can publish a new chapter regularly every week or should I publish irregularly whenever I finish a new chapter? Let me know! If at least one person wants this to continue, I will :)