Remember When It Rained

Remember When It Rained
Chapter Seventeen
The Darkest of Times


The hope that had sprung eternal in Hermione’s heart carried her through the following weeks and she bloomed.

Her studies became easier and Severus, as if by an unspoken promise, had lightened her load. Granted, he still pushed her in her duties as an apprentice, but he also made sure that Dobby had a tray of sandwiches waiting for her when she reported to the lab at her appointed times.

Regrettably, her habit of running him down continued over the ensuing weeks, but she had the grace to spread her mishaps amongst the other staff as well. Demand for his “Hermione Salve”, as he called it now, had increased since her confinement to the infirmary. Even Neville Longbottom seemed to be improving in his work, the near death of his friend and fellow Gryffindor overcoming his fear of the dour Potions master.

Hermione, knowing that Severus loved her still, took in stride the acerbic remarks and deduction of points directed toward her housemates. There were evenings that she found only a sheet of parchment directing her to her tasks, and those were the evenings that Hermione dreaded and lived in fear of. Those were the evenings that he was with Voldemort. They were the evenings that he returned looking all the worse for wear. They were the evenings that he would send her away if he found her waiting for his return, which she always did.

The tension she had felt on the first night of the school year had proved to be real. Attacks on Muggle borns and their families had increased ten fold as had attacks on Muggles. Soon the mysterious deaths and other occurrences were being speculated upon by the Muggle press. In an effort to protect her parents, Hermione confessed the danger that her world was in and managed to persuade them to go into hiding in America.

Things were coming to a head and even the First Years were being trained in simple medicinal potions, defensive spells and other things that might be of use in saving their lives.

The night of March 31 was the turning point in the war. It was the last night that Severus was called to the side of Lord Voldemort. As he made his way, yet again through the tunnel that lead from the keep, neither Severus, Hermione or even Albus Dumbledore suspected that the Spy of Slytherin had been betrayed.

It was the first of many mistakes that the sociopathic sorcerer would make. For when Severus had somehow managed to make it back to Hogwarts alive, he was able to warn his mentor of the impending attack on the school, orchestrated by none other than Draco Malfoy, before he lost consciousness.
As Madame Pomprey tended his wounds and struggled to save his life, the battle raged on outside of the castle, the darkness pierced by the sparks from wands good and evil. As students and Death Eaters fell, Severus Snape dreamed the dreams of a comatose man. The Mediwitch satisfied that she had done all that she could, sat at his bedside, wand drawn and at the ready.


~*~

Hermione Granger sat on the field that once held the Quidditch pitch and wept silent tears as smoke eddied around her, carried by the light breeze that blew as lightening pierced the night sky above her. At her side lay the bodies of Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley who had each killed the other with the Killing Curse, cast at the same moment and both hitting their marks with the unerring testimony to the skill of those who cast it.

The Dark Lord had been defeated, finally in a blaze of green light and the Death Eaters that were left standing at his death were quickly dispatched by the Aurors that had finally been able to apparate into the field.

The sound of thunder rumbled, rolling through the sky and rain began to fall, drenching Hermione to the skin. In the distance, over the sound of thunder, she heard her name being called.

“Hermione!” the voices carried over the wind and rain. She ignored them, concentrating instead on the dead that surrounded her. Too young. They were all too young for this. She had never felt as helpless as she had at that moment.

In the fury of battle, her Gryffindor spirit had prevailed, she had charged readily into battle, hexing those who sought to destroy the world she loved. She fought for Severus, to avenge the torture they had put him through both as a boy and as a traitor to their perverted cause. She saw the bodies of her friends and classmates falling around her but pushed the images to the back of her adrenaline soaked mind and fought on. Harry had a prophesy to fulfill and she would damn well make sure that she did her part.

The voices were getting closer, they had seen her. Someone had shouted, “There she is!”

“Hermione! Hermione!” they screamed drawing closer and closer until they reached her. She finally looked up into the relieved but exhausted faces of Harry and Ron. Behind them stood the beleaguered forms of McGonagall and Hagrid. The gentle half-giant muttered something that she couldn’t make out and she felt herself being lifted up into his arms.


A/N: Another short one I know, but the muse is stingy! Actually I am working on the last few chapters, which will be longer and yes zambonigirl, some will be lemony-but there is a bit more angst to endure. Not much, just a smidgen.