Glimpses of War

War is never pretty.

It's fighting...

~*~

Kingsley shot a curse at the approaching Death Eater

~*~

Murdering...

~*~

Harry raised the sword of Godric Gryffindor.

"This is all you deserve, you rat," he snarled, staring furiously at the man in front of him.

Wormtail tried to raise his silver hand to prevent him, but he hit through it. The sword slided through his robes, his ribs, and, eventually, his heart.

Harry looked breathlessly as the betrayer of his parents and godfather died, died like the coward he was, without other attempts to fight him but some pitiful whimpers.

Then he withdrew the sword from the body. He wiped the blood to the black robes of the dead man, then dropping the rash material from his hands in disgust.

Then he walked away, not caring about the small cropse on the ground.

~*~

And saying goodbye.

~*~

Hermione.

Her brown, bushy hair laying on the snowy ground, her warm, brown eyes staring lifelessly to the starry nightsky. There were no marks in her body, no marks of violence or abuse.

Avada Kedarva never left marks.

Harry reached out a hand and silently closed her eyelids.

For a long while he just sat there, looking at his dead friend. He didn't cry. His tears had drained ages ago, tears for friends and allies and their whole society.

He still sat there when they came to look for him, worried about him. They took her cropse and carried away, they told him to go inside, where it was warm and comfortable.

He let them lead himself away, not really noticing what was happening around him, and left yet another piece of his heart on the cold, white snow.

~*~

When major sacrificies are made...

~*~

The Veil floated a time, then another.

Harry screamed for Sirius, called him, asked him to come back.

But he never came.

~*~

When you have no options...

~*~

When the Death Eater's curse hit Lupin he fell down on the ground, laying there, unmoving. Harry saw he was still alive, despite all the wounds and injuries he had already received that day, including a touch of silver that had nearly killed him.

More Death Eaters in their dark robes Apparated to the place. Harry swallowed. With Lupin out, there were only he and Tonks left. And there were at least ten of the Dark Lord's followers, preparing to attack them.

He and Tonks exchanged glances. They both knew there were no options. Either one of them would stay behind, or they'd all die.

And Harry was too precious to risk.

Harry took Lupin on his arms, waiting for a sign from his companion.

"Run," Tonks said, and Harry ran, with the unconscious man on his arms.

He didn't look backwards to know if the Metamorphmagus would survive or not. He just ran, ran, ran for his life, determined to use all the time Tonks had bought for him and Lupin with her own life.

There were no doubts of that. Tonks was lost, had been lost at the same second she had told Harry to run.

There were no options.

~*~

When your enemies turn to your allies...

~*~

The Order - or at least some of it - was gathered in the Headmaster's office. Harry was there also, sitting in the corner nearest the door, merely listening to them, not saying anything unless he was asked something.

They all eyed warily the door. Snape should have returned from the Death Eater meeting ages ago. They had no idea what was keeping him behind. They could only hope for the best, and fear the worst.

The conversation was gloomy and dark-hearted. They had already lost many, and they'd lost even more before the war would came to its end. They tried to fake smiles, to play happy, but most of them failed miserably.

At last the door flung open, and the all nailed their gazes on the doorway. They saw the Potions Master of Hogwartsstumble in. They all stared at him.

He looked miserable, thin and sickly. There were dark shadows under his eyes, like he hadn't slept well for at least the past month. There was not the usual cold luster in his eyes; they stared in front of him fathomless and dead. None of these signs of exhaustment and illness had been visible when he had left - he looked like he had aged years in mere hours.

But the greatest thing that drew their attention was his abdomen - or, rather, the enormous bulge they saw there.

"Concealment charms wore off," he explained hoarsely, as he saw their surprised glances. "I had no powers to keep them up as he casted the Cruciatus on me - and you can well imagine his reaction when he saw my condition." He wrapped his left arm protectively over his stomach. "I Disapparated from there just before he killed the baby."

Harry wasn't even surprised any more. He had ages ago discovered that male pregnancy was possible, and even rather usual, in the Wizarding World. It didn't even matter than he would never had imagined Snape being pregnant, or even being involved with another man - he knew better than assume anything by the looks of people.

He overheard a short, whispered conversation between Arabella Figg and Lupin, who sat nearest to him.

"Cruciatus," the Squib whispered, shaking her head in horror. "Because he's pregnant..."

"He'll die," Lupin finished, his voice blank and expressionless, his eyes fixed at his old enemy.

"Severus, how long along are you?" the Headmaster asked hastily, not wasting time trying to find out what exactly had happened in the meeting.

"Almost full term," Snape whispered, not moving his hand an inch from around his round belly.

Then he fell on the floor.

Harry sprang up and knelt down next to him, without even knowing why. He took the hand of his most hated professor, rubbing it soothingly.

Snape locked his cold, beetle-black eyes at Harry. The boy could swear he saw tiny tears in them. "I know I'm lost," the Slytherin whispered. "Pregnant people never survive the Cruciatus, no matter how short time they are under it. I know I'm lost, but please... Save my baby..."

Harry stared at his Potions professor in complete shock. He had never before saw his professor showing any signs of weakness. And now he was crashing down here, at the floor of the Headmaster's office, begging them to save his unborn child.

He couldn't bring himself sayin anything. He merely nodded reassuringly, squeezing lightly the skinny hand in his own.

Snape's eyes lost their focus for a while, then snapped back at Harry. "Potter," he said. "Look into my desk's left bottom drawer. It will open when you say the password, 'Army of Light.' My will is there."

Harry nodded, still too stunned to say anything.

Then Madam Pomfrey was there, occupying Lupin carrying the pregnant man into the Infirmary - despite his weak looks, his Lycanthropy gave him almost superhuman strength - and then leaving them there, almost as clueless as before Snape had arrived.

At last someone spoke. "Well, who is the baby's other father?" asked Figg, glancing every man present suspiciously.

They all shook their heads. Nobody could even guess the paternity of Snape's child.

"But I bet he was danm gorgeous," Mundungus said. "Snape's too prissy to fall for anyone."

"I agree," Mad-Eye confirmed. "Knowing Severus's attitude, it has to be at least Lucius Malfoy."

They shivered at the thought, then chuckled slightly. But the situation was too depressing for them to come up with any real conversation.

The dawn was already approaching when Lupin came to tell that Snape had given birth to a healthy baby girl, dying mere minutes after that.

"He hold his daughter for a few minutes," Lupin said, seemingly swallowing tears. "Then he said, 'her father, godfather, and name are in my will,' gave her to my arms and died."

They were all quiet.

*

"...The baby I'm currently carrying is Sirius Black's, despite anything you might think. If it survives and I'm not alive to name it, I want its name to be either Sirius Orion or Sirina Cassiopeia. Its godfather will be Remus Lupin, and in the occasion he couldn't take care of the baby, I trust Albus Dumbledore to find a safe place for my child..."

The will went on, but none of them really heard anything else. Everyone present just stared at the Headmaster, their jaws hanging open.

"Godfather? M-me?" Lupin stammered.

"So it says here," Dumbledore confirmed.

"The baby was... Sirius's?" Harry whispered in an unexplicable mix of disbelief and hope.

"Most certainly." Dumbledore glanced at Remus. "So... I trust you're willing to take care of little Sirina?" he asked, managing even a little smile.

Lupin nodded. Seemingly the surprising will had left him speechless.

"Well, then," the Headmaster said, sighing deeply, "I believe we should start the arrangements for poor Severus's funeral."

~*~

And friends to enemies...

~*~

Harry took a deep breath.

Under the mask of a Death Eater he found Ginny Weasley's face.

~*~

You seek for happiness.

~*~

Harry sat next to the cridle of little Sirina Snape. He looked at the tiny baby girl, lost in his thoughts.

She had features from both her dead fathers. The rosy mouth, perfectly straight nose, and deep sapphire eyes were obviously from Sirius, while her pale skin, un-babily not-round body and long fingers were from Snape.

Tears rose in his eyes as he looked at the child. The baby was so tiny, so innocent, so unaware of all the events around her. How could she know that her carrier had only held her for mere minutes before dying, and that her other father had died without even knowing about her existence?

When she'd be old enough to understand, he and Remus would explain her everything. Until then, they only had to fight, fight to make a world where she could grow up without any more losses.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. From the corner of his eye he saw Remus, who knelt down next to him.

Neither of them said a word. They just looked at the baby.

~*~

Sometimes, happiness is found from surprising places.

~*~

Harry laid on the bed, his gaze nailed at the ceiling. He ran his fingers slowly through the hunny and silver hair of his lover, lost in his thoughts. Remus's head was laying on his chest, his arms wrapped around Harry's waist, his back covered by the thin sheet. The werewolf was sound asleep.

Harry bent his head to kiss the top of the other man's hair. Remus sighed in his sleep, then curled into a more comfortable position. Harry wrapped his arms around his former professor, his hands still sunk in the beautiful tresses.

Sirina slept quitely in her crib next to their bed. She was very quiet in general, and cried seldom. She just looked around her with her blue eyes, her long fingers flenching into fists and opening again. Sometimes Remus sang to her, and this seemed to always satisfy her, even when she was upset enough to cry.

Harry looked at these two people he cared of more than anyone in the life - at least by now, when everyone other seemed to be dead - his lover and the child they were raising together.

And despite the war that was still going on, despite all the deaths he'd witnessed and caused, despite all the people who were lost forever from him - Sirius, Hermione, Ron, even Snape - despite all the darkness and grief surrounding him, he felt, to even his own great surprise, happy.