Chapter Text
In the years that had followed the rise of Voldemort to power some two decades ago, Severus Snape had had more than ample opportunity to imagine how it would feel to be killed by the Dark Lord. The Cruciatus curse was only one of the many excruciatingly painful forms of torture that he had anticipated preceding his eventual demise. As much as he had hoped to avoid such a fate, Snape had always known that such would be his punishment for the mistakes of his youth. And yet, in all the scenarios that had played out in his mind, Snape had never imagined that he would be disposed of by a snake. It was somewhat insulting that Voldemort couldn't even be bothered to execute him personally.
Even more bizarre than the anticlimactic cause of his death was the fact that he woke up again after it. While he had never been predisposed to contemplate what the afterlife might be like, if he had, the notion that it might appear like the dungeons of Hogwarts would most certainly never have crossed his mind. Regardless, Snape awoke to find himself on the floor of a stretch of corridor with which he was very familiar. He had spent more than half his life walking those very halls, yet Snape could no more imagine how he could have gotten from the Shrieking Shack to the dungeons than he could puzzle out why "the beyond" would resemble Hogwarts.
Trying to stand caused his vision to swim. His limbs were sluggish to respond as if weighed down, but the fear of what would happen should Voldemort be victorious allowed him to pull himself up to his feet. The hall was eerily silent for there to be a battle raging around the school, but what concerned Snape the most was the total absence of any pain. A general numbness permeated his body; beyond that, he couldn't feel anything wrong. His hands flew up to his throat, but he couldn't find any marks to indicate that he had been attacked. Closing his eyes, Snape shook his head to remove the fog from his mind.
When he opened them again, his vision was clearer, but what he saw still didn't make any sense. A thick mist was rolling along the floor and obscuring his feet. Taking a few tentative steps forward, he peered cautiously into the open doorway of the room nearest him. The classroom was unmistakable. If it wasn't Hogwarts, then the room was a perfect replica. He had spent seven years of his life as a student sitting in it and another sixteen as a teacher, forced to carry on while surrounded by incompetents, morons, and traitors. No matter how much he loved the art of Potions, that room was his personal prison, with its rows of insolent students who never listened, didn't respect him, and couldn't be arsed to think for themselves. Finding that cold, damp room to be brightly lit and full of smiling children made Snape's mouth drop open.
"Impossible," he whispered as he watched the rows of youngsters laughing amongst themselves. He knew for a fact that all but a few of the oldest students had been escorted from the grounds because of the Dark Lord, and even if they had remained, none of them would have looked so happy about their fate. Adding to his confusion was the fact that not a sound of their conversations or mirth made it out of the room into the hall where Snape stood.
A dark-haired, plump face caught his eye.
"Crabbe? Mr Crabbe, come over here!" When the boy didn't acknowledge his order, Snape moved to step through the portal. A cold weight settled in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn't bring himself to cross the threshold. Eyes narrowing, Snape paused to take a closer look at the boy, and his brow furrowed in confusion at what he saw. Crabbe's face was rounder and softer, no longer the man that he had been growing into. Impossible as it seemed, Crabbe looked even younger than Snape remembered him being when he first came to Hogwarts. The scowl that usually darkened his face was gone, giving the boy an appearance of childlike innocence.
A sudden understanding of where he most likely was filled him with dread, and Snape began to scan the crowd in desperation to find signs of either Goyle or Malfoy. None of the three boys would have gone anywhere alone. He had worked so hard to keep them out of trouble. The thought that they had also died fighting because of his failure was a terrifying one. He had already failed Lily and Albus; to have failed Draco as well, after he had sworn to Narcissa that he would protect her son, was repugnant.
Without thinking, Snape beat his fist against the stone doorframe, still trying to get Crabbe's attention. Absently, he noted that it didn't hurt him as it should have. He still couldn't bring himself to enter the room, so he was reduced to yelling. "Vincent Crabbe, answer me!"
The vacant, slight smile the boy wore never wavered; the boy didn't so much as flinch as his former head of house slammed his palm against the doorframe again and again. For his part, Snape was so intent on getting the boy's attention that he didn't notice the silent figure behind him until Dedalus Diggle was nearly on top of him.
While Snape didn't particularly care for him, he couldn't help acknowledging that the little man had been a long-standing and valuable member of the Order. "Diggle, what happened? Is the Dark Lord still winning, or has the Order manage to push him back? Is Potter still safe?"
Dozens of questions wanted to spill from Severus' lips, but he could only watch as Diggle breezed past him, completely ignoring him. Then the strangest thing happened: the tiny man that crossed the threshold was not the person who seated himself in the classroom. The years that had greyed his hair and etched deep lines onto his face melted away, leaving only a shyly smiling boy of approximately ten, with a too-large, purple top hat on his head.
Before he could attempt any further acts of communication, another person lumbered forward through the misty length of hallway. As he drew nearer, Severus recognized the blank face of a blond Death Eater. Anderson was his name -- a new recruit, only with them for a couple of weeks. Stepping back, Severus felt a sort of horrified curiosity as an especially short blond boy skipped down one aisle of desks to seat himself alongside Crabbe. Immediately, the two boys struck up an animated conversation as if they had been the best of friends all their lives.
"Tonks!" The feisty young woman was next to appear from the misty borders of the bizarre setting, and Snape began to feel a rising sense of panic. "Tonks, what's happened? Diggle, he came... here... Blast it all, why can no one hear me -- Nymphadora!"
Not even the hated use of her full and proper name was enough to rouse the woman from her zombie-like state. The frustration of it all was enough to make Severus want to scream. Since he didn't know what was wrong with them, he couldn't begin to attempt a counterjinx against whatever was clearly affecting everyone else.
Grabbing her by the neck of her robes, Snape fully intended to shake her into awareness if she wouldn't pay attention to him. He pulled her close enough to him that Tonks had to face him rather than continuing on into the classroom. "Wake up," he growled at her angrily.
"That won't work, I'm afraid, Severus."
The sound of another voice behind him startled Snape into releasing his hold on Tonks, who moved on as if nothing had stopped her in the first place. Unfortunately, Snape felt a crushing sense of certainty that there was no longer any question as to where he was. Either he had finally done enough to make amends, or this was what hell was truly like: eternity as an outsider, with all the other children laughing and having fun while he was denied everything. Not that he had the slightest intention of walking through that door.
Both Death Eaters and members of the Order sat in that room. Too many were suffering while he stood around like an ignorant prat bemoaning his fate. Turning around with as much poise as he could muster, given the circumstances, Snape said, "Albus. You look surprisingly well. All things considered."
"Yes, death has been quite good to me." The smile turning up the corners of the former headmaster's mouth reached all the way to his eyes, brightening them in a way that Snape hadn't seen in years. However, a sudden heaviness came over his features, turning his expression bittersweet. "It's such a pity that you've had to suffer such a hard life in order to enjoy this well-deserved rest."
Unable to believe what he was hearing, Snape affected a deep scowl and said incredulously, "Rest? There's no time for such things! The Dark Lord has the Elder Wand, and it's only a matter of time until he discovers the reason it doesn't work for him. Then he'll be unstoppable -- even against Potter."
"My dear boy, you must trust in the others to handle things from here." The old wizard gave Snape's shoulder a fond pat. "You may not think much of him, but Harry is growing into a fine man. And he isn't alone; there are others to help him along his path."
"Pardon my saying so, sir, but the 'others' are dropping like flies. None of them stand a chance against the Dark Lord." Snape gestured to the classroom behind him. There were easily forty desks already filled, and more forms were already shuffling nearer, still obscured in the mist. "How could I possibly just give up now and 'rest' when he is so close to winning?"
Dumbledore gave a small chuckle at the sincerity in the other man's voice. "I should think that death would absolve you from any other responsibility in this matter. But even if it didn't, what do you think you could do as you are now?"
Shaking his head with an almost desperate determination, Snape replied, "I refuse to believe that this is what the 'Great Beyond' holds in store. Even if it were, I can't stay here. I told you before that I wouldn't let Potter be served up to the Dark Lord like a fatted calf. That damned fool brat will need all the help he can get."
It was infuriating, the way that Dumbledore's smile only broadened at Snape's remarks. "I thought you didn't care for Harry," he said in a tone that implied otherwise.
In response, Snape drew himself up to his full height and leveled a look of disgust at the former headmaster. "Harry Potter has been nothing but an exceptional pain in the backside since the day he and his little friends showed up at Hogwarts, and I still wish that you would have allowed me to expel them for their idiotic stunt with that flying car. But be that as it may, none of them deserves what the Dark Lord has in store for them." The heat left his voice, and Snape's shoulders slumped as he added quietly, "I already failed you. I can't let them down as well."
"You never failed me, Severus. Rather, I'm the one who let you down." Dumbledore drew nearer to rest both hands on Snape's shoulders. "No, dear boy, you did more than should have been asked of anyone. I had hoped that at least Minerva would have believed me when I said that I had placed my trust in you implicitly... They might not understand, Severus, but I know how hard you've worked to make things right by Lily. You can't think that she would ever want you to endanger your soul to help Harry."
Instinct told him to shrug off the touch and to snarl back with a sarcastic remark, but Snape held himself in check. Even after all the time that had passed, he still found himself wanting Dumbledore's good opinion.
"What I'm doing has nothing to do with Lily Potter," he replied as evenly as possible. "I did not spend half my life teaching these idiot children in order for them to end up like this. And if I had been allowed to instruct them properly instead of watching buffoons like Lockhart nearly get half the school killed, maybe Potter wouldn't be so close to getting himself blown up now."
As soon as he'd said it, Snape regretted his words. Dumbledore was looking at him with hurt in his eyes, and it made him feel as guilty as a misbehaving first-year. For his part, Dumbledore nodded slowly and released his hold on Snape's shoulders. "If it is your wish to go back, far be it from me to try to stop you," he stated as he withdrew a step from the other man's personal space. "Although I'm afraid that I won't be able to help you this time if the Ministry doesn't believe in your innocence."
"Then I suppose there is one advantage to this situation." Snape's face was as neutral as he could keep it while feeling terrified. "They can't put me on trial if I'm already dead."
"Before you make your choice, keep in mind that those who are meant to be here and depart are seldom able to find their way back."
"Then that's a risk I'll have to take. Potter isn't the only one in danger, and I promised Narcissa that I would keep Draco safe. Hell, the whole bloody world is doomed if the Dark Lord gets all the Deathly Hallows. Who knows, maybe I can convince some of the Slytherins to help, or at least to stay out of it. A few bodies' difference may be all the Order needs to rally their own forces."
Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply, but his words were silenced as one of the Weasley boys shambled down the hall past them. Closing his eyes, the old wizard hung his head with a pained expression. "There's still so much I'd like to tell you, Severus, but I suppose there's nothing that can't wait a little while longer. Nothing except to say that I'm sorry. I can't tell you how sorry I am that I made you feel like you had no other options than turning to Tom for acceptance."
Snape was about to correct him, saying that his choices had been his own fault, but the mist that had been swirling about his ankles began to thicken and rise. "What's happening?"
"I'll try my best to make it all up to you," was Dumbledore's cryptic response as he stepped further away from Snape. "I only hope you don't end up regretting your decision..."
The old wizard's voice faded more and more with every word as Severus' vision dimmed. His limbs began to grow heavier, and he had to struggle not to fall to the ground. His brain insisted that he needed to move, to get away from whatever was closing in on him, but each attempt to move sent waves of pain through his body until the greying world turned black.
The next thing that Snape was aware of was a peculiar hissing sound, more akin to steam than to the sibilant sounds of Voldemort's pet. Curious as to what it could be, he attempted to open his eyes and take in his surroundings. Unfortunately, doing so sent waves of nausea through him. As his stomach attempted to resettle, Snape realized that the sound had stopped and had been replaced by a gentle nudging at his arm. When the pressure became more insistent, Snape tried to wave off whatever it was that was pushing at him.
A drop of moisture fell onto his face, and it helped bring Snape around faster. He squinted again, more successfully this time. There was another angry hiss as the bead of liquid traveled down his cheek and rolled along the length of his neck. A purplish smoke rose from his wounds in curls as the phoenix tears did their work, drawing Nagini's venom from his body.
"Fawkes?" Reaching out a trembling hand, Snape laid the gentlest of touches on the bird's side. Part of him was terrified that to do so would send the phoenix to flight, but even stronger was the need to prove to himself that it was real and not an illusion. With a soft coo, Fawkes leaned into the touch and nuzzled Snape's hand, nipping at his fingers affectionately.
"Thank you," he said softly. There wasn't time to properly show his gratitude; he still needed to find out what was happening at the school. Giving a silent word of thanks to Dumbledore as well, Snape rolled over onto his hands and knees. The effort needed to do even that much left him panting to catch his breath. Apparently, there was a limit to the magic that even a phoenix was capable of performing. Fawkes gave an alarmed cry when Snape tried to rise, and he snapped his beak at Snape to express his displeasure. "There's no time. I'm sorry, but I need to find Potter before he gets himself killed."
Talking proved to be as much of an exertion as climbing to his feet, and the weight of his robes was like an anchor pulling him back down. His hands shook as he fumbled with the numerous buttons and fastenings until he was able to shrug off both the cumbersome robe and the frockcoat that he wore. Exhausted just from that, Snape collapsed to the floor once more, uncaring that he was lying in a pool of his own blood.
"Accio wand," he wheezed, stretching out his arm to catch his wand as it flew towards him. Without wasting any time, he cast spell after spell on himself to negate the ill effects of toying with death. He would pay dearly for each of them later, but until he could get to the Infirmary for a potion or two, delaying the inevitable was all that he could do.
Fawkes watched with disapproval at his use of the Dark Arts to stave off the repercussions of so much blood loss. Just being alive and not a ghost was a miracle. When his breathing had returned to normal, Snape managed to push himself upright again. To pacify the unhappy phoenix, Snape said, "I promise to do my best not to make your efforts be in vain, but stopping the Dark Lord is more important."
Fortunately, the sea of Death Eaters, giants, and shambling corpses between himself and Hogwarts didn't know that Voldemort had wanted him dead. The only real obstacle between the Shrieking Shack and the doors of the castle would be the very people he was hoping to protect.
*****
Draco frowned down at the mahogany wand in his hand. His mother had given him her wand to replace the one that had been taken from him, but that, too, had been lost during the heated battle raging throughout the castle. The wand currently in his hand had been taken from the grasp of a fallen Death Eater, and it clearly wasn't fond of him. Draco had never imagined that things would turn out as they had. When the Dark Lord had declared that the students had an hour to present Potter to him, Draco had expected some resistance before the other boy's body was inevitably offered up by the student body to save their own lives. People were dying in droves, either in an attempt to kill Potter or to save him.
The castle shook as another blast hit it.
His father had told him that the Dark Lord had the giants on his side in addition to dementors and inferii. They had been hurling boulders, trees, and anything else they could get their hands on, in order to take down the castle's walls. The sound of crumbling stone and twisting metal frightened Draco enough to drive him into an unlit alcove of the corridor. Crouching there, he covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He didn't want to fight, but no amount of wishing would send him back home, either. There was no way to simply walk out of the school. Potter's lot would inevitably label him as another Death Eater, and Goyle had abandoned him when Draco had refused to regroup with the others. Fighting was what had gotten Crabbe killed, but there didn't seem to be any way to avoid it.
The sounds of battle were coming nearer, momentarily causing Draco to question his hiding place. Unfortunately, he was in the middle of a lengthy stretch of hall. If he left the alcove in either direction, he would be completely exposed in the corridor. As much as he didn't want to be a part of the fray that was going on all around him, a part of Draco rebelled at the indignation of cowering in the rubble like some peasant. All his life, he had been taught that Malfoys should present themselves with dignity and poise, no matter what the situation. Malfoys didn't cower. Yet ever since the Dark Lord had returned, it seemed as if that was all they had been doing. His whole life had been nothing but a string of disappointing failures. Even killing Dumbledore, which should have been a triumphant victory, felt just as empty and hollow now as it had a year ago. Perhaps that was why the Dark Lord had never truly forgiven any of them, perhaps he knew that Lucius only wished to be as far away from him as possible and that Draco had never taken any pleasure in the old man's death.
Suppose I'm lucky we all weren't killed already, he thought morosely. The sounds of the battle came even closer, and Draco swore softly to himself.
Too long. He had dallied too long, and now the fighting had spread too near his hiding place. So far, no one had noticed him, but that didn't mean that a stray curse wouldn't get shot in his direction. Without any cover of their own, the Weasley girl and what looked like Longbottom didn't stand any chance. They could only block for so long, and the two were steadily being pushed back closer to where he hid. A bolt of red light hit Ginny, and she gave a scream of pain before falling down. Neville returned with a cry of anger and managed -- probably by accident -- to disarm one of his three attackers. His other
jinxes went wild from the shaking of his hand, though it wasn't from fear. Draco had never seen the other boy look so unafraid in his life; he was simply outclassed and beyond angry. Longbottom had been one of the first to stand up in protest of the Dark Lord. He hadn't hidden behind his family, cringing all year as Draco had. Even as he had been beaten and tortured, Longbottom had borne his new scars proudly. It made Draco feel sick inside, that a Malfoy should be bested by a Longbottom and a Weasley.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Draco watched in amazement at the mahogany wand, which had thus far delighted in not doing as it was instructed, struck its target with practiced accuracy. Both Death Eaters rocked in place slightly, carried by the momentum of their advance to crash in a stiff heap, face-first on the flagstones.
"Huh... Actually worked." Draco held up the wand to examine, completely baffled by it.
Neville, however, wasted no time in whipping around to stand protectively in front of Ginny as she tried to regain her footing. The two boys pointed their wands at each other, and for a long, tense moment, silence stretched between them. Sounds of combat could be heard from all around them, but neither moved, each unwilling to lower his wand before the other.
For a moment, Draco allowed his eyes to leave Neville's to look past him to Ginny. "All right there, Weasley?"
"Hurts like hell, but I'll be fine." She wiped her hands on the legs of her trousers before collecting her wand. "Thanks for that," she added, giving the nearest Death Eater a sharp kick in the side.
"Yeah, well, you should probably get back to helping your friends. It doesn't sound like they're doing so well."
Neville's wand lowered slightly in his confusion. "Could say the same about you."
Taking a chance, Draco lowered his pilfered wand and tucked it in the waistband of his trousers. When neither made a move against him, he slowly made his way to retrieve the wands of the three Death Eaters. One of them had to work better than the one he had. Giving one a small flick, he found the results much more satisfying and pocketed the lot of them.
"I'm only interested in finding my parents and getting out of here," he stated, figuring he owed Potter one less favor now. Maybe the rest could even be repaid on his way out. Owing anything to his sort was most distasteful. "Haven't seen them by any chance, have you?"
Neville shook his head in shock, looking to Ginny for guidance. While he didn't mind the change, it was certainly unexpected. For years, Draco had gone out of his way to pick fights with them. His current civility was rather unsettling. Ginny didn't seem to know what to make of it any more than he did.
"Not up here," she replied, still rubbing at the sore spot on her side. "Maybe they're near the front doors if they're as eager as you are to leave?"
"I tried there first, which is why I started working my way up."
"Well, we just came from up, and unless they're in one of the towers, they're not upstairs. Maybe they went outside?" Ginny moved to follow Draco to the nearest window. Giants, dementors, inferii, and acromantula were all swarming the grounds, fighting centaurs and house elves. "Maybe not."
Draco's face fell. "I hope not. There's a much better way out of here than the front door."
"You know a way out?"
"Of course," Draco looked offended. "The vanishing cabinet. It goes to Knockturn Alley, but since everyone there is here, it's the perfect place to go. Except -- dammit!" He lashed out suddenly, kicking the stone wall and cursing in pain for it.
Neville's hand was on his wand again, but Ginny understood. "The box," she said softly. "It was in the Room of Requirement."
When Draco nodded, Neville actually laughed. "Then it looks like you're stuck here with the rest of us."
"Lucky me." He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to decide what to do. "Would either of you be up for making a deal?"
Suspicions immediately raised, and neither answered right away. "What sort of deal?" Neville asked hesitantly.
"You two come with me, help me look for my parents, and I'll get you into Professor Snape's private stash of potions. A straight up trade: we keep each other safe getting down there, I get the door open safely without damaging anything inside, and you two help me look around a little on the way." When no reply was forthcoming, he added, "Unless you don't think your side could use some more healing salves and pepper-up potions and god-knows what else he keeps in there. Better to let the Death Eaters have all of that, right?"
The two Gryffindors exchanged questioning looks for a moment before Neville nodded. "A quick search of every floor, you get us into the storeroom, but if we can't find Mr or Mrs Malfoy before then, we still part ways."
Draco extended his hand to Neville who shook it, though an uncertain expression turned his face down in a frown as Ginny held out a hand in an invitation to lead the way, saying, "After you."
*****
"Harry Potter is dead."
The sound of Voldemort's voice filled the air around him, a perverted mockery of a sympathetic friend, causing Snape to cease in his efforts to cross the grounds from the Whomping Willow to the castle.
"He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished."
The Dark Lord continued speaking, but Snape didn't hear. "Potter is dead," replayed in his mind over and over again. Too late. He was too late. In the end, he would only die once more trying and failing to stop the Dark Lord. A crushing sense of impossibility settled on his shoulders. He'd had to find Potter, protect Draco, reclaim the Elder Wand, stop the Dark Lord, fight off dementors, avoid former friends who thought him a traitor, and avoid being noticed by Death Eaters who thought him dead. It was all too much. Dumbledore had tried to warn him, but he hadn't listened.
A sudden noise broke through his morose thoughts. Voldemort's spurious offers of peace were met with sounds of uprising and revolt. The pause in the war was over, it seemed, and Snape forced himself to continue on as well. If he was going to die, then he would go out fighting, not cowering in some remote area until the Dark Lord found him. Perhaps it would even be possible for the others to combine their strength and emerge victorious even without the "Chosen One". Buying the Order enough time to rally would have to be good enough, and it was a far better way to go than bleeding out on the floor of that dilapidated shack.
Snape was certain that nothing but anger and the dark magic he had cast on himself would keep him going through this battle. What little strength had been restored had already been depleted again just as quickly in the process of making his way into the Great Hall. He wasted precious seconds in attempting to assess the situation. A sea of bodies stood before him, firing spells in all directions. Yaxley was dueling George and Lee Jordan, Dolohov was being beaten back by Flitwick, McNair was thrown into a wall by Hagrid, Bellatrix was close to overwhelming Hermione and Luna, while Ron was attempting to face down Fenrir Greyback alone. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord was too far away for Snape to be able to aid McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley in their fight. His first impulse was to help one of the one of the students who were taking on opponents who far outmatched them, like Bellatrix and Fenrir; however, a member of the Order would have a greater chance of success in helping to stop the Dark Lord, if he could help free one of them from their opponents.
An arrow whizzed past his ear, making his decision and spurring him into motion. The centaurs were closing in, and he had no desire to be slain by a compatriot who didn't know where his loyalties lay. Scanning the room as he limped forward, he found Arthur Weasley and one of his gangly sons fighting Thicknesse, or rather, being beaten back by him. The boy's name escaped him; all the Weasleys looked more or less the same to him, but he did remember thinking that this one may have been placed in the wrong house. Now the young man was fighting with as much courage as any Gryffindor and with just as few brains. Snape was disappointed to see that, even now, the Order was only using jinxes and hexes to fend off Death Eaters who clearly had no qualms about shooting to kill.
Trying to honor their idiotic wishes, Snape carefully made his way behind the Minister for Magic and leveled his wand. "Petrificus Totalus," he said with as much force as he could muster, fearful that the spell wouldn't go off properly in his current state. A smug grin turned up his otherwise exhausted features when Thicknesse froze in place with the killing curse on his lips. Giving in to a childish whim, Snape took another step forward and gave the minister a slight push, which sent his body tumbling to the floor with a satisfying crash.
In a moment of cruel irony, Weasley took a step forward himself and punched Snape squarely in the nose before leveling his wand at the man he thought was a traitor to both the Potters and Dumbledore. Swearing softly, Snape dabbed the back of his hand to his face, and it came away bloody, as if he weren't already covered in the stuff. It took all of his willpower not to lash out in return, but there were more important things to be done. Forcing his voice to remain as neutral as possible while at wandpoint, he said, "Your efforts would be better served by helping Minerva and the others to bring down the Dark Lord."
Arthur's only response was to step closer, his wand still raised threateningly, but the boy grabbed him by the arm and pulled his father towards Voldemort. "Percy, we can't just let him go!"
Percy! That was the boy's name!
The former Head Boy continued to hold his father's arm tightly. "He's right, Dad. There are more important things to do than to fight with someone who wants to help. Let's go."
Percy's eyes turned momentarily to Snape with a look that said he knew what it was like to want to make amends. With a growl of frustration, Arthur lowered his wand and allowed his son to lead him away. While Arthur shoved his way over to stand alongside Kingsley, Percy stepped up beside Ron to help deal with Greyback.
"Severus!"
Snape barely had a chance to turn around before he found himself holding Narcissa Malfoy as she clung to him tightly, unable to hold back tears at the sight of him. It only took a moment for her to realize that she had her face pressed against a blood-soaked shirt, and she pulled back in horror.
"Severus, are you hurt?"
Before she could begin prying at the buttons of his waistcoat to inspect for damage, he took both her hands in his and tilted her face up. "It isn't as serious as it may appear. I was able to find a quiet moment to heal most of it. What of you and Lucius?"
The fact that Lucius was presently inching around him to put Snape's body between himself and the conflagration was not lost on Snape, but at the moment, he didn't have time to care or to comment.
"We're both fine," Narcissa insisted, tugging on Snape's hands. "But Draco -- have you seen Draco? Do you know where he is? Potter said that he was still alive; he swore to me, but I can't find him anywhere."
"I'm sure he's fine, Narcissa. Draco is an intelligent lad; he's probably trying to stay out of things as much as possible." Snape scowled as he added, "I just wish the same could have been said of Mr Potter. With this many people willing to die on his behalf, the ungrateful brat should have had better manners than to go and get himself killed so quickly."
"So it's true, then?" Narcissa's expression was one of shock and disbelief, though she didn't release her hold on Snape's hand. "You really are Dumbledore's man? Even with what you did for Draco last year?"
Snape straightened his stance, tamping down the pain that radiated from every muscle. "I am nobody's 'man'. I belong to no one. What I do, I choose to do, and I will not play the part of a house elf for Dumbledore, the Dark Lord, or anyone else. I made the Unbreakable Vow because I care about what happens to Draco, as I care for you and Lucius. I'm helping the Order now because I would not be a free man under the Dark Lord's rule."
Lucius spoke up for the first time, asking, "You think it's better to die a free man than live as a slave? I'd rather have a third option, if it's all the same."
"You could always help make sure that the Order wins." The affronted expression on his friend's face made Snape's own expression soften. "After the dust settles, tell them all about how you were coerced into aiding the Dark Lord, the threats against your family, the curses. They're a gullible lot, and it isn't even too much of a stretch from the truth. They shouldn't be too difficult to convince."
His words won a smile from Lucius, perhaps the first real smile Snape had seen from the man in recent years. It didn't take long, though, for the reality of their situation to drive away any short-lived happiness he might have felt. "If you want to make it through this, I'm going to need your help. Without Potter, we're all going to have to work together to stop the Dark Lord."
"Potter is still alive."
Both men turned to stare at Narcissa in shock. "Say again?"
Narcissa's expression was simultaneously indignant and incredibly guilty. "I only told the Dark Lord that he was dead so that he would leave the poor boy alone."
"Then where is he now?!" Snape's head swiveled around, trying to take in the whole room, as if that would somehow allow him to find Potter.
"I don't know." Narcissa shrugged helplessly. "He disappeared in the fighting once we got to the castle, but I'm more concerned about Draco. I gave him my wand so that he'd be safe, but it doesn't work for him, and Lucius doesn't have his anymore, either."
Trying to calm the worried mother clinging to his arm, Snape replied, "Draco never really wanted to be a part of this. He's only gone along with things thus far because of us. We told him that he should, that he had to. Left to his own devices, I'm sure he's doing his best to stay out of things, just as he's been doing all year. And I recommend that you either help the Order or stay out of things completely. You're both in enough trouble already."
Lucius spread his hands helplessly. "But we have no wands!"
"Then use your brains! You're Slytherins -- act like it." Snape bent down to retrieve the wand from Thicknesse's hand, and he thrust it as Lucius. "Here, he won't be needing this anymore. Whatever you decide to do, be careful."
Snape laid a soft kiss on Narcissa's cheek as he said goodbye. An instant later, Lucius grabbed them both and pushed them out of the way as a streak of green shot past where they had been standing. Without the same respect for life that the Order had been showing, Lucius fired back a vicious volley of curses.
"Thanks for that." Snape brought his own wand up at the ready as both men moved to stand in front of Narcissa. "And good luck hunting for Draco."
"Try not to do anything too Gryffindor." The word left Malfoy's mouth with a sneer, attempting to cover the worry he felt for the man who had been his friend for decades. The idea that Snape was a traitor was shocking, but if the man felt confident enough to go against the Dark Lord, then he had to have a plan. Severus Snape wasn't the sort to throw his life away needlessly for others. He was a survivor.
Unfortunately, Snape only made it a few steps away from them before the Potter boy revealed himself, which had the happy effect of causing the rest of the fighting to stop as everyone turned to witness whatever was about to happen between the Dark Lord and the Boy Who Lived. For his part, Snape let out a soft string of obscenities about Potter and his lineage. Rather than relying on the element of surprise, the idiot boy only stood there, all but lecturing the Dark Lord on his misbehavior! The brat had clearly taken one too many jinxes to the head. Snape knew that he didn't have the strength left to be of much help in a fight, but perhaps he still had enough luck left to stall for time.
Turning back to his friends, he said, "When you find Draco, tell him that I'm sorry I wasn't able to do more for him."
Narcissa tried to grab onto him, to keep him from going, but Lucius held her in place so that Snape could make his way through the crowd to come up behind the Dark Lord. Only the nearest witches and wizards took any notice of him at all, as the rest were too occupied in the verbal sparring between Voldemort and Potter. It was actually quite sickening. Potter didn't realize that he was being toyed with as the Dark Lord gloated about his victory over Dumbledore, promising that Potter would soon follow. Rather than using his opponent's egocentric distraction to his advantage, Potter simply went on babbling about remorse.
Snape's attention was drawn in more clearly when he heard his own name mentioned.
"Severus Snape wasn't yours. Snape was Dumbledore's, Dumbledore's from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can't understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?"
God, Potter was unbelievably thick. Not only had he given away Severus' cover, he had enraged the Dark Lord beyond words. Clearly, the boy needed all the help he could get, and since no one else was stepping up to act, then Snape could at least provide him with a window of opportunity to strike.
Raising his wand, Snape leveled it at the Dark Lord and called out his name, despite the feeling of nausea it sent through him to use it. In response, the whole room fell silent, and even the sounds of battle coming from outside seemed to diminish. Suddenly, Snape found himself with far more of the Dark Lord's attention than he truly wanted. Even more frustrating was the fact that, although he had caused the perfect distraction, Potter was only staring at him in shock, rather than doing whatever the "Chosen One" was supposed to do in order to kill Voldemort permanently.
And now that he had everyone's attention, even Harry-sodding-Potter's, Snape felt compelled to say something to fill the silence.
Drawing upon years of teaching unruly students, Snape sneered at the Dark Lord as if he were a disobedient first-year who had caused a simple potion to explode. "You truly are a pathetic and incompetent excuse for a wizard. If you're going to murder someone, you should have the decency to do it personally and ensure that it's done properly. I expected more than such slip-shod work from you, what with all your claims of being such a 'superior wizard', but I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised. You couldn't even kill an infant in his crib."
Voldemort shook with rage at Snape's audacity. He must have known that these words were meant to distract him, but even so, he couldn't seem to stop himself from turning fully to face Snape, growling back, "A mistake that I am more than happy to rectify."
"I'm sure you are. Only your pet snake is in pieces now, which means that you'll have to do it yourself. And if you'll recall, it was I who killed Albus Dumbledore. You won't have any luck using that wand against me, and you're all out of Horcruxes to hide behind."
The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed into thin slits, and he bared his teeth in a growl of rage. However, his response was cut off by Potter, who was still standing there like a prat instead of getting on with killing him.
"Even your so-called 'victory' over Dumbledore was by his own design," Potter stated. The sound of his voice was beginning to fill Snape with as much anger as Voldemort did. "He was ill and had been dying all year. If he hadn't been, you would never have gotten anywhere near him. Dumbledore only died in the end because he asked Professor Snape to do it. It had nothing to do with you."
At his words, the Dark Lord whirled his head back around, wand raised against Potter.
"Your plans have all failed, Riddle."
Voldemort's chest rose and fell rapidly, though the Dark Lord seemed torn between directing his rage at Potter or at Snape. In a blur of light, curses and hexes all flew across the Great Hall once more. Voldemort's killing curse caused the remaining Death Eaters to fire off curses of their own, while the Order and Hogwarts students threw up shielding spells and counters. There was a deafening bang from the center of the room as Voldemort's spell collided with return fire from the Boy Who Lived, although Snape wasn't able to discern what spell Potter was using.
Casting a shielding spell around himself used up the last of Snape's strength, and even standing proved to be more than he was capable of doing. Unable to fight back the exhaustion any longer, he sank to his knees amidst the resumed battle. His final thought before the world faded from grey to black was that only a Gryffindor would stand before the Dark Lord and endanger the entire wizarding world by prattling endlessly about sentimental nonsense, rather than taking the free shot that he had all but come back from the dead to create for the ungrateful brat.
*****