The Price

"NO!"

The scream of denial, frantic, horrified, torn from a heart that stopped beating in that fatal instant, echoed across the grand hall of Hogwarts. From beneath upturned tables and charred house banners, the pitifully small number of students who remained alive watched in varying degrees of dulled horror as their head girl stumbled, then toppled backwards.

Her hands pressed close to her stomach, Hermione Granger felt herself falling backwards and was unable to stop herself. As a thought about how hard the cold flagstones were going to feel when she landed on them spun through her mind, she felt herself caught and gently lowered to the floor. She forced her eyelids to remain open as she took in the carnage about her. Tears filled her eyes as the wasted young lives of her fellow schoolmates lay before her. Cut down at the very start of their lives, a whole generation of Britain's best and brightest wizards gone forever. So many of them had been her friends, so many of them had looked to her for guidance, for safety, for leadership. And in that crucial moment, when Voldemort had stormed into the room with a league of Death Eaters, she had frozen. Her fear, her terror, her uncertainty had caused this.

In moments, everything had changed.

Dumbledore had risen, his command for the students to remain seated instantly obeyed. If only she had thought to turn Voldemort's attention from Dumbledore, if only she had been the one to give that commandment.... If only she had done anything to pre-empt Voldemort's strike against Dumbledore. In his concern for his students, Dumbledore had left Voldemort the opportunity to strike at him. In that instant of concentration upon the students, Voldemort had felled him. Horrorstruck, Hermione had watched in disbelief as Dumbledore fell back into his chair, then slid bonelessly to the floor. Professor McGonagal had grabbed her by the neck of her robe and thrown her to the floor. Joining hands with Professor Flitwick, McGonagall had upturned the head table to create a barricade.

At the movement, all the other students had slipped beneath their tables. Madam Hooch peered over the barricade and muttered a quick charm, plunging the room into darkness. Hermione watched as McGonagall crawled to Dumbledore's side. She touched his cheek briefly, whispered "rest well, dear Albus," and then stood. As one the teachers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, stood behind her. Her knees shaking, Hermione stood beside them, the metal of her Head Girl badge unseen in the darkness of the hall.

"You dare disturb the halls of Hogwarts, Voldemort? You dare to pollute this place with your foulness?" The stern, measured tones of McGonagall did not hide the depth of her anger or the strength of her determination. "Do you dare face us all, Voldemort?"

Silence echoed in the great hall, and was then replaced by a mocking laugh. "My dear Minerva, I never dare. I simply do. Now, seeing that doddering old fool Dumbledore has been...removed...shall we say, I see no opposition to my taking his place." Suddenly the room was illuminated by sullen green light, a sickly corrupt colour that turned the stately hall into a creepy and cavernous waste. The light was enough to see how hideously outnumbered the teachers were. Apart from the Dark Lord himself, there were at least fifty Death Eaters striding down the aisles. As Hermione watched in horror, they took up position about the hall, forming a chain of death around the walls.

Voldemort swept up the centre aisle to come to a halt before McGonagall. "This school is mine, to do with as I will." He smirked, a strange expression that Hermione would never have thought to see on his face. A smirk seemed almost too petty, too human for someone as evil as him. He swept a disdainful look along the row of teachers, then moved to stand before Professor Sprout. "Even the most pathetic simpletons among you shall do as I command. You, for example, will provide me with enough Devil's Snare to blanket the Thames."

Professor Sprout merely shook her head and said, "Never."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow and looked towards his Death Eaters. He was preparing to make some pithy and arrogant comment, Hermione thought savagely, when suddenly Professor Sprout shook some powder from her sleeve and threw it in Voldemort's face. Pointing her wand at him she screamed, "Inflamerum."

As it if was an unspoken signal, the Professors attacked as one, disarming death eaters, wreaking havoc amongst them. They stormed through the hall as Voldemort staggered sideways away from them. Hermione joined them, pulling students towards the centre of the hall as quickly as possible, pushing the youngest furthermost under the tables, and placing the seventh years as an honorary shield about them. Every single person had their wand in their hand.

And the screams of the dead and dying mixed with battle cries, weeping and pain. The Death eaters were not disarming, they were killing.

She turned from the Ravenclaw table and saw the eldest Slytherins grouped around the youngest. Draco Malfoy was standing on the table, blasting any who came near them with whatever charm or curse he could think of, and shouting encouragement at the other Slytherins to hold firm against them. Shocked, she realised that he was standing with the other houses. She saw a figure looming behind him, the hideous mask stretched into a vindictive sneer. She screamed a warning, but it was lost in the clamour of battle. Praying that no one stepped in front of her, she lifted her wand and yelled the first charm that come to her. Draco caught sight of her just as she released the charm. She saw the bitterness in his face and realised that he thought she was aiming at him. "Behind you!" she screamed as a Death Eater barrelled into her from behind, knocking her sideways.

Malfoy turned and jumped aside as the Death Eater crashed onto the table. Hermione had managed to levitate him briefly, and Draco took the opportunity to throw himself out of harm's way. For a moment, he met the eyes of the wizard beneath the mask, and the coldness of fear and horrified certainty filled him. The eyes he looked into were the same shade as his own. With a howl of rage, Lucius sprang at his son, knocking him backward off the table and out of sight. The terrible thud of flesh against unforgiving stone was almost overpowered by the high pitched scream of the redhead girl who threw herself across the hall and over the table after them.

Ginny Weasley cast herself on the Death Eaters back and planted her hands on either side of the helmet. Holding on for dear life, she began reciting the charm to heat water. As the steel beneath her hands began to warm, her voice became louder. Lucius cried out in agony as the metal scalded his skin, and he blindly staggered against the wall.

"Draco? Draco? Taliesin, please, no, no, no..." The rest of the Slytherins barely dared to look, as Ginny crouched over the still form. His silver blond hair was awash in the ruby richness of his blood. The back of his skull had caved in from the impact of the stone. Lucius had crushed the skull of his own son in retaliation for supporting Dumbledore. Even as she touched his cheek, the light was fading from his eyes. Ginny leaned towards him, tears streaming down her face. As her lips brushed his cheek, the last word to fall from his lips was "Virginia." Her stunned disbelief rendered her unaware of Lucius's approach. Lucius grabbed her by the hair and snapped her neck, letting her body fall across that of Draco. Her fall encouraged the remaining Slytherins to choose sides and with a few notable exceptions, they threw themselves into the fray, assisting the other Houses to stand against Voldemort.

Neville pulled Hermione out from under the shattered remains of a chair, just as a storm of blazing light erupted across the hall. Standing in front of Dumbledore's chair, Voldemort raised a hand, and the light fell indiscriminately among them, burning and freezing at the same time. Hermione had thought the previous screams of agony were the worst sound she could hear, she soon realised she had been mistaken.

Over it all, she heard the voice of Voldemort whispering in her ear. "Do you like it? It is a little refinement of the Cruciatus curse. Along with the pain; the uncertainty of whether you face fire or ice."

Anger bubbled to the surface, and she pushed past Neville and rushed to the head table. Her mind refused to acknowledge that the still forms about the hall had once been her fellow students and teachers. Without thought, without plan, without any idea really what she was doing, Hermione hauled back and struck Voldemort across the face with all the strength she possessed. It shocked him enough to lose control of the curse, and the sizzling white light disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

Her arm ached with the force of the blow, but it was no match for the heaviness of her heart. As the victims moaned in pain as the last of the Cruciatus curse burnt along their nerve endings, Voldemort seized Hermione's arm. The blood in her veins chilled as he laughed, and her stomach ached as she realised that she had given Voldemort a perfect weapon to use against Harry. Herself.

She braced herself for racking pain, and was momentarily puzzled to find herself levitated high above the tables. Green light surrounded her; it felt cold and almost slimy against her cheek. Through her fear, she tried to concentrate on Voldemort's words. "Hermione Granger, I do believe. Gryffindor, and Head Girl, and most assuredly, a great friend of the very one whom I seek. Where is he?"

Hermione shook her head in denial. She saw the Death Eaters forming a circle beneath her, and the vague cries of students demanding that she not tell. The cries were quickly silenced. Holding Voldemort's gaze, Hermione clenched each hand into a fist. She knew her words would be important. Her voice, clear and steady, echoed through the hall. She was a young Boudicca, defying the armed might of the legions of Rome. "You waste your time, Voldemort. He is not here. If I knew where he was, I would not tell you. When he learns of this, he will find you. Every person here shall be avenged. He will choose the time and place."

As the rage burned stronger in Voldemort, Hermione braced herself. As wave after wave of pain ripped through her, she gripped her bottom lip between her teeth, refusing to scream aloud. She felt darkness descending upon her, the loss of consciousness from excruciating pain, and fought to erect a barrier around her mind, protecting herself as far as possible. She slipped over the edge into pain, and found to her horror that the onslaught did not stop. Instead, it grew stronger, caging her within its claws, leaving the outside world as a blur beyond the sphere of pain enveloping her.

"Let me go! He has her, I have to go. He wants me. Let me go! Now!" Almost incoherent with panic, Harry fought in vain against the strong arms that held him against the wall. Only the combined weight of Snape and Ron held him in place.

"Don't be a fool, Potter. The moment you enter that Hall we are all dead." Snape spat the words at him; his gaze fixed on the limp form of Hermione.

Ron, white faced and trembling, grimly held onto Harry's left arm. His eyes left Hermione's limp form and turned towards Snape. He was suddenly unsure which was the more devastating sight. Snape's face was locked into its usual expression of coldness, but his eyes were those of a damned soul, burning with rage, worry and grief. Ron forced himself to ask, "What do we do now, Professor?"

Snape's lip curled. "I promised Dumbledore that Voldemort would never take Hogwarts while there was breath in my body, Mr Weasley. I intend to keep that promise."

Ron noted the grim determination in his voice, and felt the icy anger radiating from Snape. A mere three years ago, Ron would never have believed that he would be standing shoulder to shoulder with Snape against Voldemort. The silent yet vicious war that had been raging between Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix had forced all of them to grow up, and both Ron and Harry had put aside their childish dislike for the Potions master and replaced it with grudging respect for his sacrifices and abilities. Although the stench of his Death Eater past remained, and Harry continued to fall in line with Sirius's ranting at times, Ron was somehow sure that beneath it all, Snape was a decent man.

A certainty that almost took a beating as Snape suddenly locked Harry in a full body bind and dropped him in Ron's arms. Ron struggled with the sudden weight as Snape gripped his shoulders.

"Take Potter and lock him in Dumbledore's office. Use the passageways and keep out of sight. It appears that all of the Death Eaters he has been able to summon are within the hall, but we will not take chances at this stage. Use Fawkes to send a distress signal, Dumbledore showed you how. Go."

Seized by the sudden certainty that he did not want to know exactly what Snape planned to do, Ron nevertheless caught at his sleeve as he moved away. "Sir..." His voice trailed off as Snape turned back towards him.

Tightening his grip on Snape's sleeve, Ron gathered his wits and said, "Be careful, Sir. Please, look after her."

Without a visible change of expression, Snape placed a hand on Ron's shoulder. "I swear to you Weasley, if it is within my power, no harm shall come to Hermione."

With that promise ringing in his ears, Ron fled down the dark hallways, dragging an unconscious Harry behind him.

No fanfares sounded, no crash of thunder or lightning strike preceded him as Snape entered the Great Hall. Without looking right or left, he silently strode towards the remnants of the Head Table. He avoided fallen bodies and crying injured children, brushed past the turning forms of Death Eaters and finally came to a stop before Voldemort himself.

Knowing the eyes of everyone in the Hall were riveted upon his back, Snape forced his gaze to lock with that of Voldemort. He sank to one knee, and simply said, "Master."

An oppressive silence hung like a pall over the occupants of the Great Hall. No one dared speak; many barely dared to breathe, as the former Death Eater Snape kneeled in obeisance before his former Dark Lord.

Snape continued to kneel, his eyes never leaving Voldemort. He could almost feel the hate-filled glares of the students behind him, many of which were matched by his former compatriots in arms.

Voldemort finally broke the silence. Not by his words, but by a stream of harsh, cruel, mocking laughter that echoed in the silence. Snape forced himself to remain still, as he swiftly catalogued his surroundings. Hermione hovered above him on his right; Voldemort showed no strain in keeping her levitating. She could have been dead, only an occasional twitch or spasm gave him hope that she lived. Dumbledore lay crumpled on the ground to his left, the head table was shattered and hideous lumps of cloth and hair scattered about them were the earthly remains of his fellow teachers and students. He forced himself to concentrate on Voldemort; he would only have one chance to convince him that he had truly turned back to his service.

"Severus Snape." Voldemort mockingly drew out the hissing sounds of the s in his name, laughingly comparing it to a snake. "One of my own chosen few. One who willingly betrayed me to my enemies. One who remained here in safety with the old fool Dumbledore and taught Harry Potter to resist me."

Snape waited in silence, making no move to defend himself. His silence enraged Voldemort further, who finally demanded that Snape defend himself.

Snape kept his voice even, his tone deferential and respectful. "Master, I know that I deserve death for turning from your cause. I swear that I only turned from you after..." he stumbled slightly, aware that Voldemort would not want his death mentioned. "...afterwards, when our ranks lay depleted and exhausted, grieving at your loss, without purpose, without hope. In that moment, I lost all hope and returned to my position here at Hogwarts. Slowly I lost contact with my comrades, yet when necessary I returned to their midst for the required rituals. When Harry Potter came to Hogwarts, I stood watch over him, looking for an opportunity to exact our vengeance upon him. Dumbledore kept him well guarded, but I slowly learnt his weaknesses, his obsessions, the ways in which to manipulate and control him. I thought to bring him to his knees, to humble himself before your memory, I wished him to beg for death in the instant before I granted it to him."

Voldemort cast a bored glance at Snape, who suddenly found himself unable to speak further. "My dear boy. I congratulate you on your presence of mind, and your ability to concoct a story. Your Slytherin cunning shines through. You forget that I myself was here. I was here in Potter's first year, when you muttered the counter charms as Quirrell jinxed his broom.

"Master, I swear to you it was only to save him from too merciful a death. I did not know Quirrell was one of us. I helped Barty Crouch remove Potter from the field after he returned from your long awaited Rising, I would have helped Pettigrew if he asked it of me. I ensured all knew Potter was a Parselmouth, I kept location charms and low level spells on the boy so he could never leave the grounds without my knowledge. I followed him and tracked him, my only thought to bring about his prolonged a painful death. I know where he is, Master. At this very moment, I know where Potter is." Snape broke eye contact and fixed his gaze on the floor. He had done all he could, his cover story was weak at best, with so many holes that the merest brush of scrutiny would send the entire structure down about his ears. If only Voldemort would take the bait.

Voldemort hesitated momentarily, then lazily waved a hand at Snape. Snape found himself on his feet, then involuntarily moving towards Voldemort. The Dark Lord then forced him to move behind Dumbledore's still body. Snape dragged his sight from Dumbledore, unable to see his mentor brought so low. Snape looked out across the charred and scattered remnants of his school. He dimly recognised some of the battered figures standing before him, encircled by the terrifying figures of Death Eaters bespelled by death, torture and malice. Snape locked his gaze to that of McGonagall, she held it firmly never flinching or judging, and he found a small measure of strength in her steady gaze.

Voldemort's words rolled over the occupants of the hall like a pall of putrid smoke, and Snape forced himself not to gag. "My Loyal Death Eaters obey me without question, Snape. They show loyalty to none but myself, they think of nothing but pleasing me. My command will be your greatest wish. If you are truly returned to me, you will do as I command without question. Without thought, your reactions will be attuned to my wishes.

Consider carefully, Snape. Fail to do as I command, and I shall know you to be a traitor and spy, and will take great pleasure in slaughtering as many students as possible in the moment that you hesitate. Obey me swiftly and without qualm and I will know you to be a loyal servant. Or, and this remains your final choice, admit now that you have betrayed me and your death will be agonising, but you alone will bear the brunt of my displeasure."

Minerva McGonagall kept her eyes locked with Snape, even as the dread grew within her. As long as he held firm, Voldemort would toy with him; the longer Voldemort was distracted, the longer the students would remain alive.

Snape maintained the calm facade he had cultivated over so many years, pushing all thoughts and emotions into the secret, innermost recesses of his mind. His voice remained steady as he replied, "As you wish, Master."

Triumphant mockery ran through Voldemort's voice. "At your feet lies Albus Dumbledore. He was a Muggle lover and harbourer of Mudbloods, he betrayed the ancient bloodline that flowed through his veins. He is less than filth, and we are well rid of him. Offer him the honour he deserves my loyal Death Eater. Spit upon his carcass."

With great difficulty, Severus managed to contain the bile that immediately rose into his throat. McGonagall's eyes bored into him, helping to ground him in this hideous reality. For an instant he was back in her Transfiguration classroom, an angry young student being brought to task for disobedience. Her eyes held the same sternness, the same compelling sense of justice and respect for right. Her eyes flashed, gleaming with grief, rage and misery, and suddenly her eyelids dropped in silent acquiescence. She was making his decision for him; granting him tacit approval to dishonour the body of a man beloved by so many.

He forced himself to do as Voldemort commanded.

Pandemonium erupted throughout the hall, as students and teachers alike voiced their hatred of Severus Snape. Calls of shame clashed with fervent hopes for his long and painful death. Snape blocked as much of the noise as possible from his mind, instead watching McGonagall's face as if she held all the answers to all the questions in the world. Neville Longbottom stood beside her. Neville wept and attempted to break free of the tenacious hold that McGonagall had bestowed upon his shoulder. Even as Neville tried to break her grip, she stood firm, her impassive face a stark contrast to the jumble of emotions coursing through Neville. The hate that Neville felt was clearly marked upon his face, his fervent wish that the teacher who had ridiculed and harassed him for seven years would be struck down in that instant was easily heard. As the Death Eaters waded into the group of students, subduing them through a mixture of force and intimidation, Snape watched a single tear roll down McGonagall's cheek. She never broke eye contact with him, and in that moment, he knew precisely why Dumbledore had died, why James and Lily Potter had died, why Neville Longbottom's parents had been forced into insanity. When you love, the urge to protect is so strong that you are willing to sacrifice yourself to keep the loved ones safe. Even though he could never be termed as a people person, Snape loved these halls, loved the grounds, and most importantly he loved these people. The staff and students were his family, and even though he may detest some of them with the utmost loathing, you can not choose your family.

Snape turned back towards Voldemort, stepping over Dumbledore's body as if it were no more than discarded garbage in his path. Once more, he knelt before Voldemort.

"You hesitated, dear boy."

Snape kept his eyes on the floor, knowing in his very bones what Voldemort's tone of voice meant.

"Crucio!"

Snape's body jerked and flailed as one agonising wave of pain after another ripped through him. The pain was nothing new to him, yet each time it was administered the raw lash of pain cut deeper. Snape accepted the pain gladly, feeling it to be a just punishment for what he had done to Dumbledore. He was vaguely aware of cries around him, and a small voice in his mind marvelled that any present would have concern for his well being. As the pain roared through his veins, he struggled to focus his mind on something external, something to which he could cling as the pain drove him towards insanity. The knowledge that Hermione was also undergoing the same torment provided him with the hook he desperately needed. He concentrated on her body floating beside him, watching through veiled lashes as her body spasmodically twitched and writhed in pain. As he watched her, he realised that one of her eyes was open just a fraction. She was conscious, now dimly aware of what was going on around her. The very thought that she lived allowed him to stay sane. Her hands were curled into fists, and somehow he noticed blood had started to drip down her wrists. Her fingernails had burrowed hard enough into her soft palms to draw blood. He watched the drops of blood fall from her skin onto the stone floor, and vowed to exact a heavy price from Voldemort for each drop shed.

Finally, the excruciating pain lifted.

"Very well, Severus Snape. Tell me where Potter is."

Snape took a deep breath and forced his voice into a semblance of calm, as he forced himself back into a kneeling position. The lie fell easily from his tongue. "He is trying to escape, my Lord. Beneath the Whomping Willow in the Grounds lies a secret passage that leads into an abandoned building in Hogsmeade. He and the Weasley boy have fled there, hoping to raise the alarm. Even if they make it into the passage, they will not make it to the village. The entrance has been blocked from the other end; a barrier of concrete and warding spells has been used. He will be trapped in the tunnel, Master."

Voldemort looked at Snape, his eyes narrowing for a moment, before a hideously malicious chuckle escaped his lips. "A tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow Tree? Go." He waved a languid hand and four Death Eaters broke from position at his command, and left to secure the tree. Voldemort returned his attention to Snape, who remained before him.

"My Felicitations, Severus Snape. You have proved yourself loyal. " He lifted his gaze to the remaining staff and students. "You shall all witness my final triumph over the Potter boy; with his death will my return to power be both final and uncontested."

Voldemort's gaze lifted from Snape and focussed upon Hermione. With a careless wave of his hand, he released her from his spell, and she began to plummet towards the stone floor below. And thus it was that Severus Snape betrayed himself. Acting on instinct he turned and caught her as she fell, cradling her tortured and shaken body against his own. Even as he clutched Hermione to his chest, Snape realised what he had done. She was barely conscious, her fingers gripping his black robes tightly and her cheek pressed into his shoulder. She somehow managed to keep her feet under her, relying more on Snape to keep her upright than her own sense of balance. Realising how badly he had betrayed himself, Snape clutched her closer, desperately trying to think of a way to buy some time. He mentally cursed himself; he had handed Voldemort not only the truth regarding his intentions, but also a weapon for him to wield against them all.

For her own part, Hermione struggled to keep her senses from spinning and her head clear. She was conscious of the softness of Snape's robe under her cheek, the dampness of the stone floor beneath her feet, and the comforting feeling of safety in which she revelled. His arms enveloped her, holding her close. She swallowed the nausea that suddenly threatened as she realised what Snape had done. Before he had time to react, she briefly pressed her cheek hard against his shoulder, pressed her palm against his chest just above his heart, and then pushed hard as she threw herself onto the floor in front of him.

As he rocked back on his heels, Hermione scrambled after him, grabbing the trailing ends of his robes in her hands. As he stood in mute disbelief, she began to scream, sharp keening cries that sliced into the minds of those around her. "Please Professor Snape, don't let him do that to me again. Please, I promise I'll do whatever you ask of me, just don't let him hurt me. I'll do anything, anything, just don't let him... Please do not give me to him! Please!" Each word screamed at him, as tearing sobs racked her body. Around the hall, the reactions to her pitiful pleas ranged from sympathetic flinching by younger students to the mute rage of older students and staff to the casual indifference or fierce enjoyment of the Death Eaters.

Snape alone saw that her eyes were dry. Snape alone saw the look of pleading mixed with encouragement in her eyes, begging him to take up the ruse she offered. Once he might have been able to, but not now. Hermione saw the choice clearly in his eyes, even as his face remained impassive. She had offered him a way out, but he was going to refuse to take it. And in that moment, the question she had never dared ask or even dream about was answered.

The sound of three slow claps drew all eyes towards Voldemort. He clapped slowly, ironically, and the sound his voice produced was similar to that of dry autumn leaves scraping over gravestones. Harsh, abrasive, unyielding. "Are you not going to follow the lead that Miss Granger so kindly offered, Severus? Offer me the girl; offer me Hermione Granger in place of Harry Potter. After all, she may keep me amused. She may even distract me for a moment, encourage me to forget your betrayal. Come, Severus, offer me the girl."

The last words were practically hissed at Severus, and he felt his will weakening. A corner of his mind began to whisper that Voldemort would forgive him, would trust him, if only he gave up the girl. She was nothing, she was useless, she was a hindrance. Just give up the girl.

Girl?

The feeling grew stronger within him. She would betray him, she did not trust him, she would leave him. Give up the girl, and all will be forgiven. Offer the girl to me.

Girl?

Me?

Hermione! Snape never referred to Hermione Granger as "the girl", especially not within his own thoughts. With a tremendous mental shove, Severus pushed all thoughts of Voldemort and his insidious whisperings behind a mental door and bolted it shut. Even as he did, his mind identified the tactic - a perversion of the unforgivable Imperius curse. What had seemed like logic was simply Voldemort poisoning his own mind, turning his own free will to darkness. Yet this time, Severus Snape's heart had stood true against the temptation.

Snape shook his head slightly and found his gaze locked on Hermione's face. She saw the decision in his eyes, and whispered desperately, "Don't do it. Please...Severus..please..."

He trailed a gentle finger over her cheek, then stepped in front of her, shielding her from Voldemort's view. His voice curt and emphatic, he simply said, "You will never have her. Or any of them."

"My dear boy, I do beg to differ."

Snape drew himself up to his full height and stared blackly at Voldemort. The remaining Hogwarts students immediately recognised the Potions Master stance and tone as the one he normally used on Neville Longbottom's most spectacular failures.

"You will never have them, Voldemort, because I choose to stand against you. Seventeen years ago, you faced James and Lily Potter. James died standing against you, and Lily begged you to spare Harry. Knowing that you would not, knowing that she was going to die, she still cared more about her son than she did about herself. I tell you here and now, these people are my family. These people are what kept me from darkness. In the instant that I fall by your hand, you will have granted her the means with which to destroy you. Kill me, and I will give to Hermione what Lily Potter gave to Harry. My love for her will protect her, and she will destroy you."

Silence followed, and even amidst the danger an ironic and slightly appalled thought occurred to Severus. Did I just say that I loved the entire bloody school? Out loud? Maybe death wouldn't be so bad.....

Hermione, who stepped forward to stand alongside Snape, finally broke the silence. Her hand crept into his and she tightened her grip until she could swear she felt the bones in their hands grinding together. Her voice strong and clear, she said, "You cannot win. If you dare to kill me, Severus will strike you down. This time there are enough of us here to finish the job that a terrified baby couldn't! You will fall Voldemort! We shall stand against you."

Voldemort remained quiet and motionless, only his eyes sweeping the hall, assessing their reactions. At last, he chuckled and said mockingly, "Love? You would trust your lives to love? I shall enjoy choosing which of you shall know for certain that the other did not love you enough." With that he raised his wand and pointed it directly at the two of them.

Hermione's grip on Snape's hand tightened; she could almost feel the delicate bones of his hand grinding against one another under her hand. Voldemort's bleak and angry gaze held her still even as half formed plans tumbled through her mind. Wild ideas of escape merged with thoughts of attack, and she had taken a half step towards him when Snape's hand suddenly crushed her fingers. She obeyed the silent command to keep still.

Voldemort had seen the movement, however, and a ghostly smirk played about his lips. "No promises of undying devotion? No declarations of undying passion?"

His words were abruptly cut off by the sudden appearance of none other than Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Ron threw aside the invisibility cloak that had allowed them their stealthy approach, while Harry thrust two items at Snape and Hermione. As they reflexively took what he gave them, Rod uttered a hurried incantation of murus obex lux, and a sudden barrier of light encircled the five of them.

Outside the sudden circle of light, chaos once more broke out. This time, however, there was a sense of purpose behind the chaos. Suddenly leaderless, the Death Eaters moved to form a wall in front of the shining barrier. At least, that was their intention. As they moved into position, the staff and students of Hogwarts fought back with every means at their disposal. Minerva McGonagall cast an incantation to ensure they could all hear her voice, and began issuing orders. Students hurriedly formed into lines, unconsciously falling into the stance taught be successive generations of Defence against the Dark Arts teachers. While the youngest remained safely hidden under the tables, the surviving members of the upper levels awaited instruction. She set squads of students upon specifically targeted Death Eaters; sent younger Ravenclaws to hold the doors against the return of the Death Eaters from the Whomping Willow. She sent Hufflepuffs against the flanks of the Death Eater formation, even as she commanded a group of Slytherins and Gryffindors to attack the centre. The remaining teachers walked among the students, guiding, assisting, dying. Members of each side fell, their deaths ignored, their cries of pain falling on deaf ears.

The triumph that forced a ghastly smile from Voldemort's lips caused Hermione's blood to run cold. His lips curved over his teeth, his eyes shone and a happy burst of laughter echoed around them. He was staring at Harry, feasting his eyes upon the enemy he had longed to discover.

Silence descended upon them, their shallow breathing the only sound marking the passage of time. Voldemort stood above them, the shattered remains of the head table at his feet. He faced the four of them: Snape, Hermione, Ron and Harry. They all waited, waited to live, waited to die, waited for a sign. A sign that would tell them all that the time of the final battle was upon them. Each side waited patiently, the lone figure of Voldemort facing a line of four.

When it finally came, it came form the most unlikely source imaginable. Harry did not take matters into his own hands and recklessly charge Voldemort; neither did Voldemort ignore all others to put an end to Harry's life. Ron Weasley spoke a simple incantation and invoked the protective forces of the Founding Four.

"Convenio!"

Hermione felt the object she was holding grow scalding hot within her hand, yet she knew that she must not drop it. From the corner of her eye, she saw similar bursts of light to both her left and right. Snape, who had been standing to her left, moved closer as did Harry and Ron. As one, they brought the objects they carried together, and saw the shining light grow stronger and brighter.

Through the dazzling light, Snape was barely able to identify the outlines of the objects they held. Harry held a familiar looking sword, with a rush of certainty Snape realised that it was the sword of Godric Gryffindor. Standing beside him, Hermione clutched a quill, the feathers hard and unyielding between her fingers. This puzzled him until he realised the feathers were actually intertwined slivers of silver and jade. Furthermost away from him, Ron clasped a staff topped with a gleaming black and gold striped stone. Now certain, Snape looked down at his own hands and saw the golden arrow fletched with icy blue crystals. The lost relics of the Founders, brought together once more, in defence of Hogwarts.

The light grew even more intense, as if it had recognised and confirmed Snape's silent identification. Then, as Voldemort spoke, the light diminished to a muted pale glow. An evident sneer in his voice, Voldemort asked "Have you brought these pretty trinkets to me in an attempt to save your own pathetic life, Harry Potter? I assure you, the sword will be of no benefit to you against me. If the old fool Dumbledore could not stand against me, what makes you think you could possibly succeed?"

Hermione watched in amazement as a smirk twisted Harry's lips. He raised one eyebrow and said, "Apart from the fact that I have already beaten you once, and I was only a baby at the time?"

Enraged, Voldemort threw a curse at Harry. Snape and Ron each grabbed an arm as Hermione impulsively threw herself forward. Harry carelessly raised a hand, and the curse dispersed harmlessly. With an arrogant inclination of his head, he asked, "Is that the best you can do?"

Snape and Hermione shared a baffled glance as the usually genial and self-effacing Harry Potter continued to taunt the dread Lord Voldemort. As they watched in amazement, Harry smirked, maliciously questioned and unceasingly bullied Voldemort into a towering rage.

As Harry brushed aside curse after curse with no great effort, Ron kept a firm hold of Hermione's arm. He noticed that Snape held fast to her other arm, his knuckles white with the effort. Before them, Harry threw a final withering comment at Voldemort and insultingly turned his back on him.

Harry sauntered back towards them, seemingly unconcerned that an outraged Voldemort was readying a curse to throw at his unprotected back. Voldemort raised the wand high above his head and the sickly glow of the Avada Kedavra curse grew stronger. The light shone brighter as Voldemort's will grew, until finally the green light filled the very air around them. Ron met Harry's gaze and saw his almost imperceptible nod. He yelled, "NOW" and threw himself at Harry dragging Hermione and Snape after him.

Harry grabbed hold of Snape's arm, mirroring Ron's grip on Hermione. Together Harry and Ron joined the sword and staff, crossing them with the heavy clang of metal on metal. As neither Snape nor Hermione could ever be accused of being slow on the uptake, they quickly followed suit, adding their arrow and quill. As the quill fell against the other three items, the heavy clang of metal was replaced with an echoing ringing tone, similar to the sound of a giant bell being struck. Voldemort hesitated at the sound, the glow of the curse flickered for the barest instant then grew in intensity.

Harry spared Ron another glance. "What now?" he hissed at his friend.

Ron's perpetually worried when in danger expression had disappeared, and a sense of calm seemed to envelop him. "Dumbledore's message said the words would find us. He said we would know what to say and when to say it."

Hermione opened her mouth, ready to demand more information when Snape abruptly cut her question off. "I don't suppose you would care to be more specific about that message Mr Weasley?"

The blazing light that suddenly erupted in front of them abruptly cut off any reply Ron may have made. A blazing ball of incandescent white light grew from the symbols of the Founding Four, and was swiftly replaced with a ruby glow.

Harry raised his hand, elevating the tip of the sword above them. The ruby glow intensified as he said, "In the name of Godric Gryffindor I deny thee Lord Voldemort. You have been weighed, and found to be wanting. I command thee leave."

Ron raised the staff, and the ruby glow was replaced with a golden light. He spoke, his voice sure and strong and oddly overlaid with another. "In the name of Helga Hufflepuff, I deny thee Lord Voldemort. Your disloyalty and your unjust actions damn you. I command thee leave."

Snape was filled with a soaring sense of certainty, as he raised the arrow. The golden light burned blue and his voice rang with conviction as he said, "In the name of Rowena Ravenclaw, I deny thee Lord Voldemort. Your presence pollutes our very world, and your actions will not go unpunished. I command thee leave."

Hermione suddenly felt the earth shift beneath her. As she struggled to stay on her feet, she realised that she was no longer alone and was convinced that Slytherin himself stood with her. "In the name of Salazar Slytherin, I deny thee Lord Voldemort. You have brought shame upon your name, your House and your fellow wizarding kin. Your abuse of your power, your abrogation of your responsibilities and your intentions betray you. I command thee leave."

The blue light suddenly burned green, a pulsating verdant green that shamed the sickly glow surrounding Voldemort. With a cry of inarticulate rage he threw himself deeper into the curse, pouring more and more of his hate and malice into it, causing the sickly glow to extend further and further towards those defying him.

As the edges of the light touched, the barrier that had surrounded them suddenly collapsed outwards, unable to contain the magic being wrought within it's confines.

Thus it was the survivors of the deadly battle outside, witnessed the vessels of the Founding Four's power summon the ability to cast Voldemort out. Hermione raised the quill, and the green glow burned white hot once more. In one great and terrible voice, the four of them demanded, "In the name of the Founding Four, and through their power which is vested in these relics, we command thee leave. Tom Riddle, we command thee leave. Lord Voldemort, we command thee leave. You and all of yours will no longer be suffered in this realm."

Voldemort stood in silent disbelief before them, unwilling or unable to move.

The impossibly bright light grew even brighter and in one voice, Harry, Ron, Snape and Hermione roared, "Expelliarmus!"

Voldemort screamed. The cry seemed to be dredged from the deepest recess of his being, and echoed with unrelenting pain. A dark cloud suddenly appeared before him, accompanied by a harsh and piercing cry. One hand dropped from its place above his head to try and clutch it to him, but a beam of white light swiftly swallowed the black cloud, effectively erasing it from existence. Beside her, Hermione heard Ron say in a voice that was somehow familiar and yet not his own, "And what is dark, but an absence of light?"

Even as a small part of her mind struggled to place the quote, Hermione joined the others as they advanced on Voldemort. OR more precisely, what was left of him. The enraged look of a hunted animal flashed across his face, and there was nothing resembling sanity or malice left in his gaze.

Before the shocked gazes of all, the representatives of the Founding Four took up their places around Voldemort. The symmetry of their stance nudged a memory in the back of McGonagall's mind and in a moment of clarity she realised that they were standing on the cardinal points of the compass, and calling on the very elements of the earth to reject and banish Voldemort. The Founding Four had used the most powerful magics known to their kind to ensure that Hogwarts could remain inviolate.

As the Four joined hands, Voldemort shook off his apathy and hurled himself at Harry, only to find himself repelled by some invisible force. Their voices blended as the Hall shook with the force of their words. "Be gone."

Voldemort's body toppled to the floor, his legs collapsing beneath him. As he fell, the remains of his anger, his malice, his deceit and his vengeance coalesced into a single burst of will, and he threw the killing curse towards the person on his right, towards the follower who had betrayed him; Severus Snape.

Without thought or hesitation, Hermione stepped in front of the curse, a hastily erected barrier of light her only defence against the unstoppable curse. She felt it strike her, felt the arrows of burning pain as they slid deep into her, and as she fell she saw the life flee Voldemort's body.

"NO!"

The scream of denial, frantic, horrified, torn from a heart that stopped beating in that fatal instant, echoed across the grand hall of Hogwarts. Severus Snape caught her as she fell, cradling her against him as he slowly lowered her to the floor. Ron and Harry, faces white, eyes disbelieving, dropped to their knees beside them.

"Hermione?" His voice shook, as did the hand that Snape used to try and pull the hair away from her eyes. Hermione's gaze was fixed on the destruction around them; at the overturned tables, at the charred house banners, at the finally overwhelmed Death Eaters who were being systematically overcome by her fellow students and teachers. At last, her eyes fell upon the body of Professor Dumbledore. His eyes were closed, and his face was impassive; tears rose in her eyes and she tried to blink them back. They spilled over her lashes, and one fell upon the cheek of Severus Snape where it lay against her own.

Stunned disbelief lay heavy over the hall as those present tried to process what had happened. Destruction overwhelmed them, pain and injury littered the Hall, Death Eaters and Hogwarts dwellers alike moaned in pain or lay in silence. Voldemort had been destroyed, stripped of all his powers and banished with no hope of return. Dumbledore was dead, Harry Potter had once again helped to save the world, and Hermione Granger had stepped in front of the killing curse meant for Professor Snape. Slowly, the victorious students and staff found their feet and began tending to the injured and securing the prisoners, giving the small group huddled around Hermione as much privacy as possible.

Minerva McGonagall moved towards them and silently watched as Harry carefully gathered Hermione's limp hand in his, and pressed a gentle kiss on the back of it. Ron delicately brushed a tear from her cheek and replaced it with a kiss. Hermione forced a small smile onto her lips, and fought back the encroaching darkness with all her strength. She knew that the curse had succeeded, yet she intended to fight for as much time as she could. In her bones, she knew it would not be long enough.

"I'm sorry....I had to." The words were quietly spoken.

Harry closed his eyes briefly, and Ron smiled through his tears long enough to say, "We know Hermione. We know."

Professor McGonagall, laid a gentle hand upon the shaking shoulders of the boys kneeling before her, Hermione's gaze shifted towards her, and Minerva stifled the urge to keen her grief as she saw the life fading from one of the brightest young women she had ever met. "Hermione Granger, knowing you for the last seven years has been a pleasure and a privilege. We owe you our lives for what you have helped to do here today, I swear to you, Hermione, we will never forget."

Hermione nodded, her lips slowly forming the words, "Thank you." Minerva knelt between the two boys, her arms sliding around their shoulders. Like children, they huddled close to her, drawing strength. As one, they stood and slowly moved away, giving Snape the privacy to say goodbye.

He cradled her pain racked body close; her head was pillowed against his shoulder and he rested his chin against her forehead. He pulled back slightly to lock his eyes with hers, and was stunned anew to see the emotions shining there. "You shouldn't have done it, "he muttered brokenly, "I am not worth it."

With great effort, Hermione raised her hand and laid it against his cheek. "You are worth any price, Severus. I could not stand by and watch you die. I love you too much to do nothing."

A silent sob tore through Snape at her words, and he clutched her even closer. "You can't love me, Hermione. You don't know what I have done."

A touch of exasperation coloured her reply, and exhaustion lay heavily over her words. "Of course I can love you, Severus. I do. I know...I know what you have done, both the good and the bad. We have fought, shoulder to shoulder for three years; can you really claim that I do not know you? I love you." He shook his head in denial, and a wave of uncertainty crossed Hermione's face. The doubt weakened her, and the question remained unspoken yet shone in her eyes. Do you love me at all?

"Hermione..." Snape stumbled to a halt, unwilling to lie, unwilling to burden her. The pain in her eyes tore at his heart, the uncertainty forced the words out of him. "I love you Hermione Granger, never doubt that. I know that I shouldn't, I know that I do not deserve you, but gods help me, I do love you."

Her eyes closed briefly, and the pain was momentarily replaced by undiluted joy. She smiled. "Thank you."

Silence enshrouded them both as he rocked her gently in his arms, wishing that he could hold her forever. "Severus?" He looked at her, his heart breaking.

A great weight had settled on her chest, each breath struggled to reach her lungs and the darkness was coming ever closer. Hermione knew she was losing the battle. "Severus...Please....Kiss Me? One kiss...to take my breath away?"

He gently covered her lips with his own, her lips were soft, silken against his skin like rose petals. They clung to his own, a silent vow of devotion, as he felt the final breath leave her lungs and her body turn limp in his arms.

He dimly heard the disturbing noise of tearing sobs, but forced himself to ignore them. He clutched her closer to him, his lips clinging desperately to her warmth, attempting to fool himself that she was asleep, merely unconscious, dozing, anything but gone.

Finally, a gentle hand was laid upon his shoulder. He violently shrugged it away, but the intruder was insistent, saying his name over and over again. He opened his eyes and looked up, shifting slightly to focus on whoever dared to disturb him. Minerva McGonagall looked as if she had aged fifty years, and he realised with a start that she was sobbing, her steadfast spirit finally broken by the destruction about them. Ron knelt beside her, one hand on McGonagall's back, the other on Snape's shoulder.

"You have to let her go, Severus." Ron's voice was soft and sure, and beneath it all was untold grief and devastation.

He merely shook his head, and held her tighter.

"We need you. There are students who desperately need help, and I don't know what to do, what to give them. There's so few of us left, and hardly any teachers. The young ones.... The grounds are warded against the Aurors, and Voldemort brought Dementors and vampires, and we... Severus please, we need you."

"Leave me be. Leave me in peace." The words were dragged from his soul, his voice so full of dark despair that it was barely recognisable as his own.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I can't. We can't. Please, Sir, give.....give Hermione to Professor McGonagall. She will look after her."

Snape met McGonagall's gaze once more on this night of horror. Ron's words had finally impacted upon him. He looked around him, at the shattered hall, the scattered bodies of friend and foe alike, and the huddled groups of shivering children. He looked across at Ron, and asked, "Dementors?"

Knowing that he had reached him, Ron said quietly, "Yes. Voldemort brought Dementors and they are loose in the grounds. Some of the fifth years are holding them at the doors, while Neville and Harry have gone down to the gates to try and let the Aurors in, but they are losing ground. Voldemort has somehow warded the grounds so they can't get in here easily. We need to know where Madame Pomfrey keeps her supplies, she's too busy to show us, and, we need a teacher, Sir." He leant closer to him, forcing Severus to maintain eye contact. "Professor McGonagall can not help us at the moment, Severus. She is ..She just can't. We need you."

Snape drew a shuddering breath deep into his lungs, and forced his arms to release his burden into the waiting embrace of Minerva. She bowed her head over Hermione and cradled her close. Snape fought his way to his feet, stilling Ron's instinctive move to help him with a single glare. Ron watched him stalk towards the doors, black robes billowing behind him. Ron bent down and wordlessly brushed his finger along Hermione's cheek. Knowing there was nothing more he could do for her, he followed Snape's path, determined to do what he could for those still living. He comforted himself with the thought that Hermione would have wanted that. The Severus Snape they knew had returned to them, with only one exception. His heart lay broken and bleeding in the arms of Minerva McGonagall.

Finis