Darkness and Light 03: If We Survive

Chapter Eleven: And Makes Me End

There was a flash of livid green light, then a beating rush of wind, as though the Angel of Death had passed over. And when the glow subsided, Severus Snape lay motionless, his dark hair spilled out across the grass. His eyes were shut, his face pale and stern and unnaturally still, like the marble effigy of some great but little-loved king. He looked, thought Maud distractedly, very dead.

Someone made a sound, a long inarticulate wail of grief. Someone else laughed. Maud sank to her knees, barely even feeling the pain as Muriel twisted her arm up behind her. She took vague notice, somewhere in the back of her mind, that Voldemort had just made some parting remark -- though what it was, or to whom it was directed, she had no idea. Nor did she care. It was difficult to care about anything, just now.

That keening noise was beginning to be irksome, however. Maud was about to open her mouth and tell whoever it was to be quiet; then she realised with dim surprise that her mouth was already open, and the sound was coming out of it. She was just wondering whether it would be possible for her to stop when Muriel wrenched her around and slapped her across the face. The cry broke off.

"Thank you," said Maud unsteadily, wiping her bleeding mouth. She rose with difficulty to her feet and looked about her. The bulk of the battle had moved northward, onto more level ground; but judging from the shouts and intermittent explosions, there was still a good deal of fighting going on nearby. The darkness sizzled with curses, the sky above the battlefield flaring red and green and blue by turns. By that fitful light she caught a glimpse of Voldemort striding away across the lawn, not skirting the battle but cutting a swath through the thick of it, blasting his enemies aside with scornful ease. Wormtail scuttled, cringing, in his wake.

Muriel must have seen where she was looking, because she let go of Maud's arm and gave a cracked-sounding giggle. "Isn't he splendid? He's going to kill Potter, you know." She pointed her wand at Maud's ribs, poked her with it almost playfully. "Just like I'm going to kill you."

Maud looked at her for a long, thoughtful moment. Then, without a word, she walked over to where Severus lay and knelt down on the grass beside him. A strand of hair had fallen across his face; she brushed it back, then leaned closer and kissed his cheek.

"Eurgh," said Muriel, making a face. "Get away from him."

"No," replied Maud with unnatural calm. "You'll just have to kill me here."

"Over his dead body? How appropriate." Muriel giggled again. "All right, then, since you insist... Accio Maud Moody's wand!"

Maud looked up, startled, as her wands -- both of them -- came flying out of the darkness into the other witch's outstretched hand. "I told him I wanted to fight you," Muriel said with a hint of petulance, and tossed one of the wands at Maud.

It stopped in mid-air.

"Sorry," said Imogen's disembodied voice, "but she's got a prior engagement. You'll just have to fight me, instead." She pulled off the invisibility cloak and threw it behind her, then dropped Maud's spare wand on top of it. "Take them and get out of here, Maud. I'll handle this."

"But George --"

"George is fine," Imogen said briskly, keeping her eyes and her wand steady on Muriel. "He just happened to be too close to someone casting Finite Incantatem and lost the Exaudio link, that's all." With deliberate movements she pushed up her sleeves, and although her back was turned to Maud, there was no mistaking the feral smile in her voice. "Hullo, Miss Groggins. I've so been looking forward to meeting you again..."

"Get stuffed, you frowsy old tart," snarled Muriel. "This is between Maud and me."

"I'm afraid not, m'dear," said Imogen pleasantly. "The problem is entirely your own -- it just happens to have been Maud's misfortune to get in your way." Her voice hardened. "Well, now I'm getting in the way. Deal with it."

"Imogen," protested Maud, "I can't let you --"

"Maud, if you don't take that cloak and get yourself to safety right now, I'm going to Banish you up a tree." Imogen's voice was firm. "This is a direct order. Go!"

There was no point in hesitating further. Maud snatched up the invisibility cloak and flung it about her shoulders. With a swift pass of her wand she freed Snape's bound hands and feet; then she said "Levo," and lifted his now barely perceptible weight from the ground, letting the folds of the cloak fall over him as well as herself. They vanished.

Muriel let out a savage oath. "Reducto!" she shouted, pointing her wand at the place where Maud had been.

"Ancile," interjected Imogen swiftly. The curse bounced off the air before it could reach its target, exploded against the castle wall. "Stop that, naughty girl," she added with a note of reproach. "I told you, she's off-limits... Pregravo!"

As Maud hurried away down the slope, cradling Severus's limp body against her, the sound of Imogen and Muriel's voices snapping out curses and counter-curses echoed after her for what seemed a very long time. She paused at the bottom of the hill and glanced back, but all she could see were two indistinct figures surrounded by flashes of orange and purple light.

Oh, be well, Imogen, she wished fervently. If Maud could have done any good by staying, she would have, but she knew she could only be a hindrance to Imogen now. In her emaciated and half-mad state, Muriel was not likely to win this duel; but she would fight like a rabid Jarvey until she went down, and Imogen would need all her wits and concentration to keep herself unharmed. So the best thing Maud could do was keep out of the way until it was over.

Invisible, noiseless, Maud skirted the edge of the battle, side-stepping the motionless forms of fallen Aurors and Death Eaters, looking for a safe place to lay Severus down. There was no use going up to Hogwarts Castle: the doors were barred with magic as much as oak and iron, and would not open to anyone now. Hagrid's hut, dark and empty, was still behind enemy lines. The greenhouses had been smashed to bits in the first assault, and now offered neither safety nor shelter. Which meant there was only one place left, and she was looking at it now: the forest.

Ironic, she thought as her feet moved automatically forward, taking her beneath the deeper shadow of the towering, ancient trees, that the last time she had passed through this forest, Snape had been with her then as well. That time it had been winter, he was weak and injured, and her greatest fear had been that he might die before she could get him to shelter. Now it was summer, and the man she held in her arms had not a visible mark on him, but the situation was infinitely worse.

The sheltered space between the trees in which Maud stopped several minutes later was not the same clearing in which she had found Snape lying two and a half years before -- that one was too deep in the forest, and too far off the track, for her to seek out now. But there were thorn-bushes about this clearing, too, and like the other it appeared to be reasonably free of roots and underbrush.

She could put Severus down here, she thought, and cast a Shielding Spell over him; he would be safe, then, and she could return to the battle. Not to fight -- at least, not unless she had no other choice -- but to help the wounded. The Ministry must have a field hospital set up somewhere: probably to the north-west of Hogwarts Castle, since that was the direction from which their ground forces had come. The Quidditch pitch, with its encircling walls and sheltering stands, seemed the most likely place.

Maud stooped and laid Severus down on the grass, folding his arms across his breast. He had a quiet dignity about him, she thought. In fact, he even looked a little bit like Dumbledore now -- albeit a clean-shaven and much younger Dumbledore, in an uncommonly serious mood. She felt sure that Severus would have been pleased by that. If there is anything good in me, he had told her once (it seemed a very long time ago, now), I owe it to him...

So many memories. Maud sat back on her heels, gazing at the motionless body of her lover. The man who had saved her life as a child; the man who had become her mentor and her truest friend; the man she would have married, had the Killing Curse not come between them. Her eyes searched his face, that still white face with its closed eyes, and part of a poem she had once heard came back to her unbidden:

That was, after all, what Uncle Alastor had warned her she might have to do; and she had taken him at his word. "Forgive me," she whispered, and touched Severus's hand, and rose to cast the Shielding Spell so that she might leave.

Then she saw the eyes.

Green eyes, luminous in the night: some wild creature, perhaps even a Dark creature, drawn by the scent of death. For the first time anger rose in Maud, and she reached for her wand; but then the eyes blinked, and a familiar voice said, "Thank goodness I've found you, Miss Moody."

It was Professor McGonagall.

Maud stepped back, startled, as the tabby cat leaped down from an overhanging branch and landed lightly in the clearing. "Don't be alarmed," she said, in the crisp yet kindly tones Maud remembered so well. "You're still invisible -- but it takes more than an invisibility cloak to fool a cat. I followed your scent, and Severus's, from the castle." She padded over to Snape, sniffed his face. "What happened to him?"

"Voldemort," said Maud, not wanting to elaborate further. "He hit him with the Killing Curse."

McGonagall's head jerked up in a startled, very un-feline movement. "He what? Oh no, my dear, no, he couldn't possibly."

"I was there," said Maud, her voice raw with conflicting emotions. "I saw it happen. I saw Voldemort point his wand at Severus, and I heard him speak the words." She was shaking, now. "Believe me, I am not mistaken."

"But --" McGonagall looked at her, eyes wide with dismay. "You mean all this time, you've believed that Severus was... dead?"

Maud was about to say, or shout, Don't you understand? He is dead! But then she realised what McGonagall must be trying to say, and her legs folded under her. She sat down hard on the grass next to Snape, the blood thundering in her ears. It couldn't be... it wasn't possible... she had seen it happen... and after what had happened with Flitwick, she had known there was no point checking for signs of life...

"Trust me, Miss Moody," said McGonagall very gently. "The human eye and mind can be fooled any number of ways, but a cat's nose never lies."

Maud looked down into McGonagall's compassionate green gaze, feeling the tears well up to overflowing, the ice around her heart crack and melt into agonising warmth. She wanted to say something, but there were no words that could possibly express the turbulence within her. So in the end she only bowed her head and closed her eyes, as McGonagall finished in a voice barely more than a whisper:

"It's true, my dear. Severus is alive."

* * *

The Ministry had set up their field hospital on the Quidditch pitch, just as Maud had expected. Nothing had prepared her, however, for how busy it would be.

There were at least fifty cots set up, and every one of them was full. Harassed-looking Healers hurried from one patient to the next with scarcely a pause. Meanwhile, injured witches and wizards lay moaning softly, or rolled their eyes and struggled against the Restraining Spells that held them; a house-elf sat sobbing on the end of her cot, cradling her withered hand; and even a few students could be seen, lying still and silent on the grass between the goal-posts.

"We warned them not to leave the castle," said McGonagall sorrowfully, looking down at the motionless students. "Severus was right: we should have sent all of them through the tunnel to Hogsmeade, not just the ones who weren't of age."

"You mean you were able to evacuate some of them?" Maud looked at her in surprise. "You had that much warning before Voldemort's army arrived?"

The cat nodded. "Just barely enough. He Who --" She stopped, drew a breath, and her head came up with a determination that was very McGonagall. "Voldemort, rather, summoned Severus to him early this morning and told him the plan. Severus agreed to co-operate, of course; but as soon as he returned to Hogwarts, he called all the teachers together, and we did the best we could to prepare."

"Then --" Maud hesitated. "You already knew about Severus."

McGonagall did not have to ask what she meant. "I did, yes. We were both members of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, so I knew he had gone back to Voldemort's camp as a spy. But more than that: after He -- I mean, Voldemort -- imprisoned me in my Animagus form, I spent quite a bit of time with Severus. He worked very hard on my behalf, not only to preserve my human intellect, but also to restore my power of speech. And as he worked, he... talked. Not very much, especially where you were concerned -- as you know, Severus has always been a very private man -- but enough."

"I'm glad," said Maud softly. "He needed to talk to someone." She bent and laid Snape down beside the smallest of the students, a skinny boy with mousy hair and a faint look of surprise on his face. Surely it was impossible, she thought, that a tiny creature like that could be seventeen.

"Oh, that child," sighed McGonagall, who had obviously noticed Maud's perplexity. "If I ever thought the Weasley twins were notorious for getting into trouble..."

So the boy was younger, then. No doubt he had hidden when his classmates were sent away, or sneaked back into the school afterward. Maud touched the boy's neck, then his chest. Like Snape, he showed no visible injuries, but his pulse was abnormally slow, and his breathing so shallow as to be scarcely perceptible. Frowning a little, she checked the other students, and found that their condition was the same.

"Madam Pomfrey," she said, straightening up and turning to address the witch hurrying along the row of cots behind them, "do you know what happened to these students?"

Pomfrey started violently, and nearly dropped the steaming cup of potion she was carrying. "Great Merlin!" she gasped.

"Oh, sorry," said Maud, and pulled off the invisibility cloak.

"Miss Moody!" Pomfrey was astonished. "What are you doing here?"

"She came with me, Poppy," said McGonagall, from the ground. "We've brought you a new patient."

For a moment the school nurse looked blank; then she followed McGonagall's gaze to where Snape lay, and her eyes went wide. "The Headmaster! He's alive?"

"Yes, but we haven't been able to revive him," said Maud. And what if you can't? said a voice in her mind, but she pushed the treacherous thought aside and continued: "That was why I was asking whether you knew what had happened to these students. It might give us some idea of what to do next."

"We don't know exactly what happened to them," said Pomfrey, quickly handing the cup of potion to a Healer passing by. "Wiggins, give this to the house-elf, please." Then she turned back to Maud and McGonagall and continued, "We found them outside the stadium, shortly after He Who Must Not Be Named and his followers came through on their way to --" She broke off, obviously distressed, and they all knew what she could not bring herself to say.

"Harry is still alive," said McGonagall firmly. "Voldemort would certainly have announced it by now, if he were not. So until we hear otherwise, Poppy, we must not give up hope."

It was strange to hear those brisk, commanding words coming from a cat, but Pomfrey seemed to have no difficulty taking them seriously. "Yes, of course." She straightened up a little. "Please excuse me -- I must get back to my patients. But, Miss Moody, if you do think of anything that might help the children and Headmaster Snape..."

"We'll let you know," said McGonagall. "Thank you, Poppy."

Madam Pomfrey nodded, and hurried off.

Maud and McGonagall stood a while in silence, looking down at the pale, unmoving figures on the grass. Then Maud said abruptly, "Professor Flitwick."

McGonagall blinked, and gave a very human-sounding sniff. "What about Filius?"

"When he went to attack Voldemort, you tried to stop him. You said... something about his heart?"

"Oh. Yes." The green eyes dimmed a little, and lowered. "The dear man, he was so brave, but... his heart was very weak, and no magic could cure it. It was the reason he took up teaching, you know. With his skills he could have been a great Auror, but the stress would have killed him."

His heart... The stress... The words resonated in Maud's mind, striking an unexpected chord. "Maybe," she said slowly, "that's what did happen."

"I beg your pardon?"

Maud was on to something now, she felt sure of it. "We'd have to examine him to know for certain, but I'm beginning to think that it was not Avada Kedavra that killed Professor Flitwick. It was shock that stopped his heart -- not the spell itself."

McGonagall's tufted brows shot up. "An interesting theory." She sat back on her haunches, her head tilted a little to one side, considering. "Do you mean to say that not only Severus, but these students as well..."

"...survived the Killing Curse. Yes. Either they were protected somehow --"

"Impossible." McGonagall shook her head. "You know your magical theory as well as I do: there is no protection against Avada Kedavra."

"True," Maud admitted resignedly. "Then... the problem must be with Voldemort. Something wrong with his wand, or his power is weakening, or --"

She stopped suddenly. His power. How could she have forgotten? She knew her magical theory, but she also knew her magical history. And the history books told quite clearly of a time when Voldemort had cast the Killing Curse against a defenceless victim -- and failed. All because, in his arrogance and his hate, he had forgotten an ancient magic far more powerful than his own...

Was it possible that seventeen years after that night at Godric's Hollow, Voldemort had made the same error again? But this time, in such a way as not to realise at once -- or even now -- that his murderous intentions had been thwarted by an act of love and self-sacrifice even greater than Lily Potter's had been. A sacrifice prompted this time not by desperate impulse, but deliberate intent --

Not decided upon at the last moment, but anticipated weeks, even months in advance --

A sacrifice that could have been avoided, but was willingly offered nonetheless --

And not just for the love of one person this time, but for many, including (only two people have ever loved me) Severus Snape...

Eighteen months ago, Voldemort had threatened to kill everyone in Hogwarts with Nundu's breath if its Headmaster did not surrender, and in response to that threat Albus Dumbledore had yielded up his life. It now appeared that sacrifice had not been in vain.

But on the other hand, if Dumbledore's death really had protected the teachers and students of Hogwarts from Voldemort's power, why hadn't the Killing Curse rebounded from Flitwick, or Snape, or the others, as it had from the infant Harry? Why hadn't Voldemort been destroyed by the backlash of his own spell the very first time he cast it, let alone the fifth or sixth time?

Well, nearly everything else about Dumbledore's sacrifice had been different from Lily Potter's, so perhaps this was different, too. Perhaps because he had died with many people in his thoughts, the effect had been more spread out. That would explain why Severus and the others had fallen into this trance-like state -- alive, but still in need of revival. As for Voldemort, perhaps he had been affected each time he cast the curse, but in so subtle and gradual a way as not to realise it. In which case, the consequences of his actions might well catch up to him soon -- or at least Maud fervently hoped so.

She turned and looked back down the pitch, at the lines of cots and the white-robed figures bending over them. The sounds of battle still echoed in the distance, and flares of power lit the sky. She heard a cry from beyond the stands -- "The giants! The giants!" -- but whether that meant help or doom, she did not know.

McGonagall was looking up at her expectantly, waiting for her to finish the sentence. Maud shook her head, and gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile: she was still too unsure of her theory about Dumbledore and the Killing Curse to want to share it just yet.

"I think," she said, "I'm going to see if Madam Pomfrey could use my help."

* * *

The last few months in the St. Mungo's lab with Tony had steeled Maud to the challenge of working hard under pressure. It had been good preparation, she realised, for tonight. Pomfrey had put her to work brewing up more healing and restorative potions -- there never seemed to be enough -- and every time Maud finished a batch, she took some over and tried it out on Severus and the students. She cast charms over them, as well: spells to restore strength and energy, spells to take away dreams, spells of waking and reviving. Nothing worked.

Meanwhile, more casualties were brought in. A young witch with a terribly burned face, a little wizard whose legs had been shattered. Another student who could not be revived. Four people died in spite of the Healers' best efforts, and were respectfully levitated off their cots so the living could take their place.

Outside the stadium, the sounds of battle grew louder and fiercer, and a great deal of stamping and roaring could be heard. But so could a large number of weirdly high-pitched voices, squeaking out things like "We is fighting for Harry Potter!" and "Bad Dark wizard! Take that!" And once she thought she heard Hermione Granger's voice, shaken between tears and laughter, saying "Oh, Dobby -- oh, Ron --"

Maud desperately wanted to go out and look for George and Imogen, but she knew she was needed here, that lives might depend upon her. So she kept her head down and worked, grinding herbs and chopping beetles (they had to be freshly chopped, or their potency would be lost) and stirring her cauldrons until, what seemed like hours later, she heard a familiar deep, rasping voice:

"Get out of the way, curse you! Stop gawping like an idiot and bring me a cot!"

Maud turned swiftly, to see her Uncle Alastor limping into the stadium. His grizzled hair was matted with blood on one side, there was a purple bruise high on his cheekbone, and his wooden leg and the hem of his robes were blackened, as though he had walked through fire. Apart from that, he seemed in quite reasonable health -- it was the figure in his arms that commanded attention.

Her green robes were in tatters, and her normally sleek brown hair was a wild tangle. She breathed in shallow, desperate gasps, her face pressed against Mad-Eye's shoulder, obviously in terrible pain.

"Gut-Wrencher Curse," growled Moody, as Pomfrey and another medic hurried up. He stooped awkwardly and lowered his burden onto the cot. "Did what I could to straighten things out, but she's bleeding inside -- stomach and intestines. You'd best get to work on her now."

"Imogen," breathed Maud. "Uncle --" and as Mad-Eye turned, startled, she ran across the pitch and threw herself into his arms.

"Maudie!" He disengaged himself from the embrace with difficulty and held her at arm's length, his magical eye searching her for injuries, as he must have scanned Imogen. "You're all right," he said gruffly, sounding incredulous. "I thought I'd lost you. I tried to get to you, but --"

Maud looked back at Imogen, lying so unnaturally still, her body pulsing with blue and yellow light as Pomfrey and her companion cast healing spells over her, trying to isolate and stop the bleeding. "She saved my life," she whispered. "Uncle, if she dies..."

"Stop that." His voice was firm. "She's not going to die -- she's as tough as they come. When I found her, she'd beaten your old friend Muriel, fought her way into the middle of the battle and was just about to take on Walden MacNair, even though she could barely stand upright. She'll pull through, I've no doubt of it."

All of which, thought Maud wretchedly, was Alastor Moody code for She's dying and I don't want to think about it. But there was no point distressing her uncle by telling him that, so she took a deep breath and nodded, as though his words had reassured her.

"Saw George Weasley too, not that long ago." Mad-Eye scratched the back of his head and looked around, as though not quite sure what to do with himself now that he was off the battlefield. "He seemed all right, though his robes didn't quite fit him. He'd been taking Polyjuice earlier on, I suppose?"

Maud nodded again, not trusting herself to speak.

"Hmph," said her uncle. "There's a story in all this, no doubt. Look, Maudie..." Now he looked even more awkward. "I'm sorry about Snape. From what I could hear he made a brave show, at the end..."

Which was, in its way, a compliment. In spite of the tightness in her throat and the cold fear that gripped her stomach with every thought of Imogen, Maud managed a smile. "I'm afraid you're not quite rid of the threat of having Severus for a nephew-in-law," she started to say, but on the third word she was drowned out by a sound like a thunderclap, and the sky lit up with a burst of dazzling green light. Startled, she grabbed her uncle's arms for support -- but then his charred wooden leg snapped, and they both went crashing to the ground.

Alastor Moody swore passionately. "What in the name of all that's holy --"

"I don't know." Maud disentangled herself from him with an effort and sat up again. "I'm sorry, Uncle. Are you all right?"

"Miss Moody -- Maud!" cried McGonagall from the other side of the pitch, with an odd mewing note in her voice that could have been fear, or excitement, or both. "Come here, quickly!"

"Go on," said Mad-Eye, heaving himself up onto his elbows. "I'm fine, lass -- just go."

Maud got to her feet and hurried to meet McGonagall, who was practically running circles in her agitation. "Look!" she said, pointing with one paw to the figures lying prone between the goalposts.

Another brilliant flash lit the sky, half-blinding Maud. She squinted in the direction McGonagall had indicated, blinking in a futile attempt to clear the light spots from her vision. "I'm sorry," she began, "but I don't --"

And then she saw it. The fragile-looking boy beside Severus had moved. Just a spasm, Maud thought, afraid to hope for more; but then the boy stirred again, sat up -- and sneezed. McGonagall laid a paw on his leg, her green eyes searching his face; he rubbed his eyes and said dubiously, "Professor McGonagall?"

* * *

In later years, historians would write that not until Harry Potter came limping onto the battlefield, very much alive and no longer bearing any trace of his famous scar, did anyone realise that Voldemort was dead. But for Maud the moment of truth came well before that, as she knelt beside the recumbent figure of the man she loved, and watched him open his eyes.

"Do you know me?" she said, very softly.

He gave one slow, disbelieving blink. Then he said, in a voice husky with disuse, "Not nearly as well as I should like."

Maud put her hands over her mouth, holding back both laughter and tears. "Then," she said as soon as she could trust herself to speak, "we'll just have to do something about that."

"As soon as possible, I think," agreed Severus equitably, and sat up. "With all these Ministry people about, there must be someone with the necessary credentials. And since we no longer seem to have anything to hide..."

"You mean -- you want to get married here? Right now?"

"Ideally, yes. Preferably in a quiet corner somewhere, before our well-meaning friends and acquaintances descend upon us en masse and force us into some sort of -- public spectacle."

The curl of his lip was eloquent, and Maud, who had never thought to see that sneer again, broke into a smile of genuine delight. A large formal wedding ceremony had never been one of her ambitions either -- and besides, the two people she most wanted to witness her vows were already close at hand. So there was no hesitation in her voice as she said, "All right, why not? I'll see how Imogen --"

"Harry!" cried a girl's voice from the other side of the stands, sounding nearly hysterical with excitement. "Oh, Harry, Harry --!"

Snape's lips thinned. "If I never hear that name again," he began with a touch of his old sourness, and then stopped, staring down at his arm where the sleeve had fallen back.

"What is it?" asked Maud.

His fingers touched the skin, tracing the outline of a mark no longer there. From wrist to elbow, his forearm was smooth and unblemished. "It's gone," he said, and then he threw back his head and laughed aloud, a genuine laugh such as she had never heard him give in public. "Voldemort is dead!"

"And your friend is alive, Maud," said Madam Pomfrey's voice from behind them. "It was very close, but I believe she will make a full recovery, in time."

Maud gave Severus a swift glance, then jumped to her feet and ran to the cot where Imogen lay, pale and drawn, but with open eyes now mercifully unshadowed by pain. She took the other woman's hand in hers, dropped a kiss on her forehead, and murmured in her ear, "Imogen. Do you think you might be up to a wedding?"

"Well, I've thought about it," came the whispered reply, "but I'm sure Alastor won't have me."

Mad-Eye snorted. "Irrepressible wench. You never take anything seriously, do you?"

Imogen gave a faint smile. "Who says I don't take you seriously?"

"I do," growled Alastor Moody. "But if I were you, woman, I wouldn't be so sure you shouldn't."

It might have been the words, or the roguish wink that accompanied them, but in either case the effect was unprecedented: for the first time in Maud's experience, Imogen Crump was left completely speechless.

* * *

"You did what?" said George incredulously.

He and Maud were sitting high in the Quidditch stands, eating sandwiches made up by the indefatigable though somewhat over-excited house-elves, and comparing notes on the battle that had ended some two hours before. Voldemort's death had dealt a crippling blow to his army's morale, but even at that many of the Dark Lord's servants chose to fight to the death rather than surrender, while others made a concerted effort to escape and had to be tracked down. And even once the fighting ceased, there had been a great deal of work for everyone, especially the medical staff.

Nevertheless, all was quiet now. At the foot of the stands Imogen lay sleeping peacefully on her cot, with a snoring Mad-Eye stretched out on the grass beside her; and out of the corner of her eye Maud could just see her newly wedded husband, his long slender hands weaving emphatic gestures as he talked to Professor McGonagall.

"We got married," Maud repeated patiently. "Imogen and my uncle acted as witnesses. I'd hoped you might get here in time to see it, but they said you were with Harry..."

"You married Snape." George shook his head and stared out at the horizon, where the first faint glow of dawn was beginning to appear. "Maud, do you have any idea what that means?"

Maud shifted a little on the bench and curled her leg under her, considering. "Well, for one thing," she said at last, "it means that for the next couple of weeks Hogwarts will have a cat filling in as Headmaster, or at least until McGonagall takes the last dose of the potion Severus is telling her about. It means that Jennet and Lucinda will be furious, until I tell them they can have an enormous party as soon as we get back. And I'm very much afraid it also means that you're going to have to pay Fred those ten Galleons."

George groaned. "I'm still hoping he's forgotten."

There was a moment's silence, and then Maud said more seriously, "You're not angry with me, are you?"

He looked over at her, surprised. "Nah. Why should I be? You've waited a long time for this. If it'd been up to me, I'd have eloped with Jennet, too." He dropped an arm about her shoulders and gave her a fraternal squeeze. "I'm glad for you, Maud, really. Glad you're happy, I mean. Because you deserve to be."

"Thank you," she said softly. "Not just for that, but for everything else you've done. I owe you so much, George --"

"None of that," he said, looking embarrassed. "There's no need."

"No, really, I --"

He held up his hand. "Enough. I mean it, Maud: any more earnest sentiments, and I'm going to have to drop a dungbomb on your uncle just to lighten the atmosphere." He leaned forward, his face suddenly alive with interest. "I wonder if I could really hit him from this angle?"

Maud didn't believe for one second that George had brought dungbombs to the Battle of Hogwarts, but she got the point, and changed the subject. "So tell me," she said. "Is Harry going to be all right, do you think?"

George grimaced. "Dunno. He's had a pretty rough time of it, and right now I think all he wants to do is crawl off in a corner somewhere and hide. But he's not likely to get the chance, especially once the word gets out about what happened."

"I still don't know about that part," admitted Maud. "What did happen, exactly?"

He told her everything he knew, beginning from the moment he had left her with Voldemort at the pavilion and ending with his last glimpse of Harry, heading wearily back into Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione by his side. It was then that Maud learned, for the first time, of the house-elves' unexpected contribution to the battle, and Hagrid's timely return; of Ron and Hermione's discovery of the real traitor within Hogwarts, and Draco's broken nose; of the sudden change of heart that had saved Harry from capture and cost Wormtail his life; and, finally, of the last battle between Harry, Voldemort, and -- of all people -- Neville Longbottom, which George, running to the scene, had witnessed firsthand.

He was just finishing up his story when a voice called up from below, "Oi! George! You owe me ten Galleons, you skiver!"

Maud and George both looked down, to see Fred waving at them from the base of the stands. No sooner had the two of them waved back, however, than Fred stepped aside to reveal a second person standing behind him. George let out a startled exhalation, and without another word he leaped to his feet, clattered down the stands, and vaulted onto the pitch. As he swept Jennet up his arms and swung her around, Maud could just make out her muffled, tear-choked voice:

"You're alive -- I was so worried -- I'm going to kill you --"

The words broke off abruptly, as George silenced her with a kiss. Fred grinned at them, then came rattling up the stands and plopped himself down beside Maud. "Glossop says hello, by the way," he said. "She also said to tell Snape she doesn't think much of his sense of humour. I suspect that coming back to her house last night to find it full of sleepy and confused eleven-year-olds was not precisely her idea of fun."

Euphemia Glossop was as well-informed as ever, it seemed. As Maud watched another figure ascending the stands toward them, keeping carefully out of Fred's line of vision and moving with the silent deliberation of a panther, she found herself wondering how Severus had managed to get the children from Hogsmeade to Glossop's house -- not to mention what he had done with the rest of the underage students. But no doubt she would find that out in due time.

"I'm sure she'll get over it," she said, and gave Fred's hand a welcoming squeeze. "It's good to see you again."

"Yeah, you too. Hey, I hear congratulations are in order -- or should that be condolences?"

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Weasley," came a menacing, silky voice from behind them, and Fred gave such a violent start that he nearly fell out of his seat.

"Wait a minute," he sputtered, when he had recovered enough to speak. "You can't do that!"

"No," agreed Snape with equanimity, "of course not. But I am pleased to see that you retain a healthy fear of my authority, nonetheless." He bared his teeth in the briefest flash of a smile, then turned to Maud. "Are you ready to go?"

She looked up into his face, at the eyes shadowed by weariness yet creased at the corners with hidden laughter, the thin mouth with its slightly upturned corners; the lines of his face revealing not only the formidable intelligence that had never been a secret and the integrity she had always known was there, but also a third thing, utterly new: joy.

"Yes," she said, and rose to take the hand he held out to her. Turning back to her chastened former schoolmate, she added with a smile of her own:

"Congratulations, Fred. Definitely congratulations."

Then she slipped her arm through her husband's, and they walked down to the pitch together.