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“Let me find the boy. Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord. Please.”
Snape could not think of a time in his life when he had been more desperate. He could feel the murderous tension in the air and he had to fight down his panic. This was not how things were supposed to end. He was supposed to have more time…time with Potter…to convince him. To tell him vital things.
The Dark Lord was lovingly stroking the wand in his hand, a wand Snape recognized from his long history of watching first Dumbledore and now the Dark Lord do extraordinary and terrifying magic with it. When Lucius had found him near the Quidditch pitch, he could not understand why the Dark Lord was calling him away at this moment, but he could now see that the Dark Lord was confused and agitated about something. Something having to do with the wand and it was causing anxiety to flair in him, making his chest feel tight.
As the Dark Lord spoke at length about the power and relative obedience of the Elder Wand, Snape almost wished for the death he could feel coming to him. He could not find it in him to try to assuage whatever inner conflict the Dark Lord was having and he knew that now was the time to find Potter. He had left it until too late and his window of opportunity had all but vanished.
“Do you know why I have called you back from the battle?” The Dark Lord asked him and Snape thought that this could be his opening.
“No, my Lord, but I beg you will let me return. Let me find Potter.”
“You sound like Lucius,” the Dark Lord spat out. “Both of you obsessed over these adolescent nuisances. ‘Let me find Potter…let me find Draco.’ Neither of you understand. Nobody UNDERSTANDS.”
Snape could not help but think that now was not the time for one of the Dark Lord’s tantrums. The rant he was building towards usually led to violence and death and Snape was the only one around to bear the brunt. This outburst, combined with the question of what was to be done with the Dark Lord’s wand, convinced Snape that he would not make it out of the Shrieking Shack alive.
The Dark Lord paused, breathing heavily through the slits where his nose used to exist, the skin flapping in a rather obscene way. He seemed to gather himself a bit and when he spoke again, he was eerily calm, clearly having reached some sort of solution to his problem. “Yes. Yes…you will bring Potter to me. Lucius will bring Draco to me. We will settle all our accounts at the same time. You have one hour.”
The Dark Lord swept from the room with his ridiculous snake still in its ridiculous oversized Christmas ornament of a cage and Snape allowed himself to breathe the tiniest sigh of relief, his hand coming up to rest lightly on his forehead. He still had no hope that he would survive the night, but now he could deliver his message, fulfill his promise, and lead a boy to his death. And to think that over the years he had entertained the daydream that Lily would welcome him with open arms once he crossed over. Could a dead man be killed twice, he wondered idly, for surely Lily would attempt to murder him when they met again on the other side. This thought, along with the entire situation that he had found himself in, made him laugh out loud involuntarily.
==/==/==
The sound of boxes and crates crashing down startled him badly enough that the involuntary laugh was immediately followed by an equally involuntary yelp, even as he turned toward the noise with his wand raised.
“Harry! No!” came a muffled shout, right as he registered the sight of Potter pointing his wand at his head. He only just ducked out of the way of the silent whoosh of magic that Potter sent towards him. He felt the very edge of his shoulder take the brunt of the curse and could immediately smell the blood well to the surface. Snape wondered if this particular cutting hex was the spell of his own invention that Potter had used on Draco in their sixth year. He allowed himself to be impressed for a half a second at Potter’s wordless casting before casting two quick Stupefy curses at Granger and Weasley as they struggled out of the hole left by the crates.
Potter, again to his credit, did not even blink as the sidekicks went down. Snape threw up the strongest shield he could muster and only just beat whatever curse Potter threw at him.
The slightest look of frustration crossed Potter’s face, surely grappling with the knowledge that whatever he could muster stood no chance of penetrating his shield.
“Potter, how nice of you to finally join me. I was wondering when you would come out to play. I see you were not brave enough to face the Dark Lord himself…” Snape let his words drag out into silence, knowing he was needlessly baiting the brat, but he didn’t seem capable of helping himself when it came to Potter.
“What was so funny, Snape? You know he’s going to kill you right? I thought he was going to do it just now, but I guess his most devoted servant has one more job to do. Too bad you’ll fail.” Potter looked nearly as murderous as the Dark Lord had and Snape pondered for a brief moment if the months on the run had given Potter enough hate and pain to successfully cast the Unforgiveables. He certainly looked capable, his mouth a thin line and his wand pointed directly at Snape’s head.
Snape bit back the retort that he was dying to fling at Potter, knowing that there was precious little time left.
“Potter,” he said quietly. Something in his voice made the look in Potter’s eyes shift from complete malice to mostly malice with a glint of curiosity. “I will maintain my shield, but I am going to place my wand on the ground at my feet. I will do this as a sign of good faith, do you understand?”
“Yes,” Potter said, giving away none of his thoughts about Snape’s pronouncement.
Snape slowly bent his knees, feeling extremely vulnerable laying his weapon on the ground when a man who hated him had his pointed at his head, but he was doing it to make an impact and it seemed to be working. The curiosity was growing and he could tell that his actions had intrigued Potter.
“What are you playing at?” Potter asked, slightly desperate. Snape had always known that Potter had little skill in subterfuge and he was clearly struggling to understand what Snape’s end game might be. Hell, Snape barely knew what he was doing. The surge of empathy for Potter was as unexpected as it was unpleasant.
“Nothing Potter. No game. I have vital information to tell you,” Snape replied, wiping his hand over his face. The energy he needed to maintain his shield while not in physical contact with his wand was draining and he had no idea how to begin the conversation that needed to happen now. He decided blunt honesty was the best way to go. “I was best friends with your mother…”
Before he could continue, Potter’s famous temper finally broke loose. “Don’t lie,” he shouted, firing another curse at Snape’s shield. He could feel it weaken around him and he wondered if Potter was an advanced enough dueler to realize it. The part of his brain that was a calm and reasonable Headmaster of a highly reputable magical school told him not to rise to the bait.
Alas, at heart, he was still a bad-tempered boy from Cokeworth.
“I am NOT a liar and you are as willfully obstinate and arrogant as your father ever was,” Snape roared. Potter tried to cut in, but Snape shouted over him. “I was best friends with your mother. I grew up with her, you insolent little shit. I knew her before she even knew what magic was. Her and her family lived at 713 Greengate in Cokeworth, two streets over and four down from my family’s home. Her middle name was Josephine, after your grandmother’s sister that died as an infant.” Snape struggled to think of more corroborating evidence, more proof that he had known Lily as a child. “Her father…”
“Stop! Just stop!” The look on Potter’s face was pained. “You say this like you’re trying to prove something, but I don’t know anything about my mother. I barely know anything about my father and he’s the one everyone talks about. I have no idea what her middle name was or who my…great-great aunt or whatever might have been. All I know is that you called her a mudblood. That doesn’t sound like something a best friend would do.”
“You saw our friendship in its darkest moment. What would someone think if they saw only the worst moment of the worst argument that you have had with your best friends? What would they think if they saw the reason, whatever it may have been, that Weasley left you and not the moment that he returned and saved you?” Snape was desperate, tired from maintaining his shield and coming to the realization that even though he had succeeded in finding Potter, he lacked the ability to convince him that he was telling the truth. “What do I need…,” he began again before getting cut off by Potter.
“Wait!” he said, letting his eyes drift away from Snape’s face for the first time since the beginning of their confrontation. Snape recognized the look at once from years of watching him. It was Potter’s problem-solving face. It usually meant nothing good for Snape. “Just…wait. What do you know about Ron saving me?”
Snape saw an opening when one was presented to him. “I saw it! I witnessed him coming back to save you from the frozen pond in the Forest of Dean. You had a locket around your neck that he yelled at you about wearing into the pond.”
“Since you saw that part, you know what I pulled out of the water. What was it?” Potter’s wand had lowered by an inch and Snape could see the light at the end of the metaphorical tunnel.
He straightened his back just slightly and did his best know-it-all sneer. “I do not need to have seen that part to know what you pulled out of the pond. It was the Sword of Gryffindor. I know because I was the one who put it there, with a little help from the portrait of Phineas Nigellus.”
The wand lowered another inch and Potter asked the question that Snape knew would save him. “What’s your Patronus?”
“It’s a doe. And I can prove it,” he said, tilting his head in question toward his wand.
“Yes, prove it.” Potter quickly cast his own shield as Snape reached slowly for his wand. “And Snape?” He raised his eyes to meet Potter’s. “I will kill you if this is a trick.” Snape was a smart enough man to believe him.
Snape gathered every memory of Lily that he could, every smile, every laugh, every kindness she ever bestowed upon him and whispered “Expecto Patronum” and prayed that it was enough. The familiar silver doe materialized from his wand, walking straight to the son of its inspiration. A flick of Potter’s wand produced his stag and the two silver animals stood between them for a moment before fading slowly away.
Potter met his eye briefly and quickly looked away. He crouched down to check on his friends, not dropping his shield but turning his back on Snape. Snape wondered if Potter was allowing him a private moment to gain control of his emotions, to let the unshed tears be dealt with in a dignified manner. It was exactly the kind of thing that his mother would have done.
“I still don’t understand,” Potter said, still looking away from Snape. “Your Patronus is a doe. You put the Sword in the pond. But you killed him. I saw you. You betrayed us.”
“I was ordered to kill the Headmaster by the man himself. You saw his hand, Potter. Use your head. You have seen the power of…those things,” he said, as reluctant to name the dark objects that held the Dark Lord’s soul as he was to name the Dark Lord himself. He paused when he saw Potter’s head snap up in surprise. “Yes, I know all about what you’ve been hunting. That is exactly what we need to discuss in a moment. But I digress. The Headmaster didn’t have much time and he wanted his death used for the so-called ‘greater good.’ He did not want Draco’s soul damaged by murder, so it fell to me.”
Potter rose from the crouch he had been in to check on his friends, seemingly having determined that they were alive and well, and snorted inelegantly. “Oh yes, let’s all stop and do whatever it takes to save Draco’s soul,” Potter said bitterly. The sneer on his face was quickly replaced by a sheepish impression. “Sorry. That was petty of me.” Snape let the silence stretch between them, sensing that there was more that Potter wanted to say on the matter and Snape found that for once he actually wanted to hear what Potter had to say.
It did not take long before the diatribe burst forth from Potter. “I mean, okay! ‘Neither can live while the other survives.’ Fine! Being told as a fifteen-year-old that you have to murder someone is one thing, but then to be told when you’re sixteen that not only do you have to murder someone but that you have to do it in bloody increments! Nearly impossible to find increments, I might add.” Potter huffed out an angry breath.
Potter sat heavily on the ground, a look of desperation and despair on his face. “Does killing seven pieces of a soul count as one murder or seven?” Snape was shocked at the philosophical question that Potter had proposed but before he could respond he continued. “And did I allow Ron to tear his own soul when I insisted that he stab the locket?”
“I do not know, Potter, but I fear now is not the time for that particular discussion,” Snape said as gently as possible, hoping to get them back on track.
“Right. You said you knew something about the Horcruxes. What is it?” he asked, looking up at Snape expectantly.
The time had come. The moment where he would have to tell Lily’s son that he had to die. He opened his mouth, but the words died in his throat. He crouched down, trying to meet Potter’s eye. He knew he needed to tell the truth in the simplest and most effective way possible, but the words, for once in his life, completely failed him.
“Potter,” he began, his voice cracking. “Harry…”
Harry wrapped both his arms around his legs, bringing them to his chest, making himself as small as possible. “Oh, it’s that bad, then? I wasn’t even sure you knew my first name.” Harry said, a small smile making his face look as young as he was for once, the joke falling flat. “Just tell me, okay? I think I know. I’ve had a lot of time to think recently and…I think I know. So just say it.”
The large green eyes filling with tears, continuing to beg him to tell him the whole truth, for just once, finally tipped the scales and the story spilled out.
“On the night your parents were killed and the Dark Lord attempted to kill you, he unwittingly split his soul again and it latched on to the only living thing it could find. You, Harry, you have a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul within yourself and you must die and let that piece of soul die with you in order to defeat him for good.”
Harry hugged his knees tighter. “And you figured this all out yourself?” he asked.
“No, this was all the Headmaster. He was the self-styled expert,” Snape said, unable to stop the roll of his eyes.
Harry hummed, acknowledging that he had heard Snape but he was looking through him, lost in his own world. The moment stretched uncomfortably, but Snape felt as though he had said enough and did not move to fill the silence. He had the strangest urge to lay a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder.
“Like a pig to slaughter,” Harry murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, surprising Snape with the exact phrase that he himself had used when Dumbledore had finally told him the truth. Before he could respond, Harry stood in one fluid motion, a look of stubborn determination settling on his face. “Well, I was going to have to face him in the end, one way or another. Lead me to him.”
Snape turned toward the tunnel back to Hogwarts, silently acquiescing to Harry’s demand. However, he realized that Harry was not following behind him. Wondering for a moment if the boy’s courage had finally faltered, he turned back to find Harry looking at the prone forms of his friends. He could not see Harry’s face, but he could imagine well the look on his face. He imagined it was much the same look he had had when he discovered that Lily was truly dead, despite all his best efforts.
“We cannot wake them, Potter,” he said. “It’ll take to long to explain…and they will try to stop you.”
“Yes, of course. I know,” Harry said, turning toward him, eyes watery, but resolved. “I just wanted one more look. Before I go.”
==/==/==
The awkwardness of navigating the tiny tunnel allowed Snape to give Harry time to compose himself. The sadness that had been present in his voice when he spoke of leaving his friends was gone the next time he piped up.
“Are you really on my side?” Harry inquired innocently.
Snape stopped so abruptly in the tunnel that Harry ran straight into his back with a small grunt of surprise.
“What kind of question is that, Potter?”
“Well, I would say it’s probably a good one considering my circumstances, but you don’t seem to agree.” They continued on through the tunnel for another moment before Harry spoke up again. “It’s just that…you might be playing both sides. If I duel Vold…”
“Do not say his name!” Snape cut in.
“Geez, okay. If we duel…and I win, well then you think you’ve done enough to exonerate yourself. You would be able to tell everyone that you were acting on the Headmaster’s orders and that you were fulfilling your final mission to the Light. It might be enough to save your skin if you ever go before the Wizengamot. But, if Voldemort wins, then you’re the one who brought me to him on a platter.”
Snape had never felt so offended in his life. Years and years of trying to protect this ignorant man-child and atone for his sins against Lily had come to this: exposing himself and his secrets to save his life only to have the little idiot doubt his intentions. The worst part was that he had only himself to blame. It was impossible to treat someone as badly as he had treated Potter over the years and expect the benefit of the doubt. Even Potter was not that hopelessly naïve.
“Believe what you like Potter, just stop dilly-dallying.”
“I’m not dilly-dallying! Who even says that!” Harry retorted hotly. “It wasn’t meant as an insult, you know? It’s smart. You’ve maneuvered it so that no matter what you come out smelling like a rose. It’s very Slytherin of you.” Harry said this last part with an insufferable air of smugness, as if it was the greatest compliment he could think to give Snape.
“And what would you know of being a Slytherin?”
“I don’t know…but maybe a thing or two…”
Snape highly doubted this and he did not bother responding to Harry’s chattering. They had come to the end of the tunnel and Snape could tell that they had both heard the characteristic pounding of the Whomping Willow above them.
“Do you know how to find the knot to make the branches stop?” Harry whispered uncertainly, scratching on the ground with his foot, apparently trying to find something to poke the knot with.
“I am the Headmaster of this school. I do not need to push the knot,” Snape said, feeling the pride of being able to call himself Headmaster, even if it was most likely the last time. “Finite Incantatum.”
The tree immediately stopped moving above them and Harry had the good grace to look impressed. “Cool,” said the teenager. Snape rolled his eyes.
Harry began to crawl out of the hole, but Snape grabbed the back of his shirt, hauling him back into the tunnel.
“What?” Harry asked, clearly frustrated with not being able to rush right into the nearest danger.
“Should we not form some sort of plan?” Snape asked, sneering at Harry’s stupidity, still a little stung by Harry’s distrust of him.
“Snape! We don’t need a plan. We walk into the forest, I turn myself in, I die. It’s fairly cut and dry.”
Snape knew he was correct, but as the time of Harry’s death drew closer, he found himself wanting to stall for time. “Of course. You have this all figured out then, I suppose? The former Headmaster implied that when you faced the Dark Lord that you will have arranged matters to make sure this is truly the end of him. Is that the case, Potter? Are you done with all of the tasks that Dumbledore has set you?”
Harry looked stricken, his eyes betraying the fact that he had clearly forgotten something, at least momentarily. “The snake. His snake.”
“Nagini? Yes, I’m aware of her,” Snape muttered, remembering the glittering ball that had contained her in the Shack. The Headmaster had said that the Dark Lord would show signs that he felt he needed to protect the beast directly before the end. Harry looked terrified and Snape began to suspect what Harry would say about Nagini. “What of her?”
“You have to kill it,” Harry said urgently, grasping Snape’s wand arm tightly. “It’s a living Horcrux too. It has to die tonight as well. Ron and Hermoine know, but they might not be able to do it in time.” Harry looked back down the tunnel, as if expecting the sidekicks to come trotting down to meet him.
“And that is all? That will be the end of it?” Snape had to ask. Had to be sure. Harry’s sacrifice could not be for nothing, even if Harry still did not believe Snape’s sincerity.
Harry’s large, brilliant eyes turned back to look into his, burning with that same internal fire. Snape could tell he was ready now and it made Snape shudder at what the wizarding world was asking of this seventeen-year-old boy. “Yes, two more Horcruxes, and if we both die with Voldemort tonight then it’s done. For good this time.”
“Then let us get to it, Potter.”
Harry scrambled out of the hole in the ground and then turned around to offer his hand to Snape. “You know…I liked it better when you called me Harry.”
==/==/==
Strangely enough, Harry did not let go of Snape’s hand after he pulled him out of the tunnel. Instead he adjusted their hands together so that they could walk side-by-side into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest and the simple act of holding hands with another person made Snape yearn for another life. A life he had fantasized about for years, a life full of long walks into Hogsmeade with hands entwined just like this, slow sips of whiskey by a fire with a head resting softly on his shoulder, a life not filled with this much pain and suffering. His only comfort was that it would all be over very shortly.
Harry’s hand gripped tighter and tighter as they entered the forest. He stopped suddenly, turning to look into Snape’s eyes. “You’ll kill the snake, won’t you? Promise me!”
“Yes, Harry, I promise.”
“Okay,” Harry murmured, moving forward once again, his hand now vice-like on Snape’s. They walked on and Snape heard the sound of a large group of people whispering and shifting ahead of him and he wondered if Harry could hear it too.
Harry ground to a halt, turning once more to Snape. His mouth was twisted down, the fear coming off him in waves. “You have to move away from me before it happens. Don’t let yourself get caught close to me when he casts the Killing Curse. Just slip away.”
“I’m not an idiot, Potter.”
“I know that! Just promise me!” Harry snapped at him.
“Fine, yes, I promise,” Snape snapped back, immediately feeling bad about his impatience with Harry. He knew, however, that they were only delaying the inevitable.
They walked on again. The sounds ahead were louder now and he knew that there was no way that Harry could not hear them.
Snape could not help the growl of frustration that escaped him when Harry stopped again.
“Stay with me? Stay with me until the very end? Please,” Harry pleaded. All the anger and frustration drained out of Snape at Harry’s mournful last plea. He wondered if this request was the one he had wanted to make all along. Grief moved through him and Snape raised Harry’s hand to his lips, kissing it softly.
“I’ll stay. I promise.”
They shared one long look and Harry dropped his hand, the hard, steely look coming back into his eyes. “Grab me by the wrist. Make it look like you’ve dragged me.”
Snape could only comply and he tugged on the thin wrist in his hand. He kept a firm grip on Harry, pretending to drag him closer to the Dark Lord and he drew on the last bit of his strength to plaster a cold sneer on when he saw Yaxley and Dolohov standing sentry.
“Snape!” they exclaimed, mouths hanging open stupidly. Harry twisted his wrist and pulled away, making it look to the guards that he wanted to escape. Snape could feel Harry’s erratic pulse against his palm and jerked him closer to him, until Harry’s entire body was pressed to his. He could hear Harry’s harsh, irregular breathing and he wondered vaguely if Harry was having a panic attack.
“Yaxley, Dolohov,” Snape said coldly. “As you see, I have come to deliver the Potter boy to the Dark Lord. Has Lucius made it with Draco?”
“No,” Yaxley said, smiling in an unhinged sort of way. “And the Dark Lord is not happy at all with Lucius. Hasn’t stopped Crucio’ing him since he got back.” Yaxley’s apparent delight in this information was sickening to Snape.
The two idiots turned, leading the way into the clearing where the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters waited for them. He kept a firm grip on Harry’s wrist and allowed Harry to lean into him.
Yaxley was the first to enter the clearing, running ahead to announce that Potter was coming. Snape rolled his eyes at the fact that his name had conveniently not been mentioned in the triumphant announcement. He pulled Harry along, feeling him straighten up and being to twist his wrist out of Snape’s grip in earnest. He was glad that Harry was walking to his death with a show of defiance and bravery. Snape held tighter to him as the Dark Lord came into view, Bellatrix and the Malfoys flanking him on either side.
The crowd of Death Eaters began to whisper louder, shifting around to see if what Yaxley said was true.
“Severus,” the Dark Lord said, his voice cutting immediately across the other voices, silencing them more effectively than a Silencing spell. “What have you brought me, my most faithful servant?” The Dark Lord turned his head ever so slightly toward the Malfoys, clearly still annoyed at the failure of Lucius. Snape allowed himself to revel in the fact that he had succeeded and Lucius had failed.
“I have brought you the boy, My Lord,” Snape said strongly, no sign of weakness in his voice as he pushed Harry onto his knees, his hand releasing Harry’s wrist and pushing his head down into a mock bow. He kept his hand there, moving his fingers only slightly so as not to draw attention to the fact that he hoped his hand would lend Harry some comfort.
“Step away, Severus,” the Dark Lord hissed. “It’s time he met his destiny.”
Snape reluctantly moved away and he slipped into the group of Death Eaters to the left of the Dark Lord. All eyes were on the Dark Lord now, who was moving in a slow arc in front of Harry, twirling his wand in his hands, his eyes a malevolent red. Snape, however, could not look away from Harry, still on his knees but his back now straight, chin up in defiance. The Dark Lord’s eyes swept across the crowd, lingering for a moment on Snape, before he focused solely on the kneeling figure in front of him.
“Harry Potter,” the Dark Lord muttered, barely audible to Snape. “The Boy Who Lived.” A long pause. “Avada Kedavra.”
Snape saw the green light fly toward Harry, hitting him in the head, knocking him over. His body ended up splayed, his limbs at awkward angles. The green afterimage against his eyes flashed to red in an instant.
Lily’s son.
The son of his tormentor.
The bravest, most foolhardy child he had ever met.
Harry.
Lying lifelessly in the decaying leaves of the Forbidden Forest. Through the dull roar in Snape’s ears, he could hear the celebrations of the Death Eaters and the frantic pleading of Hagrid, trussed up and yelling that it just couldn’t be true.
Without much conscious thought, Snape’s wand found its way into his hand and the Killing Curse found its way to his lips, dispatching the three Death Eaters immediately around him. Some part of his mind registered the Dark Lord slumping to the ground with Bellatrix and Narcissa reaching to help ease his fall, but Snape did not care. He turned his back on them for the moment and turned his wand to the crowd behind him, sending Killing Curses indiscriminately into the Death Eaters who were pressing forward. Most were busy leaning closer, straining to see the prone form of Harry Potter and clearly hoping to be witness to the Dark Lord’s moment of triumph. Some were smart enough to take notice of Snape’s wrath and Apparate away, but most fell under the volleys of Avada Kedavras that Snape was unleashing.
Dumbledore had claimed that it was the act of killing that tore the soul, but he was clearly wrong. Seeing Harry dead had torn a most vital part of Snape and vengeance was the only way to even attempt to stitch it back together. The hate and anger of seeing Harry die flowed through Snape, his mind shutting off and his wand seeming to move on its own. He was not powerful enough to perform the Killing Curse wordlessly and by the time the area around him was littered with the bodies of Death Eaters, he was almost hoarse with the repeated cursing.
He turned, his eyes taking in the last few Death Eaters gathered around the Dark Lord, who was sitting on the ground, his head between his knees, looking more human and more vulnerable than he had in years. Bellatrix and Narcissa both had their hands on his shoulders. Bellatrix was speaking to the Dark Lord in a low voice, her face turned toward him with a look of sympathy and concern on her face, whereas Narcissa was turned toward Harry, her face completely devoid of any emotion.
The spell holding Nagini had fallen or been released and the snake was now slithering toward Harry. Snape realized that he was in danger of not fulfilling one of his promises to Harry. He had not taken care of the snake. He had several more Death Eaters to get through to get to the Dark Lord himself and he could tell that his murderous treachery had not gone unnoticed.
Dolohov made to duel with Snape and he threw up a shield, not having needed it until now. Dolohov’s curse reflected off of it and Snape knew he did not have much time. Harry’s death would all be for naught if the snake and Voldemort weren’t killed tonight. He needed help.
He looked around wildly, his gaze landing on the thrashing form of the groundskeeper, who was fighting like mad against his restraints. The whole tree shook as Hagrid shimmied his shoulders and kicked his legs, trying to release himself.
“Hagrid!” Snape shouted, maintaining his shield and trying to move closer to the Dark Lord.
Hagrid looked toward Snape, his eyes taking in the destruction at Snape’s feet, his face twisting with the effort to comprehend what was happening around him. Snape desperately fired off another Killing Curse, now trying to move closer to Hagrid.
Snape raised his wand, pointing it directly at Hagrid’s chest. “NO! You can’t! You traitor…I should have known…” Hagrid screamed, seeming to think that Snape was determined to kill everything in the clearing including himself.
“Relashio,” Snape shouted from his position, smirking as the ropes fell away, leaving Hagrid gaping at him like a moron. Hagrid sagged with relief seeing Snape’s actions and shouted out to him. “Headmaster Snape! I always knew that you were on our side! Never doubted you for a second!” Hagrid at least had the good grace to look ashamed of thinking Snape a traitor.
However, there was little time for smugness. “The snake, Hagrid! Kill the snake!”
“The snake?” Hagrid shouted back, clearly confused, looking around before spotting the beast. Snape realized his mistake at once. Asking Hagrid to kill an interesting and rare magical creature such as Nagini was perhaps too much to ask of the gamekeeper. He would have to find a different way. Finish the remaining Death Eaters…make his own way to the snake…
His train of thought was derailed as Hagrid took one great step toward the snake and expertly clamped his freakishly large hand around the snake, just behind Nagini’s head. The snake tried to snap at Hagrid, but he held firm, pushing Nagini further into the ground with one hand, while the other pawed around until it connected with a small boulder. Palming it effortlessly, Hagrid raised the stone high above his head, before bringing it down on the very top of Nagini’s skull with a great grunt. The crunch of bone and the squish of flesh was a sound that Snape would likely never forget, especially since Hagrid raised and smashed the stone into the snake a dozen more times. He wanted to tell Hagrid to stop, but he could see the fat tears sliding down the giant man’s face and falling onto the crumpled body of the snake and mixing with its cooling blood. The act of killing the snake was clearly cathartic for Hagrid and Snape knew exactly how he felt.
==/==/==
As Snape was taking in the carnage in front of him, the sound of Bellatrix’s voice broke through the haze.
“My Lord. My Lord! You must stand up,” she hissed, one hand hooked under the Dark Lord’s arm, attempting to manhandle him onto his feet. “The boy, My Lord, the boy is…”
She could not seem to find the words to describe what the boy was doing and Snape turned back sharply, looking for himself, not believing his own eyes. Bellatrix, Narcissa and Lucius were all focused on the stirring form of Harry Potter, who seemed to be gathering his feet beneath him, wand in hand. They all looked as dumbstruck as Snape felt.
Harry Potter! Alive!
“Harry! YES! Yer alive!” Hagrid exclaimed, his voice breaking on a sob, the bloody boulder still in his hand.
At this, the remaining Death Eaters, few as they were, all Apparated away, clearly not wanting to stick around to see what the newly resurrected form of Harry Potter would do now.
And still, the Dark Lord sat stupidly on his arse, neither moving nor even looking up. Sensing that her Master was not in the position to deal with Harry himself, Bellatrix released the Dark Lord and started toward Harry, wand raised and malice in her face.
“Avada Kedavra! ” a high, clear voice rang out. Bellatrix fell face first onto the floor of the Forbidden Forest, revealing Narcissa Malfoy behind her sister, her wand still raised, now pointing at Harry. Both Harry and Snape raised their wands at the same time, not knowing what game they were caught in, but wanting to be prepared.
Narcissa did not stop to spare a glance at either Bellatrix or the Dark Lord, instead turning her eyes toward Harry. “Is Draco alive, Harry? Does he live?” she asked urgently.
“Yes! Yes, I saw him. He’s in the cas…” he trailed off, Narcissa already running at full speed out of the forest, Lucius close on her heels.
“Finish him Potter!” Lucius shouted unhelpfully over his shoulder. Snape seriously considered sending one last Killing Curse, but pure exhaustion and the smallest amount of mercy stayed his hand. Instead, he turned back toward Harry staring down the Dark Lord.
For the longest of moments, there was a standoff. The Dark Lord was too weak, all the extraneous bits of his soul now gone, and he did not seem able to do more than roll the Elder Wand along the ground under his hand and Harry, bravest Harry, held his wand high in his hand, seeming not to know what to do in this final moment.
Snape wanted desperately to step in and help Harry, but he knew that this was something that Harry had to face himself. The Dark Lord finally found his way to his feet and turned toward Harry.
“Come on Harry! COME on!” Snape shouted, desperate for the end now. His wand fell to his side, his hand no longer able to hold it up any longer. He was so tired. He needed Harry to finish it, but Harry still looked so uncertain. What was stopping him? Why would Harry not cast the Killing Curse and be done with the Dark Lord once and for all?
At his shout, the Dark Lord and Harry both turned toward Snape and the Dark Lord took a shaky step toward him, forgetting Harry for the moment. As the Dark Lord advanced toward Snape with the Elder Wand raised and poised to strike, Harry seemed to snap out of his reluctance.
“No!” he shouted, causing the Dark Lord to turn slightly back toward him. “SECTUMSEMPRA!”
Snape’s own cutting curse caught the Dark Lord in the neck and shoulder and black blood poured from the wounds. Snape could only stare in shock as the Dark Lord fell to his knees, his hands pawing at the deep gouges in his neck, the blood flowing freely through his skeletal fingers. The Dark Lord turned his head back to Snape and reached out to him with the hand not trying to hold his torn flesh together. He fell forward, his hand brushing Snape’s robe and Harry ran forward, screaming the cutting curse again and again. The Dark Lord’s robe was completely shredded and Snape could see the flesh on his back beneath the tatters torn to shreds as well.
Snape swayed on the spot, his eyes wide and unseeing, not able to take in the sight of the Dark Lord immobile on the ground, the wounds on his back barely spilling any blood at all. The unnatural stillness of the Dark Lord was soon blanked out by strong hands pulling him around and the greenest of eyes filling his vision. Harry had done it. Snape struggled to find words to express the deep and profound sense of gratitude that he felt toward Harry at the moment, his vision going gray around the edges.
“Potter! You absolute moron…should’ve used the…Killing Curse,” he managed to say, cringing at how his words slurred as he slumped into the arms of Harry bloody Potter.
==/==/==
Snape woke slowly, a frown crossing his face when he could feel the brightness of the room around him from behind his closed eyes. It had been the dead of night when he had been in the clearing and as he cracked open one eye he could tell that it must have been around mid-day. He could hear people bustling around the Hospital Wing but they sounded muffled and far away. He groaned slightly at the brightness as he opened both eyes, fully taking in the scene around him.
He was in a hospital bed, tucked tightly under the covers, wearing a regulation Hospital Wing nightgown. He flushed slightly and fervently hoped that his clothes had been magically replaced with the nightgown. The idea of someone undressing him and tucking him in like a small child made him feel like shouting at someone. His bed was surrounded on all three open sides by a privacy screen, tucked closely to the bed. There was only room enough in his enclosed area for his bed, a small nightstand and a hard-looking wooden chair.
His brain seemed to be working slightly slower than normal, seeing as how he was having difficulty trying to decide which was more surprising: the fact that he did not seem to be restrained to the bed and surrounded by angry Aurors or that a passed-out Harry Potter was occupying the uncomfortable-looking chair next to the bed.
He shook his head slightly as he sat up and gave himself a moment to look at Harry. His feet were propped up on the nightstand, tatty sneakers next to a beat up Snitch. His head hung over the back of the chair, his neck stretched taut and his mouth gaping open. The soft snores told Snape that Harry was in a deep sleep and he wondered how long Harry Potter had been sitting next to his bed. Most surprising, however, was that one of Harry’s hands was lying on the bed, a mere inch away from Snape’s own hand. Had Harry fallen asleep holding his hand? He remembered the walk to the clearing and promising Harry he would not leave him until the last moment. Perhaps Harry had reciprocated the promise, staying with Snape. He reached out with his index finger and stroked it softly down the back of Harry’s hand.
That move seemed to bring Harry into full consciousness in the blink of an eye. His feet hit the ground and his eyes flew open, even as he was raising the wand that had been lying across his stomach held by the other hand. It only took him a moment to understand what was going on, quickly dropping his wand on the nightstand and turning toward Snape.
“You’re awake!” Harry exclaimed.
“Yes, Potter. And you are filthy,” Snape said. He mentally kicked himself for that being the first thing he thought to say.
Harry only grinned though, not seeming to be bothered by Snape’s blunt assessment. “Well, yeah, I haven’t had time to make it to the showers yet. I figure I have months of dirt to wash off so it might take a while.” Harry scooted his chair even closer to the bed, his grin tempering slightly into a soft smile. “How are you feeling?” he asked gently.
Snape’s head still felt fuzzy, and he shook it slightly. There were more important things to discuss than his health.
“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Snape asked bluntly.
Harry’s eyebrows jumped up, his eyes going wide in a way that was almost comical. Harry turned his head slightly, looking away from Snape for the first time since he had awoken. “I see we’re not going to waste any time on pleasantries…”
“Of course not. The Dark Lord is dead. I saw it with my own eyes. I was led to believe that for him to be dead, you would also have to be dead. So explain how you are alive.” He could see Harry take a deep breath in and he could tell that he was about to launch into a long and most likely confusing retelling of what happened. He was desperate to know how Harry had survived. “And do it quickly, Potter. With as few words as possible.”
Harry frowned a little, seemingly put off by Snape’s harsh tone. He took a second to gather his thoughts, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “Okay, fine…so Voldemort cast the Killing Curse and it hit me. When I woke up, I wasn’t in the clearing any more. Actually I was here,” he said, gesturing to the Hospital Wing around him. “Except cleaner and…whiter. I’m not sure how to explain it. It was like it was made of air at first, but the longer I was there, the more solid and real it became…”
“Fewer words, Potter. Get to the point,” Snape snapped, wanting to know if the Horcrux in Harry was actually gone and the nightmare was over.
“Geez, sorry,” Harry said, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated manner. “I was laying in a bed and it was very warm and comfortable, but in the bed next to me was…a thing. I could try to explain it, but it would probably put me over your word limit. Let’s just say I could tell it was Voldemort…or some part of him. It was horrifying and disgusting but before I could think too much about it, the Headmaster came and talked to me. He said that I had a choice. I could stay where I was, lay back on the fluffy pillows and sink into the warm blankets and close my eyes and go…on.” Harry paused, a far away look in his eyes, back in that moment. His face cleared quickly and he met Snape’s eye with a fierce look on his face. “Or, I could get up and walk through the doors and back to where I had been before.”
Snape tried to wrap his mind around what Harry was trying to tell him. “So…I take it that you walked out the doors?”
“Of course! I bloody well hate the hospital wing so of course I got up. I thought about all there was left to do, the snake and Voldemort himself. And I thought of those that were still here, the ones I had left behind. Ron and Hermoine in the Shack. The Weasleys in the castle. Little Teddy Lupin,” he said. Pausing only slightly, he continued. “You…in that clearing.”
“I see,” Snape said, not really seeing at all.
“So, I woke up,” Harry said simply, as if he was speaking about waking up on a lazy Saturday morning and not returning from the brink of death. “And I open my eyes and what do I see?” Harry asked, his tone suddenly turning to exasperated anger.
Snape assumed this question was rhetorical and only raised an eyebrow in response.
Harry scoffed loudly. “Don’t give me that! I’ll tell you what I saw: dead Death Eaters! Wherever I looked, there were bodies everywhere!” He was nearly shouting at this point, his arms waving wildly.
Snape could not tell what Harry was so angry about so he remained quiet. Could Harry actually be angry that Snape had killed all those Death Eaters? He had bloody well done it for the little shit himself!
“Good lord, Severus, I could only have been gone for a minute or two! You were supposed to slip away to safety, not duel every Death Eater in the vicinity,” Harry ranted, clearly exasperated with him. Snape did not miss the casual use of his given name, nor did he deny to himself the thrill that ran through him upon hearing it.
“Yes, well…,” Snape began, still not knowing how to respond, but doing as he had always done, meeting righteous anger with righteous anger of his own. “What exactly did you think you were doing? Casting a cutting curse to kill the Dark Lord instead of the Killing Curse? I didn’t think you were that feeble minded…”
Harry had the good sense to look at least slightly abashed at Snape’s censure. “Well…I didn’t think I had the ability to cast the Killing Curse. ‘You have to mean it.’ That’s what everyone says about the Unforgivables,” he said, meeting Snape’s eyes. “I hated Voldemort. But as I was standing in front of him, knowing that I had to kill him, I just didn’t know if I could cast the Killing Curse. I remember how embarrassing and awful it was to cast an Unforgivable and have it not work. But I knew your curse would work. I knew Voldemort didn’t need much. He was so weak…”
Snape could not argue with him. It had been effective, but Snape was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that the Dark Lord was dead and the curse that he had invented had led to his demise.
Before Snape could say anything else about it, Harry cut into his thoughts, his tone more gentle than it had been previously. “So, it seems you weren’t playing both sides after all,” Harry said, a little shyly. He lowered his head, peeking up at Snape through his eyelashes. “You really were Dumbledore’s man all along, weren’t you?”
Snape looked away from Harry then, finding it galling to be called anyone’s man, much less Dumbledore’s. “No, Potter,” he began, Harry looking up quickly in surprise. Snape did not let his confusion linger for long. “At the beginning, I was an Evans man, but for the last several years, I have found, to my profound dismay, that I am a Potter man, through and through.”
The smile that graced Harry’s face was almost blinding in it intensity and Snape found he could not look away. Harry settled back in his chair, feet coming up to rest on the nightstand again, his hand sliding forward, fingers slipping between Snape’s, seeming for all the world like he was now completely satisfied with the state of things. Snape laid his own head back, his eyes feeling heavier and heavier as he continued to stare at Harry as Harry stared straight back and he let the warm feeling in his chest slip him away into a restful sleep.
==/==/==
When he woke again it was dark and Harry was not, to his disappointment, in the chair next to his bed. He struggled to sit up, someone again having him laid him down flat on his back with the covers tucked tightly around him.
Madame Pomfrey appeared between the gap in the privacy curtains, and she slipped through when she saw that he was awake and attempting to sit up.
“Headmaster! Let me help you,” she said gently, her voice full of kindness. It was a tone that she had not taken with Snape in the entirety of his disastrous year as Headmaster and he was immediately suspicious of what had precipitated the change. He narrowed his eyes at her as she bustled around him. “Now, don’t give me that look Headmaster!” she said, her voice reverting back to her no-nonsense tone. “I am sorry for how I have treated you this year, but Harry has explained all about it now. He told us all what you did in the fight against You-Know-Who…”
“Did he now? And where is Potter? Off collecting his Order of Merlin, no doubt,” he scoffed, feeling hurt that Harry had not been there when he woke up again and more than a little stupid for allowing himself to be hurt by it. Of course Harry would not stick around forever, but he could not help the feeling that things were not quite settled between them.
Madame Pomfrey glared at him, pointing her wand at the partition still around his bed, moving it to reveal the bed next to his. A bed containing a peacefully sleeping Harry Potter, hands tucked under his chin. “I told him he would never get rid of the crick in his neck if he kept falling asleep in that chair. He’s spent the last eighteen hours either sitting next to your bed or telling everyone who comes to bother you about what you did for us,” she said, turning a steely eye toward Snape. “Potter says that without you, all would have been lost. I think it would be good for you to remember that without him, you would be in Azkaban. Or worse…”
Snape did not appreciate her lecture on gratitude, even as he inwardly acknowledged the truth of it. He decided to move on to other matters. “Why have I been in the Hospital Wing for the last eighteen hours?”
“Well that cut on your shoulder was fairly nasty and you’ve been running yourself ragged for the last year…or more. When was the last time you had a decent night’s worth of sleep?” she asked.
“What year did Potter begin attending this school? Probably around August 31st of that year,” he replied sarcastically. Madame Pomfrey did not seem to appreciate his attempt at humor. “However, my sleep has been particularly bad since June of last year.”
“Well yes, I’m not surprised. It seems that you have quite a large sleep deficit to make up and the events in the Forest did not help,” she said, beginning to pass her wand over him, apparently running some sort of diagnostic spell. “Potter said that you passed out after he killed You-Know-Who. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Harry Potter burst through the doors, carrying you in his arms, demanding that you be treated. What a sight…,” she trailed off, lost in her own thoughts for the moment.
Snape could not help cringe at the image her words conjured. Being carried in Harry’s arms like some sort of overgrown damsel in distress. What would ever possess him to do that, Snape wondered. Why wouldn’t Harry have asked Hagrid to carry him?
Snape turned his head to watch Harry as Madame Pomfrey wandered off. He did not know how much time passed before Harry snapped awake with no warning. Snape could have sworn that one moment, Harry was asleep and, the next, he had one hand slipping under his pillow and pulling out his wand and the other finding his glasses on the nightstand and putting them on.
Upon seeing Snape awake, Harry crossed to the wooden chair that Snape was beginning to think of as Harry’s, laying his wand across his lap and pulling the chair closer.
“You look better this time around. More awake,” Harry said, looking intently at Snape’s face. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, I feel perfectly fine, Potter,” Snape stated, even though he could feel the exhaustion stubbornly hanging onto him.
“Good, good,” he said, sounding a slightly distracted. Harry cast a quick Muffliato around them and Snape wondered at the sudden secrecy. “Are you really sure that you’re feeling better?”
Snape did not know what Harry was playing at but he was intensely curious. “I will not repeat myself. I feel fine. The Dark Lord’s death cures any number of ills.”
Harry smiled at that and leant forward, his elbows on his knees. “What do you know about the Deathly Hallows?” he asked without preamble, an avid look on his face.
“It’s a fairytale. A myth derived from a children’s story,” Snape said, not liking at all where this conversation was going. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“They’re real,” Harry whispered, apparently feeling the need despite the privacy spell around them. “And I have all three of them.”
“You do?” Snape asked stupidly.
“Yes,” Harry said, picking up the battered Snitch from his nightstand. He watched as Harry kissed it, of all the strange things. He must have felt Snape’s questioning gaze on him. “Sense memory,” he shrugged, as if that meant anything at all to Snape in way of explanation.
Snape could see the Snitch open, revealing a small black stone. As he watched, the stone floated upwards and Harry snatched it out of the air and held it tight in his hand.
“The Resurrection Stone,” he said. Harry reached into one of the pockets of his robe with his free hand, pulling out the wand that Snape recognized immediately as the Elder Wand. “The Elder Wand,” Harry said needlessly. Snape remembered with a shudder the last time he had seen it up close, being twirled in the Dark Lord’s hands in the Shrieking Shack. He had been so sure he was going to die there, at the hands of that very wand. “Gives me the creeps, quite frankly,” he muttered, tossing the wand carelessly onto the nightstand next to the Snitch. He reached into the other pocket of his robes and pulled out a shimmering cloak. “The Invisibility Cloak, which was my father’s,” Harry said, seemingly finished with his display.
“Why exactly are you revealing yourself to me as the possessor of all three Hallows? Do you think I would be impressed that you are now Master of Death?”
“What? No! God…no. Not at all,” he exclaimed, looking a little sick at the title of Master of Death. “It’s just…it’s a lot of power, for one seventeen-year-old boy. I don’t know what to do with them. I was hoping you could help me.”
“Help?” Snape asked. “Why would I help you?”
“Well…you’re really good at it, aren’t you? Helping me with my problems, keeping me safe. Trying to keep me out of trouble,” Harry said, smiling slightly.
“Perhaps,” Snape allowed.
“It seems to me like I’ll need a very level-headed person around to make sure the Hallows don’t drive me insane or make me evil or whatever else Death might have thought up for someone stupid enough to try to become Master of Death,” Harry said.
Snape wasn’t sure what Harry was asking of him.
“Yes, it’s a good thing Granger seems annoyingly committed to sticking by you through thick and thin.”
“Well, actually, she’s going to be fairly busy with Ron and her parents and all that…,” Harry stated, for some reason looking at him with an annoyingly hopeful expression, eyes wide and pleading. Snape never could resist the green of Lily’s eyes…
“The youngest Weasley seems absurdly attached to you…,” Snape tried again, purposefully baiting Harry now. To his surprise, Harry seemed to pick up immediately on his tone.
“You know, I think you are deliberately trying to be difficult,” Harry said, his eyes narrowing just a little.
“Ah, after seven years, he finally gets it!” Snape says, laying the sarcasm on as thick as possible. Harry’s cheeky grin, so reminiscent of Lily, made Snape involuntarily begin to smile back. He quickly caught himself, schooling his features into his usual disdainful mask, but he suspected Harry would not be so easily fooled by him in the future. Wanting to keep the tenuous upper ground for at least a little while longer, Snape said the most surprising thing he could think of. “Very well, Potter…you may stay…”