Perfection

"Oh, it was wonderful. It was filled with people. I got to breathe and eat and... all sorts of stuff. I wish it could have gone on forever. I wish it didn't have to end like that..."

-Death (Didi), from Neil Gaiman's Death: The High Cost of Living

Perfection

Chapter 24: Nightmare

The room was bare, save for the bed and a desk and chair that appeared to have been filched from the adjacent classroom; Hermione found its most interesting feature to be a rather large crack that ran from floor to ceiling alongside the fireplace. She wasn't sure how long she had been studying it, wondering at the hollowness that filled her in the absence of the human contact that the Floo Powder had provided, but a quick glance at the lighting from the window hinted that it had been a mere matter of minutes.

She wondered at the audacity that Helena had in giving her a means of communication-or escape-to the outside world. Was this proof that she was indeed siding with them against Voldemort, or was it simply a test?

She wondered at her stupidity for not grasping the chance that she had been given, but the sobering thought of Severus abandoned to his fate downstairs had held her back. There was still a palm-full of the substance in the bag, which was now stashed in her pocket, but she knew that she would not use it until absolutely necessary. Absolutely necessary, she was certain, would not arrive until she had Severus Snape in tow.

That thought led to other wonderings, such as whether he was still alive. Hermione quickly found that it was one she would rather not ponder.

*

The man dodged aside just in time, sending the wolf skidding across the floor. Still snarling, she turned herself around, leaping a second time in a vain attempt to strike him down. All of the human's reasoning was gone-the fact that there would soon be reinforcement, that this was a man who would most likely not be able to die by physical means. The only knowledge that she possessed was the ancient wisdom that, in such situations, it was kill or be killed.

In this particular situation, girl and wolf were united in the desire to kill.

*

Twelve Grimmauld Place had erupted into chaos. People materialised everywhere, sometimes nearly on top of one another, as others darted around, calling for others, trying to sort themselves out. In the corner of the sitting room, Molly Weasley appeared to be hyperventilating, much to the horror of her husband, who barely seemed able to maintain his own composure. Remus was debating heatedly with a man with one false eye as a pink-haired girl attempted to referee but was ignored.

Agrippa sat in the midst of it all on the sofa, unmoving, unable to absorb any of what was going on around her. She felt numb and oddly calm, a rock in the turbulence of others' emotions. She could watch a fellow mother break down, observe the gradual colour change of Remus's face as he grew more enraged, and none of it would touch her.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. The blackness was deep and comforting-she gave herself to it willingly.

"Agrippa?"

Odd. She now seemed to be lying on the floor.

"Agrippa, are you alright?"

"I think so," she tried to answer, but her throat didn't seem to want to cooperate. She cleared it and tried again. "What happened?"

Remus's voice lost some of its panicked undertones as he replied, "I think you fainted. Are you positive that you're okay?"

She nodded, struggling to sit up. "Don't reckon that I have much of a choice."

His smile was grim as he helped her stand. "Too true."

"Still," she added with a grin, gesturing towards the room, "I seem to have worked a miracle."

And it was true. The silence that had fallen was so deafening it was almost as though the world had ceased to breathe. Molly seemed to have paused mid-sob to freeze and stare, as had the rest of the room's occupants. Taking a deep breath, Remus clapped his hands together and gave a wry glance to the side.

"Alastor, you know more about this than most of us. Why don't you do the planning?"

*

Severus had been standing, attempting composure in a seemingly impossible situation, for the better part of ten minutes. Somehow, he had remained silent through Helena's betrayal-although he wasn't sure what he should have expected-but with Ginny's transformation had come an opportunity that he hadn't dared hope for. All focus was now on the wolf that was tearing and slipping across the room in desperate lunges at the dark wizard that was barely dodging them; this knowledge was allowing him to finally think the thought he had been suppressing.

Find Hermione.

He nearly fled the room, but paused instead, mid-turn, just in time to see a masked Death Eater throw a curse at the Weasley boy. An explosion of golden light followed, eclipsing the green that had shot out of his wand. The redhead's attempts were met with the same response, leaving Severus frozen for a moment in indecision.

It was only a moment. The next was spent silently putting into effect the most urgent summoning spell that he had ever performed and then he was swiftly using the sword in his hand to decapitate Ron's opponent.

"Bloody hell!"

"Yes, Mr Weasley, it seems as though physical force is to be the only option. Kindly arm yourself," Severus barked, irritated at the knowledge that looking for Hermione had just been put off.

He whipped around to advise Draco to do likewise, but there was no need: the blonde boy was wrestling a spear off of the nearest suit of armour. What truly caught his eye, however, was the expression on Potter's face. Completely ignored up to this point, no one had apparently noticed him begin to blink confusedly at the mess before him.

Silently. Severus screamed at him, If you're going to bloody wake up, just do it.

Perhaps there was something to be said for mind reading, since he sprang into action a moment later, habitually dodging a curse and fumbling for his wand. Fortunately, after months without acting on his own, someone had had the good sense to allow him to keep it. It was somewhat painful watching him discover, however, that the wand was useless and Severus was about to step in as he had with Ron's attacker, when a sword went skidding across the floor, hilt first, hitting Harry in the side.

"Harry!" Ron cried. "Magic won't do anything!"

Severus sent him a grudging look of approval before wading into the fray to cut down as many men as he possibly could, mind sharp with the knowledge that the sooner he was done here, the better the chance of Hermione's survival.

*

The wolf was beginning to feel cornered. Over ten men surrounded her, gradually backing her into a corner, where she knew that she would be finished. One of them held something sharp that it was waving at her, accompanied by a sickly sweet tone of voice, but try as she might, the one that she had been after was nowhere to be seen.

Ignore me, the girl said. You're thinking like me. Don't listen to it.

The advice was easy to take. Picking the smallest and weakest-looking of the figures, she launched herself, all tooth and claw, and broke through the circle that they had held her in. A woman's shriek echoed behind her as she sprinted through the door, the girl cackling with glee inside of her head.

*

"Follow her!"

Draco's head snapped up at the words, just in time to see the large, reddish wolf bolt through the main doors. There was no moment of hesitation-everything in his path became secondary as he fought his way through to follow her out of the Great Hall and through the corridors. Ahead of him, he could hear the voices of those who had been ordered to follow Ginny, forcing himself to remain far enough behind them that he wouldn't be noticed and trying to ignore the fact that almost no suit of armour was armed any longer.

They were catching on.

*

Albus Dumbledore sat against a wall, trying to ignore the ache that began in his bones and spread throughout the rest of him, filling his mind and preventing him from thought. A few feet away, Minerva dozed in her cat form, tail twitching. He envied her ability to find a brief reprieve, but only for a moment. He had his responsibilities, no matter their discomfort.

Rolling his beard between two fingers, he raised his eyebrows as Filius, who was hurrying over with a worried expression.

"Albus, I just finished the rounds and we're a student short."

Alarm shot through him as he struggled to his feet, so that he once again towered over the tiny wizard. "Are you certain?"

"Quite. I've recounted three times now."

"Any idea who?" Minerva asked, surprising both of them with the swiftness of her transformation.

Filius set his mouth in a grim line. "Neville Longbottom."

Albus felt his shoulders sag in defeat. "I suppose some of us will have to go to the surface."

"I will," Minerva said without hesitation. She darted her eyes around the room as if searching for something.

"Not alone, surely," Filius replied.

Carefully, her mouth curved into a cold, remarkably feline smile as her gaze fell on a sleeping redhead a few feet away. "Naturally. I think that young Mr Weasley over here may finally prove his worth."

Percy stirred at the mention of his name, but it was Professor Vector tripping over him that actually forced him out of sleep.

"Sorry," she said brightly. After a moment of studying their expressions, she added, "Oh, good, it looks like we're finally making a plan. What have I missed?"

*

The corridor was deserted. Neville wasn't sure what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't this. Being rushed by men in robes and pointy hats was actually significantly closer.

"Now what?" Liv asked, running a finger over a statue and wrinkling her nose at the dust that came off. "Clearly no one has been here for ages."

"We'll run into them eventually," he remarked. "But I think we need a plan."

Liv froze and turned to him. "You came up here without knowing what you were going to do? Are you freaking suicidal?"

"No, I'm just sick of sitting there and doing nothing for the rest of my life. And I think we ought to find out where exactly they are and if they have any plans, then try to take back the castle."

"Just the two of us?" She raised an eyebrow doubtfully and ran a finger under her eye to check for smudged make up. "I don't think that's going to work."

But Neville rambled on without listening, "Or work out a way to get everyone out of here. That should probably be our priority."

Liv still looked dubious, but kept her mouth shut.

"I think that we should start with the Great Hall. It's really the only place."

"All right, then. Let's do it."

*

The wall was still white, the bed was still lumpy, and Hermione was still bored out of her mind. Several times in the last hour she had contemplated leaving to confront Helena, but she had not yet reached the level of boredom required to stop sulking.

Which was precisely why she was more than slightly relieved when Helena burst in with an explosion of energy.

"All right, girl, you've had your chance to be alone. Out."

With the practiced ease of any teenaged girl, Hermione's only response was to glare.

"Don't give me your sauce. You aren't nearly as good at that as my son was. You should be grateful for this."

"Grateful?" Hermione snorted. "You betrayed us-mostly Severus, but me as well-and then took me out of a place where I could have been useful. Now I'm stuck up here, for all I know everyone else is dead, and I have to help you serve Voldemort. I'd be grateful if hell opened up and swallowed you in front of my eyes, but that's about it."

Helena tugged at a piece of her hair and Hermione briefly felt a flash of something run through her. "You silly girl," she snapped, and for the first time Hermione could see the resemblance to Severus. "I didn't take you here to remove you from aiding your friends and I certainly have no desire to help that man downstairs who has managed to convince himself that he is among the gods. I thought that giving you the means to escape would make you understand-as I had hoped, I see you haven't used it-but clearly that isn't enough. There is nothing that you can do there that is not already being done."

"And what am I supposed to be doing here? So far, I've sat on my bed and sulked, which isn't doing anybody any favours."

"I'm giving you a chance to save all of their lives!" Whatever small amount of patience she had was apparently at its end. "You contacted your precious Order, did you not? And I was about to give you one further task that could aid young Mr Potter in his final duty."

Hermione threw herself off of the bed, tendrils of hair snaking out around her as though they embodied her fury. "Harry is bloody brain dead. Comatose. He's not here. We can't get through to him and the only way he's going to do something is if Ginny tells him to. The only thing they've got going for them is the protection of the Shield, but that's a mutual thing and it's probably already turned into a giant bloodbath."

Helena chuckled, and Hermione found herself partly soothed and partly chilled at the sound. "Well, my dear, I won't deny that you are probably right about the latter part, but unless I am very much mistaken your friend downstairs is very much alive and cognisant of what is taking place around him."

A disbelieving sound was quickly followed by a gasp when Hermione realised that the woman was serious. "What-how did it happen? When? How do you know?"

"I performed a rather simple healing procedure while I was down there. His mind, you see, fragmented, presumably after the attack on Severus. The stress of the Imperius Curse, fortunately, counteracted the process enough that I was able to piece it together but you may find there are holes in his memory..."

"What do you mean when you say his mind... Never mind. Tell me this later-what can I do now? And how is he going to kill Voldemort if magic no longer works on anyone down there?"

"The same way that you can kill any man, my dear. You may just need a more powerful weapon."

Hermione recognized that Helena was trying to tell her without specifics and strained her mind. It remained blank for a brief moment before an idea took shape. "Oh," she said, doubtfully at first but her confidence in it rapidly grew. "Oh!" Racing to the door, she shot a look over her shoulder quizzically.

"You are free to go. I have my own preparations to make."

*

"So, my werewolf friend, do you think that you're ready for this?" Charlie clapped a hand on Remus's shoulder, making him jump slightly. He was still mulling carefully over Moody's instructions, determined not to forget even the comma that he had inserted into his third sentence. He had once heard that commas had the ability to save lives.

"I certainly hope so."

"Are we a group?" Charlie asked. "Once we find our third person, I mean."

"Sounds good."

"Great." The redhead spun around to look for someone who had not yet had the chance to follow the old Auror's instructions. "Hey, Tonks! You free?"

She had been standing in the midst of everyone, looking bewildered, and was now tripping over the coffee table in her haste to no longer be without a group. "Now I'm not," she replied cheerfully. "Does anyone else feel like a first year again?"

Charlie laughed and put an arm around her shoulder. "Nah. I've always enjoyed the buddy system. Sometimes, when I'm bored, I make all the other dragon tamers line up in single file and we walk around the camp just for fun."

"I'll bet you do."

Watching them tease each other, Remus found himself experiencing an odd, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. For a moment, he was confused, but it didn't take long for him to realise where it was coming from. He could feel Agrippa staring at him in curiosity, but, surprisingly, he felt no desire to shoot her a smug look. Instead, he simply forced himself to focus on the important things and block out any personal delusions he might have allowed himself.

*

Hermione slipped through the corridors, heart hammering at the prospect that if she was caught, this could be the end. Several times, she thought that she heard an approach and flattened herself against the wall or slipped behind a suit of armour, but each time it was a false alarm. After finding herself huddled in a doorway for the sixth time, she realised what a prat she was being. Mentally kicking herself, she murmured the incantation for a cloaking spell and continued onward with less trepidation.

The entrance to Dumbledore's office, however, was not so simple. She recognized that there was the possibility he had sealed it off before, but could only hope that he hadn't the time.

"Lemon sherbet," she said, praying for the obvious.

The gargoyle only stared stonily ahead.

"Fizzing Whizbees?"

Sill, nothing.

"Chocolate truffles? Turkish Delight? Cockroach Clusters? Pear drops? Humbugs?" After nearly a quarter of an hour spent guessing, she stopped, feeling frustrated and slightly ridiculous. Angrily, she snapped, "Look, I've got a Sugar Quill in my pocket and I'll graffiti you with it if you don't bloody move."

The gargoyle blinked and hopped aside, leaving her free to climb the staircase. She had only been in Dumbledore's office with other people present-now that she was alone, the temptation to simply poke around was almost overwhelming. Gritting her teeth, she fought it and headed straight for the case next to the desk, where Godric Gryffindor's sword was on display.

"Hi, Fawkes," she said absently as she fumbled with the lock, casting several spells in an attempt to open it. "Why are you still in here?"

The phoenix preened himself, keeping an eye firmly fixed on the girl. She continued to struggle with the case, wishing that she was the sort of girl who wore hairpins. When it became clear that magic was ineffective, she began opening desk drawers, hunting for a key.

"You won't find it in there, my dear," said a voice, nearly making her heart stop. A quick glance confirmed that no one appeared to be in the room.

"Where are you?" she asked, voice shaking.

A waving portrait caught her eye. "Where else would I be?" it asked crossly.

"Oh," she said in relief. "I thought you were a person."

"I most certainly am," the man said, sounding affronted. "And I was going to tell you where the key is, but I don't think I shall now."

"Oh, Geoffrey, shove a sock in it," a woman snapped from a few frames away. "Anyone can see the poor girl is desperate. At any rate, it's the Headmaster that has the key. He keeps it with him always."

"Fuck," Hermione swore, deciding that if there had ever been a time for crude language, it was now. But rather than making her feel disheartened, she was growing angry. She was not going to die by Voldemort's hand because Dumbledore didn't have the good sense to make copies of his keys.

A battleaxe was sitting on the shelf below the Sorting Hat's perch. Her rage gave her enough strength to lift it and fling it across the room. It slammed against the case, shattering the glass.

"Good girl," the portrait of the witch said approvingly.

Hermione didn't respond. Instead, she marched furiously across the room, reaching into the glass shards and yanking out the sword. She was halfway out the door, when she glanced down and noticed the trail of blood that was behind her.

"Brilliant," she announced. "I've slit my bloody wrist."

Something dripped on it and, before her eyes, the cut closed without leaving so much as a scab. She looked up to where Fawkes was hovering and smiled grimly.

"Thanks."

He looked at her expectantly and she began to feel a bit better.

"Well, are you coming with me?" she asked. "They need you down there more than I do."

If birds could manage disgusted looks, Hermione would have sworn that she had received one.

*

Draco felt as though he had been running forever, yet the Death Eaters that he was following showed no signs of letting up. The only comfort that he still had was the fact that Ginny was still probably bounding infinitely more quickly, far ahead of where they currently were, but it was rapidly being overcome by the stitch that had developed in his side. He was about to pause and walk, before something nearly stopped his heart and made him pick his pace back up to a sprint.

Crashing sounds, startled yells, and snarling echoing through the otherwise silent corridor, violent and unmistakable.

*

"Keep up, boy," Minerva snapped, waving her lit wand vaguely in Percy's direction. "And don't tell me that you're tired already. We've only just begun."

He only grunted in reply, but within a few seconds had caught up to his two companions.

Professor Vector sighed next to her. "Are you certain that bringing him along was a good idea?"

"Septima, I am perfectly aware of the fact that, beside a certain skill in pomposity, he is useless. But if anyone in that hole that we have been living in is going to be put in danger, he is going to be a part of it. I don't buy Albus's nonsense regarding forgiveness when the object of it remains unrepentant. Besides, a human shield could potentially be useful."

Septima bit her lip, looking concerned. "This isn't like you, Minerva... It's too-"

"What? Cold? Calculating?" The older woman's face was set and the dim wand light emphasized the lines that had etched themselves into her face. "I'm perfectly aware of it."

They lapsed into silence, continuing their ascent upwards for what felt like an age. When they finally reached the top, Minerva held the door open for her companions and waved them through, following close behind. Casting a tracking spell, she looked down the line of blue fire where Neville Longbottom had apparently walked.

"This way," she announced briskly. "Mr Weasley, I want you in front. Septima, keep your wand out."

*

The sight that greeted them when they reached the Great Hall was one of blood-stained confusion and, although it was clear that the Death Eaters present were not the complete population of Voldemort's followers, it was painfully obvious that Ron, Severus, and Harry, who had formed a tight defensive circle, were badly outnumbered.

"Now what?" Liv asked, biting her lip. "You can't be thinking of-"

But Neville had already snatched a spear from the nearest suit of armour and abandoned the small degree of caution that he had maintained.

"Who said anything about thinking?" he called back to her, throwing himself into the fray.

*

In a barely visible mass of fur, the wolf leapt from person to person, trying to take down as many as she could manage while she still had the advantage of surprise. Blood matted itself into her fur as it sprayed out of one man's jugular, she crippled another by smashing his knee. With unnatural speed, she dodged weapons and would have taken them all, if a voice that cried out to the girl in her hadn't caught her attention.

"Ginny!"

Before she had a chance to think, she found herself crouched on the stone floor, naked and staring into frozen grey eyes that peered down a spear at her from a face frighteningly like one that she knew well.

"Father, don't. Please."

Without moving or changing the direction of his gaze, Lucius Malfoy replied, "You are a fool. Do not attempt to sway me with childish pleas."

The bit of cold steel digging into her arm made her gasp, and the man towering over her twitched his lips into a smile. "Not nearly so brave now, I see."

The tip of the spear traced its way up her arm and across her chest, leaving a thin scratch, until it was hovering over her heart.

"Father..." Draco's voice was no longer weak, but had taken on a harsh, raspy tone that gave Ginny the notion he was issuing a warning.

"I told you to stay out."

Without warning, Lucius's weapon jerked upwards, piercing Ginny in the shoulder. Surprised, he turned around to face his son, revealing to Ginny the sword that was shoved in his back. Still numb from shock, she stood and gasped.

"You taught me to always do what I had to, Father," Draco said impassively. "You have only yourself to blame."

The look that crossed the older man's face was filled with both bemusement and-for the first time-pride. "Then clearly I managed to teach you something," he tried to sneer, but the pain was too much. He crumpled, bleeding, to the floor and his eyes glassed over as his breathing stopped.

It was only then that Draco noticed Ginny's injury. "Merlin, Gin, are you all right?"

Pain began to soak through her finally, and she winced. "Do I look bloody okay to you?"

"Look, sit down. I'll try to fix it." He reached over to pull the spear out, but she caught his hand.

"Don't. It's the only thing that's stopping the bleeding. Just leave it for now."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" he snapped, face turning white with worry. "Let you sit in the corridor with my dead father rotting next to you?"

She closed her eyes against another wave of pain. "Do you think you can move me to the hospital wing? There could be stores there that you can use. Even if it just stops the pain, that would be all right for now."

*

Remus led the way through the Forbidden Forest, with Charlie and Tonks following close behind. So far, there had been no sign of anyone-on their side or otherwise. Charlie was still trying to decide whether or not this was a good thing when Tonks tripped over a rock, nearly stopping his heart. He stooped to help her up, straightening just in time to catch Remus sending them an odd look. Briefly, it filled Charlie with something strange and quivering, but he brushed it off and turned his attention back to the darkened forest.

"Do you have any idea where we are?" he hissed, concerned.

"About two hundred feet from the castle," came Remus's calm reply. "But we need to circle around behind it and take the south entrance, which is less likely to be guarded. From there, we'll enter the Great Hall, since that is the most likely place that we'll be able to attack. Everyone clear on that?"

Both Charlie and Tonks nodded and proceeded to continue trudging through the underbrush once more.

*

The entrance to the Great Hall was blocked, but Hermione barely took notice as she slashed at the two guards-they were dead before they could so much as react. Stepping over the bodies, she hurled herself through the doors and stopped momentarily, seeking out first Severus and then Harry.

Once convinced that both were alive and well, she bolted forward again, screaming Harry's name as Fawkes soared overhead.

*

Harry's head jerked up as he heard a feral cry, just in time to see Hermione cut down the Death Eater that had been about to do likewise to him, Fawkes hovering slightly above her. She was waving a sword at him, yelling something about a weapon and Voldemort, but he couldn't make out the words properly. She snatched his weapon out of his hands and handed him something else-a brief glance down told him almost everything that he needed to know.

Almost.

"Hermione... How-"

She cut him off. "Give him hell, Harry."

He nodded and sprinted off to the dais, where Voldemort was watching from his post between two guards.

*

"Neville! Where did you come from?"

Neville grinned at Ron, who he had just come up beside. "From underground. Didn't feel like waiting anymore."

A clueless look overtook the redhead's face. "Oh. Well. Want to help me kill some people?"

"Happily."

*

Percy, held at wand point by the two witches, pushed through the main doors of the Great Hall.

"Oh!" Septima gasped, horrified at the sight that met her eyes.

A black haired boy engaged in combat with two burly men in silver robes. A wild-haired girl trying desperately to fight her way to a tall, pale man who was barely holding his own against three others. Two boys-one of them the one that they had been searching for-back-to-back.

Minerva stepped forward at the sight of this, numb to the bloodstained floor. As she did so, a sword plunged through Neville's stomach, simultaneously catching Ron. The startled expression on both faces was like a mirror image. She let out a wail and her legs gave out-Septima rushed forward and caught her.

Sensing that this might be his only opportunity, Percy seized and made to sprint out the door and back into the labyrinth of the castle.

"Get him," Minerva snarled, pain and fury carved into her features.

Without hesitating, the younger witch dropped her and ran after.

*

Albus felt Minerva's call ring through him and, with a sudden, almost preternatural vitality, leapt to his feet and signalled the other adults in the area to come with him.

"What has happened?" Flius demanded, but he gave no answer, only led the way to the staircase and levitated them all upwards and a frightening speed.

"Poppy," he said once they had reached the top, "prepare the hospital wing as best you can. I have a feeling it will be needed."

She nodded grimly and headed in the opposite direction.

"The rest of us," Dumbledore continued, "are going to the Great Hall. Now."

*

"Draco," Ginny murmured, her voice frighteningly lethargic.

He adjusted his wand so that she was hovering a little higher. "Yes?"

"I need... I need to tell you something. Can you promise not to hate me?"

His eyes stung. "I could never hate you, Ginny. What is it?"

She shook her head weakly. "You might. But I need to tell somebody." Tears began leaking down her face, but they were as dull and dry as she seemed to be just then. "You know when we were fighting? After... After that thing in the Forbidden Forest?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

"When I put Harry under Imperius?"

"What about it?"

Wide-eyed, she whispered, "I didn't mean to do it, I swear. I was just... I was so lonely. And I missed you. And he was there and he didn't know anything and I just needed something... I needed to forget for a little bit and Harry was the only thing there."

A brief flash of horror shot through him as comprehension dawned on him. Ginny let out a sob and pain overcame her face at the sudden movement.

"And I'm really sorry and I want you to know because I can't lie anymore... Because if I get through this, I want you and me to have a chance and we can't if I don't tell you."

Compassion, however, eradicated whatever terror had been racing through him. "Ginny," he said softly. "It's okay. You will get through this, and we've always had a chance."

"You aren't angry?"

As he shook his head, a tiny smile curved across her face and she closed her eyes.

Then, so softly that he might have thought he imagined it if he hadn't seen her lips moving, she replied, "I love you."

*

"Are you absolutely certain that you know where we are?" Tonks asked finally. "Because we should have been there ages ago."

Remus sighed, trying not to flush. "I may have accidentally turned around somewhere when I shouldn't have."

She sighed heavily. "Typical man."

"That's what you think," he muttered wryly, making Charlie snort suddenly.

"Well, what do you suggest we do?" she snapped.

"Use magic?" Charlie suggested with false brightness. "You know, a compass spell."

"Hardly helpful if we don't know what direction the castle is from here," Remus pointed out quietly. "I'm so sorry."

He took a few steps away, but Charlie grabbed him by the shoulder. "It's not your fault. We should have been paying attention too."

Tonks bit her lip. "Yeah," she agreed. "It's not just your fault. Why don't we levitate someone and see if they can tell where we should be going?"

Remus shrugged. "Sounds fine. How about I levitate you, since you're the lightest?"

She nodded. "Sounds all right. But if you drop me, that will be your fault."

All three of them chuckled nervously, and Remus said the incantation, raising her until she was peering over the tops of the trees.

"All right," she called down. "I see it! Bring me down. It's back in the direction that we just came from."

He let her down perhaps a bit too quickly and she landed with a thud.

"Sorry," he apologized, offering her a hand up.

She raised her eyebrows nearly to the point of her pink hairline. "I may be clumsy, but I'm not that bad. Let's go."

Remus hung back for a moment and massaged his forehead, wondering precisely how many other things could go wrong tonight. Before he could begin to catch up, however, a force bowled him over, leaving him sprawled on the forest floor.

"Charlie, what the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed as soon as he could recognize that the weight on top of him was, in fact, a person. He tried-and failed-to ignore the sudden rush that shot through him at the realisation.

"Look up," came the reply, and Remus obeyed, horrified to see something resembling searchlights scanning the forest slightly over top of their heads.

"Where's Nymphadora?"

"I'm here." The woman was dragging herself by the elbows over to where they were lying, Remus still trying to catch his breath.

"My guess is that they saw her when we were trying to find the castle."

"And you're probably right."

They lay there in silence, no one daring to move until the lights moved deeper into the forest, when Remus finally got up the courage to speak.

"Hey, Charlie, you know that thing I said tonight? If I die and you make it out, tell people, okay?"

"What thing?" Tonks asked.

"Seriously?" Charlie sounded astonished.

"Yeah. Inscribe it on my fucking tombstone or something."

"What thing?" Tonks repeated, slightly more frustrated.

"Oh, it's nothing," Charlie replied at the same time that Remus said, "I like men."

"Wow, you're really happy telling people that, aren't you?"

Tonks snorted. "Tell me something that I didn't know. Everybody with half a brain knew about you and Sirius... There were a lot of complaints about the moaning, trust me. Granted, the amount of time you spent with that girl's mother threw some people a bit, but I was always holding out for you."

"You mean..." He trailed off momentarily in shock. "You mean, they knew and didn't care?"

"Well," she said with a bit of a smirk, "Molly was more than slightly concerned and seemed to have the idea of setting us up firmly emblazoned in her mind, but it wasn't something anyone else seemed to make into an issue. It's not this rare thing like you seem to think-Merlin, why do you think that Moody doesn't seem to have any romantic interests?"

"No kidding," Charlie chuckled. "Old Mad-Eye? Who is it, then?"

"Some guy in the Department of Mysteries. I met him once. Nice man."

The three of them lapsed into silence briefly, before Tonks broke it. "So, are we just waiting here?"

"For a while longer," Remus answered. "Give them a chance to loose interest."

"Sounds exciting," Charlie yawned. "Just don't let me fall asleep."

"Be careful," Tonks teased. "You've got two people here who might decide to take advantage of you."

"That could be fun."

*

"Neville?" Ron turned around, horrified. There was a deep scratch in his left side, but he had otherwise managed to avoid injury. The sight of his friend, impaled and ashen, made him momentarily forget the pain that he was in. "Neville! Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine. It's only a flesh wound," he gasped.

"Of course you will." The words echoed hollowly; both of them knew it was a lie.

Neville was breathing a word weakly that sounded to Ron like, "Live."

"Of course you'll live," he said. "Just calm down."

The other boy was staring intently at something just to the right of him and Ron turned, but nothing was there. A choking sound made him turn his attention back to Neville, who was fading quickly.

*

Liv held out her hand, helping Neville to his feet. Around them, the battle was still raging, but she didn't seem to be noticing.

"It doesn't hurt anymore," he remarked, feeling for the wound on his stomach.

"Of course it doesn't," she replied. "You're past that now."

"Am I dead?" He felt a brief flash of surprise, but oddly enough, nothing else.

She motioned her hand down, to behind where he was standing. He turned and something twisted inside of his stomach at the sight of Ron's grief-stricken face.

"How come you're still here? Or am I a ghost?"

Liv's kohl-lined eyes crinkled slightly into a smile. "You're not a ghost. I'm here because you made me-I am a part of who you are-and because you needed me, but I've also existed for much longer than that. I'm an idea, Neville."

Neville nodded, not entirely sure that he understood. He decided not to worry about it for now. "So, that was life then?"

"Yes, that was it."

"What happens now?"

She took his hand in hers, brushing strands of hair away from her face with the other one. "I guess that you're about to find out."

She led him through the middle of the fight and, as he passed the people that he knew, made sure to preserve each one's face carefully in his memory. The front doors burst open just as the approached them, heralding the arrival of the Order of the Phoenix and Neville was slightly horrified as they rushed in, passing straight through himself and Liv. Before leaving the Great Hall, he turned around to take one last look at it before moving on.

"I'm not sad," he told Liv. "I thought I would be, but I'm not really. I mean, I guess that I wish it didn't have to end, but it would have sooner or later anyway."

She rested a hand on his shoulder. "You mean that there was nothing more that you wanted to do?"

"No. There were loads of things that I didn't have time for but it's okay, I guess."

"Good," she said. "You're one of the few people who doesn't fight this."

"Well," he responded, an impish grin on her face, "I did lose my virginity, at least."

A delighted giggle escaped her and, simultaneously, they passed through the foyer and out the doors of Hogwarts, into a world in which everything was unknown.

*

The rear entrance to the Great Hall loomed eerily in front as Remus, Charlie, and Tonks approached, eying it warily.

"That was really almost too easy," she remarked. "The hardest thing about that was a searchlight."

Charlie nodded his agreement. "What do you think is waiting for us in there?"

Remus smiled grimly. "That's something I think I'd rather not consider right now."

They had now reached the door, but no one was making any move toward opening it. Instead, the three of them gazed up at it, statue-still in silent contemplation. The only sound that reached Lupin's ears was a buzzing coming from inside that might be from human voices.

Still, they didn't even twitch.

It was Charlie who finally lost patience. Raising his hands and announcing, "What the hell," he jerked his entire body. But rather than opening the door, he turned to Remus and thrust him roughly against the wall.

Surprised, Remus resisted for half a second, dimly aware of Tonks's brief noise of surprise, but then there was only the scratching of stubble as Charlie's mouth fastened on his and the violent need to return the favour. He closed his eyes, overcome by the fact that something felt right for once-this wasn't manipulative or a one-time encounter in a dive bar.

This time, there might not even be a chance of a next time.

*

The kiss was growing ridiculously long. It had been cute, Nymphadora admitted to herself, for the first five minutes. However, she was beginning to wonder at the fact that they hadn't drowned each other in saliva.

"Boys."

They both shot away from each other, somewhat guiltily avoiding the partly annoyed, partly amused look on Nymphadora's face.

"You two had plenty of time in the Forbidden Forest to make out, especially considering that you could have cut the sexual tension with a knife."

"Sorry," Charlie said, but he was looking at Remus as he said it. "I just... I needed that."

"We've got a battle to go fight right now," she reminded them, incredulous that they seemed to be able to forget this.

The other man pushed back his hair, panting slightly. "Please tell me you're gay. It wouldn't be fair, otherwise."

"If I was straight and wanted to kiss someone, there's a perfectly viable option right here."

"Thanks, lads." She rolled her eyes, steeling herself to go bursting into the Great Hall alone. "Glad you think I'm 'viable', but we can chat about our sexual preferences after You-Know-Who is dead and chopped into tiny pieces."

"I mean, really," Charlie continued obliviously, "you couldn't tell that I have a crush on you?"

"Yes. Very good. I just observed that with the words sexual tension," Tonks half-shouted. "Now if you don't bloody mind..."

"You did?" The surprise in Remus's voice was palpable. "Agrippa kept cracking jokes about it, but I just thought she was amusing herself."

"I don't tell just anyone about my carrot phobia," Charlie replied with a touch of irony.

"Boys!" she roared, finally catching their attention. "Talk. About. This. Later. Right now, we need to go kill people in funny-looking masks."

"Oh, shit!" Remus swore. "What are we waiting for? Let's go."

He led the charge, nearly forgetting to open the door as he sprinted towards it, Charlie following close behind.

"Right," she muttered, picking up the rear. "Now that he's got someone to live for and defend, he's all manly. Typical sodding male."

*

Hermione was surprised how easily this fighting concept was coming to her. While she wouldn't go so far as to consider herself skilled or graceful when handling something large and pointy, impaling people on in seemed to be a natural talent.

It did not, however, seem to come quite so easily to the Death Eater with whom she was sparring-if you could, in fact, properly call it that. Right now, the only advantage that he seemed to have over her was that of about two hundred pounds.

"What, did you join for the free Jaffa Cakes?" she asked. It was cruel, she knew. And probably tasteless. Oddly, however, she found that she didn't particularly care.

He snarled at her, something that might have been more frightening if his Death Eater mask hadn't been hanging off of one side of his head.

"I've heard that His Lordship up there has a fondness for sweets to rival the Headmaster's," she continued, trying to keep her breathing even. "Tell me, does he share, or do you have to buy your own with the pocket money he gives you?"

He stumbled back, tripping on the hem of his robe, and she shoved the sword into his stomach. A strangled, choking sound came out of his throat that might have been a plea.

"Or do you just enjoy killing us Mudbloods?" she asked coldly, thrusting it in a second time and not so much as flinching when blood ran from between his lips.

She had just turned around to seek out her next victim when a sudden cold descended over the room. The clamouring stopped as members of the Order and Death Eaters alike turned to the place where Harry and Voldemort were standing, both with a look of surprise on their faces.

"Oh, don't think of stopping on account of me," Helena said cheerfully from the right of Harry.

Somewhere behind her, Hermione heard Severus mutter, "I'm going to bloody kill that woman."

Afraid that he would attempt to follow through, she spun around and sought him out, catching him by the wrist as he began to move forward. "Don't. She's on our side," she hissed. "I think," came as an afterthought.

She felt the tension flow out of him and breathed a silent sigh of relief at the realisation that he wasn't about to do something idiotic.

"No, really," Helena continued. "Continue, please. I'm really rather interested to see how this ends-if it is able to end at all."

"Who the hell are you?" Harry burst out in something close to disgust.

"Someone that you really should be thanking," she replied. "But rather than asking questions, you also really should be putting that sword of yours to use."

Hermione gasped as Voldemort lunged forward, but Harry managed to dodge aside just in time to send him reeling forward. As if on cue, the rest of the battle picked up where it had left off.

*

Claw-like fingernails dug into Percy's arms as Minerva McGonagall stared him down, eyes filled with a burning emotion that terrified him. She spoke, and her voice was a hoarse mingling of grief-stricken rage and determination so powerful that the words nearly became secondary.

"You have been a bit more than foolish." She turned him to look at the bloody scene before him. "I have no qualms about blaming you for this entire situation. Without you, the Shield could have given us an advantage without needless bloodshed. Without you, none of this would have happened."

Guilt started in his stomach and grew upwards, twining until it was wrapped throughout his insides and squeezing his lungs until he couldn't breathe.

"Your brother is down there, wounded-maybe even dead. Did you consider that?"

He had. In fact, he had been attempting to block that sight from replaying in his mind since the moment it had happened. He did not, however, say as much. There was no longer enough air in his lungs to speak.

"Minerva." Vector's voice was half warning, half concern. She repeated it, when the older woman took no notice, this time with more than a touch of urgency. "Minerva!"

Both he and McGonagall jerked up simultaneously, to see Bellatrix Lestrange, hair in tatters, tearing towards her with a spear in hand. If someone were to ask him what happened in that next moment, he would not have been answer with any degree of certainty. Perhaps he leapt in between Vector and Lestrange, perhaps Minerva pushed him; both of them were equally shocked when the spear pierced through him, releasing the vine of guilt's grip on his lungs enough that he could suck in one last breath of air.

*

As Helena had spoken, she had raised a shield of her own around the two who were facing off in the centre of the dais. Now, she watched. Almost mirror images of one another, red eyes reflected in green as they fought, oblivious to those who attempted to enter their circle and failed with a harsh yell. Fumbling attempts at parries and lunges on both sides pitted natural athleticism against psychological manipulation; there was no question in her mind who would win. It was a matter of commonsense, not prophecy-but the process was still diverting.

Her smile widened as the rest of the room grew still once more, silently watching the battle that had the potential to define the rest of their lives.

*

Sweat dripped in his eyes and down his arms as he struggled to focus on his opponent rather than the searing pain shooting through limbs that had barely been used for months. Words were reaching him from across the circle; he tried and failed to block them out.

'... if indeed it is you at all. Are you still being controlled by that she-wolf that you have fought so hard to protect? So much effort, yet still she only wanted you on her terms, to suit her needs..."

Something in this struck Harry and, inwardly, he flinched as memories best left undisturbed came flooding back.

"And yet still you want to save them. They knew. They all knew and did nothing."

Had they? There was no way to be certain, but suspicion was worming its way into the pit of his stomach, making him lose his footing even as something told him that this was the sole intention.

"You know that it is true."

In spite of himself, suspicion was transforming into belief, but he knew that he couldn't stop fighting. Especially not now that he was on the defensive.

"Stop now and I promise that you may have whatever retribution you desire. Your parents didn't die to give you a life of subservience."

Harry had been in the process of lowering his sword, but the final sentence brought it up again in a flurry of violence and rage, knocking the weapon from Voldemort's hand and decapitating him in the same swing.

Looking down with disgust at the body that was oozing out the sticky, black blood of something that had no longer been human, he commented to it, "You'd think that you would have learned. I suppose I could now actually put your foot in your mouth, but that would really emphasize the irony a little too much."

He turned away, then, and broke out of Helena's circle, walking with a rigid back out of the Great Hall, not bothering to survey the damage that lay behind him. A gaping hole had formed somewhere just beneath his large intestine and he found that he longed for his previous oblivion.

*

By the time that Dumbledore led the rest of the teachers madly into the room, the situation was almost entirely under control. Much to everyone's relief but their own, the Order had taken charge of the situation, holding the prisoners in organised groups and finding aid for the wounded. Ron was being carried out on a stretcher and arguing with the person tending to him, while Harry, Ginny, and Draco were nowhere in sight. Hermione, out of sheer luck, had emerged relatively unscathed and was now sitting against a wall next to Severus, who was bearing a few minor scratches.

The death of Voldemort had more or less signified the end of the battle-there had been a more or less mutual and unspoken agreement on both sides to end the fighting, with the exception of a couple extremists, who had been tackled and subdued by Order members and Death Eaters alike. Nobody really wanted to prolong this more than necessary.

Hermione started in surprise at the feeling of hands twining around hers and glanced over at Severus.

"I don't care," he said firmly. "The people who don't already know will find out soon enough. I'm half expecting a two page spread in the Prophet."

She grinned a little tiredly. "I'd almost be insulted if they didn't. Otherwise, who is left in the world to preserve the virtue of young witches?"

He gave a snort and closed his eyes.

"It's okay," she said. "We're alive. Both of us."

"Yes," he agreed. "It would seem that we are."

Overcome by a sudden and inexplicable need, she rotated until she was facing him and planted a kiss on his mouth. It wasn't perhaps the most skilled or romantic kiss she had ever performed, but buried beneath it was a feral joy born out of relief that drew both of their minds onwards, to other things, and kept it from being an abysmal failure.

It was really rather nice, she reflected, wondering how quickly they would be able to negotiate safe passage to privacy and finding that she, too, no longer cared about the onlookers. They were all prudes, anyway.