Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Holding the towel loosely in his hand, Ron looked into the mirror and grinned. His hair was standing on end. At least his reflection was simply there, a mirror image of him instead of another Ron Weasley moving around and commenting on how ridiculous he looked.

He dropped the towel on the floor and then ran his fingers through his messy hair, barely managing to smooth the wild strands. Not exactly presentable, but good enough for going to bed.

Whichever bed he chose to go to.

The fear of encountering a darker glare than usual made him tidy the bathroom a bit; mop the wet floor with the towel before putting the towel into the hamper, pick up his clothes, that sort of thing. He tried to find the idea of Snape actually showering funny, but it only managed to give him the creeps. Snape naked anywhere was a fodder for nightmares.

It almost made him choose to go to bed alone. Almost.

Padding across the hallway, Ron glanced at the firmly shut door on the right and shuddered a little. No matter how hard he tried to get used to Snape's presence in the house, it was probably something he'd always find totally unnatural. But it wasn't really his problem. As long as the git spent most of his time in the cellar, he was kind of all right with it. In a weird and disgusting way.

He had bigger things to worry about. The training wasn't about showing off and making silly jokes anymore, it all felt so real these days, now that the fighting seemed to be right around the corner. No one could hide from the reality anymore.

The worry and all the things they went through every day made him so tired, but not tired enough to just crawl under the blankets and sleep through the whole night. With everything else, there was constant tension, and his body reacted to it seemingly automatically, almost thrumming with all the nervous excitement.

As usual, there was a good remedy for that.

It would be good to do something that would take his mind off the constant war and he could bet Malfoy would be just as eager as he was. He always was. The Slytherin spent his days flying with Harry and the other Quidditch players, but even with all the excitement during the day, he never walked away from the possibility of shagging.

The thought made Ron grin. Slytherins!

He stood at the doorway for a moment, hesitating before he could step inside. For some reason he didn't want to go to Malfoy's room tonight, preferring to stay on his own turf.

It wasn't something he thought of often, the decision between getting up and crawling across the hall to his own room and just falling asleep and risking rolling into the wet spot made when it was actually an issue. Most of the nights he chose to leave Malfoy to deal with the mess, sneaking back into his own room, but all the thoughts about Snape made him reluctant to risk the nightly hallway tonight.

The bastard had spent decades patrolling Hogwarts at night. He was bound to sneak around the house as well. Let Malfoy deal with the possibility of running into him while being half naked and smelling of sex.

They had no script for this, no words or hidden looks for deciding things. He waited for Malfoy to come up and take care of his evening routines and then they kind of went straight to business and ended up in someone's bed, happy and sticky.

Yanking his favorite T-shirt down a bit -- and yes, it was definitely too small for him -- Ron stood there waiting, knowing he wouldn't have to wait for long.

He didn't like waiting, but was usually willing to be patient. Something was different today, and by the time Malfoy finally came upstairs, he glared at him before the annoyance morphed into anticipation.

"Weasley." Malfoy's voice was quiet as he nodded at him as he passed him by

Ron answered the nod with one of his own. "Malfoy." He sounded rusty, as if he hadn't spoken for a while, the sound mirroring the dull ache inside.

There were no words, there was no need for those these days, and he gestured at his own room, not even waiting for Malfoy to nod again before heading towards his bed. It was a nightly ritual, like washing his hands before dinner, and it always played the same.

No matter how hard the day was, there was always this; the unnamed connection between Malfoy and him, something he couldn't even begin to describe even if he wanted to. And he definitely didn't want to think of names or definitions for something that should be just as simple as it was; fucking.

It was damn convenient to have Malfoy in his bed. Not that he would admit that to anyone. It had taken him a long time to even admit it to himself, but these days, he was almost comfortable with the thought. For once Malfoy had been right; he didn't have to like the bastard to like fucking him.

Sex didn't have to change anything.

The door closed behind Malfoy, and the sound alone made him shiver. He was tired, but not that tired, and the idea of Malfoy's body writhing under his was enough to drive all thoughts of sleep away.

Not bothering to say anything, Ron turned to Malfoy, pulling him close as soon as the bed dipped.

He took control of the first kiss, determined not to give Malfoy a chance to try anything funny. It was always a rush to feel Malfoy's mouth open under his and respond to his kiss, the capitulation hesitant at first and then complete as Ron took everything Malfoy was willing to give.

One kiss lead to others, and soon Ron was pulling Malfoy's flying robes off, needing to feel the soft skin and strong muscle hidden beneath the heavy cloth.

Malfoy's hands were already under his T-shirt, his lips curling into a smile against Ron's lips and driving him just as insane as his touch did. It was always enough to make Ron burn with a mixture of anger and lust and his movements turned frantic.

Sometimes Malfoy simply went with it, surrendering to his need as if it was somehow too much to fight. Now it looked like the angry lust was contagious.

They barely had enough time -- or brain cells left -- to put their wands securely on the nightstand before Malfoy's robes pooled on the floor with various knick knacks and small coins falling from his pockets, bouncing on the thick carpet before rolling under the bed. Malfoy bent down to collect something, giving Ron a perfect view of his arse, and once again it got a little hazy after that.

All Ron could think of was getting that arse naked and in bed.

He peeled off Malfoy's clothes layer after layer until he had him naked, working without thought. This was familiar by now, the need to touch and be touched, the small twinge of guilt for doing something like this with Malfoy so faint he could almost ignore it completely.

It was drowned when Malfoy's hands moved to undress him.

Malfoy grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and tried to yank it over his head, growling as it didn't really work. He yanked again, and one of the small tears at the hemline finally gave up, splitting the shirt in two as Malfoy's strong hands searched for bare skin.

The sound of tearing cloth was astonishingly loud. Ron groaned as he felt his shirt rip, the nice familiar haze disappearing somewhere. Losing his favorite Cannons T-shirt was definitely a mood killer. "Damn it, Malfoy. That's my favorite shirt!"

"I'll buy you another one." There was more ripping as questing hands moved over Ron's chest.

Ron lay absolutely still while the words rang in his head over and over again. Malfoy would buy him another shirt.

They were in bed and Malfoy was destroying his favorite shirt, the one his father had bought him after saving for it for months and he thought it would be enough to just buy him another one?

But of course. He was Draco Malfoy, and he had enough money to buy anything in the world.

He rolled to his side. "Get off me!"

It was surprisingly easy to push Malfoy away, the balance between lust and anger shifting so that for once the lust was losing to the burning anger building inside.

"What is it now?" Malfoy asked, exasperation evident in him, and the way he looked at Ron told all too clearly that he had no idea what was making him push him away.

Ron seethed with anger. He wasn't going to lie here and let Malfoy use that superior tone at him anymore.

He'd be damned if he ever let Malfoy buy him anything!

It came out a bit differently. "I'm not your fucking whore!" Ron snarled from between clenched teeth.

The words seemed to almost echo in the room, and even Ron cringed a little at the way they sounded; mean and sharp and full of venom.

He didn't regret them. Things had changed a lot recently, with people looking up to him, seeing the youngest son of Minister Weasley instead of a poor kid who would be a nobody if he didn't have Harry Potter's friendship. But Malfoy never seemed to change, and here was once again proof that he saw Ron as he always had, looking at him with amusement and superiority showing in every look and gesture he made.

Now the bastard didn't even try to hide it, offering him money for... He didn't really know what.

Probably not just for the shirt, but everything possible. Ron couldn't really tell; it was all a jumble in his mind. All he did know was that he had already sold out on most of his principles concerning sleeping with people he didn't even like, and this was simply too much.

"You really think I would do that?" For the first time in ages, there was resignation in Malfoy's eyes, and it was clear from his expression that he could almost taste the bile in his mouth. "You really think..." Seeing the awful truth in Ron's flaming gaze, he shrugged, as if getting rid of the pain, coldness replacing all doubts. "Fine then."

Ron stared as Malfoy got off the bed and just looked at him for a while.

He didn't know what to say, seeing quite clearly that his words had actually managed to hurt Malfoy and sort of hating himself for that. Never really good at articulating his feelings -- or even acknowledging most of them -- he didn't know what to say, knowing only that whatever words came out next would probably be something he'd never even dreamed of using while addressing any of the Slytherins.

Especially Malfoy.

Gathering his clothes from the floor, Draco picked up a Galleon he'd dropped only moments ago when undressing had been the most important thing in the whole world and squeezed it so hard his hand hurt.

This was going to end right now.

It had been good for a while, with Weasley getting over stuff and saving all the stupid outbursts for the training hall. Things outside were insane, and it had always been easy in bed; Weasley holding him tight and making his skin burn. Shagging like that was for fun and an end of its own, it had nothing to do with guilt or games and he had reveled in it.

No amount of guilt or desire or need would make him do this anymore. Whatever problems Weasley had were his own and didn't have anything to do with him.

He didn't want mushy emotionalism like the looks thrown between Black and Lupin when they were once again harboring the delusions no one could see. This wasn't a relationship, this was never going to be one. He wanted the connection with someone who wasn't repulsive and knew what was going on. Weasley fit both categories and for a moment it had seemed like they were actually seeking the same.

Now he understood it was all an illusion, and he was going to walk away and never come back.

Draco finished pulling on his pants, and straightened his back, unwilling to linger here longer even if it meant walking around in his underwear. The Galleon in his hand felt awfully hot, and he realized he was holding something that would hit Weasley just as hard as his words had hit Draco.

Throwing the coin at Weasley as an adequate payment for the services that were no longer needed would hit the arrogant redhead right where it would hurt the most, and for the first time in ages, Draco would revel in the pain his actions would cause.

"Don't go."

The tone from Weasley made Draco hesitate, and he looked up from the Galleon. He'd never heard that tone on Weasley, especially when he was talking to him. "What do you want?"

Ron stared at Malfoy, trying to remember all the nasty and evil things he'd ever done to him. It didn't really work. All he could remember was how Malfoy had already apologized for all the bad things that had happened to his family and that he had practically laughed in his face.

He didn't want to be like that. "I'm... I'm sorry, all right?"

It came out sullen and more as an accusation than a real apology. For a few moments Draco couldn't comprehend just exactly what Weasley had said. Then he raised an eyebrow, his hand forming a protecting fist over the golden Galleon. As an apology, that was completely unacceptable.

Sighing, Ron brushed his palm across his face and then said, "I mean it. Not just because of the sex and not because of..." He couldn't really think of anything else tangible enough to force him to apologize. He kept his eyes focused on Malfoy even though looking at him was even harder than saying the words. "I really mean it. I'm sorry." Even if Malfoy was a bastard at times, he wasn't bad all the time.

It was insane how the way Malfoy nodded to accept his apology made him sigh with relief.

Insane and wrong on so many levels he couldn't even begin to describe them. But he knew that apologizing to Malfoy was not something he should do. It was probably even worse than shagging him.

"I really shouldn't want this..." Ron muttered, needing to fill the silence with something, since it looked like Malfoy wasn't about to return to bed. Then again it didn't look like he was about to leave, so maybe he hadn't ruined everything. "I shouldn't like this. Or... you know..." He wasn't going to add he wasn't supposed to like Malfoy, even if that was what his silly brain had conjured up.

Draco cocked his head. "Why?" He wasn't sure why Weasley was making such a big deal of it it; he hadn't done or said anything to insult him or his friends for ages. The verbal sparring was exciting and the following sex was fantastic. So what on earth was the problem?

"I..." Ron couldn't really use Malfoy's father as an excuse anymore. Nor could he make comments about him being a Slytherin; Blaise was one and he wasn't that bad. "Because I'm supposed to marry a nice Gryffindor girl and have a family." It just came out and sounded silly even in his own ears, but ever since he'd been a kid, he'd known that was what Weasley men were supposed to do.

He could see from the slight softening of Malfoy's gaze that Malfoy knew all about duty and the way things were supposed to be. Then he realized that it had always been like that with Malfoy. He had been supposed to follow his father's footsteps, become a Death Eater, do things too awful to mention and enjoy every damn minute of it.

Not really liking the implications of his own thoughts, Ron waited for Malfoy to say something about his inane words or maybe laugh at him, wondering why this was so damn hard. He shouldn't be with Malfoy, shouldn't want to spend time with him or shag him or talk about Quidditch with him, but it didn't change the fact that doing all those things was nice. Probably one of the nicest things in life right now.

Draco let his hands relax, his robes and the Galleon falling to the floor unnoticed. "I am not asking you to marry me." There were so many things he could say, most probably things Weasley was thinking right now if that overly serious look on his face was any indication, but he could only manage this.

"Yeah." Smiling hesitantly, Ron was glad Malfoy was willing to let it go. "That would definitely be weird."

They were actually grinning at the same stupid joke and the world wasn't coming to an end. That alone was a miracle.

"So... What happens now?" Ron might be able to joke with Malfoy, just a bit, but he didn't want to ask him to come back to bed. Sure, he would ask if that's what it took, but that would make it serious again and he was really not comfortable with that kind of a discussion.

The reply was highly satisfying in all its elegance, even though there were no words until Malfoy was crawling back to bed all naked.

"What happens next is that I'm going to kiss you. Right now," Draco muttered, his lips a breath away from Weasley's. The kiss was soft, teasing. "And then I'm going to taste you." Another kiss. "And then I'm going to suck you off."

Ron had absolutely no objections to that plan. "Yeah. Okay."

Licking the corner of Weasley's mouth, Draco added, "And then you can bring me off any way you want to." It was a dare and they both knew it. Until now, he'd only felt Weasley's hand on his prick when they had been shagging, and it had probably never even occurred to the redhead to reciprocate the occasional blowjob he gave him. That would have to change, if not tonight, then sometime soon.

Draco was perfectly fine with Weasley shagging him, but the other thing felt too much like being used, and he wasn't going to allow that. Not anymore.

Ron swallowed. He wasn't sure if he could actually try to take Malfoy's prick into his mouth -- and definitely not if that meant going down on his knees in front of him -- but the challenge in the gray eyes made him determined to at least consider it. It wasn't as if he wasn't as brave as Malfoy! If Malfoy could suck prick and be so blasé about it, so could he. "Sure."

Hands still cramping from clutching onto the broom all morning, Harry looked around the room, finding the meeting a bit strange after days of actually doing things instead of just talking.

But right now, this was more important than going through the swoops and formations again. His air force could practice without him for an hour or two.

"We need to make final decisions on the task forces." He knew they should have probably done this ages ago, but every decision seemed to be final in a morbid way, and he'd wanted to postpone the inevitable just a little while longer.

There were nods, people already gathered in small groups as if they had only been waiting for him to say it out loud.

"When the time is right," Harry said, "Remus and Sirius will take care of the smuggling business. They need people with knowledge about the Dark Creatures with them."

The long hours of training and classes had drawn people to their areas of expertise, and it didn't take long for the ones who felt competent on this to raise their hands and then migrate to the two wizards.

Harry didn't say anything as Hermione joined them.

"Good. Then we need people to take care of Voldemort's strongholds. We can not leave them any place to fall back to."

This time, no one said a word about destroying homes. People simply waited for Harry to call out places and then made decisions of where to go, choosing either the smaller, more remote mansions that would be taken down soon, probably the following days, or the larger estates.

Leaning back against the backrest, Harry let his mind wander as people talked, confirming plans about the big battle they were now looking forward to.

The main force of their army would stay at Hogwarts and face the Death Eaters. Though that battle would undoubtedly be formidable, it was the smaller operations that could well turn the tide of the whole war.

It wasn't exactly a matter of choice anymore. The preparations for everything had been set in motion a long time ago, when Dumbledore's words had made it clear that this war would be won or lost at the conference table and not on the field.

Harry tried to keep that in mind, but he couldn't really ignore the clenching in his gut that told him that as usual, Dumbledore had not been completely truthful with his words.

Whatever would happen before the battle would be easy to plan, especially the small raids that were meant to drive Voldemort to actually attack them head on. No one could really predict what would happen when the battle was engaged.

The silence in the room jolted him out of his thoughts, and he looked around, wondering what had caused the uncomfortable mood.

It didn't take a genius to guess.

"I think I should be the one leading the operation to the Mansion."

Harry knew he should have told Draco to stay with the others at the pitch. "Out of the question." He could see others around him nod at his stern words. "You're already involved with the air force, and I need you in the air."

Draco shook his head. "You'll need my expertise." He didn't want to say this, but had to. "I know the place better than anyone, I know all the secrets. When we go to my... the Malfoy Mansion, I should be there to guide our people."

He'd been over this in his head, and there was really no other option for him. He'd spent his childhood sneaking through the endless corridors of the Mansion, snooping around, following the house elves and the visitors who had always seemed to sneak around in silence, casting furtive looks around as if they were afraid of every shadow.

"No." Harry wasn't going to let Draco go anywhere near that place. "You're needed in the air with us. End of discussion."

Arrogance almost drove Draco to his feet, but then he realized that Harry was probably trying to protect him. Even with all the show of friendship and the quiet conversations they'd had, this still managed to shock him to the core. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but it's my place to..."

"... do as I tell you." It came out more easily that Harry could have ever imagined.

He wasn't going to let Draco do something as bravely idiotic as that. It would be hard enough to face the people who would come for them, Draco's former friends, his housemates. His family. Going back to destroy his own house was inconceivable, and Harry wasn't going to add a friend's nightmares to his list of future regrets.

Draco nodded slightly, acknowledging Harry's words as truth on one level. Yes, his place as one of the Order of the Phoenix was to do as their leader told him to do. But he was not going to let Harry operate on foolish sentimentality when he knew quite well that this gave them strategic advantage. "I know. But it has to be me. No one else knows that place as well as I do."

Besides, it felt like it was his duty to do this, no matter how foolish it sounded.

He had definitely been spending too much time around Gryffindors.

"We will find someone else."

Seeing the stubborn way Harry was clenching his jaw almost made Draco roll his eyes. There were days he could honestly say he liked and even grudgingly respected Harry, but sometimes he thought he needed a swift kick in the backside. "Who?"

He wondered if Harry had any idea of what he was talking about. The Mansion was huge with corridors that went on and on, rooms hidden behind tapestries, vaults hidden cleverly in plain sight so that one would simply walk by and never even know what was there. Then there were the levels below ground, the dungeons no one could have possibly memorized completely.

"I think that should be rather obvious."

Both young men turned to stare at Snape who was sitting next to Minerva McGonagall, looking as calm as ever.

Harry was the first one to realize just exactly what he meant. "No!" The exclamation was instinctive, but came out without any real fire, as if he already knew he couldn't win this argument.

"I know the Malfoy Mansion, especially all the places where Lucius has been performing the Dark Arts as well as most of the vaults." Snape didn't have to add how he'd managed to gather that information. "Furthermore, I am completely capable of defending myself against whatever surprises they have left there."

Before Harry could say anything, professor McGonagall turned to face Snape, her hand touching his sleeve softly. "Severus, surely you can not mean you would actually go back there!"

"I don't want to go there." It was the absolute truth, the memories of the Mansion not considerably more pleasant to Snape than they were to Minerva. "But I do believe that should be my part in the fight."

Harry's throat squeezed shut, silencing all the arguments. He wanted to scream and shout and absolutely forbid Snape from doing anything as dangerous as that, but what good would that do? They would have to leave the Mansion to the last and destroy it when Voldemort's people had left, and that meant that while Harry and the Order faced the Death Eaters at Hogwarts, others would be sneaking through the corridors of the Mansion.

It would be dangerous on so many level, but the alternative was probably even worse.

He knew that leading the Order into battle meant that he would lead people to their death; good people, those he had known half his life. Would it be any better to have Snape facing the Death Eaters on the field than to have him in the Mansion?

Harry didn't want to make such a decision, not for people he loved, but there was really no way he could shelter them from harm.

He looked at Snape, ignoring the way other Order members were staring at him, silently begging him to consider it.

Snape looked straight back, his gaze burning dark.

No one in the room made a sound, the tension growing until it reached an uncomfortable level, but still no one moved or said anything to break it.

Harry hadn't objected on Sirius going on a mission, but it had been decided months ago, when they had first heard about Voldemort's plans on using the Dark Creatures. That had been Dumbledore's call.

He'd known Ron would stand by his brothers, just as he'd known Hermione would go wherever her knowledge would be needed the most.

There was no way on earth he would order Snape to do this, but even with the man volunteering, he felt nauseous. It wasn't just that the Mansion was a familiar place to Snape, the place was dangerous, and sending anyone there wasn't easier than telling them to stand by him on the battlefield.

"Are you sure?" Lips numb, he forced the question out. Seeing Snape nod curtly, he repeated, "I mean it. Are you absolute sure about this?" There was really no alternative he could offer Snape, or indeed anyone. It had gone beyond choosing between fighting and trying to find another way years ago.

Snape nodded. "Yes."

The hand on his arm tightened convulsively, McGonagall's fingers closing over his Dark Mark through the cloth unintentionally.

Knowing all too well that he might one day look back to this and regret ever agreeing to any of this lunacy, Harry said quietly, "All right. You will lead the operation to Malfoy Mansion."

His mouth tasted horrible as he said that.

There were soft whispers in the room, people who hadn't attended the smaller Order meetings now looking at them with curiosity evident on their face. Harry pretended he didn't notice, ignoring every word.

He would have to avoid the newspapers like the plague. If anyone dared to comment of the hero of their word sending his lover to face almost certain death... He didn't even know what would happen next.

It now felt incredible that he had once stood by and let Arthur Weasley face the idiots who had tried to hurt Snape. He wasn't sure what had changed, or if indeed anything really had, but if something like that happened now, he wouldn't simply deal with the issue. He would probably do something too awful to even contemplate.

Snape had been right about one aspect; forming bonds of attachment with people made life more difficult on occasion. Not that Harry regretted anything he had with Snape. He only regretted he had to be a part of this charade, now more than ever.

"Er... I think I'll join your expedition, if you don't mind, Snape." Arabella Figg's voice rang oddly loud in the room.

As if relieved that someone had broken the awkward silence, there were a few others to join in as well.

Bill Weasley hesitated as one of his colleagues from the Cursebreaking department made a comment about them needing professional curse breakers at the vaults, casting looks at his father and Charlie before looking at Harry, clearly unable to make his mind.

It was clear to Harry that the Weasleys were less interested in destroying the Malfoy ancestral home than they were in destroying the lord of the mansion. He couldn't blame them.

He wasn't going to order the Weasleys around. Arthur would most likely stand firm on the Hogwarts ground, their new Acting Minister completely unable to hide behind his status. Charlie and George would fly with Harry. Bill and Ron could choose where they went, both eager to join the fight.

Harry was just glad that Percy was nowhere to be seen in the meetings and that everyone had agreed that Ginny was too young to take any part in this.

Leaning back on his chair again, Harry listened to the discussion half heartedly. He didn't have anything to contribute to the discussion anymore. It was all too clear that people around him used their training to figure out what to do on their own.

That was the only good thing about this situation.

Snape leaned closer to him, paying no real attention to the fact that people were staring. "Thank you for not making a scene." He paused, and then added more quietly, "We should have discussed this earlier."

Yes, they should have. The only problem was that Harry didn't think of any time that would have been good for such a discussion. Maybe it was better this way. Now they all had things to concentrate on, and he didn't have extra time on his hands to wallow in the pointless anxiety the thought of losing Snape caused.

Letting out a little laugh, Harry muttered, "I don't think talking would have made any difference."

"Perhaps so," Snape admitted.

Harry looked at him, realizing that Snape knew exactly what was waiting for them. Funny how it could hit him so hard, even after all the countless hours of talking about war and fighting and death with this man. He had been so angry then, so frightened, and nothing had been able to drive those emotions completely away.

They were still there, right under the surface. But now there was also hope, fierce hope about the future. All the things he could lose were also things he would fight for; everything he shared with Snape was worth fighting for and dying for if needs be.

He didn't think it was selfish of him to think about such a big thing with such definitions. Why should he be any different from anyone else? They might all think about their world and freedom, but in the end, everyone fought to keep their loved ones safe.

"I still worry, you know," he muttered quietly so that no one else would hear.

Snape looked at him for a moment before nodding slowly. "I may share your misgivings on the situation as well." With that, he turned his attention back to the conversation that was still going on.

Lips twitching a little, as if trying to fight a huge grin that would be completely inappropriate, Harry let Arthur Weasley draw him into a small argument about the Ministry.

It was strange how easily everyone accepted their parts in this. Weeks of training had called everyone to focus on the war, and no one seemed to question the logic behind all the plans. Harry was glad for that. The way people talked about the upcoming battle as a certainty was better than the endless questions.

Plans made, they called it a day right before dinner time.

People walked out of the headquarters in small groups. It was a habit by now; no one traveled alone, not even the few blocks to their quarters. Hogsmeade was safe -- or as safe as any place could be -- but it was still best not to tempt fate.

Harry waited patiently for Ron to finish saying goodbye to his father and brothers so that they could all walk back home together.

The others were already by the door, Remus and Hermione standing between Snape and Sirius. They didn't even seem to be conscious about it anymore, all staying together as a silent agreement. Most of the time, the small group didn't even attract much attention, except for the few curious looks people threw at Snape every now and then.

"Harry." Hermione nudged at him, shifting parchments under her arm. "Do you have any plans for the evening?"

The glance at Snape was involuntary. "Er... No. Not really." Nothing beyond the usual. Dinner, maybe joining Snape downstairs to watch him brew, snuggling down with him if they were tired, but most likely something more vigorous.

Hermione smiled. "I see." It was clear she knew exactly what Harry meant.

"Oh hush," Harry muttered. He liked the matter of fact way Hermione was talking to him about what he shared with Snape, but there was no reason for the smugness. They weren't as bad as Ron and Draco after all, not keeping anyone up with all the ruckus.

"I didn't say anything!" Still smiling, Hermione turned to look at Ron who was walking towards them. "At least you're not as bad as Ron and Malfoy." There was a slight edge to her voice, as if she still didn't really approve them.

Harry thought it made her sound exactly like McGonagall. Ignoring he'd just thought the same a moment ago, he gestured towards the door. "If you say so." He was pretty sure she was lying.

The small attacks seemed to be working. Soon, there were fewer raids on the villages as the Death Eaters gathered to protect their forts, fearing that what had happened at the Riddle house would be repeated. It was good to finally have a victory, even though it brought Harry no joy to order people's houses to be destroyed.

But not all the news were good.

Small bands of Aurors and Order members had been lost on training missions, some turning out dead, but others disappeared from the face of the earth. Such losses always hit Harry hard, but this time it was worse than before,

One of the names on the list handed to him was Neville Longbottom.

Harry could only sit there and stare at the parchment, ignoring the buzz around the room. He didn't see Hermione's tears or the way Dean broke his knuckles on the solid stone wall. All he could think of was that he should probably make sure that someone had informed Mrs. Longbottom.

He had no idea what he should tell her; assuring her he'd do anything to get him back would be kind of hypocritical, but he'd be damned if he sent condolences before knowing his friend was truly lost.

It was fortunate that Sirius had stayed home with Remus, both finding it easier to browse through the books in silence while they figured out the final details of their mission. Harry was having hard time staying in control as it was.

Trying to deal with Sirius' worry would have probably made him snap.

The mere thought made him gag. Merlin! Sometimes he loathed himself more than anyone else.

This wasn't about some strategy on the paper, this was about a friend and how the hell could he just stand here and watch his housemates crumble all around him without joining them in their grief? In their rage.

Harry saw Ron looking at him, and for the briefest of moments he knew that if Ron made even the barest of suggestions of going out with their army and bringing Neville back, he would probably say yes and think about it later. At the same time he knew with absolute certainty that he would never do anything of the sort.

A horrible thought hit him, making him gag again, and he turned slowly to look at Dumbledore. The fact that the old Headmaster was very carefully standing on the other side of the room with his back turned to him made him mutter curses from under his breath.

The room was suddenly too full of people. He couldn't breathe in here; any deep breath would surely force the primitive scream out of his lungs.

Harry turned around and walked stiffly to the smaller meeting room he used as his private office.

Glad that professor McGonagall was taking care of the girls -- Hermione now reduced to growling, but both Lavender and Parvati sobbing loudly -- Ron inched away from the other Gryffindors. He was unable to let himself even think about what it meant to have Neville disappear like that.

Until they knew anything for sure, he refused to consider the fact that being taken by the Death Eaters was as good as being dead.

He knew death, and this wasn't it. Couldn't be it.

Denial was a happy place right now, and Ron was trying his best to stay there for as long as he could. It was clear that to everyone else, reality was too hard to escape, and there were all sorts of angry outbursts coming from his friends and even some of the professors in the room.

He didn't want to talk to Dean, who was already being scolded by madam Pomfrey for breaking his hand. What good would words do anyway? No one in this room could do anything about the whole thing, well except maybe for Harry, but even he was looking weird, walking away from his people, his robes billowing behind him menacingly.

Ron rushed after Harry. "Harry, wait up!"

"Not now, Ron."

Not paying any attention on the words beyond realizing they were so obviously growled from between clenched teeth, Ron went after his friend. This was not the time to be alone with grief. "Harry..."

Harry stopped and slowly turned around. "Not. Now."

Ron shivered at the maelstrom of fury and pain showing in Harry's eyes. He'd never seen Harry like this and had no idea what to do or say. Anger or grief would be okay, but this went beyond anything he had experienced.

"Mr. Weasley."

Spinning around at the sound of his name, Ron actually felt relieved to see Snape standing at the doorway. "Yeah. Okay." It didn't matter that Snape hadn't actually said anything; he understood him anyway.

It was definitely weird.

He wanted to leave the room and the oppressive mood, but for some reason he hesitated before stepping out, lingering by the wall in silence, almost afraid to look back.

To Ron's relief, Snape was just standing there, behind Harry. He was touching Harry's shoulder, but that was all. Letting out a shuddering sigh, Ron turned to go and then froze as he heard Harry whisper quietly.

"They will know who he is and if he's not dead already..."

"I know."

Ron flinched at the calm way Snape just said it. How could anyone just say something like that?

"Damn, I'm tired of all this..." Harry's voice trailed off. There was a brief silence as Snape said nothing and simply stood there, waiting. Then Harry turned to look over his shoulder. "Do you think it was intentional that they took Neville?"

"I don't know."

Ron shook his head a little, exasperation radiating from him. Why on earth couldn't Snape just lie? It would be easy, even Ron could probably manage the words about it not being anyone's fault. That it was probably a random attack or something. He knew how hard Harry took these things, so why couldn't Snape do something to prevent all the guilt and stuff?

"Yeah."

Turning around completely, Harry kept his gaze on Snape. "We have a lot to do. I can't do this now." His lips twisted into something that wasn't exactly a smile. "It won't help anyone and I'm just so..." It seemed he didn't how to finish his sentence.

"Anything you need right now?" Snape asked, still calm as ever.

Harry shook his head. "Later."

They stood there for a long moment, Ron unable to leave, neither Harry nor Snape even noticing his presence. There was a commotion in the big meeting hall, but Ron knew no one would come here now, no matter what.

Finally Harry sighed. "You know what happens next, don't you?" He didn't even wait for Snape's muttered affirmative. "I have to use this. It may be the only chance we get."

Ron had no idea what he was talking about, but he could hear disgust in Harry's voice. He was a bit surprised to see that Snape didn't seem to be much happier about the whole thing.

"Can you do it?"

There was not even the slightest of hesitations, as Harry nodded at Snape's question. "I have to." His lips quirked into yet another not-really-a-smile. "So yeah. I can do it."

"Good," Snape said quietly.

Ron's eyes widened as Harry stepped closer to Snape, hand moving to touch Snape's. Trying not to make his disgust too obvious, Ron turned around and rushed back into the big meeting hall. Whatever happened next, he so didn't need to see it.

He wished he knew what they were talking about.

Harry took a deep breath, his fingers brushing against Snape's grounding him. "I can do this," he muttered, trying to reassure himself more than Snape.

He didn't expect there to be a reply, glad that Snape only looked at him. It was more than enough, and way better than the empty words anyone else would offer. Snape would also understand what he wanted to say even when he didn't really say it.

"I think I should go back there." Not that Harry wanted to. He just knew that hiding in here didn't help. The longer he stood here, the less he wanted to go and face his troops.

Snape agreed. "Yes, I think you should."

They walked out side by side without touching. Snape had his arms crossed on his chest, his robes billowing as usual as he swept out of the room, Harry looking just as forbidding with the tight expression on his face.

The mood in the big meeting hall was still somber, and for once people didn't focus on Harry when he stepped through the side door. Everyone was staring at an old lady who was slowly making her way across the room towards Albus Dumbledore.

Even though Harry had never seen Neville's grandmother before, her appearance was too famous to be missed. Looking drained, Mrs. Longbottom still managed to stand straight under the impressive hat as she walked slowly across the room.

McGonagall went to greet her. "Fenella. We just heard. I'm so sorry."

"Minerva." The stuffed vulture shook a little as Mrs. Longbottom nodded curtly. "I don't need you to be sorry. I want my grandson back!"

Harry flinched as if someone had slapped him.

"My dear Fenella, I assure you, we want Neville back as much as you do." Dumbledore stepped forward, holding out his hands and looking as sympathetic as possible.

This time, his sympathy wasn't received with the usual grace.

Mrs. Longbottom's hat looked it would capsize as the old woman shook with anger. "Nonsense! What are you going to do about getting my grandson back?"

"Fenella... I'm not sure there is anything to be done." McGonagall muttered quietly, trying to draw her attention away from the Headmaster. "The Death Eaters...."

"Don't try to patronize me, Minerva. I know quite well what the Death Eaters do to their victims. What I don't know is what you're going to do about Voldemort and his foolish games!"

Something inside Harry snapped, and he didn't have to pretend as he said calmly, "I think we've had enough games already, Mrs. Longbottom."

People turned to look at him.

Mrs. Longbottom glared. "Harry Potter. What are you going to do about this?" It was clear that she didn't think he could manage much better than Albus Dumbledore.

"I will challenge Voldemort to a duel," Harry said. The anger burning inside turned this into something far beyond a simple strategy, and right that moment he would have indeed issued any challenge possible and even believed in it, no matter how he knew all challenges would be futile. "That should get us Neville back."

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione hissed, "Don't! Harry knows what he's doing!" making him close his mouth and glare.

It once again looked like everyone else knew what was going on and he was left out of the loop. There would be some explaining to do later on!

Mrs. Longbottom's expression softened a little. "And he will accept your challenge?"

"He will if I make it official. It's almost new moon, and I have all the witnesses I need here." Raising his voice, Harry repeated with a louder voice, making the whole room echo with his words. "I hereby challenge Voldemort to a duel."

The sound of cheers and applauds in the room was almost deafening.

Ron couldn't believe his ears. What the hell? They were supposed to take care of Voldemort's troops and now Harry was throwing away his life for what? For revenge? "Are you insane?" he asked, his voice drowned by the catcalls and whistles.

"There will be no duel," Hermione said, leaning closer to him again. "Think about it, Ron. This isn't more than just another way to make him attack us."

Of course that kind of made sense, but Ron wasn't convinced. "Are you sure?" Well, refusing a challenge would make Voldemort look like a coward, so he had to react somehow, but would he really risk an attack when he could just walk to Harry and... risk everything.

Eyes widening, Ron turned to stare at Harry again. Seeing the small moue of displeasure on Harry's lips made him realize that Hermione had been absolutely right.

It was strange to watch things unfold and see behind what was shown on the surface. Ron could tell that Dumbledore and McGonagall weren't surprised by Harry's declaration, and neither was Snape who was still standing right behind Harry, as if offering silent support.

Ron realized Harry had known what would happen the moment they told him about Neville's disappearance. It made him slightly nauseous and he knew that would never be able to use anything as cold bloodedly as this.

McGonagall stepped closer to Harry. "Are you sure you want to do this, Mr. Potter?" There was genuine worry behind her quiet, planned words.

"I'm old enough to issue a challenge, and it's the right time for it. Yes, I'm sure." Harry nodded.

"According to the laws about dueling, you have to be an adult to issue a challenge, and the most traditional time for one is when the moon has waned." Hermione whispered into Ron's ear. "It would probably be even better around Halloween, but I'm sure this will work as well."

Ron could only nod at that, remembering the stories great-aunt Tessie had told him when he'd been little. They hadn't exactly been happy fairy tales about baby crups and bunnies.

They had given him nightmares for weeks.

Mrs. Longbottom wasn't looking angry anymore, her expression full of grief. "And will you bring my grandson back to me?" She raised her hand when she saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes. "Even to be buried. I... would like to have him back."

Instead of an enraged old madam, there was only a grieving grandmother left, someone who hadn't been able to bury her son even when he was lost to her, forced to only visit the living shell of him and his wife at St. Mungo's.

It reminded Harry of that awful scene at the cemetery over three years ago, making his ears buzz. He didn't want to bring anyone's body home to be buried, he never wanted to attend another funeral. But he had no choice but to nod, "I will bring him back if that's humanly possible."

She acknowledged that with a nod of her own, clearly unable to say anything else.

Minerva McGonagall took the few steps that separated her from Mrs. Longbottom, and this time the elderly woman allowed her to lead her away, accepting the soft words without a scathing comment.

One of the older Ministry officials, one of the few who had survived Fudge's last attempt for glory, approached Harry. "Mr. Potter!"

"Yes?" Steeling himself for whatever the man had to say, Harry quirked an eyebrow.

The man gushed about his bravery for a moment, getting both approving nods and exasperated looks from the people standing nearby. Then he got to the point, explaining the intricacies of a formal challenge, relishing the details and droning on and on about it.

Harry listened, nodding politely every time the man looked at him.

He agreed to go to the Ministry for the paperwork, even though all the witnesses here were enough to make it formal already. He also agreed to make the challenge public, knowing that there would undoubtedly be yet another special edition of the Prophet later on today, describing this very moment to everyone.

The official made a few notes on a parchment and then insisted on shaking Harry's hand. "This is indeed a glorious day, Mr. Potter! People in our world will tell your story forever."

Harry waited until the man was gone to let out a laugh that was so sharp it could cut anyone standing close enough. "Yeah. The great story of Harry Potter." He didn't even see the way Ron and Hermione cringed at that. "None of the great tales have a happy ending, now do they?"

How the hell could anyone suggest his actions were heroic now that they were on a fast track towards death and destruction, and one of his oldest friends had just disappeared? It was so wrong he didn't have words to describe the wrongness.

He didn't want to be remembered, to become another Godric Gryffindor. It would suit him perfectly if no one even remembered his name in ten years. Maybe becoming a legend was someone's dream, but it definitely wasn't his. All he wanted was to live in peace.

Needing to get away from this, Harry retreated to the corner with his broom, going through the motions of clearing the twigs even though they weren't even ruffled. The others from his team joined him soon after, followed by Ron, Hermione and Blaise who were talking quietly about something Hermione had read.

Harry listened to the others half heartedly, smiling just a little as he heard some of his old team mates ribbing Malfoy. It sounded nice, like something they might have said to any other player back when it was all about Quidditch, and Malfoy's response was equally light.

Some of the banter sounded forced at first, but they were soon enough bickering with gusto.

It was easier to concentrate on this as if it was nothing more than a preparation for a game. Whatever idiocies of fame and fortune others might sprout sounded as inviting as the horrible slavery Voldemort handed out as a prize to those foolish enough to follow him.

Maybe a gilded cage, but it still had bars that would hold you prisoner.

He sighed. Wishing people wouldn't focus on him was rather stupid considering he had just made the announcement they had probably all waited for.

"You okay?" Sliding into the empty chair next to Harry's, Ron nudged him.

Harry just stared at him.

"Oh. Yeah, stupid question." Ron shrugged. "Sorry. I just mean... I know what you're doing and being a friend here, you know?"

"It's okay. And thanks." Not that it changed anything, but Harry was still glad Ron was trying. He had to be just as upset with the thing with Neville as he was.

"So... Now we have a plan." It wasn't a question. "Like a plan that actually works?"

"Yeah."

"Mm hmm." Ron nodded, trying to look like he actually knew what was going on.

Harry looked into the distance as if he was trying to see something that was beyond his grasp. "One day, people far smarter than I will look back and analyse our actions here. They'll probably see exactly what we did wrong and what should have been done instead. But..." He shrugged, gaze focusing on Ron again. "Right now, I can't think of anything I could have really done better."

"Yeah." There was nothing Ron could really say to that.

"I mean, challenging Voldemort years ago would have got one of us dead, most likely me, but Dumbledore was right. It's not enough to get rid of him anymore. If I die..."

Ron flinched, hand moving to his wand. "Don't say that!" The mere thought was making his skin tingle unpleasantly.

"It's a possibility, Ron," Harry said. "Whatever happens to me, you'll all still fight to defeat the Death Eaters. It's not about him and me, it's about us and them."

It sounded unlikely to Ron. Surely their world would collapse if Harry... was lost now. He tried to imagine his father leading the troops with Dumbledore by his side, and to his astonishment it didn't seem as ridiculous as he'd thought.

Maybe they had all been changed by this.

"You don't think Voldemort will accept your challenge? Like... there will be no duel." Ron didn't know enough about the Dark Lord to make a guess either way, but somehow it didn't seem like he would abandon his plans and meet Harry alone somewhere.

Harry cocked his head, as if weighing whether to tell the whole truth or not. "No, I don't think he'll accept this challenge or come alone. I don't think he'll wait until I make it really official." He paused for a moment, the cold hard look creeping back into his eyes. "But I don't know if this war can ever really end without some kind of a confontation between the two of us." The smile on his lips wasn't amused. "That's what everyone wants, right? The great hero and the great villain meeting alone."

As always, Ron shivered at Harry saying things like that about himself, but he couldn't really say he was wrong. "And you think this will work?" He asked. "I mean, I get the whole thing with us picking a fight and the challenge at the waning moon and all that crap, but... How can we be sure they'll really come?"

Casting a brief look at professor Trelawney who was sipping her tea on the other side of the room, Harry wondered if they should indeed have Snape brew a potion that would make her actually prove she could handle real Divinations. It was morally ambiguous, but extremely tempting.

"It will work. The Death Eaters will come."

Harry jumped, and then turned to look at Blaise who was smiling slightly, his blind eyes focused on nothing at all. "Are you sure?" He could remember the Slytherin's weird behavior from weeks back, but was still reluctant to believe he had the Sight.

"Yes." Blaise nodded, his unseeing gaze suddenly on Harry. "The Death Eaters will come."

The certainty in his voice was so compelling that Harry knew without doubts that their long wait was finally over.

Harry couldn't help wishing he could grab a time turner and go back an hour or two just so that he could have a moment for himself and his thoughts.

All the long weeks of planning were coming to this; a few simple words from him that were more efficient in goading Voldemort into a fight than destroying his ancestral home had been. He'd known it for a long while that when the time arrived, they would have to move quickly. In a way it was the relief he'd expected.

Leaning his forehead against the window, he tried to tell himself that the feeling he was experiencing really was relief and not nausea.

It was all in place now, and the Death Eaters would come. They had all known that, some for weeks, some had known for years, and it had only been the question of when.

Now they knew.

Soon, the sun would set, revealing the darkness of the moonless night. It heralded the time of darker magic, the darkening time of the year only boosted that image, and Harry knew that with the challenge and the Ministry's evacuation to Hogsmeade, Voldemort could not stall anymore.

"Red caps... red caps... I can't remember how to destroy them!" Muttering frantically, Hermione grabbed another book, browsing through it with panic evident in every move. "Oh for... Who cares about red caps? I'm forgetting something important! Occamy!"

Harry listened to her mumble to herself, finding her last moment reading almost relaxing. It had been like this every time they had an exam; Hermione panicking even though she knew all the books by heart.

The fact that she was now hyperventilating and reaching out for yet another book was familiar, just like Ron's idle lazeing with a fizzy drink and a chunk of chocolate in front of him on the table.

They all dealt with the waiting their own way.

Sighing, Harry turned around to face the room. They wouldn't have to wait for long now that they knew the Death Eaters were coming.

He didn't want to stand here and contemplate anymore; things had moved so far from the realm of what ifs that he could just sit back and do nothing and it wouldn't change a thing. They had made all the preparations just the way they had planned ages ago.

"I think I'll go to bed." Ron stood up, ignoring the chocolate on the table. He looked slightly green, as if the idea of sitting here and drowning his worries in sweets was making him sick.

"Good idea." Nodding slightly, Harry added, "See you in the morning."

His words made Ron look even greener. "Yeah, right..." Ron took a few steps towards the door, and then stopped, glancing at Malfoy. "So, you coming or not?"

Draco had been busying with his broom, fussing over it unnecessarily as if any action was better than waiting. He looked a bit surprised at the invitation, but simply nodded, resting his broom against the wall and then joining Weasley on his way up.

No one in the living room said a word.

Harry could see that the others were ready to leave as well, Sirius leaning his head against Remus' shoulder, muttering soft words that would soon turn into caresses and Hermione gathering a few books to take to her bedroom.

He waited in silence as they got ready to leave the room, nodding his good nights and hugging Sirius tight. Then he was left alone, staring into the few candles Hermione had lit -- more out of habit than any real need -- for a moment before extinguishing the flames.

It had been a long day, and the evening had felt even longer with all the unsaid things hanging between them. Fortunately no one had been willing to talk about the fact that this could be the last evening they spent together like this, everyone concentrating on the moment.

Harry hadn't been surprised when Snape hadn't stayed, preferring to finish with his potions before retiring for the night.

Probably hoping that would avoid him from being a part of any emotional outbursts.

Sighing, Harry finally turned away from the fireplace and walked upstairs, his feet feeling heavy. Maybe it had been good Snape had chosen not to join the somber group in the living room; that way no one had been tempted to relieve the tension with angry words. Though Harry doubted anyone would have wanted to get into a fight tonight. They all knew there'd be plenty of that tomorrow.

The bathroom door was slightly ajar, showing that there was no one else up and about. Not that Harry had expected anyone to linger with their ablutions, especially since the sounds coming from behind Ron's door told him that both he and Draco were busy with something else.

He didn't waste extra time on his own evening routines either.

Snape was already sitting on the bed, a towel in his lap as he was working a familiar looking potion on his skin, covering his Dark Mark with a wince. "Potter."

Squinting his eyes with suspicion, Harry wondered if Snape had accidentally scrubbed the remains of the barrier potion off earlier or if he had tried to confirm the thing Blaise Zabini had already stated. It would be so like Snape to trust no one with things that really mattered.

He had no idea how the link between Snape and the Dark Lord worked, and was pretty sure he didn't want to know.

"Maybe after tomorrow you won't need that anymore," he muttered quietly, gesturing at the bottle half full of the green salve sitting on the table.

Snape refused to comment on the stupidity of Harry's words. They had always intended to throw everything they had at Voldemort on the day of the battle, and if they failed to defeat him tomorrow, it was most likely it meant the Dark Lord won. One way or the other, he would never have to use the barrier potion shielding the Dark Mark again; the potion would either become redundant or he would be dead.

He wasn't going to say that out loud either, unwilling to approach the subject of his own mortality, knowing all too well how Harry would react to such musings. "Maybe."

"They really are coming."

"Yes."

Harry nodded. No one had really doubted it, not when Blaise had said it, not when the long-eared owl had arrived bringing news from Hagrid about strange weather phenomena preventing him from traveling across the Channel, not when the small attacks had stopped as if all the Death Eaters had vanished somewhere.

Most likely gathering in their stronghold, just like people had been moving to Hogwarts and Hogsmeade these past two days.

Harry walked quietly to sit next to Snape. Waiting until he was finished with the potion, Harry leaned against him, needing the contact.

Neither said a word as Snape wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer. They simply sat there for a long time.

It was getting darker outside, even though it was still bright enough to see without a magical light or candles. Yawning, Harry toed his socks off and then squirmed out of his robes before crawling under the blankets.

He smiled slightly as Snape cast a pointed look at the clothes he'd abandoned on the floor before standing up and slowly undressing himself.

"Snape?" Harry didn't know why this felt even more difficult than that first time he'd ever really talked to Snape about things. They hadn't been lovers then, not even friends -- mutual hate was probably the best way to describe what they shared -- and still he didn't know how to say this. "May I ask you something?"

Knowing all too well that this would be extremely emotional, Snape suppressed a sigh and nodded curtly. He had been expecting something like this, and the fact that Harry was asking him in private and not in front of others was a small blessing.

"What do you want to do afterwards? I mean... After. If we survive." It was something Harry hadn't dared to ask before. He barely managed to think about the future himself, unable to really contemplate a time he wouldn't have to worry about everything.

He usually just imagined a peaceful life, happily thinking about utter boredom.

Snape blinked. This wasn't what he'd expected. He couldn't answer it right away, pondering the matter as he folded his robes over a chair. For years now, life had been about fighting Voldemort and trying to defeat him. He had no hopes or dreams beyond that.

Surviving? It had always been about that. Even when he'd risked his life for their cause he'd never taken unnecessary chances. Not before Harry Potter had wormed his way to his life. How absurd he had never considered this; had never believed he really deserved a life after the battles against the Death Eaters.

"I don't know."

The perfect life had always meant the small rooms in the Slytherin dungeons. He knew Albus would take him back if they survived the war and that he could resume his position as the Potions professor and live the rest of his life in Hogwarts, terrifying children and brewing his potions in peace.

He realized the thought wasn't as pleasing as he might have imagined.

It was strange to contemplate the future like this. "I guess... It would be a good time to retire." No more children to herd, no more idiots to teach. That would certainly be wonderful. "I could find a small house somewhere far away from people."

The cottage they had stayed in didn't seem too far from his dream.

He didn't want to spend a lot of energy imagining a future that might not be, but the possibility of concentrating on new potions and maybe even tutoring those who weren't completely inept in his line of work was exhilarating. His life that he would choose for himself, not something he had to do out of duty. It was almost too much to even contemplate.

Harry closed his eyes. Peace and quiet sounded like bliss to him. "That sounds perfect." His chest ached with dozens of things he wanted to ask, but his throat couldn't squeeze out the words.

He didn't want to look at Snape. It was better just to lie here and imagine for just a little while that they were actually planning a future together.

"No, Potter, that's a simple thought. Perfection would require house elves there to take care of the mess you'd undoubtedly create."

Opening his eyes in shock, Harry could only stare. Then he had to blink hard. "Oh."

There was nothing on Snape's face to indicate he even acknowledged the enormity of what he had just said, but Harry was sure he hadn't just said that out loud to please him, or as an unconscious comment about Harry's robes on the floor.

While Snape's expression was unreadable, his gaze was open, shining with a myriad of emotions, none of which were malicious. The usual half sarcastic self-mocking glint was gone, replaced by something quite incomprehensible.

Harry smiled a bit wobbly, his throat squeezing shut, and it was a relief to have Snape take that step forward and tilt Harry's jaw so that he could easily kiss him. It was a gentle brush of lips that left Harry breathless.

It was always unwise to make assumptions like this, but Snape was certain of the one he'd just made. Harry had made it all too clear more than once that he wanted this, and considered -- or at least hoped -- their arrangement was permanent.

He'd been right when he'd thought all this was far from being innocent and harmless. No matter how foolishly Gryffindor Harry was with his straightforwardness, the things were far more dangerous than any games Snape had ever played.

"I'd like that," Harry managed to whisper. "I'd like that a lot." Images of sharing such a simple life with Snape filled his mind, full of memories from their stay at the cottage, where it had been so easy to just be and maybe do some chores and forget all about the world that hungered for his presence.

It was better than anything he could dream of.

"Yes, maybe then I would actually find my socks," Snape muttered, gesturing at his bare feet as if to remind Harry of the earlier discussion about laundry.

He slid between the sheets, trying to find a comfortable position even as Harry wriggled closer to him as usual, smirking as Harry let out a loud yelp as their feet collided.

"Cold feet!" Harry muttered, knowing all too well that Snape wasn't at all sympathetic to his complaints.

Letting out a snort, Snape endured the squirming and protests and waited for Harry to settle down and melt against him as he did every single night.

Snape wasn't certain what made this so addictive. It wasn't the way Harry touched him or arched against him, naked and needing more. It wasn't the frantic blur of torn robes and drive towards completion.

Snuggling even closer to him, Harry kissed his neck and then made snuffling sounds, burying his nose to his skin.

There was no need for anything more, the silent evening lulling both into mellow drowsiness.

Snape's hand pushed its way beneath Harry's T-shirt, making slow, lazy circles on his back. He liked the simple touch, enjoying the pleased murmurs from Harry as well.

This was like most things with Harry; an embrace he offered willingly, even eagerly, not lying to himself about its purpose anymore. It wasn't necessary to think about things he could give to Harry. He shared the pleasure of this simple touch.

Harry tightened his arm around Snape.

He didn't want to think beyond this moment, not even to fantasize about the future. He definitely didn't want to think of this as goodbye.

Murmuring a few soft sounds that formed no real words, he pressed a kiss against Snape's skin again, not wanting to blurt out any emotional phrases or promises.

He doubted they could really add to this moment.

Harry felt a soft brush of lips against his temple and smiled. "Is this Slytherin emotionalism?" he murmured quietly, unable to resist teasing Snape.

"I do hope so. It would be extremely disappointing to have your idiotic traits to start rubbing off on me." Snape's voice was too mellow for the words, but he didn't seem to care about that now. "Go to sleep."

"Okay." It wouldn't be that simple, but Harry didn't want to waste any more time on words that in the end meant nothing.

He rested his head on Snape's shoulder, relaxing even more under his touch, smiling as Snape's hand slowly moved across his back.

Tomorrow would dawn soon enough, even though nighttime hadn't really fallen yet. Everywhere in Hogsmeade, people were now getting ready to fight, some going through strategies and plans one last time, some simply enjoying the presence of their loved ones.

There had been other fights, other battles, but inside, Harry knew this would be the battle. Hopefully the last one. They would not surrender, would not stop until Voldemort was defeated for good.

People would die. It was quite probable that he would die as well, and though facing the Dark Lord was the most dangerous thing he could think of, going to the Malfoy Mansion wouldn't be much safer.

It was far worse to think about that than it was to think about dying himself.

Harry listened to Snape breathe, refusing to waste this moment on contemplating death. This was yet again one of those good moments, perfection that would be etched in his mind for as long as he would live. It could be only a matter of hours, it could be for decades, but this one moment would remain there.

He liked the idea; it was almost like the happy ending everyone always wanted, even though the endings in life were rarely happy. Inside this room he had everything he could ever desire and for someone who'd never got what he really wanted, that was happiness beyond measure.

Determined to hold onto it for a while longer, he closed his eyes.

Harry was awake at the brink of dawn.

He squeezed his eyes shut after one glance at the window. It wasn't bright enough for him to get up, but he didn't feel sleepy anymore. Maybe it would be the best for him to just lie here and enjoy the soft sounds of Snape breathing.

Realization hit him a moment later, driving all thoughts of relaxation out of his mind.

This was the day they had all been waiting for. The sunrise was a sign, the dawn of the battle. All the preparations they had made, all the years they had plotted and planned and suffered had led them to this day.

His first thought was to crawl under the blankets and never come out again, but after a few breaths he let go of the panic, knowing that while it was normal, it wouldn't change anything.

He was going to have to get up and do his duty, so that maybe some day soon he would have the luxury of spending the whole day in bed without worrying about the Order or their world or anything.

Sighing, he pushed the blankets away, only then noticing that Snape was awake as well. "Morning."

"Yes, it is." Not bothering with the niceties, Snape sat up. "We should get ready."

Harry nodded, knowing that any other words would simply make him want to stay in bed for longer. "Yeah."

They went through their morning routines quietly, sharing the bathroom under the pretense of saving time, neither commenting on the quiet companionship. Harry finished his ablutions first, dressing up and then waiting for Snape as the man spread the familiar potion on his Dark Mark, hopefully for the last time.

The others were already up, and Sirius and Remus were getting ready to leave with Hermione, their operation the first action planned for the day.

Harry half wished they had left already, wondering just how many teary goodbyes he could deal with today. He was pleasantly surprised when Sirius enfolded him into a bear hug, followed by a few pats in the back and his eternal Gryffindor optimism as he muttered, "We'll deal with the creepy crawlies and then come and watch you kick Voldemort's arse."

After a few similar words from both Remus and Hermione, Harry padded into the kitchen, not wishing to watch them leave.

Sirius' false cheer dropped from his face immediately.

"So are we ready?" Looking from Sirius to Hermione, Remus finally gestured at the door. "Let's go then." There was nothing more to do, really.

"I'm ready," Hermione muttered, tucking the slim Scamander book into her pocket just in case she needed it.

"Snape." Barking the name out, Sirius looked at the man from the doorway, ignoring the worried looks Remus was casting at him. "Wait a moment."

Snape raised an eyebrow, wondering what on earth would the mutt have to say to him.

Sirius stared at Snape, for once his gaze devoid of the smallest hint of resentment. "If I don't come back, make sure he will be all right." It was half a plea, half a command.

"Of course."

Taking a deep breath, Sirius nodded. That would be good enough. He knew that Snape was a complete bastard, but for some reason he could be trusted with this. "But if I do come back..." His voice deepened into a growl.

"You will still hate me as much as ever. Yes, Black, that is quite obvious and the feeling is completely mutual." Snape sneered. In time, he might be able to tolerate the mutt's presence, but the truth was that the less time they spent in the same village the better.

He turned away, not watching the three Gryffindors leave.

No one seemed to have any appetite that morning -- even Ron who had slept longer than usual was just nibbling his toast -- but they all ate anyway, not knowing when they might have the chance to eat the next time. No one mentioned the fact that this might be their last meal either.

Everyone in Hogsmeade seemed to be ready, people milling around in the streets, waiting. When Harry and his friends finally emerged from their house, no one said a word, but it was clear what they had been waiting for. United, the army of Aurors and the Order of the Phoenix made their way towards Hogwarts.

Eppy and Bob stood at the doorway, watching the witches and wizards pass by.

There was a crowd waiting at the Great Hall, the professors getting ready to join the fight. Small groups were forming here and there; the different task forces preparing to leave as soon as everyone was present.

Arabella Figg nodded briefly at Harry before going to Snape, her face grim. Everyone knew that their mission to the Malfoy Mansion would be the most dangerous assignment, not counting the main force staying to defend Hogwarts of course.

Harry simply nodded back at her.

This was it. Funny how he felt none of the things he'd always thought he would as he watched people get ready for the fight. His mind was filled with a strange combination of exhilaration, relief and utter terror, forming a loop that didn't allow any emotion to gain dominance over the others.

He looked at his friends, smiling a little as he saw Draco adjust his flying robes. Still a Slytherin to the core, his new black robes lined with silver and green, looking perfectly groomed even now.

Next to him, Ron was pulling off one of his boots and wriggling his toes, looking really pale. Harry sighed. He wished he could be there with his friends, but knew that in the end, he'd just be in the way in the melee. It was best to stay out of the crossfire and look for his real enemy, no matter how uncomfortable the idea felt.

Flying was what he did best.

Harry watched Parvati Patil tie her long hair into a ponytail. It was a good precaution; even Draco had combed his hair back again, the hairgel making it look like a slick blond helmet covering his head.

Of course Snape's only concession to the situation was to push some of the greasy locks behind his ears.

"Are you ready?" Finishing with his robes, Draco looked at Harry. "We should get in the air before the Death Eaters arrive." His voice was tight. Somewhere amongst the masked figures was his own father, surrounded by people Draco had known all his life.

Fastening the gloves tight, Harry nodded. What else could he do; say that he would probably never be ready for this and would prefer to run and hide?

He wasn't even sure that was true anymore.

"Good." Draco brushed his hand down his front, adjusting the robes one more time. Then he grabbed his broom. Most of their small team was already outside, waiting for them to join them. There was really nothing left for him here.

Except for one thing.

The broom clattered against the flagstones as Draco twirled around. Weasley didn't even seem surprised by the sudden movement and allowed himself to be pulled into a fierce embrace. It felt as natural as breathing, the slender figure against him, the strong hands holding him tight. Both knew that everyone was watching, but neither really cared. If someone wanted to make comments about them, they could just go ahead.

There was an eerie silence in the room.

Ron let everything else fade away as Malfoy's hand touched the back of his head and guided him into a hungry kiss. He was terrified of what lay ahead, suddenly realizing this could well be the last time for everything.

What a stupid moment to admit to himself that maybe he really didn't hate Draco Malfoy anymore. That maybe shagging and fighting and then shagging again sounded better than dying or losing people he didn't hate. He still didn't like Malfoy, but damn it, he didn't want to see him dead!

And he definitely didn't want to lose his own life either.

Closing his eyes, Draco let his lips move against Weasley's, devouring his mouth. Then he let go, stepping back before the need to melt against Weasley could override his mind. "Accio Nimbus!"

As soon as the broom jumped to his hand, he turned around and walked out of the Great Hall without looking back.

Leaving Ron stare after him with a tight expression on his face.

It took a moment for everyone standing nearby to shake off the shock and continue with their preparations. Bill Weasley was muttering softly from under his breath as he shoved his wand into the holster on his belt, his expression telling everyone that he was definitely going to have a long discussion with his little brother later on.

"What a lovely display."

Harry smiled a little at the dry voice. He didn't need to look up to know that Snape was standing right next to him. "Yes. I thought so too." The snort that his words produced was exactly what he'd expected. "Is your group ready?"

"Yes. They're ready to leave." Snape nodded.

The panic flooding over Harry was unexpected. He'd thought he would be able to deal with this, considering how calm he'd felt all day, but now that the time to go was finally here, he realized he was far from ready. Then as soon as the terror had come, it was gone, buried beneath the knowledge that ready or not, this had to be done now. Only after defeating Voldemort could there ever be the peace he so desperately craved.

"Then you go in there, take care of the business and get out of there. Burn the place down if you have to, just make sure there will be nothing there to aid Voldemort's people ever again." He was glad Draco wasn't there to hear him say it.

There was another nod.

Harry didn't know what else to say; all the platitudes he could come up with sounded stupid and anything personal would surely choke him.

"Harry." It came out calmly. Only the fire in the dark gaze told about Snape's inner turmoil.

Swallowing down the wobbly grin that threatened to spread on his face, Harry raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" He knew there wouldn't be any earth shattering goodbyes, not in public, but damn it, Snape could have chosen another moment to call him by his first name.

Snape stared at him for a moment, then raised his hand to touch Harry's arm, a quick brush of fingers against the thick flying robes. "Don't get killed."

He resented leaving Harry like this; the idiot would be in more danger than ever and he wouldn't be there to protect him.

"I'll try not to," Harry said.

"Good." It was really all Snape could ask.

Harry looked at Snape, knowing all too well that this could be the last time he ever saw the man. All the things they had said last night, all the unsaid promises, and there was still so much he wanted Snape to know. So many things he wanted to do or say and now time had ran out and all they had was this. "Snape, I..."

He couldn't finish the sentence, already losing the grip he had on all his emotions, the ache and the nervous clenching in his stomach driving the calm away.

He couldn't do this now.

"Go!" Drawing the detachment around himself like a cloak, Harry copied Snape's gesture, his fingers brushing against Snape's sleeve. "I'll see you when this is all over."

This was not the time for confessions. He wished there would be a chance to make them later on, when it really would be over and he wouldn't have to think about fighting and dying.

There were no other words, no other touches. With one last look, Snape turned around, his robes billowing. Harry refused to watch him go, fearing he couldn't just let him walk away if he did.

People were leaving. The small groups that were to attack the stronger manors and mansions around their world were gathering outside, letting portkeys hurl them to their destinations. Those who would spread out on the grounds or go to the Forbidden Forest were already on their way, those who would stay closer to the castle and protect it with their lives were saying their goodbyes.

Harry walked slowly through the corridors, gazing at the empty paintings on the walls. Everyone was gone. The people in the paintings and the ghosts had all traveled to places where they could see outside, crowding the windowed areas.

He could hear the sound of children running and laughing somewhere deep inside the castle, and wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him. There should be no one here yet, the school term starting weeks from now. If the school still stood then.

Steeling himself against the need to go and check it out, Harry went on towards the main entry. The school was still Dumbledore's responsibility.

The world outside was his.

Right inside the great doors leading to the courtyard stood a man with a small form of a fluffy cat sitting next to him. He was holding a pitchfork.

Harry said nothing as he passed him by, barely noticing the glare Filch cast at him. Yes. Everyone was ready.

The purebloods, the Muggleborns, the Squibs. The members of the Order standing side by side with Aurors, the professors with youngsters who had barely finished school. All of them making a stand here, at the heart of their world.

They would all die before they let Voldemort take over. Everyone knew that, most probably trying very hard not to think about the fact that the battle would indeed claim lives. Still, they were standing here, standing and fighting. No one would ever again have to face these horrors if they succeeded in their task of ridding the world of the Dark Lord and his followers.

Harry took a deep breath. All the games and the playacting had grated on his nerves for months, but this here, this group of people getting ready to defend their world, this was right. It wasn't about one man being a hero, it was about all of them doing what they had to do.

That was the one thought he held on to as his steps carried him over the threshold, out of Hogwarts and its protective walls into the battlefield.

Outside, the sun was almost reaching its zenith.

It was a beautiful day.

"Harry."

"Harry Potter!"

Nodding to everyone who called out his name, Harry walked to the small group standing with their brooms ready. The gesture was instinctive and needed no extra thought.

This time the greetings and the attention weren't unfounded; they were really standing here as his army and he was going to lead them into battle. No matter how many people called out his name, he acknowledged them and then moved on.

Draco Malfoy grinned at him, his expression strangely feral. "Harry." There was the slightest incline of his head.

Harry responded in kind. "Draco." He stopped for a moment to clasp the offered hand, needing this brief moment of contact.

He spent a similar moment with everyone in his group of the 'wizarding air force', saying back names no matter how he was called. Most of the people called him Harry or Potter, but to the Gryffindors, he was 'captain'. The smiles accompanying the title were just as feral as Draco's had been.

The smile on Harry's lips was probably the same.

Stepping in front of George who was adjusting the gloves the same way both he and his twin had always fussed with them before a game, Harry nodded at him in greeting before saying quietly, "Be careful out there. No unnecessary heroics."

"Wouldn't dream of anything like that." The smirk on George's face was full of mischief. "No, sir!"

Harry shook his head, clasping his hand on George's shoulder. "I mean it. No stupid stunts out there, guys. Both of you." Seeing the way George's eyes widened at that, he added. "Do I make myself clear?"

Not even bothering to hide his amazement, George nodded. "Yeah. We'll be careful. You got my word for it. Wouldn't want to disappoint mum by killing us both."

"Good." Squeezing slightly with his hand before letting go of his friend, Harry turned his back to George and then moved to exchange a few words with Oliver Wood.

When they were finished with the final greetings, Harry made a small gesture, and they all mounted their brooms. Without really thinking about it, they had already taken the group formation on the ground, ready to start flying together.

Without a word, Harry kicked himself up in the air.

Everything was so much more coherent from up high, and Harry could see clearly the different parts of the army moving around the grounds. Those who were still lingering close to the castle stared at him, and he wondered if they expected him to say something. Maybe give a speech of the importance of this day of all days and remind them of what they were fighting for.

Act like their great hero and cheer them all.

As much as he thought that they all deserved to have a good leader, someone who could inspire them to do great things, there were no words. He couldn't think of anything uplifting or heroic to say. Didn't know how to take away peoples' fear for he was scared as hell himself.

Harry looked at his airborne taskforce, meeting somber gazes and knowing they felt just like he did. "Let's make sure this really is the final battle."

He wasn't prepared with the way his voice thundered with the force of a sonorus, just as he wasn't prepared for the strong gust of wind that lifted him higher in the sky than he'd planned to fly. For a moment he raised above Hogwarts, circling the Gryffindor Tower before retaking his position as the leader of their flying squadron.

His robes fluttered wildly in the wind like a banner.

Down on the ground, people cheered at the sight, calling out his name and waving their wands in the air.

Ignoring the slight annoyance he felt at the clearly magical wind and the old man who had so obviously conjured it up, Harry set his gaze on the horizon and then started the journey towards the gates as if he'd just spotted the Snitch there.

Determined, with nothing else in the whole world to distract him from his goal.

They were so used to the waiting, it was almost unreal when Madam Hooch called out, "I think I can see them!"

Even after Blaise's prophetic words and the assurances that Voldemort would indeed have no choice but to attack, Harry had to swallow as he saw the Death Eaters in the horizon.

Wiping her sweaty palms on her robes one by one, Angelina stared into the distance. "I didn't realize there'd be so many of them..."

Harry kept his gaze on the horizon as well, knowing that it was no illusion. The Death Eaters were really a small army now, their number probably about as great as the joined forces standing against them. Even more, the masks and the robes and the occasional scythe he could see even from here gave the Death Eaters the advance of fear.

"All right then. Let's head back. Break the formation!" Harry called out, his hand repeating his orders in the silent gestures as if this was indeed a game.

His troops followed his order immediately.

Hermione raised a handkerchief to her face, trying to keep from coughing even as the acrid smoke made her eyes burn.

"Are you all right?"

Nodding at Remus' question, she finished with her incantation and released yet another charm at the warehouse filled with jars and bundles of dead creatures. The place was somewhat fire resistant, and it took all her concentration to make the fire charms work.

She was just glad she'd been appointed to this task instead of actually going after the living creatures.

There had been relatively little actual fighting, with only a few wizards left to defend the compound. Most had been getting ready with carts and carriages filled with barrels full of something that had exploded with the first fire charms, leaving only one masked Death Eater to try to ward the Order away.

Hermione had been there to see him fall.

Some of the huge pens had been empty, but there were still dark creatures caged in the compound, and Hermione didn't ask Remus what was happening to them. She knew some of them were at least half sentient, and no matter how she told herself this was war, she didn't want to know.

"We're almost finished here," Sirius yelled as he approached them, coughing at the smoke. It was fairly obvious why he wasn't in his Animagus form.

Remus wiped a hand over his sooty brow and nodded. "Yes. After we're certain we've destroyed everything, we should get back to Hogwarts!"

Muttering out another fire charm, ignoring the high pitched squeal that came from somewhere inside one of the warehouses, Hermione tried not to think about the fact that this was only the beginning.

Now that the waiting was finally over, it was all too clear what they would do.

Harry swept over the yard, dismayed by the completely inappropriate exhilaration that always accompanied him when he was flying. The familiar landmarks could almost make this feel like a Quidditch match, though now his gaze was trained on larger targets than the snitch, the silent figure next to him an ally and not an adversary.

It was strange; three Seekers in the air together, forming a small group that was followed by others. He kept his gaze down on the ground, trying to concentrate on the fight even as his instincts were screaming to him about Draco hovering somewhere to his left and Laura Madley flying right behind him.

There had been a moment of hesitation, an oppressive feeling in the very air he was soaring through, as the first attack had come, aimed at the protective barriers guarding the school.

Then it had become easier to breathe again, as the wards around Hogwarts grounds had failed, Voldemort's first victory won hard enough to actually seem like real work instead of Dumbledore letting go and then allowing the dark robed masses to swarm through the gates.

Green sparks erupted here and there below, as the most eager Death Eaters flung the death curse without hesitations. Most of the Order members seemed to work on less malevolent curses, but there were those who were answering darkness with darkness, and they weren't all older Aurors who had already seen too much death.

Standing next to the main entrance of Hogwarts, side by side with the Headmaster, professor McGonagall was holding her ground, her blue gaze burning with rage as she aimed curses at the small group of Death Eaters who had somehow managed to get past all the wards and were now trying to invade the castle itself.

Harry shivered as he saw her fling the familiar hex at the approaching Death Eater, dropping the masked figure with two simple words.

He remembered what Snape had said about rescuing her from the Malfoy Mansion and how she had used non lethal force to subdue her torturers. There was no sign of such consideration now.

"Avada Kedavra!" Her voice rang cool over the distance, as if she was chastising a student who was late from class.

Harry couldn't really blame her.

Seeing that everything was going more or less as planned, he flew higher, dodging a few stray curses flung at him. He couldn't get involved with the fighting yet, no matter how a part of him was screaming at him to get down there and do something. His job was to aid and assist if he could and keep an eye on the Death Eaters so he could find his real foe.

It would be so much easier if he still had his Invisibility Cloak and he could just fly around as he pleased and try to target Voldemort without the risk of being killed. Then the stray thought was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

He'd totally forgotten about the whole cloak, and it was now too late to do anything about it. He couldn't focus on what he couldn't change right now. Gaze sweeping over the mayhem down below, he tried to spot Voldemort, hoping it would all be over soon.

That would be the real battle, even though the larger one was probably just as important for the safety of their world. But him facing Voldemort would be the chance to end this all for good, that was his part in all this, like it was for some to stand firm on the ground and for others to destroy the Dark Lord's strongholds.

No matter what happened afterwards, that wouldn't be of his concern. This was the fight he intended to win, and the rest was someone else's problem.

Swooping down in a graceful arch, he almost laughed out loud. How insane was it to think of something like that right now?

Then again, there were probably more insane things in the world.

Since most of the people on his team were members of the Order, Snape had no problems ordering them to spread out across the Mansion. His curt words about secret cupboards and vaults weren't questioned; even the few Aurors went where he directed.

It was highly satisfying.

They had to hurry to secure the place, for who knew just when the first Death Eaters tucked tail and ran from the battlefield. Snape sent the least experienced witches and wizards to herd out the house elves and some of the Aurors to place Narcissa Malfoy under arrest. He didn't want to be forced to kill Draco's mother, remembering how she had never been an enemy, not during their school years, or the dark nightmare following them.

Waving the young Order members who were hovering behind him to go and check the library and the huge ballroom, Snape took a detour to the small sitting room before he could go to see the place he knew the best.

Some things were too private to be handed to others. Snape had to fight the urge to look over his shoulder as he walked to the chest hidden in plain sight and then poured acidic potion over the documents inside without bothering to take a look.

He was destroying the evidence of a past he wished he could evaporate as easily, not hesitating for a moment. Nothing good would come to those who might survive and even repent their actions if the parchments were ever found by the Ministry.

It wasn't merely self defense; he was protecting his Slytherins as well.

A soft whisper of a sound from the doorway made Snape retreat to the shadows. The heavy velvet curtains offered a good place to hide.

He watched quietly as a barely visible human form slipped into the room with only a soft rustling of expensive robes heralding its approach.

There had been a time when he had known every single person who might have appeared in this house from the way they walked, the tilt of the head, the scent. Small gestures under the hooded robes and the masks screamed out identities better than anything.

Sense memory kicked in as the newcomer closed the door, the gust of air sending a hint of a familiar fragrance towards Snape. One of his old concoctions, the expensive ingredients a proof it was made for only one person, the function of the potion no more sinister than a simple perfume.

He held his wand tighter and stepped away from the shadows. He knew exactly who this was and couldn't hex her from behind.

"Narcissa." Snape greeted the blond woman with a curt nod.

The robed figure wavered for a moment before stilling. Turning around, Narcissa Malfoy smiled coldly. "I should have known they would send you here." Her posture was tense, but she wasn't holding her wand.

Snape remembered how she had always been the one to plot behind the scenes at school, using her mind to push others forward and then watch events unfold. If only Lucius and Voldemort hadn't been so eager to consider most women as a mere necessity to breed, Narcissa would have made a far more formidable enemy than her husband could ever be.

"Have you come to kill me then?" Still not showing any sign of fear, Narcissa spread her arms a little. "Go ahead. We both know you will never take me alive to Azkaban."

"I'm not here for that. We came here for the house and you're simply a bonus." Snape didn't believe the faint shock spreading to Narcissa's face, the expression almost as calculated as that on Draco's face sometimes. "Don't. Don't force me to destroy both you and that portkey you're so innocently reaching for."

Narcissa stilled completely, her hand still too far from the vase she was trying to grab. "You always were too clever for your own good, Severus." Her gaze was cold. "What are you waiting for? I said you'll never take me alive."

There was a moment of silence as Snape stared at her. Then he shook his head. "I don't want to kill you, Narcissa."

It didn't convince her. "Oh really?" She squinted her eyes and searched his face for any signs of deception. Seeing he actually meant what he was saying, she let out an amused laughter. "Dear Merlin! Sentimentality always was your greatest flaw, Severus. You would spare me for old times' sake?"

"No. But I will spare you for the sake of your son. Remember him, Narcissa?"

Snape's words made her stop laughing.

There was a hint of regret on Narcissa Malfoy's face that disappeared a moment later. She nodded ever so slightly, as if really trying to remember the existence of her only child. "Like I said, Severus. You're a sentimental fool."

Snape knew what would happen next, but he made no movement to stop her. Keeping his wand pointed at her, he watched her spin around and grab the glass vase perched on the shelf.

He never knew if the sound of Draco's name he heard really came from Narcissa as she disappeared through the portkey or if it was simply a figment of his own imagination. He preferred thinking she had said it herself. It would be the one good memory he could ever offer the boy. If they both survived this.

Not bothering to stay for longer, Snape turned back to the door.

"Everything all right?" Arabella panted as she hurried towards Snape with a small group of the Order members in tow. "I thought I heard voices here."

Snape didn't have to think about it twice. "Just a house elf." The sneer on his face was perfectly formed. "There's nothing in here that would interest us. We should move on."

"Good. Let's go."

The small group of witches and wizards spread out, sneaking through the corridor with their wands drawn.

Floor by floor they searched through the Mansion. The Aurors concentrated on the vault they had found on the ground floor, others inspecting the upper floors.

Snape waited long enough to see that there would be no real problems facing the team and then went down to the basement. The two wizards and the witch following him seemed to almost swoon as they entered the dark corridor, feeling the dark magic all around them. He ignored the familiar feeling.

They still had a lot to do here.

Watching with satisfaction as the people following him actually recognized most of the wards around him, Snape left the three to work with the storage areas and went on alone. He knew what lay ahead and company would only hinder him now.

"Lumos." Not apprehensive about the dark, he still preferred lots of light around him in this place of all places where memories of death and suffering echoed in every footstep and his own past was tangible all around him. It was appropriate that this would be his part in this battle, and he was more than ready to destroy the evil that lingered here and make sure no one else would ever again have to face it.

Focusing a little too strongly on the people down below, Draco allowed himself to be drawn to a fight that had erupted between a group of some of the younger Order members and Death Eaters, noting only too late that his decision had pulled him away from the safety of the flying group.

He tried to fly away as soon as it was clear that their people could hold well against the Death Eaters, but then there had been others, stronger in magic, and he'd been forced to concentrate all his attention on staying alive.

"Fuck!" Apparently Weasley's crude vocabulary had rubbed off on Draco after all. He fought hard to hold his broom steady as the masked figure down below aimed more hexes at him.

Swearing didn't really help, but it did make him feel a bit better as his broom bucked as if it was alive and resented the one riding it.

Draco squeezed his thighs tighter together around the broom, his right hand trying to aim his wand even though it was almost impossible to really focus in the assault. The Death Eater down below was skilled, maybe too powerful for him.

Grinding his teeth together, Draco forced his broom to obey him, managing just barely to aim the next hex.

Before he could fling a curse at the masked man, the Death Eater pushed back his hood, revealing a shock of silver-blond hair with an arrogant practiced gesture.

"No..." It was just a whisper. Draco didn't let go of his wand, but he felt utterly nerveless anyway.

He had known this would happen. In his nightmares, he had faced the man on the battlefield over and over again. All those dreams had left him completely empty.

It felt even worse in reality.

His whole existence had been based on his family, the Malfoys, who had sent their sons to the first class taught by Salazar Slytherin when he and the other three had founded Hogwarts. Their blood had remained nearly pure throughout the centuries, dictating the traditions they followed with pride.

Nothing had ever mattered to him more than the family line; the unbroken chain uniting the first Malfoys to him. The line which would one day bind his children to the traditions as well. That was what had been taught to him, and he still believed in those teachings.

Blood meant everything.

Lucius Malfoy yelled, "Come on down, Draco. It's useless to fight." His tone was as haughty as ever.

Not bothering to reply, Draco flicked his wand and sent a well aimed cruciatus at his father. Whatever hesitation he'd felt earlier was now gone; his father had chosen his path, and so had he. His dreams had been filled with foolish emotionalism and subconscious memories from his childhood.

He wasn't that child anymore.

He was a Malfoy, proud of it. And he was not going to listen to someone who killed other purebloods because an insane Mudblood ordered him to.

Holding onto the anger that had been simmering inside ever since he'd fought Aurors who thought his name described sinister insanity, he pointed his wand at his father again.

The curse didn't make Lucius even flinch. He muttered something, the air around him shimmering. Then he raised his wand.

Draco knew what would come next. His father wouldn't waste his time now. Any other time, there would have been curses of pain and humiliation, the two lesser Unforgivables flung at him for hours until death came as a relief. This time, there would be two words and green sparks and with shock, Draco realized it was quite possible he wouldn't survive the next few seconds.

"Malfoy!"

Before he could curse his son, Lucius heard his name yelled at him. He turned around, smiling behind his mask as he saw who was calling out for him. Even though cold rage had replaced the vacant look in the man's eyes, he'd recognize the second hand robes and the carrot top anywhere. "Weasley."

Mouth going dry, Draco watched Arthur Weasley approach with his wand drawn. The usually so mild mannered man looked completely mad with rage.

He didn't hesitate for a second. "Crucio!" He pointed the curse at his father, not surprised when it didn't hit. But at least his actions were buying Weasley time. He cursed again, this time almost hitting the man below, forcing him to jump to the side. The polished mask fell from his face, making no sound as it landed on the grass.

Lucius Malfoy looked up, irritation clear on his face. "Draco!"

"Go to hell!" It felt so good to say that out loud, Draco yelled it again, accenting it with yet another curse.

From behind Lucius, a large man was running towards them, his robes askew and the mask on his face looking like it was going to fall any minute. "Lord Malfoy!" Agitated, he rushed towards his master.

Draco would have recognized Vince's father even without hearing his voice. The man had been following his father forever, like his son had shadowed him.

The duel between Arthur Weasley and his father was now raging fully, so Draco turned his attention to Crabbe, wondering if he would have to face his old friend next. Pushing away every thought of old friendships and regrets, he grabbed the handle of his broom tighter and focused on this new threat.

Hoping that rage and grief would win over arrogance in the fight between his father and Weasley's.

No real ghosts lingered in the Malfoy Mansion, but the shadows the small light cast on the walls seemed to paint the horrors from ages past for everyone to see.

Snape didn't spare one look at them, muttering out charms and sprinkling potions on the stone floor.

Clearing the basement was taking longer than he'd thought. Lucius had clearly moved some of his precious mementos from the vault to down here; to be used in obscure Death Eater rituals or to be kept safe.

No matter how long this took, Snape was determined to make certain he found every cache here. There would be no place for the surviving dark wizards to flee to.

The walls were trembling, as if the ancient mansion was trying to fight him away on its own. Snape walked faster, needing to get to the dungeon as fast as he could. He could feel the strength of the magic here, and knew it was probably only a matter of time before the whole building collapsed on him.

He didn't want to be here in the basement when that happened.

This was the last place to search. The Aurors and Figg were probably finished with the vault already. He would check out the last of the cells and then they would be on their way.

Water was dripping down from somewhere, the sound making it feel like there was someone here with him. Snape ignored the feeling, continuing his way down the corridor. The magical light from his wand didn't reach far, but there was plenty of light here anyway; the walls themselves glowed sickly green.

Snape saw the doorway where the remnants of the door still hung on the hinges, the splintered wood looking scarred. For a flash of a second he could remember walking out of the room with Minerva clinging to him, the smell of blood everywhere, the tingle from dark curses still hanging around him like a cloak. He pushed the memory away. That was all in the past, as were the other horrors he'd witnessed down here.

He would never have to come back here after this. No one would have to suffer here. With that firmly in mind, he hurried towards the end of the corridor.

Something made him glance at a closed doorway on his left. It was just a feeling, for there was no other sound but the dripping water.

There was someone there. He could feel it in his bones. A flick of his wand confirmed the feeling. There was definitely someone locked in the small room.

Not hesitating, Snape pushed at the door. When it didn't budge, he muttered out the charm to open it.

With a groaning protest, the door swung slowly open, revealing a small dark room. The air seemed to shimmer with malice and pain. Eyes already adjusting to the new darkness, Snape could see that there was indeed someone shackled to the wall.

Someone who was not moving, but as Snape stood there, he could hear a muffled sound of pain escaping the prisoner. Whoever it was, they were still alive.

He took a step closer, crossing the threshold.

The Mansion rumbled as if it truly was a living creature, the sound as frightening as a dragon's roar. Then the heavy stones came crumbling down, burying everything beneath them.

Remus let out a muffled curse as he stared at the edge of the forest. They had come back to Hogwarts grounds just in time to see the Death Eaters launch their main attack.

There were no troops here, just a few Aurors trying to keep everyone out of the Forbidden Forest, and it was quickly becoming clear that defending the place would fall to him and Sirius.

He could see Hermione grasp the idea as well, and no matter how much she had always disliked the training with real curses, there was no hesitation in her now.

Remus only wished he could find that strength inside as well.

"Look!" Hermione pointed at the group of Death Eaters battling with the Aurors. "I think they're going to run."

It was a relief of sorts. Remus didn't think it would be their job hunt every dark wizard down and kill them.

Then Sirius yelled out, "I can't believe it!" His voice was gravelly with a note of triumph in it.

Watching in horror, Remus realized that one of the men running towards the trees was familiar to him, his face hidden behind his hood but the almost cringing movements identifying him better than anything.

As the man looked behind to see if anyone was chasing them, Remus caught the look on his blotchy face, a part of his mind calmly assessing the horrified expression.

The sound coming from next to him wasn't even a curse anymore; it was way beyond any enraged exclamation or an outlet for magic. What started out as a call for the man they had once called a friend, a brother, turned into a bloodthirsty growl as Sirius morphed into his canine form.

Hackles raised, the dark black dog loped after the Death Eaters.

"Sirius, no!" Squeezing his hand into a fist, Remus swallowed the rest of the worried words clawing their way up his throat. He knew that there was nothing he could say that would make Snuffles listen, for there was no power in the whole world that could stop him now.

He shivered with horror as a small part of him cried out for blood as well and wished he could turn into the wolf right now and join the hunt.

The human in him gagged at the mere thought.

Holding his wand tighter, he took a few steps towards the woods. Even if he couldn't follow Sirius as fast as he might want to, he knew he'd have to go after him and keep the promise he'd made at James and Lily's funeral. Their killer would die right here, right now.

"Remus!" Hermione's shrill scream jolted him out of the red haze. "Look!"

Remus turned to see a swarm of darkness approaching from the flank. For just a second his mind froze with terror as the sight made him remember the army of Dementors that had circled around Hogwarts years ago. Then reason won over the panic. There were no Dementors left here.

"Lethifolds! They're Lethifolds!" So they hadn't been able to destroy all the dark creatures after all. "Do you know how to kill them?"

He was certain she would. She had once been his best student after all.

"Of course," Hermione muttered, even as she reached for her wand again. "They should be easy to defeat in the light of day, when they're out of their element. We use the Patronus charm and then finish them with a..."

Blocking out the rest of her rambling, Remus nodded. "Good. Now let's get to it!" There was no time to waste.

Wand raised, he turned to meet the lethifolds, pushing all other thoughts out of his mind. Sirius was already too far gone for him to catch up with him, and he couldn't leave Hermione and their little group to defeat this without him.

Sirius would have to avenge their friends alone.

It was getting easier after a while.

Draco didn't think as he flung another curse, concentrating only on making the Death Eaters stop. He used everything he knew, even casting expelliarmus at the large man who seemed to stumble onto his robes, but most of the curses were not as benign.

He didn't know where the rest of their air force was, the formations long gone by now. None of them could just observe and try to locate certain Death Eaters anymore, the battle was a frantic blur of curses and dark figures running here and there and everyone was needed here.

Some of Voldemort's people had lost their masks, and it was impossible not to recognize a few of them. Draco tried not to cast the killing curse at his former classmates or their parents, but survival instinct won over sentimentality pretty soon.

He did what he needed to live.

Right now, he was trying to dodge the imperius Marcus Flint was throwing at him, keeping his wand pointed at a group that had ran up to help Flint when they'd realized who he was up against.

And it had all gone so well until now.

Instead of attacking him, the other Death Eaters were aiming at his broom. The charms and curses came flying towards him faster than he could steer his broom, and he knew he couldn't shield from them all, especially with Flint still throwing the imperius at him, showing the similar tenacity as he had in the Quidditch pitch years ago.

Draco threw a curse at Flint. He had never liked the bastard anyway.

He knew he wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. It was already too late to escape, and once he was on the ground, his former housemates would overwhelm him in seconds. From the yells and the furious looks on the unmasked faces, he could tell that his ending wouldn't be as easy as a simple Avada Kedavra. They would torture him to death and enjoy every moment of it.

The charms he'd used on his broom had been excellent, but nothing could hold on against this. Draco bit his lip but couldn't suffocate the infuriated scream that escaped him as the broom started to dissolve beneath him.

"Hold on!"

Looking up, Draco saw Harry speeding down towards him. "Go back, you idiot Gryffindor!" he barked, even though it was clear that Harry wouldn't listen to him.

Not that he'd actually thought he would.

He cast a charm down below, not one of the curses that could maim or kill, but a rather harmless explosive charm that raised dust in the air. Then he shoved his wand back under his robes, knowing that this wasn't the time for magic. No charm could save him from the group on the ground.

Draco twisted his body to the side, bracing himself with his legs. He'd never done this in a real life situation, but he was certain he could do it now.

"Now!" Harry held out a hand, keeping his descent as steady as possible.

Reaching out, Draco clasped Harry's wrist as the last of his broom dissolved from under him. The fall was brief, but the jolt almost dislocated his shoulder as the tight grip around his wrist stopped the fall.

Enraged yells came from below, where the Death Eaters were showered with splinters and twigs.

Flying like this was definitely unpleasant, not to mention dangerous, and Draco was glad when Harry steered his broom downwards. He could see red hair tousled in the wind where they were heading to. It was quite amazing how that sight could make him feel better.

"Can you manage on your own from here?" Harry let go of his hand, looking eager of continuing his search.

"Yes." Stepping next to Bill Weasley, Draco nodded. "I'll be fine. Go and kill Voldemort!" His smile looked probably insane, but he didn't care.

The answering grin on Harry's lips was as mad as his was. With a small nod, the hero of their world lifted up again.

Draco only had a moment to try to catch his bearings before Bill Weasley yelled out, "Here they come!" Then his world narrowed down again into the frantic blur of dark figures running towards him and the curses he both cast and dodged.

It was a miracle Snape was still alive.

The corridor he'd left a moment ago didn't exist anymore, the doorway filled with rubble. Brushing his robes with slightly trembling hands, Snape got to his feet, amazed by the fact that this one room was still intact.

There was sickly green light coming from the walls, a chemical reaction from mold and old magic. Snape was glad it was replacing the oppressive darkness as he spent a few moments looking for his wand. Even in the faint light, he couldn't find a trace of it and had to admit it was most probably buried under the rocks. Sighing, he turned his attention on the other person in the room.

No longer attached to the wall, he was lying on the ground, the shackles bending his left arm into a very painful looking position. Snape moved his gaze from the arm to a very familiar face.

He blinked. Then he had to curb insane laughter.

Not only was he trapped under tons of solid rock that had formerly formed the Malfoy Mansion. He was trapped here with Neville Longbottom.

"Why am I not surprised?" he groaned out loud. The universe was indeed laughing at him right now. "Longbottom!" When the boy didn't move, he repeated his name louder.

It brought forth a whimper.

"Who is it? Harry? Harr..." Eyes opening to stare without focus, Neville reached out, trying to touch whomever was trapped there with him.

Snape grabbed the flailing hand. "Harry is not here, Longbottom." It was the first time ever the name came out softly, and not as a vicious curse.

"Professor Snape?" Hysterical but weak laughter echoed in the small room.

Knowing exactly what Longbottom was thinking, Snape didn't comment on the laughter. It was ridiculous; to be here, confined with the most incompetent student he'd ever had the displeasure of teaching. It was even worse for the boy, he thought. He was probably scared witless and needed to have someone by his side.

And he had Snape here. Ironic.

"Are you... Are you here to rescue me?" There was desperate hope in Neville's voice. He didn't dare to believe it, but he had to ask. Snape was supposed to be one of the good guys now so please Merlin let him be here to rescue him. The alternative was unthinkable.

"Yes," Snape said. He hated the expression of joy that came to Longbottom's face, knowing his next words would chase it away. "But I'm afraid we can't leave right now."

The silence that followed his words was full of pain. He saw how the boy blinked furiously, his unfocused eyes filling with tears that didn't fall. Even though he realized that Longbottom could not see, he had to turn his gaze away.

"What happened?" Neville hated the silence. He'd been lost in silence for so long, with only his own thoughts to accompany him. Or then there would be the sound of cruel laughter and questions he couldn't answer. Even Snape's cold voice was better than the silence.

Snape recounted the way the ceiling had come down, keeping the sentences precise and simple. It looked like Longbottom was hovering on the edge of unconsciousness.

He moved a little as he described the way he had lost his wand, sitting next to the injured Gryffindor. Keeping his voice calm, he surveyed his wounds. It was clear that they weren't the result of the booby trap, they had been inflicted earlier.

There were little visible marks on the boy. Snape didn't know what his robes were hiding, but could smell the strong scent of blood in the room. Most of the things the Death Eaters were so fond of wouldn't even leave a mark. They would simply destroy a person from the inside, driving them insane.

He came close to the end of his story, already knowing that he wouldn't ask Longbottom any questions about his stay here. He didn't need to be told what had happened.

"So now we're trapped. I can't think of a way to get out of here, so we need to wait for people to find us." It was not exactly a lie, even though Snape knew that there was not much hope for anyone to find them in time.

The basement had no sensible ventilation system. He'd known that for years. It was uncomfortable to stay here for any longer period of time, to brew potions or to torment hapless victims. With the corridor sealed and a big part of the upper floors probably crumbled to the ground, they would only have the air that was trapped in the pitiful dungeon with them.

Neville tried to smile a little, but it came out more like a grimace. "All right." He actually sounded relieved he wasn't completely alone.

They sat in silence for a while. All the time, Neville's breathing got more labored. The wheezing sound echoed from the walls, making it sound haunting somehow.

Feeling his thoughts were slipping slowly away, he rasped out, "Professor? Please..."

"What is it?"

Focusing his unseeing gaze on where the Potions master's voice had come from, Neville gasped out, "My grandmother. Tell her I fought well."

It was a frightened whisper Snape couldn't shut out. Swallowing, he managed to put some of the old sneer into his voice. "You will tell her that yourself, Longbottom. You survived all your Potions classes, so you'll bloody well survive this as well!"

There was a stunned silence as Neville stared into the dark. Then he muttered, "Yes, sir." He would do his best as always.

But he knew that like in the Potions class, his best might not be good enough.

Squinting his eyes, Harry looked down below, trying to ignore the yells and the crying and the dying, focusing on one thing only. He had no idea how long he'd been flying around Hogwarts' grounds trying to pinpoint his enemy. The sun was so bright in his eyes that he couldn't concentrate on determining the time from its position in the sky. There were more important things for him to watch.

Even though it had become apparent in the past few years that Voldemort preferred others to do his dirty work, Harry had thought the man would lead his troops himself. He could remember that awful night at the cemetery and how Voldemort had mockingly told him about the courtesies of formal dueling.

Now the bastard was nowhere to be seen, and Harry had the sinking feeling that maybe this had all been in vain. Their plan had been to flush all the Death Eaters and their Master in the open and then destroy them, their victory a joint effort. This first big battle was to be the last as well.

Harry didn't want to think of what would happen if he didn't find Voldemort on the battlefield. That could drag this on and on for years; that kind of a future was almost worse than death.

There was a blur of motion nearby, and Harry turned to watch Oliver speed through the air, heading toward something on the ground. Noticing how his former captain was dodging curses, he grabbed a better hold on his broom, figuring that he might as well help him.

The movement stopped, as he cast one more look towards the edge of the forest and saw a small group moving away quickly from the battlefield and towards the hedge, where a gate leading to the grounds had been blown open earlier.

It was clear to see that most of the people running were Death Eaters, their hoods unable to hide the masks completely, the sunlight reflecting off the smooth surface. But the most important was the figure running in the middle of the hooded men.

Harry let everything else drop from his mind and swooped towards the hedge.

He should have known Voldemort would do this; avoid a confrontation to the last moment and then realize it was too late. The master of survival, like some kind of a parasite, would never let go. He would now run and then lay low for some time.

Before returning again and again; killing innocents, preparing their world for yet another reign of terror. Harry would never be rid of the Dark Lord, forced to fight him throughout decades until generations upon generations of witches and wizards would know nothing of peace. There would be nothing but war and fear and destruction and death.

Burning rage filled Harry's whole being. Steering his ragged broom down, he pointed his wand at the small group of Death Eaters.

It was weird how he could feel such a hot surge of anger mixed with perfect calm. Somewhere in the middle of the fear and the doubt was absolute determination.

Down on the ground, one of the Death Eaters spotted him, letting out a warning yell. The others halted and looked up at him, wands ready.

Voldemort's dark clad form didn't stop. He continued his way towards the gates, obviously preparing to Apparate as soon as he was out of Hogwarts grounds.

Ignoring the wands pointing at him, Harry sped down, the move making even the Wronski Faint look like a walk in the park. He dodged the curses flung at him, focusing on the man who had brought all this madness into his world.

He could sense protective magic crackling all around Voldemort. An ordinary curse wouldn't work and he doubted even an Unforgivable would be enough to stop him. The killing curse had never stopped the man before.

Harry swallowed hard, not letting doubts fill him, not now. Even thinking about what he was about to do would be too much, so he shoved the thoughts back and raised his wand.

Concentrating on one thing only; a world without fear.

There were those short moments of perfect happiness he still carried with him. His first days in the wizarding world, meeting Ron and Hermione, finding a place he could call home. His first Quidditch match. Seeing his parents in the mirror of Erised.

His parents who had loved him more than anything in the world. Sirius and Remus, who were his family now. The joy that came with that simple concept went beyond perfection, burning away all doubts. His life, filled with warmth and laughter and sharing it with those he loved. Scent of herbs surrounding him, strong arms holding him all through the night, Snape's presence solid and firm and his.

Happiness so fierce it almost hurt, combining every good moment he had ever experienced.

"Expecto Patronum!"

The silvery phantom shape of Prongs shot forward, moving through the air with impossible speed. Not conjured up to drive back Dementors, it galloped down at the Death Eaters. The magnificent sight made Harry let out a choked cry.

It drove back shock and weariness, glowing with such radiant warmth.

The Death Eaters were staring at the Patronus, most unable to move. In front of them, the running form of Voldemort stopped and then turned slowly to look into the sky.

Harry could see the word 'no' form on Voldemort's lips. Frozen in place, the Dark Lord followed the shining stag with his gaze, unable to move until it disappeared.

There was utter silence. No one moved.

Then Voldemort looked up at Harry, his face a rigid mask of fear and hatred. "Kill him! Kill Harry Potter!" he yelled at his Death Eaters.

Now the curses would come in handy. "Avada Kedavra!" Harry didn't even flinch as the first Death Eater fell.

He didn't have to repeat the curse on the second Death Eater who slammed into an invisible barrier and let out a yelp as he tumbled down. It almost looked as if some creature was there with them, unseen, but still able to fight for Harry's cause.

Harry leaned closer to his broom, speeding down faster. Below him, Voldemort was running again, now desperate to reach safety. The Firebolt was shaking slightly, as if warning him of what would happen if he tried to fly any faster, but Harry paid no heed to it. His beloved gift from Sirius wasn't as important to him as it was to cut off Voldemort's escape.

He landed smoothly on the ground near the edge of the woods, the broomstick falling at his feet as he finally let go. There was a sound of wood snapping, but he didn't look down to see what had happened.

All his attention was focused on one fact. He was still on Hogwarts ground, standing between what was left of the gate and Voldemort, cutting off his easy escape to the Dark Forest as well. There was no one else here, only him and the Dark Lord. Harry's mouth tasted bitter, and his heart was racing, but he could handle the fear coursing through his veins.

Pointing with his wand, he didn't even have to think what to say next. No matter what he'd said earlier about using only whatever force was necessary, he knew without a doubt that there was only one way to end this for good.

Harry Potter stared at Lord Voldemort.

There was only a faint resemblance to the shadow of a boy he had met in his second year. Voldemort had nothing left of Tom Riddle. He looked more like a snake than a man, changed beyond any recognition when he'd been reborn.

For some reason Harry wasn't thinking about that awful night now. There was nothing but this moment.

"You can not kill me, Harry Potter." Voldemort's voice was oozing malice. "Leave now and I'll spare your life."

Smiling, Harry shook his head. "Of course I can't kill you. That's why you were running away like a scared rabbit." Now that the big moment was at hand, all he could think of was that this was utterly ridiculous. They were supposed to fight to death, and here was Voldemort trying to get away from it by lying.

He couldn't believe what a lousy liar Voldemort was.

The mocking words didn't change Voldemort's expression. He simply nodded. "Then die." No formal challenge, no threats. No attempt to catch Harry alive to use him in a dark ritual. Almost negligently, he flicked his wrist and said, "Avada Kedavra!"

Repeating the curse even as he jumped clear of the sparks, Harry let all the amusement slide away from him. Dodging the death curse was harder than anything, for there was no way one could really practice that. He hadn't been completely sure one even could do it before this moment.

Focused on nothing but the space between him and Voldemort, he yelled out the words again.

There were scents everywhere. Old moldy scent of decay mixing with the almost overpowering smell of fear.

The whole forest was alive with magic, the untamed nature of the wild. Every tree seemed ancient with roots reaching far beneath the ground, even the air here seemed thick with spells no one had ever uttered out loud.

Snuffles ran. Mindless of the sounds and sights around him, he ran focused on one thing only. There were other creatures around him, people and animals, magical beings fighting or hiding, but he didn't pay any attention to them.

Right there, in front of him, was the source of the smell.

It was such a familiar scent, tickling some hidden part of him that brought forth old memories he'd almost forgotten, taking him back to a simpler time, to laughter and friendship and joy. Now it was marred by another scent, the odor of silver as nauseating as the memory of betrayal itself. Wherever his prey ran, he would follow.

He couldn't see it right now, but the small shaking of a leaf, the small paw print of a front paw screamed at him. He knew he was gaining on his prey, and the mere thought drove him forward.

The pain came from out of nowhere. He was so focused on his chase he hadn't realized that one of the dark robed people had jumped closer.

Smelling his own blood on the knife the Death Eater held, Snuffles howled.

The final duel had come, and there was no one to witness the raw power of magic focusing around Harry Potter and Voldemort. Everything around the fighting pair was getting dark, as if the Dark Magic both were channeling was blocking out the very sun.

It was horrendous; naked destructive energy. Truly the fight of their time, and there was no one to see it.

Harry didn't know if anyone had ever really managed to survive a fight like this. There was no finesse, no strategy. Only him and Voldemort. Only this moment, only death.

This was not going to work. Throwing the curse almost aimlessly as both moved fast enough to make the green tingle miss, they were gaining nothing.

Soon, others would come. It would be in the hands of chance, for there could be Death Eaters or members of the Order, and then their world would either fall or be free. Harry had been lucky before, but now he couldn't rely on luck. There was too much at stake.

He didn't know what was keeping him alive right now. Could his mother's love still protect him? Or was there something in the nauseating connection between him and Voldemort that rendered their half hartedly focused curses useless?

This was too much like trying to focus on a hundred details at once; the people who would come, the spins and twirls that carried him away from the destructive power of the Unforgivable. He was trying to hit and hide at the same time, and it was not working.

He couldn't win like this. The thought wiped away the need to spend the next fraction of a second to plan his new escape. There could be no escape. This was the only thing in his world and he would bloody well do it right!

Standing still, he aimed with his wand. A good aim that would not miss its target.

He felt as if he was under water, everything moving through a haze. His tongue felt thick and clumsy as he spoke, "Avada..." The word came out agonizingly slowly. Across the small field, Voldemort seemed to have same sensations, his lips moving slow as well. "... Kedavra!"

Both were casting the curse at the same time, both standing here, not willing to move one bit. Not even thinking of surrendering. This one frozen moment, neither moved to escape the destructive energy.

Instead of making the world explode, the magic they both released hummed around them. It existed everywhere between their wands, unable to focus anywhere. Almost as a living being, it swum through the air, connecting with their wands.

Binding them together in death.

It was clear now, that the power building between the two of them would not be contained for long. As it unleashed, everything around them would be destroyed.

Harry felt the energy grow inside of him. Swirling just beneath his skin, making him tingle all over. He would burn slowly, his scar already on fire.

This was it, the final battle the whole wizarding world had been waiting for. The fight between him and Voldemort. Not what he had expected, but it was still worse than he'd feared.

Better than he'd hoped.

He wished he could tell Snape that. Wished he could have spent one more day with him and his family. He didn't even know if any of them was still alive; they could all be dead now, or they could all be alive, left behind to mourn him.

For he would indeed die here. Would die as the combined magic between Voldemort and him finally ate through his flesh, burning away the Dark Lord as well. Two opposites, equal in strength. What he lacked in experience, he had in stubbornness. He would not give up. Neither would Voldemort.

Dying to save the world. It was such a scary thought Harry knew he would throw up if he still could, but nothing could really touch him anymore, his whole existence frozen here. This moment, this place. The end was here, and as the magic swirled all around him, his mind was strangely clear.

He was going to die, right now. There was nothing more in this world for him, for he was fulfilling the destiny others had conjured up for him. He wished this had never happened, hoped this would make a difference and that there would be peace in their world.

Harry's mind was slowly shutting down, his thoughts losing focus. A sibilant whisper somewhere inside his head was telling him that this was the only proper way for him to die; as the savior of the wizarding world, a noble death, devoid of any sense of self.

A grin bloomed on his lips. Not bloody likely! He didn't want to die, but would if it was the only way to end this insanity. He only wished he'd really told Snape how much he loved him, just to see the incredulous expression on his face.

That was his last real thought, and then even that went away.

"Bastard!"

There was a yell, coming from the distance. Harry could hardly hear it, for his whole world had narrowed down to the space between his wand and Voldemort's. Everything existed in flashes of gold and silver, nothing else could penetrate the bubble that was building around him and his foe.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Thousands of tiny sparks of astonishingly bright green surrounded everything. The blinding burst drove everything else away.

Harry screamed as his thoughts and memories rushed back to him. He recognized the hoarse voice that had yelled out the most horrible curse he knew. It built the energy swirling around them so that it could no longer be contained.

As the power raged over him, he realized what had just happened.

"No! Don't!"

But it was too late.

The power of magic that had bound Harry and Voldemort together in death waned for just a second, releasing Harry from it's grasp before what was left of it refocused on another target. It snapped around, almost draining Harry, searching for another person to become the polar opposite of the Dark Lord.

Found it in an angry man who had raised his wand against the one who had been behind the murder of his wife.

"Percy!" Helpless, Harry lifted his arms to shield himself from the blast that followed. The whole world seemed to shatter in green sparks, the unleashed energy making the ground shake.

"No!" Voldemort screamed, his face contorting in horror. Then all sound died as the power between him and the redhead turned the space between them into a vacuum.

Nothing existed there. No sound, no light. No life.

Their world exploded.

Harry was thrown back by the shock wave, his ears ringing at the collision as he slammed against the ground. The earth itself moved, the force of the explosion tearing trees from the edge of the forest, sending timber flying overhead.

He could hear his own voice yelling in pain and fear until his throat was raw. The madness lasted for only seconds, but it seemed like a lifetime.

The silence was worse than anything.

It was as if everything had ended. There was nothing here and for a moment Harry thought the blast had finished him as well. Then the pain registered again and he knew that he was still very much alive.

"Damn it!" Harry moaned as he rolled onto his belly. His body ached and he doubted he could really get to his feet. His fingers were clenched around his wand, but as he focused his gaze to his hand, he could see that he was actually holding a large splinter.

His wand was broken. It was quiet and he was all alone and his wand was broken.

He looked up, wishing he hadn't a moment later as he saw the figure lying on the ground not far from him. Somehow he managed to drag himself towards it, needing to see if there was anything he could do.

Nothing else really got through the mist that was surrounding his thoughts.

There was no life left in the young man lying on the ground. It was probably better this way. There was not much of a body left even to be buried.

"Oh no..." Gaze blurring with tears, Harry stared down at Percy Weasley. "Damn it, no..."

It was not supposed to go like this.

He bent down to cover some of the burned body with the torn and charred cloak lying next to him, recognizing his father's Invisibility Cloak only when his fingers brushed against it.

He was too numb to even think of what it meant to have it here now. Later, he would wonder about Percy's tenacity and his own blindness, but right now, it was enough to cover his friend with the soft torn cloth that would never again make anyone invisible.

He didn't know what else to do. Should he stay here until someone came? Would anyone really come? Or was everyone dead, like Percy was dead and Voldemort was dead?

The thought made Harry turn to look at the other still form lying on the ground. It looked like the wraith like creature he'd met in the forest feeding from a dead Unicorn. A full circle in a way. All that effort Voldemort had put to rising again had been for nothing.

Mind still sluggish, he couldn't look away from his adversary. He couldn't be happy about his death. Right now, he didn't feel anything.

Then the unthinkable happened.

Voldemort moved.

Harry jumped as he saw the ragged pile move again. He couldn't believe Voldemort had survived the blast that had almost incinerated poor Percy. It had been unlike any death curse he'd ever witnessed, too much power to be released in simple sparks.

Holding the remains of his wand, he crawled over the debris, towards Voldemort. He couldn't see anything else, his ears still ringing from the blast. Everything was focused on this one thing.

Voldemort still existed.

A desperate wail escaped his throat as he raised his hand and then brought the splintered wand down, impaling Voldemort's chest as if he was a vampire. "Die!" It was a muffled sob. "Die!"

There was no magic behind the command, only desperation and Harry's determination to never face this again. This had to end now.

"No!" It came out as a gurgle. Voldemort's final denial over his own mortality that died alongside him.

Harry stared at his own bloodied hands, letting go of his wand with a flinch. Only then he turned his gaze on his enemy's face. The vacant eyed stare made him gag again.

There was no magic here. No power channeled through the small stick protruding out of Voldemort's chest. No life.

He flinched away from the body, his gaze sweeping the ground. There was Voldemort's own wand, still intact, a few inches from his outstretched arm. Harry shivered. Sooner or later someone would try to use something like that to bring him back, and this would all start over again.

Slowly, Harry got to his feet. Eyes hard, he stepped on the frail wand so like his own. It broke with a small sound.

Then there was nothing but silence.

It was over.

Voldemort was truly dead.

The tendrils of destruction went through all the wizarding world. Dark creatures cowered in their lairs, knowing that they were once again alone. It was almost as if the air itself shimmered with the echo of green fire.

On the battleground, Death Eaters were suddenly squirming in agony as their Dark Marks burned for the last time.

Those strong enough to run turned around and fled Hogwarts ground. Others, too dismayed by their ultimate loss, simply stood there, eyes vacant of all thoughts.

Snape raised his head, gaze unfocused. He could almost feel the earth shift, the ancient stones underneath him shuddering with the power of Voldemort's destruction. Here, in the basement of the Malfoy Mansion, it almost seemed like a loss instead of a victory, the darkness gathered here moaning with his death.

"What.... What's going on?" Neville asked quietly. He couldn't find the strength to move anymore, his life seeping slowly away. The sudden way the whole world seemed to shake had registered in him as a prelude to passing through the veil.

Voice hollow, Snape muttered, "Voldemort is dead." He felt completely empty. It had nothing to do with the destruction of the Dark Lord. He would never grieve his death.

He was feeling unbearable fear inside, stunned by the emotion. Now that Voldemort was gone, where was Harry? Everyone had been so convinced that the final battle between their forces would be a fight to the death. He'd always wondered if it was true, knowing just exactly how powerful Voldemort was.

Sitting here in the dark with the dying young man next to him, he hoped Harry was still alive. It didn't really matter if he was never found here amongst the ruins; he wasn't the one who deserved to enjoy this victory and live a happy life. Voldemort's death didn't change everything for him, but Harry deserved to live.

"Good..." Whispering the word out with joy, Neville closed his eyes again, the sound of his breathing getting fainter with every exhale.

Snape didn't say anything. He sat there, listening. When all the sound died, leaving the small cell as silent as a tomb, he leaned back against the wall.

There were horrors and losses that went beyond tears. Snape had never found any comfort in crying, feeling the grief as a choking sensation in his throat, and there was no relief of tears for him now.

Growling out a curse, he wished he had the energy to destroy something. It would take away some of the helplessness he felt witnessing this one more senseless death.

Voldemort was gone. No one else should have to suffer.

Slowly, the dark magic embedded to the very bedrock started to seep out. Without the focal point to keep it here, it faded away, leaving nothing behind. The glow on the walls flickered and then disappeared as well, leaving Snape in utter darkness with nothing but Neville Longbottom's dead body as his company.

The first person to arrive at the scene was a young Auror, his face pale but eyes shining.

Harry thought he looked familiar, but there had been too many faces like his for him to really recognize him. He nodded at the Auror, unable to say anything that would make any sense. Then again why bother with words? It was only too clear what had happened here.

The Auror looked around, blinking as he saw the blood on Harry's hands and on the ground, recognizing the pile of black silk as the remains of a body a moment later. "Is that... Voldemort?" He said the name as if he was still half afraid it would summon the Dark Lord in front of him, alive and powerful.

Harry nodded.

He was too exhausted for explanations or introductions or anything, and then it dawned to him that he did indeed know the young Auror when he turned around and vomited on the ground. It was a familiar sight.

"Yeah." His voice sounded weird in his own ears, but Harry could commiserate with the Auror well.

Rubbing his hands on his torn robes, he wondered if he could somehow get the blood off his hands before other people arrived. He didn't want to shock anyone else.

"Harry Potter!"

Since his name was yelled with obvious glee, Harry didn't even tense, and then he was surrounded by a group of witches and wizards, all a part of his army, all smiling at him.

Harry swallowed. He was safe, they were all safe now. "Yeah." Funny how he couldn't manage anything beyond that, simply affirming anything they might want to say.

"Merlin's beard! What the hell happened here?" asked someone with a hushed voice.

People were already milling around, most ignoring everything but their hero who was staggering towards a tree as if unable to stand on his own and the bloodied mess on the ground with bits of a broken wand still protruding out of its chest.

"Is that... Is that?" The stutter made Flitwick's voice sound almost unrecognizable as he pushed his way towards the corpse. "Is that truly the Dark Lord?"

One of the wizards actually went to poke the remains of the dead wizard with his foot. "Yeah. And he's dead."

There was an awed silence, as everyone turned to look at Harry.

"What happened here?"

Harry didn't know how he could ever explain it all. It felt like he'd engaged the fight with Voldemort ages ago, their battle raging for aeons, but there was the sun still shining from the sky and he realized it had probably just taken minutes instead of hours.

Years of planning, months of training, and then it had really come to this. His throat hurt with the need to let the hysterical laughter out.

"Are you stupid or what?" A wizard glared at Flitwick as if he thought the small professor was totally out of his mind. "Like you can't see it for yourself! Harry Potter has destroyed Voldemort!"

Agreeing murmur came from all around.

"No, I..." Harry didn't want them to say things like that for they were lies. "It didn't happen like that..." He tried to make them listen.

It was a futile attempt.

Smiling brightly, a woman appeared next to him. "I saw everything! You-Know-Who was coming towards the castle, already on Hogwarts grounds, and Harry Potter stopped him. Just like that, with a single curse!" She made a very familiar swish and flick gesture with her hand. "And the Dark Lord died. Just like that!"

Nausea washed over Harry. He wished it had happened like that. Wished no one else had died. "No, you got it all wrong..."

"Three cheers for Harry Potter!" The man with torn robes waved his hands in the air as the crowd cheered.

Harry leaned against the tree, closing his eyes as if that could shut the insanity out. "I didn't do it like that. It wasn't me." The words came out as a sigh, but even if he'd shouted them out, no one would have listened to him.

The crowd yelled and screamed, Three cheers became ten. Some people were crying, hugging each other while the most hysterical ones even tried to hug their hero.

And Harry stood there, completely drained.

The battlefield was a chaos. Only a moment ago, there had been a war raging here, people trying to kill each other. Now there were only Aurors and members of the Order guarding the barely conscious Death Eaters.

Finally letting his wand lower, Draco Malfoy looked around.

His robes were torn and his back was really complaining against any sudden movement, but he was alive. It was almost unbelievable. He'd been so certain this would mean the end and now he was alive.

A very silly grin spread to his lips. It was accompanied by a relieved sigh. The final battle against Voldemort and his people seemed to be over and by Merlin! He was not dead.

"That was some fighting, Malfoy."

He glanced over his shoulder to see Bill Weasley smile at him. The redhead looked exhausted, but there was a foolish grin on his face as well. "Yeah. Nice curses." He made a gesture with his hand and refused to be embarrassed by the complete idiocy of his comment.

Bill seemed to take it as a compliment. "Well you need to know them to break them." Radiating with happiness he clasped Draco's shoulder. "Well done."

It really shouldn't have meant anything, but Draco almost beamed back at him. "You too."

They stood there, grinning at each other for a moment before the world reappeared around them in the form of another redhead limping towards them. Draco watched the brothers hug tight, Bill's hands clamping convulsively on Charlie's back.

He turned away to look at the battlefield, trying to pinpoint another Weasley.

There were too many people around, yelling and hugging and walking here and there. Draco recognized some of them, but there was no sign of the familiar face he was looking for.

He knew he should go and try to find out what had happened earlier with Arthur Weasley and his father, but somehow he couldn't move away just yet. One thing at the time, and this couldn't really wait.

Still holding his wand loosely in his hand, he didn't turn around when Bill Weasley's voice called out, "Dad!" his voice far too happy for there to be any question of the fate of their new Minister. Draco didn't want to think about it now, he was going to wait and see how it was with the Weasleys before thinking about what it meant to have Arthur Weasley standing there alive.

People came and went, no one really doing anything productive, except for a small group of Aurors who were herding the few surviving Death Eaters towards the castle. After a few muttered words to his sons, Arthur Weasley rushed after them to make sure their prisoners would not be harmed.

Draco watched and waited.

"Malfoy!"

When the familiar voice finally yelled out his name, he almost brought his wand up. Turning around, he saw the redhead unentangle himself from his brothers and then march straight at him. "Weasley."

He wasn't even surprised by the tingle in his stomach at the sight of Ron Weasley alive.

Ron stopped a few feet from Malfoy, suddenly not knowing how to greet him after all. He almost offered his hand before realizing how silly that would be now that he'd already kissed the git in front of witnesses. Had it really been just a few hours ago? Somehow it felt like longer.

"It's good to see you alive." The words escaped him as he wrapped his arms around Draco, the hug just as tight as the ones he'd given his brothers.

He felt the strong arms come around him as well.

Swallowing hard, he muttered in Malfoy's ear, "I... My father killed your father." He didn't know what else to say, remembering the wooden expression on his father's face and the way Malfoy seemed pleased to see him and there was no way he couldn't blurt the words out right now before he had to actually look at Malfoy again.

The arms tightened around him. "Yeah. I know." Draco closed his eyes, not wanting to see anything right now, focusing on this alone.

"I should probably say I'm sorry, but I can't. I'm not sorry he's dead." And that was the one thing Ron kind of did feel sorry about. He didn't say it though. No words could make it all right.

He could feel Malfoy sigh, and wondered if he'd shove him away next or even hit him. It would kind of be okay. He would want to punch someone if he was Malfoy.

"I'm not sorry either."

The soft whisper came as a complete shock, and Ron had to let go and move back just so that he could look into Malfoy's face. He could only see the faintest hint of sadness there, almost overwhelmed by the relief, shaking his head at both.

He'd never understand Malfoy.

Draco could see the familiar slack jawed look on Weasley's face, and it made him smile a little. At least some things in the world were the same, and even if Weasley's strong arms still wrapped around him was a new thing, he could probably deal with that.

There weren't many things he couldn't face now that he was finally free.

The cheering crowd heralded Harry's arrival. Seeing the destruction on the field, most people stopped cheering and simply stood there, staring in dismay. Some even went to see if they could help, while one of the young witches refused to let go of Harry's torn robes until a mediwitch gently helped her to sit down.

"Harry!" Ron choked out, his face hurting with the insane grin that replaced the sadness. Not even realizing he was still holding onto Draco's arm, he rushed to hug his friend and managed barely not to tumble them all to the ground.

It was the first hug that meant something, and Harry held onto Ron as hard as he could. "Hi, Ron."

"You're alive! I can't bloody believe it! You're fucking alive!" Not caring that there were ladies present and that his brothers would probably comment on his words later on, Ron laughed out loud. "Did you kill Voldemort?"

There was not really a need to ask that. The earlier cheers had been enough to tell everyone that Harry Potter had indeed rid their world of the Dark Lord.

Harry froze and then tried to pull away. When Ron refused to let go, he sighed, "I did. But I didn't kill him alone. Percy did most of the work."

"Percy?" Ron repeated the name, finally stepping back enough to see Harry's face. He could read from the misery in his eyes that it was not good news. Apparently so could his other brothers, who were now closing in on them. "Oh, fuck..."

Nodding, Harry stood there. He saw Charlie lose his balance as the cursed leg gave in and then Bill was there, trying to help him up. George was shaking his head in disbelief.

Harry watched without words as all the four surviving Weasley brothers crumbled down in shared grief.

It was too much to keep watching for long, and he turned to Draco, who was turning away from the Weasleys as well, as if giving them privacy. "I'm glad you're alive." It was the only thing he could really offer.

"You too."

Harry knew those two simple words meant more to him than the dozens of cheers he'd already heard.

He didn't want to ask if Draco was all right, knowing the question would be utterly stupid. No one was really all right, though in time most would be. Maybe. He didn't know if he would be one of the lucky who might get through today, no matter how he'd survived the battle itself.

"I should try to find..." He couldn't say the names or add that he wanted to see if they were still alive. His family was out there, and even though he didn't want to leave the Weasleys like this, he had to go and look for them.

Draco nodded. "Go. I'll stay here."

"Yeah." Harry knew that was probably best. With a light touch on Draco's shoulder, he left him to search for the other survivors.

It was actually surprisingly easy to find Remus. He was standing near the Quidditch pitch, looking worriedly at the forest.

Walking towards him was as if Harry was living through one of his nightmares. He could see fallen people everywhere; those wearing the polished masks as well as people he'd known most his life. He tried to ignore them, but how could he ever shut out the familiar faces?

They would probably be with him forever, joined by the keening sounds of grief surrounding him.

"Thank Merlin! Harry!" Exhausted joy clear in his voice, Remus took a step towards him. He looked like he'd just spent the night howling at the full moon, so tired he could barely stand.

Harry knew the feeling.

Relieved that not everything was lost, Harry forced a wan smile on his lips as he reached Remus, not looking beyond him at Lavender who was cradling Parvati's limp form in her arms and crying. He didn't want to know. He just wanted to revel in the relief, even if it lasted just for a moment. "Remus!"

"You're alive!" Not hesitating for a moment, Remus pulled Harry into a weak hug.

Harry held on to Remus. "Are you all right?" He had no idea what could have made him this weak. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine. Just a little tired. The Death Eaters brought Lethifolds with them, and Hermione and I had to deal with half a dozen of them." Remus sighed. "And she's fine too. She went to see if she could help Poppy." He had no doubts what would have been the next question.

"Good." One less worry. Harry kept an arm around Remus, doubting the man could stand unaided. He didn't want to test that; Sirius would be really unhappy if he let something happen to Remus now.

The thought made him frown. "Remus? Where is Sirius?" He should be right here.

Swaying slightly, Remus choked out, "I don't know."

Harry bit his lip, refusing to believe anything was really wrong before he had the proof of it. It was the only way to stay sane right now. "We'll find him." It came out instinctively, like so many soothing half truths he'd told Sirius over the years.

It was sad to see how much his words clearly meant to Remus.

"You think so?" There was terrible hope in Remus' voice.

For a moment Harry couldn't say anything, unable to force the words out just in case they were a lie. Then something flickered at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and he could nod. "I know so."

"Really?"

"Yes." Raising his other hand to point, he said, "Look."

He felt Remus sag against him as the familiar black form came loping towards them. "Sirius!" He didn't know why the man had chosen his Animagus form now, and didn't care. He was just happy to see him alive.

The dog didn't make a sound, he just ran faster. His left ear was torn, the side of his head bloodied, but it didn't seem to hinder him at all. There was something small and brown and very limp hanging from his mouth, swinging from side to side as he ran.

"Thank Merlin!" Not even ashamed by the sob escaping him, Remus reached out. He'd been terrified ever since Sirius had disappeared in the middle of the battle, fearing the worst. Seeing Snuffles approach made his knees even weaker, and only Harry's arm kept him standing.

Snuffles made a muffled sound, looking at Remus before stopping in front of Harry. He stood there for a moment, his tail wagging from side to side in a show of glee. Then he coughed out the thing he'd been carrying in his mouth.

A small furry bundle lay still on the ground.

Harry stared at the thing, not even registering Remus slow slide towards the ground. He barely heard his murmured words and ignored the way Snuffles was now enfolded in a tight embrace.

He knew the small form. It had been on the edge of his awareness for so long; first as a humorous part of his best friend, then a memory of pure white hatred. The source of paranoia and suspicion. He had never understood this creature or his motives and now it was lying in front of him, so clearly dead.

Turning his gaze from the dead rat to Snuffles, Harry's eyes misted over for the first time after the awful fight. "Sirius..." He stepped forward, careful not to trample Remus. "Thank you!"

Tears slid down his cheeks. It was all over now.

Snuffles let out a happy bark, licking Harry's outstretched hand and then Remus' face. Somewhere between licks he blurred a little, and then Sirius was there, holding Remus tight. He looked a bit embarrassed with his tongue still trailing half way up Remus' cheek.

Remus didn't seem to mind at all.

They kept bringing the wounded in.

Those who knew how to help, went to work. Those who didn't, stayed out of the way. Madam Pomfrey was proving to be an excellent general herself, ordering mediwitches and -wizards around, organizing an impromptu infirmary right there on the lawn when the real one inside Hogwarts couldn't take in any more people.

Not everyone's hurt needed medical attention. There were small groups sitting here and there by the courtyard, talking quietly or just being together. Most of the people Harry called family were now there, and Harry wished he could join them and stop thinking.

But there were still so many unaccounted for. Some of the small groups sent to destroy the larger Death Eater strongholds had returned in time to actually fight in the battle, some might never come back. There were people coming and going, and Harry was desperately trying to find that one familiar figure.

He refused to think he might never find him.

Finally someone mentioned the Mansion, more mediwitches rushing here and there as it became obvious they would be needed.

Harry could only stand and wait.

There were Ministry officials everywhere, both those who had fought and those who were here to take care of the aftermath, adding to the chaos. They asked questions no one had answers to, scribbled down things on rolls of parchments, and all gave wide berth to their hero whose mere demeanor was enough to quell even the most eager worshipper.

The torn robes, wild look and blood smudges on his hands might've had something to do with it.

"Harry!"

His name had been called out so many times, it was a miracle he even recognized it anymore. This however was a voice he knew, turning him to seek for a familiar witch in the crowd.

"Arabella?" Harry breathed out, shocked to see how exhausted she looked with fine rock dust on her face, trails of sweat leading from forehead to chin. "What happened?"

She wheezed, unable to speak properly after all the exertion. "The Mansion. Some of it collapsed while we were still inside."

All the happiness from seeing his friends alive turned into an ice cold feeling in the pit of Harry's stomach. "How?" It wasn't really the question he wanted to ask, but it was too difficult to even form it in his mind, impossible to squeeze it out.

Arabella wheezed again, doubling over as wracking coughs shook her whole body. There was blood on her lips as she finally stopped coughing.

"Mediwizard!" Harry yelled.

"They're coming," someone said next to him, pointing at the distance. "They're bringing more people from the Malfoy Mansion right now."

The first thing Harry could see was a mediwitch floating someone on stretchers. His heart started to race as he saw a somber look on her face, mirrored on everyone following her.

Whoever was injured, it was bad.

His gaze locked on the pale face surrounded by messy black hair, and he let out a desperate little sound. Oh no. He wasn't sure he would be able to survive yet another loss like this. "Neville?"

One of the mediwizards shook his head slightly as he moved to check on Arabella. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter." He sounded both sad and tired. Like everyone seemed to be right now.

Harry could only stare, his eyes impossibly wide. He couldn't do anything, couldn't cry or even let out the scream building inside.

Whatever he'd feared when he'd thought about this day, this was worse than most of his nightmares. All these dead and wounded, the empty and desolate looks on people all around him. His friends dying or losing loved ones.

This was their victory, for the good of their world, so that people could now live in peace. Their glorious day that would be celebrated from now on. The thought made him want to vomit.

The tears he'd cried earlier had been of joy, and now others more bitter were threatening to fall. Ignoring the worried looks coming from the mediwizards, he pulled his robe tighter around him, as if sheltering himself from whatever blow would come next. "What about the others?"

Asking was more frightening than anything, for as long as he didn't know, there could still be hope.

A tired voice rang out from behind the group of Aurors following Neville's stretcher. "There were a few casualties, but most of us did survive. And there is no way anyone can use the Mansion as a refuge again."

Harry stared. Overwhelmed by exhaustion, fear, hope and terrible grief over all the people who had died today, he could only stand there for a moment.

Then he took a step towards the man. Then another one, until he was practically flinging himself at Snape.

"You're alive!" Not caring for a second that Snape might be appalled by this, he held him as tight as he could. "You're alive!"

"What a brilliant deduction." Snape's voice trembled slightly, but that was the only sign of the relief that flooded over him. He'd been so certain that Harry was dead, he couldn't almost believe that he was really here. The fact that he was making a scene in public didn't matter, not this time.

He wrapped his arms around Harry, ignoring everything but this moment.

Taking the embrace as a permission, Harry snuggled closer and said, "We did it. Voldemort is dead! And we're alive!" Nothing else mattered now.

Snape sighed, "Yes, I know." It was more relief than real happiness, but he was going to revel in the emotion anyway. From now on, the past that would come to haunt him would truly be just a memory and not a reality of darkness. "I know."

Maybe there was something else that did matter now. Harry looked up, his gaze a bit wild. He was too happy and too sad and too everything at the moment to think clearly, but there was something he knew with absolute certainty. "You look awful!"

There were abrasions and cuts on Snape's face, fine rock dust covering his shoulders and hair.

Snape snorted, the sound turning into a sneeze.

Still staring, Harry added, "I love you!" It was said with stubborn determination and was about as far from a sweet declaration as it could get.

The dark gaze held nothing but weary amusement as Snape said, "I know that too, Harry. I'm not completely brain dead. Some things are rather obvious, including Gryffindor emotionalism."

Harry could see the faintest flicker of a smile on Snape's face, and knew that if he made a comment about Slytherins being just as bad, for once the man couldn't even pretend to be offended. "Good."

"It may just be that I don't completely hate you either."

Interpreting Snape's words correctly as a declaration parallel to his own, Harry closed his eyes and held Snape tight.

There was a soft knock on the doorframe.

Harry straightened his back before turning to see who wanted his attention, groaning as his neck objected the move with a loud pop. The movement to wipe his hands on his robes was instinctive by now, and he didn't even register it.

Seeing Ron at the doorway, he smiled ruefully, knowing his friend would know exactly what brought such a sound out of him.

"Am I interrupting something?" Ron asked, looking around the small room that was almost devoid of personal objects.

"No, I'm almost finished." The trunk was packed, there were only few random items lying around the room; a few magazines, his broom, and an odd sock or two peeking from under the bed.

All his clothes were already packed, and even the golden ribbon of his Order of Merlin -- first class of course -- was somewhere at the bottom of one of the trunks. He couldn't really remember which one, he was just happy with it out of his sight. He'd never wanted such a burden anyway.

It still amused him to no end that Snape had tossed his own silvery ribbon into the trunk as well, the gesture completely negligent before the man had gone to pack his precious potions with the utmost care.

They didn't have to talk about the trappings of celebrity, both knowing all too well what it brought. Harry was still unable to forget the shock most of the older Ministry officials had been unable to hide when it had become clear that neither Arthur Weasley or Albus Dumbledore had died in the battle.

"So..." Ron didn't step inside the room, leaning against the doorframe instead. "You really are leaving?"

He sounded as if he still had hard time believing it, even though Harry had made the announcement the day after the battle and hadn't swayed from his decision ever since.

Harry nodded, shoving the latest Quidditch Quarterly into the trunk. "Yeah, we're really leaving." He couldn't hide the satisfaction those simple words brought to him.

It was about time. He'd wanted to leave the day after the battle, when the horror wasn't even fully realized, but it had been impossible to really organize anything then. Of course then when their world had grasped the magnitude of the loss and deaths, Harry had stayed for the sake of his friends. Nothing else.

Now it was over. There were no more funerals to be held, no speeches expected from the survivors.

Harry hadn't given one single speech since the words about going and winning the war slipped out of his mouth while he soared above Hogwarts. He hadn't really listened to any of the ones others gave in various small gatherings.

The only words he actually concentrated on were Arthur Weasley's when he spoke in the large memorial service, and that was only because of the choked undertone so evident when their Minister spoke of those who had died fighting, when he'd spoken about Percy.

"You and Snape living in that little cottage in the middle of nowhere?" Ron sounded like he really couldn't believe it. "Harry... You can do anything you want to."

"Yeah." That was the whole point, and he was doing exactly what he wanted to. He didn't think the others would understand it, not yet, but this was what he wanted to do right now; peace and quiet, lots of it, and maybe then he could think about everything he'd pushed aside for so long.

And when all the thinking became too much, he'd have Snape there with him.

Ron shrugged. It was Harry's decision. He just hoped he wouldn't regret it later on.

After picking up the socks from the floor, Harry straightened his back and looked at Ron, seeing clearly that his friend was trying hard not to say anything else. He smiled. "Look at it this way, Ron. People want me to continue being their hero and hunt down everyone who escaped the battle. Others want me to go to Hogwarts and maybe become the next Headmaster. Hell, some even want me to become the next Minister for Magic."

"Yeah." Ron had to join Harry's chuckles at that as well. "That would work well."

Harry knew that there were already good people in the high places of their world, people who would do their jobs well, out of the sense of duty. Who would ever believe he could ever be a good Minister or a Headmaster?

Being the leader of the wizarding world meant responsibility and even more fame and fortune. He didn't want any more of those, ever. It really was time for him to actually start living his life.

Ron waited for a moment and then said hesitantly, as if he still wasn't sure Harry really meant what he'd just said, "I think dad's going to run in the elections. Said he could do some good as the Minister." He was so proud of his family that he could burst, even though underneath that pride was still a sorrow that would never really go away.

"Like I said..." Harry muttered quietly, feeling like his decisions really were the only ones possible. Everything was in good hands, and if their world needed him to deal with everything, whether it was some universal leadership or chasing after the remaining Death Eaters, they were all lost already. "I'll certainly vote for him."

He finished the packing in silence, marveling at all the junk he'd managed to gather during their relatively short stay here. There weren't many new things he treasured, unless he counted the broom Sirius had insisted on buying him, saying it was good luck to have a broom as a gift.

Since Harry didn't like arguing with Sirius, he'd just nodded and thanked him for the new broom.

It had actually been a relief; Harry didn't really like the idea of shopping, especially after the trip to Ollivander's. He had needed a new wand, the mahogany surface still feeling odd to his fingers every time he pushed it under his robes, but the simple expedition had turned into a media circus as soon as he'd stepped into Diagon Alley.

One more thing to confirm that his decision was the right one, not that he really needed more justification for leaving.

"Need some help carrying that downstairs?" Ron offered, gesturing at the trunk even though he was pretty sure Harry had some shrinking potion around.

Therefore he was surprised to see the nod.

"Yeah, thanks."

The two Gryffondors carried Harry's trunk downstairs to the living room, where the floo had finally been opened after months of being sealed. They had already tested the connection, so there would be no surprises.

Harry didn't feel any regrets leaving this place; the house hadn't felt like home for such a long time, and even now it was mostly due to Snape's presence that Harry associated the place with all the things a proper home should be.

The house was nice, but it would have to be someone else's nice big home. He knew Sirius and Remus would make it a great place for him to visit every now and then.

Those two deserved it.

"Harry?"

Turning to look at Ron, Harry was taken back by the clear hesitation on his face. "Yeah?"

"You really sure you want to do this?" Ron absolutely hated saying goodbyes. It didn't matter they'd see each other again in a few weeks on Sirius' birthday. He'd lived with Harry for over seven years. He would miss him. A lot.

Harry could see that this wasn't another tirade about him going away to live with Snape, but something he felt as well. "Yeah. I am." He mirrored Ron's position, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Okay." Ron nodded, trying not to look as unhappy as he felt. "Cool." Damn it, he hated it when his voice cracked like that. This wasn't the end, just going on with life. And it wasn't as if Harry was moving to the other side of the world. He'd be right there, on the other side of the floo, five minutes from anywhere.

He still felt like hitting something.

"I'll be around. And you can always come and visit." Harry had the feeling that not even Snape's presence at their little cottage would keep Ron and Hermione away from there, no matter how busy they were with their lives. "You can help me de-gnome the garden again."

A reluctant grin crept to Ron's lips. "Yeah, sure. I'd love to come and share more chores with you." Not that it actually sounded bad.

"Besides, you'll have your hands full dealing with the Ministry and your new place too."

That made Ron bristle a little, as if he wasn't sure Harry was just saying that or if there was a hidden meaning behind it. "Oh shut up."

"Not saying a word!" Harry raised his hands, grinning at the scowl.

There was really nothing new he could say about Ron's choices. The decision to work with the Ministry was actually a good one, but his new living arrangements had even made Remus laugh out loud -- after Ron had left the room in a huff of course.

Harry was actually happy for Ron, knowing that to him life was full of possibilities. The small flat in Diagon Alley, a career with the Ministry, shagging and fighting with his soon-to-be-famous- Quidditch-player flatmate, they were all good things.

He knew his path would lead away from all this, but seeing his family go for their own dreams was wonderful. Now that Sirius' name was finally cleared, he and Remus could build a real life together, with a real home and work offers. Hermione had already left for University, telling them to write -- which they probably wouldn't -- and promising to come and visit soon.

All their great plans were so different from Harry's, his only intention was to be happy. He wasn't sure he even wanted to plan anything to do; he'd done quite enough already, playing the hero, destroying the villain.

There had been great losses, but he was certain that one day he would be ready to accept it wasn't because of him, just like their victory hadn't been all due to him. The latter part still seemed hard for some people to grasp. The part he had played for their world had been necessary to gather everyone together, and he wasn't needed anymore. He had to wonder if he had ever really been.

It was a better thought than he could have ever imagined.

Now it was the time to be and figure out what he really wanted from life.

He had no idea how that would turn out, but the first steps were clear. There would be a lot to do at the cottage before winter, and he was certain simple work would keep him and Snape busy, even with the help of two house elves.

Far away from the day to day bustle of the wizarding world.

An old memory made him smile. Yes, somehwere he could see the sky, where he could breathe freely. It had never sounded better than right this moment.

Ron heard the footsteps nearing, and for a moment thought it was Snape, especially since Harry was smiling a bit goofily again.

"Good, I almost thought I'd miss this." Not bothering to say words of greeting, Draco walked to Harry.

"I think Snape would have been disappointed. He said there was something he needed to tell you before we leave." Harry saw how his words just made Draco shrug, but there was definitely a wild look in Ron's eyes.

He chose not to comment on that.

Draco adjusted his robes, casting a glance towards the door, "I don't think he'd appreciate me disturbing his packing."

After all, Snape had disappeared downstairs after breakfast with a few words about seeing to his things. He had, however accepted Remus Lupin's hand for goodbye, since it was probable he and Sirius wouldn't be back by the time Harry and Snape left.

It had been a good decision in Draco's opinion. No unfinished affairs, no overly emotional scenes. It was no coincidence that he'd had certain negotiations earlier today, so that the Gryffindors could do whatever Gryffindors did when they were saying goodbye.

"Good idea," Harry said. He knew Snape would want to finish packing in peace. "So how did it go? Did you sign with the Montrose Magpies or the Falmouth Falcons?"

Considering the weird timid looks between Ron and Draco these days, Harry wouldn't have been surprised by him signing with the Cannons.

Draco shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "Neither. The offers are good, but I haven't made up my mind yet." It was clear he had, but didn't want to talk about it right now.

Harry chose not to press, knowing he'd hear it in time. "Okay."

"Yeah." There was no more fidgeting. "So... This is goodbye then." Draco had known his farewells to Snape would make him feel strange, but he'd never thought it would be just as difficult to say it to Harry.

"Yeah." Harry stepped closer to Draco, the smile on his face only half amused, as if he had something important to say before leaving. "You do know what Hermione and I will do to you if you ever hurt Ron, right?" Seeing the way the grey eyes squinted as if Draco was taking that as a challenge, he added, "It will be exactly the same thing Snape and I will do to Ron if he ever hurts you."

He ignored the choking sounds Ron was making.

It made Draco Malfoy laugh openly. "That does sound fair." Especially since he knew Granger could be just as evil and creative as Snape was if she thought he was mistreating her friend.

"Good." Reaching out, Harry held out his hand again, but this time he didn't let go of Draco's after the simple shake. He pulled him close enough to clasp his arm with his left hand; a brief half-hug that surprised them both. "You know, you're not all that bad."

The words he'd once used for Snape were undoubtedly true with Draco as well.

"Probably not." Then again, Draco did try his best these days. It had something to do with the Gryffindor influence, he was sure. Those moralistic bastards were destroying the last bit of his former grand destiny, making it damn sure he would never become the next Dark Lord.

Which wasn't such a bad thing, really. At least now Harry could go wherever he was going with Snape and live as insanely happy as he could without having to worry about coming to stop him in a few decades or so.

Draco knew he should probably be thinking about something serious right now, but all he could really concentrate on were the offers from Quidditch teams. The heir of Malfoy, no, the lord of Malfoy now, would make a name on the pitch, and maybe then with the rest of their world. The pitch was a good place to start, even though it did sound a bit too frivolous.

Offering Weasley a place to stay was probably another sign of his total disregard of tradition. Of course it would be a good thing to live with the youngest son of the Minister for Magic even if they weren't taking small tentative steps towards something that was beyond casual shagging, especially since Ron's blood was as pure as his was. No matter how grand and well that sounded, the truth of the matter was that it would be nice to have someone familiar there with him when he came home from Quidditch practices.

He patted Harry's arm. "You're not that bad yourself. For a Gryffindor." Salazar Slytherin was probably spinning in his grave.

"How very touching," Snape observed from the doorway, looking at the scene with approval that belied his words.

Harry let go of Draco's arm and turned to Snape. "Farewells usually are." Not that this was anything compared to this morning, when there had been hugs and promises and a suspicious glint in Sirius' eyes that had dissolved into a bout of sniffling as Remus finally pushed him out of the door.

It had been sad, but now there was only anticipation left. Harry's task here had ended with the funerals, and it was time to go before the parties started. He was all for celebrating life and the future, but he preferred to do it alone with Snape, not in a crowd of drunken witches and wizards.

He was ready to look forward instead of hanging onto his glorious past.

Wiping his hands against his robes without even noticing the movement, Harry looked startled when Snape walked next to him and grabbed his hand in a now familiar gesture. He smiled sheepishly and let go of his robes, knowing Snape wouldn't say anything about his silly habit.

There was the barest of caress, Snape's fingers moving over his, lingering on the soft skin of his wrist before letting go.

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Mr. Malfoy." Snape didn't even look at Weasley as he turned to his former ward. "My congratulations on your new career."

Nodding slightly, Draco said, "Thank you, sir." Not that he needed Snape's approval, but it was nevertheless nice to hear it. "I think that playing Quidditch will suit me quite well right now."

Snape's eyes glinted with dark amusement. It was clear that the boy would go far; his intelligence and ambition had not disappeared anywhere even though his choice of company did make one wonder. "Good luck."

He was going to need it dealing with Weasley.

Draco was stunned when the professor offered him his hand, but accepted it immediately, trying his best to ignore the way Harry was beaming at both of them. "You too, sir." He was careful to point his smirk at Harry's direction.

Stepping back, Snape said as an afterthought, "Oh, and Mr. Malfoy? Might I suggest that if you do have the Mansion rebuilt, you'll go for practicality instead of pomp?"

"I will consider that, yes," Draco replied, his lips curling into a genuine smile.

That would be far in the future, when he finally got through with all the paperwork and had the proper funds cleared from the endless maze of Malfoy vaults under Gringotts. There was no doubt in his mind, he would indeed rebuild their family house, but maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to make it a bit more inviting.

Snape nodded, satisfied with the answer. "Mr. Weasley?"

"What?" Ron blurted out.

"Do try to curb your more Gryffindor traits in the future." It was clear that Snape didn't think that was possible. "Though I believe they will help you with your work at the Ministry."

Ron gaped. Was that a compliment or not? Considering that it was the first non sarcastic thing he'd ever really heard from Snape, he couldn't really tell. "Um... Thank you. I guess."

As always, there was a slightest of sneers on Snape's lips as he kept looking at Ron Weasley. It didn't matter that he did indeed endorse the plan the young Weasley had made with Draco Malfoy, or that there was sometimes a hint of reluctant approval in his eyes as he turned his gaze to the redhead these days.

Things had changed, but not that much.

He turned to Harry who was grinning at him like an idiot. "Are you done?"

"Yeah." There would be no need for more hugs or last minute promises to owl and visit. They all knew this was not the end, and making it feel like one would just be stupid. His trunks were packed, and if there were socks left under the bed, Sirius would undoubtedly send them after him, or maybe even use it as an excuse for an early visit.

There was nothing more for him to do here.

"So we can go?" There was a hint of impatience in Snape's voice, as if he was eager to move on as well, already thinking about all the things that needed to do in their new home. There were simple everyday chores as well as a few potions he wanted to brew before Harry started making suggestions about spending the rest of the day in bed. He was determined to at least try to get some real work done before that.

Harry smiled at Snape, reaching out and brushing his fingers against the back of Snape's hand again in a familiar gesture. "Yeah. Let's go home."