Harry felt himself landing safely back inside the dim office. His heart was pounding too slow but his mind was running rampant with thoughts. He had watched his mother grow before his eyes. The love his professor had for her turning into his protection for him. He had seen the man who he had never believed was capable of a simple handshake, cradle his best friend tight to his chest to calm her. While so many of the memories of their time together didn't make sense at present; he now knew that Snape had tried to keep Hermione safe. That he had put himself in harms way to do so. Just as he had tried with his mother. Just as he had done for him. His willingness to sacrifice himself to save others. A true, hero.

Dumbledore's betrayal almost meant nothing comparatively. Of course, there had been a bigger plan: Harry had simply been too foolish to see it, he realized that now. He had never questioned his own assumption that Dumbledore wanted him alive. Now he saw that his life span had always been determined by how long it took to eliminate all the Horcruxes. He was sure Hermione knew too, it would have made things so much clearer if she had just told him that day in the forest when they had discussed him being a Horocrux. Why hadn't she said anything? Why had she let him live in this delusion?

Dumbledore had passed the job of destroying Horcruxes to him, and obediently he had continued to chip away at the bonds tying not only Voldemort, but himself, to life. How neat, how elegant, not to waste any more lives, but to give the most dangerous task to the boy who had already been marked for slaughter, and whose death would not be a calamity, but another blow against Voldemort. Though there was a wrench in the plan now, it wasn't just his life that was tied to Voldemort's. No, Hermione too had been marked, he didn't understand exactly how it worked but he had seen twice now what had happened to her when they'd destroyed a Horcrux. Was that why she hadn't waited for him? Why she had gone to Snape instead? Had there been another plan? A backup, a reserve?

Dumbledore had known that Harry would keep going to the end, even though it was his end because he had taken the trouble to get to know him. Did Snape as well? Did Snape know he wouldn't give up? Dumbledore knew, as Voldemort knew, and surely Hermione knew that Harry would not let anyone else die for him now that he had discovered it was in his power to stop it. The images of Percy, Luna, and Colin lying dead as he'd passed them on his way to get to the Shack, forced their way back into his mind's eye, and for a moment he could hardly breathe. Death was impatient...

He had failed: The snake survived. One Horcrux remained to bind Voldemort to the earth, even after Harry would be killed. True, that would mean an easier job for somebody. He wondered who would do it... would it be Ron or Ginny or Neville? That would have surely been why Dumbledore wanted him to confide in others so that if he fulfilled his true destiny a little early, they could carry on...

Like rain on a cold window, these thoughts pattered against the hard surface of the incontrovertible truth, which was that he must die. He must die. It must end. What was worse, he had to take one of his best friends with him. The impossible choice. There was so little time left. He could feel Voldemort's impatience creeping in. He had to get back to the forest quicker than he had come. He needed something, anything. Surely, Snape had a broom?

oOo

"For a mudblood, you've been remarkably resistant to dying."

Hermione could only turn her eyes away from the Snake-like man now standing beside her crumpled form. He himself had taken to her third round of torture. Obviously angered by the passing of time. Her body still twitched with the remnants of the cruciatus curse. Her mind felt numb and she desperately wished to escape into her fugue-self. To make it all go away.

"He must not have cared for you at all..." His voice had grown hypnotically low, "He must have realized your true value, worthless. Used up and left for dead. He's probably already gone. Run away. Leaving his little Mudblood behind to die for him."

Hermione's face twitched but she didn't move her head to acknowledge his words. Her eyes stared into the dead earth beside her. In her heart, she knew his words to be false. Harry was coming.

"I am a merciful man, however, I give you this chance. Pledge your allegiance to me, your true master," The tip of his wand lightly trailed up her exposed neck tracing the large S, " And I shall reward you. I shall give you the highest position a creature like you could ever hope to achieve..."

Hermione's eyes closed, his breath hot against her cheek. She had so many things she wished to shout at him in that moment but none of them ever reached her tongue. Instead, her body let out a deep shudder and she found herself spiraling down into the deep pits of unconsciousness.

Voldemort snarled and pushed himself back to his feet. Everyone around him seemed to take a half a step back for fear of incurring his wrath. He turned his narrowed eyes along the crowd until at last, he pointed his wand at Narcissa.

"You!"

"M-y Lord?" The woman forced herself to step forward but the quiver in her voice betrayed her fear.

Voldemort snarled at her fear before turning his eyes down to the girl at his feet. "I want her on display, make sure she is the first thing Potter will see when he comes to me." His command was unquestionable, he turned his wand back into his sleeve before retreating further to the small throne he had made for himself. Potter would come, or he was going to make sure that filthy Mudblood's blood would rain down over the entire castle.

oOo

Harry had found what he had been searching for. He'd found the hidden door leading into the man's rooms. It had felt even more obtrusive than before but with Snape's memories now inside him, he felt assured. He'd let his wand lead his way, and found himself going to the corner where the ransacked Alchemist's cabinet lay open. He ran his eyes over the vials before taking one that had looked similar to the one Hermione had been dosing herself with. He wasn't sure why she needed it but he had confidence now, that it would help her in some way. He'd turned then, to the corner as if drawn by outside force. There he had found a broom possibly as fast as his own.

He'd broken through the window overlooking the forest, taking to the air under his cloak. The grounds from on high truly did look like a battlefield. Parts of the castle had been blown away, the grounds were littered with debris in every direction. The Quidditch pitch was still burning. They had truly come from all angles.

He lowered himself down along the forest's edge but didn't know which way to go. His head turned down when his Snitch sprung out of his pocket. His mind turned and he knew what he had to do. With a small glance out into the dark trees, he plucked the golden ball from the air and closed his eyes.

"I'm ready...to die..."

oOo

Hermione's eyes twitched when she felt soft thin fingers lightly running over her cheeks. Her head felt heavy and her body no longer lying horizontally. She could feel her hair being gently pushed back from her face and around the back of her shoulder when she realized she was being held up against something.

Narcissa had heeded her master's command. Moving the girl to the small clearing in front of his makeshift camp. The fire shielded them mostly from view, leaving them alone. She remembered this girl well. The one who had given her son nightmares. The one to whom had clung to Snape so vehemently. As a favor only to him was she gentle. She had no real feelings in regards to her fate. Her own mind on her son whom her husband had yet to return with.

Narcissa turned her eyes up when the girl reacted to her touch. Her cobalt blue eyes narrowing slightly when deep chocolate hues rose to meet her own. Her face was a mask of indifference but she did take a small bit of joy in the girl's apparent confusion.

"Be quiet." Narcissa flicked her eyes to the backs of those who were giving their audience to the madman in the center of all of this. She pulled her hands down having made sure her face was clearly visible. She had already tied the girl's arms behind her, having put the manacles over her long sleeve shirt as a small favor. They weren't painfully tight but they would keep her pressed back against the tree that had been cut in half to create her display.

Hermione swallowed down her words thickly, her head slowly coming up from her chest. She watched the woman from beneath her tear-stained lashes as a soft rope wound its way from the tip of the woman's wand to around her throat. Her shoulders pressed back further as the rope grew tight, not painfully so, but definitely not comfortable. The thickness of which kept her chin from returning down to her chest.

As the girl stretched back Narcissa noticed a soft glow from beneath her thin shirt. Curious, she lowered her eyes down to the gap in her throat just below her bindings. Her brow ticked a little when she saw the small thread of a necklace. Without consent, her long fingers slipped beneath the torn and bloodstained hem pulling the softly glowing stone from inside her shirt.

Hermione's heart nearly stopped when the woman pulled the stone free. Her eyes watched the woman's face for any indication of what she would possibly do with this new information. The very thought that her entire plan would be felled because she hadn't had the strength to remain conscious pounded away inside her head.

Narcissa recognized the stone to be similar to the one her sister had been so proud to display to her. So proud she had been when the Dark Lord had given it to her. That he would accept her offer to bear his child once the war had come to an end. That the stone would ensure that she would survive the final battle to complete her honored task. She wasn't sure how the girl had gotten a hold of one herself nor where the stone her sister had come to have, came from.

"P-please..."

Narcissa's eyes turned up to the desperate plea, barely a whisper, it still struck something deep down in her soul. Her eyes turned down to the soft glowing numbers. A full minute of silence passed between them. Her brow furrowed when the 30 turned to a 29. Her brow twitched even more when she tried to understand just what it meant. Was the girl dying? What would the stone do when it reached zero?

"Draco...?"

"He's alive..."

"Where?"

"The fifth floor, in a closet...he was badly injured...we...we managed to save him...and hide him away..."

Hermione kept her words low, her breaths coming out in quick wisps against the warming morning air. Her entire frame shuddered again and the chains that held her in place rattled softly. "Please..." Her eyes turned back to the stone still held in the woman's pale fingers. Then—a miracle, Narcissa slowly raised the stone, pressing it through the back of her shirt and out of sight. Hermione felt it slide partially down her shoulder before coming to a stop. Her eyes closed tight as she let out a soft muffled sob.

Narcissa moved away and raised her wand again. Slowly, the tree extended up from the ground raising the broken teen from her knees up onto her unsteady feet. Hermione tried to push against the ground that came beneath her trainers but she didn't have the strength. Her knees buckled inwards against the other giving her some sort of support. The rope around her neck going tight as her body sagged.

"No sign of him My Lord!"

"Well search again!"

Narcissa turned her head away slowly and without a spared glance, she left Hermione's side.

Hermione could do nothing but stare up at the slowly turning sky of dawn through the tops of the trees. Her mind and body at odds end. She had barely any strength to breathe against the binds that held her, but her soul beat strong—a true warrior's will. Time was running out for her, but she was certain that Snape's stone had already begun it's count.

Her mind turned to Harry, possibly alone. Where could he have gone? Had he made it to the Shack? Had he been there when she had begged for Snape's life? What could he possibly think of her? Was that why he hadn't come? Did he truly believe she'd betrayed him in some way?

oOo

Harry let the resurrection stone fall down to the forest floor. His eyes shone with tears he refused to let fall. He could feel them with him, stronger than he ever had before. He had to know that they would be with him in the end. That he would be going home, to a mother and father who had never had a chance to love him in this world. He closed his eyes trying to focus his mind. He could feel the evil filling the forest. A gruff voice to his right turn his head and he felt his heart picking up.

"Time's nearly up. Potter's had his hour. He's not coming."

"Better go back," Harry could see Yaxley now, coming just to the edge of where he stood beneath his cloak. "Find out what the plan is now."

He and Dolohov turned and walked deeper into the forest. Harry followed them, knowing that they would lead him exactly where he wanted to go. He glanced sideways, and his mother smiled at him, and his father nodded encouragement. They traveled on for mere minutes when Harry saw a light ahead, and Yaxley and Dolohov stepped out into a clearing that Harry knew had been the place where the monstrous Aragog had once lived. The remnants of his vast web were there still, but the swarms of descendants he had spawned had been driven out by the Death Eaters, to fight for their cause. A fire burned in the middle of the clearing, and its flickering light fell over a deeply shadowed form. Placed center, Harry crept closer to try and see. His heart jumped into his throat when the shadows shifted revealing Hermione.

She looked so broken... Her face looked skyward but he could tell it wasn't by her own power. Her body shuddered and her bent legs shifted forcing her body lower. He could hear a soft gag come from her throat as the ropes around her neck pressed tighter. Her clothes were torn in random places all outlined with dark stains. Her pale skin shined orange against the fire. She'd never looked so small to him. So impossibly frail, yet so unyeilding. Even in the impossible, she looked unbelievably strong. Her eyes were dark but her jaw was tight, she was waiting— merely, waiting. Waiting, for him. He knew a slow, painful death, awaited her if he did nothing.

His eyes turned to the crowd of completely silent, watchful Death Eaters. Some of them were still masked and hooded; others showed their faces. Harry saw Fenrir, skulking, chewing his long nails; muttering under his breath. Narcissa, whose eyes were sunken and full of apprehension. Every eye was fixed upon Voldemort, who stood with his head bowed, and his white hands folded over the Elder Wand in front of him. He might have been praying, or perhaps counting silently in his mind. At his feet, Nagini lay curled, no one within a five-foot radius of the massive beast. When Dolohov and Yaxley rejoined the circle, Voldemort looked up.

"No sign of him, My Lord," Dolohov's voice was soft, perhaps a bit concerned. Voldemort's expression did not change. The red eyes seemed to burn in the firelight. Slowly he drew the Elder Wand between his long fingers.

"My Lord-" Bellatrix had spoken, knelt beside the chair he must have been sitting in, disheveled, her face a little bloody but otherwise unharmed. Voldemort raised his hand to silence her, and she did not speak another word, but eyed him in worshipful fascination.

"I thought he would come," Voldemort's words left a heaviness of unease in the air, his eyes turning towards Hermione, "I expected him to come."

Nobody dared to even breathe loudly. They all seemed as scared as Harry, whose heart was now throwing itself against his ribs as though determined to escape the body he was about to cast aside. His hands were trembling as he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and tossed it down beside a tree before stuffing his wand into his coat. He wouldn't be tempted to fight.

"I was, it seems . . . mistaken," He raised his wand towards Hermione, ready to carry out his previous plans. A snap of a twig halted the curse forming on his lips and he shifted his stance to see through the firelight.

"You weren't." Harry's voice was hard and clear. Forced from between his pursed lips. His eyes flickered slightly when Hermione turned her head to his voice, her body shifting as she tried to stand fully.

Voldemort grinned slowly and took the smell steps down from the rise behind the clearing. A deep pleasure ran through him and he couldn't help but chuckle ever just so. His amusement was echoed by only the dumbest of his followers.

"Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Come to die, at last." Voldemort took another slow step, his narrowed eyes watching Harry stand still. Yet even with victory within his grasp, he wanted to personally watch the boy suffer, just one last time. "Care to say goodbye?" His wand arm arched slowly to the side and Harry's attention snapped to Hermione who had now let out a sharp gurgling noise.

"H-Harry..."

Harry took a slow step, Hermione was closer to him than to Voldemort but he took no chances, keeping his body in clear view for his approach not wanting Hermione caught in any cross-fire. When he was a mere side step away from her, he turned his head fully up into her soft brown eyes.

"I'm sorry...I-I cou-..." Hermione lost her ability to speak when the invisible hand that had taken hold of her heart grew tighter and knew Voldemort was just toying with them both.

"It's okay...I understand..." Harry used her body to shield his slowly moving hand. He griabbed the vial he'd taken from Snape's rooms tightly into his palm. His eyes locked with hers and there was nothing more to say between them. They had both accepted their role with unwavering certainty. Harry pushed the vial into her front pocket as surreptitiously as he could before coming around the tree to stand directly before Voldemort.

"What no kiss?"

Harry stood strong against his mocking tone, though deep down he was terrified. He shifted just so and he could feel Hermione's cold hands brushing against his own. He didn't dare to take her hand but didn't pull away either. He merely closed his eyes. Not a second later, everything was gone.

oOo

Severus had never believed hell could be so beautiful. The world around him was filled with large rolling hills of green grass and wild flowers. He'd been walking to an old tree he remembered the shape of in his youth. It had been the very tree he had first seen Lily from.

Her beautiful deep auburn hair shining so brilliantly in the sun as she ran away from her horrid sister. It had taken him weeks there after to even dare to approach her. Watching from afar as she discovered the wonders of magic. She had been his first and only true friend. A loss that he had carried with him even in death.

His body felt light, lighter than it had ever felt in his life. All the responsibility placed upon his shoulders gone. Except, one stone laid upon his heart. The fate of the girl who had come so recently into his life. He wanted to believe that she had moved on, that her promise to come back to him had been mere bravado, that she had seen her bigger purpose in this life. That he was merely pawn, not the knight she believed him to be.

A figure slowly formed just to the side of the tree where he had always hidden himself and he felt his heart ache in his chest. Lily, she come to greet him. To take him on, to the next world. Tears, unabashed, formed in his eyes. All these years that he had fought for her honor, the memory of her life that was cut short by his own hand.

Had she come to redeem or condemn him? To blame him for everything as he did himself? He wouldn't blame her if she had. When she turned her face away from the brilliantly shining sun, he could see her bright green eyes shining down upon him. Young, as the day she'd died. His feet could only carry him so far before he lost his courage and fell to his knee before her. His dark eyes turning up with unhidden lament.

"Lily..." His voice felt foreign to his own ears, floating in the space between them without having been spoken by his lips.

"Severus." Her eyes had followed him, no judgement upon her brow. A soft smile had slowly started to form on her gently sloping cheeks. "You've done it... you've saved him..."

"I...I..." He wanted to tell her, explain the journey he had gone on but it didn't need to be said. He could see unearthly knowledge shining in the endless sea of kindness shining down upon him.

"You must go back... it's not your time..."

Severus shook his head slowly, he couldn't understand. He had done what was asked of him, he had protected the boy, he had done everything that had been asked of him and more. Something hard pressed against his heart and he believed he understood. "The girl..."

"The woman."

"Granger..."

"Hermione."

Severus sniffled heavily and shook his head slowly, his eyes turning down into the soft green grass. What could he possibly do for her? He had already condemned, violated and irrevocably destroyed any ounce of innocence she may have possessed. What aid could he possibly provide her now? He was clearly dead.

"It is your choice, and your choice alone..." Lily came a step further slowly extending out her hand, "You can either take my hand, and I can bring you home...or you can go back from whence you came and save another life..."

Severus' head rose slowly to the small hand held out before him. His own twitched at his side. Could he go back to a world that hated everything that he was when the hand of forgiveness was held out so easily before him? Could he risk his happily ever after to ensure another's possible chance at a life worth living?