Ordinary People

Through the Valley of the Shadow of Death---

Severus grit his teeth and bit back a curse. He cast the Concealment Charm over himself, condemning Miss Granger in his thoughts. The stupid girl was going to get herself blasted to bits.

But if her sacrifice was to be a meaningful one, it was imperative that he get to that door as it opened. Once through, it was a relatively simple plan--grab Potter and Disapparate. He tried not to think of the fact that Voldemort would be in the room as he tried to implement this plan. Severus took off running after Miss Granger, making his way to the door of the house and crouching beside it.

About halfway down the hill, Miss Granger let out a piercing battle cry specifically designed to catch the attention of everyone within five miles. She tossed an unidentified spell at the house, smiling grimly as it alerted the wards. Severus permitted himself a smile at her utterly Gryffindor idea of a diversion.

At least it seemed to work. Nearly immediately, the door was flung wide open and three Death Eaters came rushing out--Lestrange, Goyle, and Avery, by the look of it. But Severus did not stay around to look too closely. As soon as they were clear of the door, he slipped through it, willing himself not to look back and see how Miss Granger fared.

The house was much larger on the inside than on the outside, but Severus had almost expected that to be the case and was not overly perturbed. Wand drawn and Concealment Charm strong, Severus crept down one hallway after another. The few Death Eaters he passed were masked and evidently heading toward the entrance, toward Miss Granger. Closing his eyes, Severus tried not to think about her, tried to concentrate on his goal.

Potter.

Potter and Voldemort.

Inwardly, Severus sighed. His initial plan of simply grabbing Potter and Disapparating was somewhat stymied by the fact that he was unwilling to leave Miss Granger behind if he could help it.

And she was right. The Death Eaters would not kill her without Voldemort's leave. Which meant she would be brought before him. She and Potter would be in the same room. Then Severus could start grabbing people and Disapparating. But first, he had to find the room.

So he continued. Up and down corridors, peeking into dark rooms, hoping that his Concealment Charm would hold.

And then he heard it. A vaguely male voice, shrieking in agony.

Potter. It had to be.

Severus allowed himself to move more quickly, neglecting the doorways he passed, following the screams. Closer and louder--he had to be nearly right on top of them.

The door was standing wide open. Not even warded. Of course, Severus supposed, with such strong wards on the entrances to the house, internal wards were not completely necessary. And Voldemort was a bit too arrogant to be properly paranoid.

His loss, Severus thought as he slipped into the room housing the Boy Who Lived and the wizard trying to kill him.

It occurred to Severus nearly immediately that he was not sure whether or not Voldemort would see through his Concealment Charm. Powerful wizards could often break such enchantments. So he quickly moved to the back of the room, to hide in the deep shadows, gazing steadily at the Dark Lord's back.

But he could see around Voldemort, see Potter sprawled on the hearth still, coughing. Blood spattered the floor around the boy and more of it came with each cough.

"I've thought long and hard about how I would kill you, Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed. Severus cringed at the sound of that inhuman voice. "At first, I thought a simple Killing Curse would do it, but then I realized my folly. You survived that once, and I do not enjoy making the same mistake twice."

Potter finally stopped coughing, gasping for air and choking on his own blood.

"And then," Voldemort continued--Severus could practically hear the slimy smile on his face. "And then, I decided that I must discard all Unforgivables in dealing with you, my dear boy. Too pedantic. For you, Harry Potter, only the most exotic, humiliating death would suffice."

"Do it, then," the boy whispered, doubling up and spitting out yet another mouthful of blood.

"Oh, no, Harry Potter," Voldemort replied. "I only obey my own commands. You will die at my leisure. Crucio," he said in an almost off-handed tone.

And Potter began to scream again, each tortured wail ringing in Severus' ears. The boy could not hold out much longer. He needed treatment immediately. The Cruciatus madness was probably not far off.

Voldemort broke off the curse as he heard a hoarse shout down the corridor. "What?" he snapped irritably.

Avery came panting into the room. Severus tensed--this was it. He needed to move closer to Potter. "An intruder..." Avery panted. "Some girl, trying to break the wards."

"A girl?" Voldemort asked thoughtfully. "Bring her before me."

Lestrange stuck his head in the door, grinning madly. "Can we play with her first?" he asked with enough glee that Severus shuddered. He was fully aware of Lestrange's idea of playing.

"You may have her afterward," Voldemort said in a bored tone. "But I am curious--she can't be a Muggle, after all."

"She is just a child, my Lord," Avery said.

"My, my...curiouser and curiouser," Voldemort said with a wheeze that fifty years ago might have been a chuckle. "Bring the child to me."

There was a pause and a loud scuffle, and Severus' eyes widened nearly as much as Potter's as a struggling and bound Miss Granger was dragged into the room. Nott pushed her roughly to her knees, but she did not bow down.

Her hair, of course, was even more wild than usual, and she had a nasty bruise forming on her left cheekbone and a freely bleeding cut on her forehead. Severus was certain her wrists would be bloody as well--if she'd been bound by Nott and Avery, they were brutal at best. Her eyes flashed daggers at everyone in the room.

"Well, well," Voldemort said with that same little chuckling wheeze in his voice, "what have we here?"

Nott pulled the gag away from her mouth, but Miss Granger remained defiantly silent.

Voldemort moved closer to her--she blanched, but to her credit, Miss Granger knelt with perhaps even more dignity--and touched the Gryffindor crest on her tattered robe with one long finger. "A brave little lioness child," he said softly. "What brings you to me on this night?"

"Go to hell!" Miss Granger snarled. Severus did not know whether to applaud her bravery or bemoan her stupidity.

Fortunately, Voldemort just smiled thinly. "It is a good thing that I find you amusing, little girl," he said. "But I warn you not to test my patience. What are you doing here?" This was said in a sharper voice.

"My business here is my own, Lord Voldemort," she spat boldly. Severus took the opportunity to move about three feet closer to Potter. The boy was more alert now, staring at Miss Granger's back--he could tell that Potter hadn't quite realized that she was Miss Granger yet and he hoped that the boy had the sense not to reveal who she was once he figured it out.

"Brave words for such a young thing," Voldemort hissed. He ran a finger through the trail of blood trickling from her forehead and touched the finger to his own lips, tongue flickering out serpent-like to taste her blood. "I wonder how brave you really are...Crucio."

Miss Granger's hands clenched into fists at her sides, but she did not fall. Small whimpers escaped her lips, but she managed not to scream. Severus wondered idly if it was bravery or simple stubbornness. From what he knew of the girl, it was probably more of the latter.

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Hermione was determined not to allow Voldemort his pleasure. She would not scream if she could help it. She felt the pain crunching through her bones, echoing down every limb of her body, but she could be strong. She would not scream.

And then it was over. Voldemort smirked down at her. "Ah," he said, "you are a young lioness, indeed."

Hermione remained silent. She saw no need to reveal her purpose to him. As she waited for him to speak, she wondered vaguely where Professor Snape was. Perhaps he was standing in this very room.

"I think, my dear," Voldemort said, interrupting her thoughts, "that I may be able to guess your purpose for breaking my wards this night, although I do not know how you knew where to look."

"I'm a good guesser," Hermione replied sarcastically, willing herself not to think about Harry, laying prone behind her.

"Turn around, my little Gryffindor lioness, and tell me what you see."

Hermione did as he obeyed and shuddered when he laid a scaly hand on her shoulder, fingernails rasping against the cloth of her shredded robes. "I see a boy," she answered. Harry's eyes widened as he took in her face.

"Do you know this boy?" he whispered in her ear.

"Of course I do," Hermione replied impatiently. "Everyone knows this boy. He's your downfall." She quickly mouthed, No, to Harry, praying that he would not reveal who she was.

The hand tightened on her shoulder. "You would do well, my dear, to remember who is the prisoner and who is the jailer. So tell me--you are here to free this boy, are you not?"

Hermione cleared her expression as best she could and willed her hands not to tremble. "I did not know he was here," she said carefully, wishing she were a better liar.

"I find that hard to believe," Voldemort said. "I know of very few Hogwarts students who wander the lonely moors of England on school nights."

"I'm an adventurous sort." Hermione could not believe herself--here she was, being fresh with the Dark Lord himself.

Voldemort slapped her, of course. His fingernails pierced her bruised cheek and Hermione felt the blood trickle dispassionately. Harry winced at the sound of the impact, but fortunately, Voldemort did not notice. "I am tired of you, I think, my dear. I think I will leave you in the care of my good friend Lestrange, now. Die well, little Gryffindor lioness."

And he pushed her into the hands of a gleeful looking Lestrange. Hermione felt more than a little afraid at the madness glinting in Lestrange's eyes--the man had spent nearly fifteen years in Azkaban and his expression reflected that. Although, she had a sneaking suspicion that he did not go into Azkaban entirely sane.

Lestrange pulled Hermione out of the little room and her heart nearly broke as Voldemort pointed his wand at Harry once more. Oh please, oh please, let Professor Snape save him, Hermione prayed.

"Well, now...we've got us a little Gryffindor toy," a broad Death Eater hissed, tugging painfully on Hermione's hair. "What should we do with her?"

"Playtime," Lestrange said simply, mad eyes still shining. He pulled a Muggle knife out of his pocket, of all things, and advanced on her.

Still bound, there was little Hermione could do. She opened her mouth to scream, but another Death Eater--the huge one she recalled from the hallway in Hogwarts--quickly stuffed a gag in her mouth. "Now, now," he chuckled. "There'll be plenty of time for that later."

Lestrange grinned and closed in. A few expert flicks of his knife and the remnants of Hermione's clothing were on the ground. Clad only in her underclothes and the ropes binding her hands behind her, Hermione tried desperately not to shake. She was sure her fear shone in her eyes.

"Oh yes," Lestrange whispered as he pushed the knife between her breasts, "be afraid for me. Be afraid, little one."

And the knife pierced the skin, and the knife hurt. Rolling her eyes back in her head, Hermione hissed with pain as he dragged it down her torso, watching the blood well up. It was not a deep cut, but she had a feeling that it was not meant to be.

His wrist flicked once, twice, and more blood was trickling down her upper arms, pooling under her shoulders. "Bleed for me," Lestrange muttered. "Beautiful, beautiful..."

"Don't let her bleed out, Lestrange," a fourth Death Eater called out--Hermione could not see his face. "They're no fun once they're dead!"

"Yeah!" the huge one cried. "Give us a go!"

And two more Death Eaters were upon her, with fists and boots and Hermione could no longer contain her cries. Muffled by the gag, she shrieked and tears ran down her cheeks. One Death Eater punched her in the face as she began to sniffle.

All of a sudden, an angry rush flowed through Hermione's veins. Well, was she Gryffindor or wasn't she? If she was going to die here today, she wasn't going to do it as a naked, bloody pile of pathetic bones tortured without protest.

Disregarding the fact that she was wandless and her hands were currently tied behind her back so tightly that her fingers were numb, Hermione began to struggle. She twisted away from the angry hands and feet, ignoring the fact that Lestrange's knife was slipping deeper and deeper under her skin. She kicked and fought as best she could.

"Oh, look," someone chuckled, "this one has a bit of a temper."

"I know how to calm her down," the huge one replied. And then large hands were shoving her to the rough ground--pulling on her underclothes, ripping.

Hermione lashed out with her feet, catching a surprised Death Eater in the face. He fell to the ground, and she smiled grimly through her gag. Lestrange hesitated for a moment, drawing his knife away from her.

And she took the opportunity to twist over on her side, propping herself up with her elbow so that her bound wrists were as close to the knife as she could get them. As Lestrange swept thoughtlessly back down, then, the knife caught in the ropes and her hands were free.

Adrenaline and fury pumping through her system, Hermione immediately flung herself at Lestrange, knowing instinctively that he was the most dangerous one in the room.

Spitting her gag in his face, she came at him with fists and feet and teeth, scrabbling to get the knife out of his fingers. As she came crashing down on him, he fell back into the wall, surprised, and cracked his head loudly on the stones behind him.

With a growl, he fell unconscious just as his hand wrapped around her neck, blood trickling a bit from his nose.

Hermione snatched up his knife as soon as it fell from his grip, hardly knowing what she was about. Eyeing the other two Death Eaters closing in around her apprehensively, Hermione steeled herself to die, holding the knife in a white-knuckled grip.

But all heads swiveled to look down the hallway as an angry cry that could only belong to Voldemort echoed through the corridor. Exchanging a glance, the Death Eaters dashed down the hall, wands at the ready.

Clutching her knife and wincing as movement irritated her numerous wounds, Hermione followed them quietly.

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Severus watched with mixed anger and fear as Miss Granger was dragged out of the room by Lestrange. He didn't know what to do.

Hovering anxiously--he was only about three feet from Potter--Severus' mind raced. He just couldn't bring himself to abandon Miss Granger. No matter what he thought of her personally (although that was improving by the minute, really), he could not leave a student--anyone, really--in the clutches of the Death Eaters.

He had no idea how long he stood there, trying desperately to think of a plan. Voldemort continued to taunt Potter and throw the occasional curse the boy's way.

And then Severus' Concealment Charm sputtered, flickered, and gave out completely.

Severus froze as the Dark Lord's focus came upon his figure.

"Severus Snape..." Voldemort said in a casual tone. "How...surprising that you've dropped in. Goodbye. Avada Kedavra!"

But Severus was prepared for that. He dropped flat to the floor, wincing as the curse flew over his head.

Voldemort swore and threw another Killing Curse at him.

Rolling quickly, Severus leapt to his feet and jumped behind a large chair on the far side of the room. The curse shattered against the floor, missing Potter by only eighteen inches. The boy didn't even move.

Severus cursed--he'd managed to lose his wand in the confusion. Peeking out from behind the chair, he saw it, right beside Potter's hand, half hidden in the ruins of the boy's clothes. Too far away to be of any use to him.

Avery and Goyle came bursting into the room scant seconds after the last Killing Curse, wands raised for battle. "Stupefy!" they cried in unison.

But they didn't know exactly where Severus was, so the curses bounced harmlessly off to his right.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort shouted again, leveling his wand at the chair. The impact blew off the back of the chair and Severus went skittering through the room, out of places to hide, dodging the smaller curses Avery and Goyle were sending his way.

Voldemort lifted his wand again. "Avada Kedav--"

But a loud, definitely female cry echoed through the room and Voldemort's curse was broken off in mid-word as Hermione Granger threw herself at him.

Severus blinked, ducking the Stunner Avery aimed at his head. Mostly naked and covered in blood and bruises, Miss Granger looked as terrible as an Amazon queen as she tackled the Dark Lord. Something shiny glinted in her right hand.

But his attention was torn away as he started dodging spells once more. He cried out several times as unidentified hexes hit home but did his best to keep on his feet. Avery and Goyle were closing in, wands nearly at his throat. He couldn't see Miss Granger any more.

"You will die a traitor's death," Avery spat in his face.

Severus closed his eyes and waited.

"Stupefy," a soft voice called from a long way away. "Petrificus Totalus!"

And nothing. Severus opened his eyes to see Avery passed out on the floor and Goyle petrified with a look of surprise on his face.

A barely conscious Harry Potter was clutching Severus' wand tightly and smiling a bit. "There," he whispered, spitting out yet more blood, "now I don't feel guilty about knocking you out all those years ago."

Suddenly, someone screamed. Starting, Severus turned around--he'd nearly forgotten about Miss Granger and Voldemort in the rush of things.

Voldemort had his hands around Miss Granger's throat, but he was the one screaming. Miss Granger's hand flashed once again and Severus realized dimly that she must be holding a weapon of some sort. Her hand was covered in blood as well now--drenched in bright red blood that dripped down her wrist. All of a sudden, Voldemort's hands seemed to weaken and slip from her neck.

Wrenching herself free, Miss Granger limped over to Potter. "Harry," she whispered, dropping to her knees. "Harry, we've got to get out of here. And neither Professor Snape nor I can Apparate you--we're not strong enough right now."

Severus put a hand to his side--it felt as if someone was burning his gut from the inside out. He breathed in sharply and Miss Granger looked up at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing you can fix," Severus retorted shortly.

"Portkey," Potter whispered. "The--Death Eaters had a Portkey. Somewhere around here..." He broke off, coughing violently and retching.

"What did it look like?" Miss Granger asked, rolling Potter over on his side so he did not choke.

"Book," Potter gasped between coughs. "Blue leather. Take us to Hogwarts."

Severus looked around the room frantically. They all needed pretty much immediate medical attention.

Miss Granger wiped the blood out of her eyes and patted Potter's shoulder. "Just lay still, Harry. We'll find the book." She stood painfully and some of the wounds on her body broke open again. "Do you see it?" she asked him.

Severus shook his head. "I don't think...wait! Look there, over on that table!" A small book, bound in blue, lay on a dusty table in a dark corner. "Don't touch it!" he snapped as Miss Granger drew closer to it.

She glared at him. "I'm not a fool," she said.

"Says the girl who attacked You-Know-Who single-handedly without a wand," Severus retorted dryly.

Miss Granger rolled her eyes. "As much as I would like to stand here in a Death Eater lair and trade insults, Professor, I think we should leave before one or all of us bleeds to death. Help me with Harry? I don't think he can walk over to the book."

Walking back over to Potter, Severus frowned. "He's unconscious." Severus bent down and retrieved his wand.

Miss Granger put her arms under Potter's shoulders and carefully pushed him to a sitting position. With Severus' help, they soon had the unconscious boy more or less standing between them, arms draped limply over their shoulders. Miss Granger winced as Potter's arm scraped over some of her deeper wounds. Together, they dragged him over to the table with the book. Miss Granger took one of Potter's hands in her own and guided it toward the book, looking toward Severus to make sure he was also going to touch it.

"On my signal," Severus said. "Now!"

And they laid their fingers on the book, Miss Granger careful that Potter's fingers touched the Portkey the same instant hers did.

Severus felt a familiar and very welcome tug behind his navel and everything went blissfully dark for a moment.

But he was thrown onto a cold stone floor. Opening his eyes grudgingly, he saw that they were sprawled in the middle of the Great Hall. "Ah, good," he said faintly, looking at Miss Granger. "We're back."

And then he passed out.

----------

Hermione welcomed the cool stones under her back, soothing the burning cuts. Idly, she noticed that she was still clutching her bloody knife in her right hand.

And now Snape was unconscious as well as Harry. She felt the dark tugging at her--the pull of sleep--but steeled herself against it.

"Help!" Hermione shouted weakly. "We're in the Great Hall! Someone? Help us!"

She realized that she could not move as soon as she tried to stand. With a gasp of intense pain, Hermione laid back on the floor as a dizzy wave swept through her head. Blood loss, she thought deliriously.

"Help!" she cried again.

She fancied, right before she passed out, that she felt a set of warm hands on her face and heard a worried voice in her ear, but she was probably just dreaming about that.

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