The Last Command

Harry awoke in the middle of the night with a start. "Oh shit," he breathed.

He must have startled Ron awake, because soon the redhead was beside him.

"Are you okay, mate? You-Know-Who isn't messing in your mind again is he?"

Harry caught his breath and tried to remember what had woken him so suddenly. He brought his hand to his head in horror and groaned. Ron was getting ready to rush out of the room to get Hermione or his parents when Harry grabbed his arm and kept him next to the bed.

"C'mon, Harry, you're scaring me here. What happened?" Genuine concern showed in his friend's eyes.

"I... What time is Gabrielle's funeral?" Harry asked.

"I don't know for sure, but I think it's early afternoon. Is he planning something?"

Harry realized how much he was frightening Ron, and he quickly shook his head. "No. Nothing like that; you can go back to sleep."

Ron looked at him incredulously. "I don't think so. What's going on?"

"Ron, it's really nothing... don't worry about it."

"No, I'll decide if it's nothing. You're scaring me," he repeated.

Harry sighed and shook his head. "I have to break my date with Snape."

Ron was thoroughly confused. "What?"

"I told Fleur I would go to the funeral tomorrow, but I have training with Snape at the same time."

Ron's eyes widened as realization dawned on him. "Sorry, mate, I don't envy you at all. I'd rather face You-Know-Who than have to cancel with Snape."

Harry chuckled despite himself. "That's not funny, Ron."

"No, but it's the truth!" He patted Harry's shoulder. "Sorry, again." He stifled a yawn. "I'm going back to bed."

Harry groaned again, but nodded. "Goodnight, Ron."

Harry could hear Ron's soft snores in the next bed, but, despite his exhaustion, his mind was focused on the next day. Playing scenario after scenario in his head, he finally drifted off into a restless sleep.

It seemed as soon as he had closed his eyes that the gray of false dawn woke him. Giving up on sleep, he went down to the kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley came down shortly after the sun rose. She nodded to Harry as she started busying herself in the kitchen. He offered to help, and she accepted. She chattered, and Harry let himself drift in the sounds of her voice.

He was slicing some melon when he realized that she had asked him a question and was waiting for a response. "Sorry, Mrs. Weasley, what?" he asked apologetically.

"I asked what you were doing up so early. Is something bothering you?"

It occurred to him that he didn't know how much Mrs. Weasley knew concerning Snape. He also knew he didn't want to be the person to tell her that Snape was most likely not the one responsible for Dumbledore's death. He searched his mind for a reasonable response.

"Just worried about training today. I have to leave early for the funeral, and I don't think my instructor will be very forgiving."

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Oh, I'm sure it will be fine. No need to stay up all night over it!"

Harry mumbled something about being sure she was right, when Ron, Hermione, and Ginny came and joined them. The four talked about meaningless things over breakfast. After eating his fill, Harry excused himself and got ready for the day.

He said goodbye to his friends, and Mrs. Weasley called to him and told him to be back by one for the funeral. He called out, "All right," and Flooed to Morayshire Manor.

He stepped out of the fireplace and quickly dropped down as a jet of blue light flew towards him. He drew his wand and fired a hex back in the direction the light came from. He squinted, trying to find his attacker in the dimly lit room. He heard a crash; his hex had apparently missed its target. A purple hex flew towards him, and he rolled away in an attempt to avoid it. He wasn't quick enough, and he felt a stinging in his back where it hit.

"Expelliarmus." Harry's wand flew from his hand.

Harry rubbed his back, and glared into the darkness.

"You're late," a voice drawled.

"I am not!" Harry replied obstinately.

"Potter, I have wasted six years of my life trying to train you. Believe me when I say 'You're late.'"

Harry growled. This day was NOT going his way.

"And still as articulate as always. When coming into a room by Floo, one should always be prepared. At the risk of sounding like Mad-Eye Moody, his policy of 'Constant Vigilance' is a good one. From now on, when you come here--when you travel at all--keep your wand out. This is the last time I will tell you." Harry nodded and accepted his wand.

Snape guided Harry over to where the crash had been. "I don't think the Headmistress wants us to completely destroy her family home." He pointed his wand at a broken picture that had fallen to the ground. "Reparo. Wingardium Leviosa." He directed the painting back to a hook on the wall.

Snape and Harry walked quickly to the dining hall. No sooner had they entered than Snape started after him again. Harry spent the next session on the defensive, rarely getting a spell in edgewise. He did manage to avoid the majority of the hexes, if not by shields, than by rolling.

"Come on, Potter, you aren't even trying!" Snape said as another blast of light erupted from his wand.

"Serpensortia..." Harry threw out, watching as the snake erupted from his wand. "Get the man!" he hissed at it.

Snape was momentarily distracted trying to vanish the reptile, and Harry took advantage of the situation. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted. He smiled in triumph as Snape's wand flew into his hand.

Snape, now defenseless, backed up as the snake continued to move towards him. "Potter, do you mind?" he ground out.

"Oh, yeah. Finite Incantatem." Harry said, pointing his wand at the snake. Harry smirked at his former professor.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "There may be hope for you yet, Mr. Potter. That was something I had not foreseen."

Harry, realizing this was the closest he would get to a "good job", smiled broadly and handed the wand back.

"However, I wouldn't use that in a duel with The Dark Lord, as he is also a parselmouth." Harry sighed... and ducked as a spell came towards his head.

Harry shot a jinx at Snape in turn as they started their duel anew.

Harry was breathless, but Snape hardly seemed to be trying. "Mr. Potter, if you think this is hard, wait until this afternoon." A blue light shot out of his wand.

Harry put up a shield, and replied, "About that, sir, I won't be able to make it." He fired a hex at Snape, which met one of Snape's in midair. The two beams of light crashed and fizzled out of existence.

Snape, however, had already sent another one his way; Harry ducked under it and blasted another one in Snape's general direction.

"Why ever not, Potter? Skiving off for an autograph session?" Snape sneered, blocking the hex with ease before casting a yellow curse towards Harry.

Harry sidestepped the curse, and let it hit the wall. "No, sir, I have to attend a funeral. A little girl died the other day when you attacked the wedding."

Snape hesitated.

"What? You didn't know that your antics killed an eleven-year-old? You were too cowardly to stop the attack, and the bride's sister was murdered." Harry taunted, against his better judgment.

The next thing Harry was aware of was Snape's hand offering him assistance in standing. "Potter, this is a war, and in war people die. If it hadn't been an attack at a wedding, it would have been an attack in Diagon Alley, or Hogsmeade, or a Quidditch match. If you intend to go to everyone's funerals, I should cancel all future lessons now. This girl was not the first to die, nor will she be the last."

Harry stared at his feet. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. However, I did tell this family that I would attend. I need to attend."

"Very well, I will let you attend this one. After this, unless you are good friends with the deceased, I do not expect you to go to any more. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." He pointed his wand at Harry and fired a blasting curse at his chest. Harry turned in time to avoid it, but he could feel the heat of it brush against his clothes.

Harry noticed he was definitely moving slower than usual. He wondered what he had been hit with earlier. He managed to block another hex, but there was one that followed soon after that he couldn't stop. He turned his back to the light coming towards him, in a desperate attempt to protect his vital organs. Again, he found himself on the ground with Snape standing above him offering a hand.

"Potter, your performance is abysmal," Snape growled as Harry stood on shaky legs.

"Sorry, sir. I'm trying." He winced and rubbed his back where the last curse had hit him.

"Not. Hard. Enough. A first year could have blocked that."

Harry seriously doubted it, but then, he doubted Voldemort would be so forgiving.

"Lift up your shirt."

"Pardon me?"

"Potter, lift up the back of your shirt, let me see your back. That last one hit you harder than I had intended."

Harry glared at him.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Very well." He pointed his wand at Harry, giving him just enough time to raise his own wand in response before starting over again. His back protested every move he made; he allowed his wand to be taken from him with Expelliarmus just so he could have a little rest. He sat down heavily on the floor and clenched his jaw against the throbbing in his back.

"Pathetic. This is the person in whose hands the fate of the entire world rests? I'm sure the Dark Lord will be happy to pause during your fight. I don't think even your father was that arrogant."

"I am not my father," he said through his clenched teeth.

"Obviously. Your father was better at the things he did than you are. I hate to admit it, but at least some of his arrogance was deserved."

"Lay off him. He's dead, thanks to you!"

Snape almost looked taken aback, then he lay into Harry again. "Mr. Potter, I didn't kill your parents. The Dark Lord did, as he will surely do to you, if you don't start training!"

'Oh, you didn't pull the wand on him, I've seen the scene enough in my mind to know that, but you were the one who told Voldemort about the prophecy. You were the one responsible for my parents dying. Just as much as Voldemort."

"Do. Not. Say his name!"

"Admit it. You are just as responsible for my parents deaths as..."

"Get out."

Harry's back screamed in protest as he tried to rush from the room. He almost cried, but he would not give Snape the satisfaction. He snatched his wand from Snape and rushed from the room. He barely had stepped through the door when the pain in his back became too much, and he sank to his knees.

Pain was shooting down his back and into his legs. He didn't think he could have stood if he tried. He cried out weakly, and the man who had been insulting his father a moment before was beside him.

"Stupid boy, let me see your back."

Harry wasn't even given the chance to protest as the back of his shirt was lifted, and Snape's fingers ghosted over the spot where the pain seemed to start. He reached into his robes and pulled something out. Harry started to pull away from him.

"Potter, I am attempting to help you. Now, if you would please stop moving, I can heal the mess of nerves that is your back."

Harry twisted around and glared at Snape.

"It's just a healing salve, it won't harm you. If you prefer I can leave you on the ground and no one will know what has happened until you fail to show up at the funeral this afternoon. I assure you it will not harm you any more than the curse you are already suffering from."

Reluctantly, Harry turned over and allowed the man to administer the salve to his back. The pain stopped shooting down his legs and had localized to one small spot.

"Do not attempt to do anything strenuous for the rest of the day. That salve can repair nerves fairly quickly, but they are more susceptible to damage now."

"Yes, sir," Harry stated, belligerently. He stood up and walked to the fireplace, a scowl firmly in place.

"I will see you on Friday, Potter."

"Fine, sir." He stepped into the fireplace and called out, "The Burrow."

He emerged at the Weasleys'. He went up to the restroom, and showered before anyone realized he was there. He let the hot water massage away the pain the salve did not. He quickly dressed and went down to the kitchen for some much needed food.

Mrs. Weasley was quick to get him lunch, and he sat with his friends and ate. They were joking, but somehow, he didn't feel right laughing just before going to a funeral. Ginny seemed to sense his discomfort and gave him a small smile.

Mr. Weasley came to the door, and Mrs. Weasley herded the entire crew to him. He produced a tennis racket from a satchel. This, he informed them, was a Portkey that would take them to the cemetery in France. After a count of three, they all grabbed on, and Harry felt the unmistakable pull against his belly button.

They arrived at the cemetery and Bill ushered them to appropriate seating. They sat, but the ceremony was conducted in French and he tuned it out. The casket was lowered into the ground, and Hermione started to bawl. Ron awkwardly patted her back. Harry shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Ginny placed a hand on his, and squeezed.

Fleur and her parents were all crying, and Bill was doing his best to comfort her. Harry couldn't wait for the entire thing to be over. He gave his condolences to the Delacours, and was extremely relieved to see Mr. Weasley get the Portkey out again.

When they arrived back at the Burrow, he, Ron, and Hermione made their way up to Ron's room so he could share the morning's events.

"You let him touch you?" Ron was disgusted.

"Ron! He was trying to help him."

"Yeah, after he hexed him," Ron pointed out.

"Oh, Ron, you know he was just trying to help. Harry really should have been able to block that spell."

"And what about him attacking Harry's dad?"

"Oh, honestly!" Hermione stomped her foot and left the room.

Ron shook his head. "Sorry about her, mate, I'm not sure what's gotten in to her."

Truth be told, Harry was exhausted, and was not in the least bit upset. "It's all right. I'm ready to turn in."

Ron smiled and left him to sleep.