The death of a git, the rise of a hero...

Snape's eyes were mere slits in the misty room, the back of his head hurting something fierce and making it near impossible to open his eyes all the way. They stung all over, making his laborous blinking a never-ending chore.

What happened?

Slowly his eyes closed again, but his ears were alert to the faint sounds around him. There were voices, low and fierce. His flesh crawled at the familiar dark tones, growling voices and the stench of something foul in the air.

Deatheaters.

They were in another room, they had to be for their voices were more muffled than usual. The smell in the room was of dank, putrid rotting of decay. He smothered a cough for fear that this would rouse the Deatheaters, turning their attention to him...he could almost see the malicious glee in their hollow eyes. He'd been so good at hiding in the shadows, that was his gift.

Not that it would do him any good now.

How long have I been here?

He suddenly remembered just how this had all occurred. How foolish he'd been not to see the very sign he'd learned under. Then again, it could only be detected by a very powerful wizard or

Hermione.

witch. His eyes were falling shut again, he was being sucked back into a memory of not so long ago.

He'd come to see Albus who knew how long ago, in his office when he and Potter were summoned. Wanting to best the boy-who-wouldn't-die he'd made sure he was the first to attend their meeting. Snape could still see himself entering the room, not noticing how cool it was. He could still envision himself shutting the door behind him and looking to the shrouded figure of Albus, standing at the window his back to the rest of the office.

"Headmaster?"

"Severus, do come in."

Snape raised a quizzical eyebrow, wondering why the warmth was gone from Albus' voice. He deemed it to be a side affect from the long lasting coma and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"You summoned me sir?"

"I did indeed Severus."

Dumbledore didn't turn around, and instead stood facing the window unmoving. Severus merely assumed that he was tired and didn't feel much like smiling and being completely sociable. Snape assumed that Albus had summoned he and Potter to merely tell them that he was all right, and that there was nothing to fear. Internally elated at the knowledge that Hermione was waiting for him back in the flat, he decided to hurry the arduous chore of civilized conversation.

"It's good to see you well again sir." Snape said honestly, his dark eyes scanning the back of the Headmaster. "The school was worried."

"And, were you worried Severus?"

Severus hadn't noticed anything odd in Albus' tone until after his capture. That was the gift of hindsight for you.

"Of course sir." Snape was silent a moment. "Without your guide we'll never be freed from the clutches of-"

It was then the first seed of panic was planted as Albus -or what resembled him- turned on one well-placed heel to face a stunned Snape. It was in the fluid moment that Snape had seen the Headmaster's eyes...blood red and glittering with malice.

"Master." Snape sputtered, falling to his knees as he bowed lowly, his dark eyes scanning the floor in fear. What was he going to tell him now? His cover was irreperably blown. His hands went for his wand-



And now he was here.

He went to raise his head then, feeling a bit of strength coming back to him. Evidently Voldemort hadn't used a debilitating spell. He felt fine. Almost. Shifting around a bit he also found his entire body was bound, by some spell he knew all too well; they used it on the unwilling women they encountered during their raids. Already he could feel his breath growing shallow, his pulse overtaking his ability to detect the slightest of sounds.

As he lay his mind drifted to Hermione. Her sweet untried face, her kindness and her endless patience. He could remember opening wedding gifts with her, how alight he'd felt inside with every smile she'd passed his way. He'd been rude, he'd been distant and she'd loved him despite all of that. It was in this moment of memory that Snape realized just how much he had to lose.

As if they could sense his vulnerability They invaded the room as one singular name rang through his mind.

Hermione.

* * *

"Severus!" Hermione howled as she fell to her knees, the sobs ravaging her as she did so. Harry watched in mute pity as his friend fell to the floor, clamoring to help her before she hurt herself. Large tears slid down her face as Harry grasped her, his own eyes growing cloudy.

She clawed at his arm, trying to bring herself back to a standing position but finding it impossible. Memories flooded back to her, clips of moments shared with Snape. Some good some bad, mainly they had made an imprint upon her. She could still feel his powerful lips on hers from moments be. Te. The injustice was overwhelming...she'd been through so much and now Severus was ripped from her.

"This isn't happening!" She shrieked as students around McGonagall turned and stared. Their eyes wide with fright. Seeing the most collected and brilliant witch in all of Hogwarts howling and shrieking for Professor Snape while rumors of Voldemort ran rampant was frightening. Hermione continued sobbing, crying out for her husband.

"GET MOVING!" McGonagall shouted angrily, pointing her wand at the group, looking beyond frightened. "Everyone to their common rooms this instant! Prefects please come and gather your houses."

Prefects, students and gathering Professors took Minerva's words instantly and began filing out of the hall, muttering to themselves. The students looked confused, but the Professors looked frightened.

When the hall was deserted save for Harry, Hermione and McGonagall, Minerva rushed back over to Hermione and Harry, her shoes clattering along the stone walkway. Harry was stone faced, gripping Hermione tightly to his chest.

"Hold her here Potter." she said motioning to the frantically writhing Hermione. Harry nodded mutely as Minerva moved to Dumbledore's door slowly, her wand poised and waiting as if prepared for an attack.

"Lemon cake." she muttered slowly as she approached the door, her large eyes glassy. She went into the room, as Hermione and Harry stay outside in the hall, Hermione sobbing and Harry unnaturally quiet save for the gentle comforts he offered Hermione.

"Hermione." Harry cooed in her ear, stroking her hair softly as he held her shaking body to his. "Don't panic. We'll think of something, we always do. You can't panic. He's alive."

Hermione barely heard him, all she could focus on now was her grief. They'd finally confessed to one another. She'd finally felt his lips willingly against her own, he was finally admitting to loving her and....now what?

He was dead. He had to be. Why else would Voldemort take him?

With this thought in her mind, all motor skills seemed non-existent. She had suddenly forgotten how to walk and speak. All she could do was feel, and all she could feel was pain. She couldn't seem to stop crying either. No matter how she tried to contain herself, to stand on her own she felt herself numbly sitting there in Harry's arms and crying her eyes out.

She supposed it was the thought that if Severus was dead, a part of her was as well. And not just some small part of her, it would be as if all of her insides were to suddenly disappear and she would be forever empty. She would be a shell of what she once was. She would look the same, she would talk the same but she would never be be the same.

It was because Severus was her match. She'd spent far too much time denying and overanalyzing the thought. Fact of the matter she and him were fated. Their minds, their comfort in isolation, their continual dependence on knowledge. And when the two of them had gotten together no one thought anything could come of it, but something had. Something Harry and Ron and all the rest could never fully understand, because they'd never cared for someone as much as she cared for Severus.

It was then that Minerva came to the door, looking to Harry with the blood drained from her face. "Potter." she said lowly, "Fetch Madame Pomfrey."

Harry let Hermione go instantly, his duty to Dumbledore overshadowing his responsibility for her. She didn't mind. She watched as his lean body rushed down the halls, his hair flying behind him as she turned to face McGonagall. Finally her mouth began to work, and although her voice cracked on each syllable, she was understood.

"Professor?" she offered slowly, gauging Minerva's reaction. "What is it?"

Minerva looked shakily to Hermione, not speaking. Not able to. She said nothing as she disappeared into the office, small sniffles all that Hermione could hear as she shakily stood, moving towards the doorframe that Minerva had been standing in.

Although she didn't know for certain, Hermione was fairly certain of what lay behind the door of the office. And although all reason told her that she didn't need to see it, she felt the compulsion to. Without so much as any sort of warning to herself, Hermione stumbled over to the door and peered in.

"No."

She slid down the doorframe, her dark eyes fixed upon the body lying on the ground of the office floor. Floods of tears started now, and Hermione contained a howl that bubbled within her. McGonagall sat holding Dumbledore's head in her lap, looking so out of character that it was startling. Hermione viewed the tears that had slipped down the older woman's cheeks and felt her stomach dropping.

Hermione was about to say something more when she viewed the chest of Albus slowly beginning to rise and fall. Shakily at that, but moving. Hermione's eyes widened in relief, but by the look on McGonagall's face, his shallow breathing wasn't enough.

"Go to your rooms, Miss Granger." Minerva said slowly, her light eyes fixed upon Albus' pale face. Although in the depths of grief, Hermione felt hurt. As if Minerva blamed her for all of this. Which Hermione couldn't blame her for.

She was the entire reason that all of this was happening. She was so confused and infuriated and scared. Harry was next. Then she. Then Hogwarts. She was the very cause of the wizarding world's ruination and despair. She. She was the reason Snape was perhaps dead.

With the knowledge that death watheather imminent for all those she loved, Hermione went rushing off to the flat she and Snape had shared, trying to stop more of the overwhelming sobs that were lodging themselves in her throat.

* * *

"Severus." Lucius drawled, his icy eyes taking in that of his tall friend as he and Deatheaters like him filed into the small room Snape was occupying. "I must say, I'm not surprised, but I am disappointed."

Snape said nothing, his dark eyes unwaveringly gazing at those around him. There had to be at least twenty Deatheaters in the room, and no sign of Voldemort. He struggled to break free even though he knew it was fruitless. It had to be human nature that made him struggle, that or supreme panic.

There were circling him like the vultures they were, watching his figure bound against a large table. He felt like Frankenstein's monster, and sudden realization that he was to be such an experiment chilled him to the bone.

"How so?" Snape said coolly, refusing to bow down to scum like Lucius Malfoy. Lucius gave him a sinister smirk, one that Snape knew he must have used on many of his students. He was suddenly furious that he had, furious that he'd tainted them somehow.

"Why, actually believing that Dumbledore could protect you?" Lucius said with a gleeful clap of his gloved hands. "How idiotic! Even for you."

Snape gritted his teeth at the mocking tone directed at his allegiance to Dumbledore. Saying nothing as Lucius continued to circle him, the hood of his Deatheaters robes down Snape held his gaze. Everyone else was clothed in robes, only their natural eyes behind eerie masks visible to the writhing Snape. Looking down to the man that beyond Voldemort, they had all feared. Save for Lucius of course.

Snape had always been untouchable in their group. He'd always been that of a golden boy to Voldemort. And now, they were going to see his demise. They couldn't contain their glee, but it was their silence that startled Snape all the more.

"Release me." Snape ordered haughtily, not caring that the request was absurd. Minor chuckles rang through the crowd at his pathetic attempt to assert himself. Even Lucius couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

"What's the matter Severus?" Lucius taunted, bending his face down to that of his old accomplice. Snape could barely breath under the blanket of foul breath that permeated through Lucius' widely opened mouth.

"For once your life you don't have a plan?"

The Deatheaters around him chuckled then, but Severus paid them no heed. Snape's dark eyes were somber, the life in him slowly draining. With his death, perhaps there would be hope for others. In his capture and death, the war would finally begin. Was there any way around it? No.

But Hermione. His sweet Hermione. Memories of her feel, of her kisses, of her sweetness were with him. Through it all she was with him. No. She should never have been his. Look what he'd gotten her into. Because of him, she was doomed to death. After him would be her, then Potter then the rest of the Wizarding world.

But he was still alive. Voldemort could have killed him at any time, especially when knocked out cold from one of his spells. Snape's mind was whirring, wondering what possible gain it would be to have him alive. There was none that he could think of. Torture was a possibility, but Snape felt there was something else to it.

In this realization Snape felt his confidence growing, although his heart seemed to be perpetually drumming within his chest. His mind was a steel trap, waiting to capture any hint of his future or demise. He needed an escape.

"You've won." Snape said lowly, his voice always possessing that of an aristocratic gentleman, even in the depths of hatred and despair. He looked defiantly to the blonde man inches from his face.

"Kill me."

Lucius backed away from Snape, chuckling to himself as titters of laughter went through the members of the room. Snape scowled deeply, his fury rising with every amused face. His offer was not to be taken lightly. Lucius' face turned to that of perplexed wonder as he looked to Severus, regarding him with careful introspection.

Unlike most of the others, Lucius knew Severus fairly well. He knew his weakness' (some) he knew his penchants, he knew his temper and he knew of his strength and misguided bravery.

But what he didn't ever know, at any point in their friendship, is what Severus was thinking.

Not that it mattered now. Feelings of superiority took over the pale man, looking down to Severus mercilessly. A slick and most cutting smile took over Lucius' features, and Snape happening to catch it, knew exactly what such a look entailed.

"The master wishes against that." Lucius said with a jeering smirk, one that had Snape's flesh crawling. Lucius voice was filled with glee, almost sing song in its tone. "He wants you to see it all."

"See what?" Snape said quickly, his heart doing strange jumps about in his chest. There was something in Malfoy's tone, something in his sinister confidence that had Severus on edge.

As Lucius began to speak Snape felt his blood run cold. Voldemort had appeared in the doorframe, smirking and languidly looking to Severus as he himself delivered his fate in a cold, chilling voice;

"Why, the death of your Mudblood."


* * *

Hermione pushed the door to the study open after unlocking and unwarding, feeling her body becoming numb with all that had happened this evening. She was almost thankful that Minervat het her home, but felt helpless that she could do nothing more.

She had wanted to come into Snape's study mainly because it was the room he never let her in, and the room she decided was uniquely his. The scent, the colors the atmosphere was that of calm and strict passion. Everywhere she looked was some small imprint of Severus. Her vision clouded.


Hermione walked tentatively into the study, looking around the large expanse with tears still streaming down her face. Severus' study. She remembered the idiotic fight they'd had over her intruding upon his private domain.

She suddenly wished Snape were there, furious at her even. She'd relish his fury at her, she'd embrace his rough demeanor. She wouldn't care if he called her every name in the book, at least he'd be safe. She'd wrap her arms around him, she'd kiss every inch of his face a thousand times and tell him that she loved him. She'd never let him go like she had.

But she had.

Tonight she'd let him walk to Dumbledore's office. She should have gone with him. She should have been at his side. They were continually in danger and yet she let herself believe that somehow Snape was untouchable. That he was above everything.

"Only human." Hermione whispered to herself, letting her hands fall along the spines of the books in the shelves. She sunk to her knees on the plush carpet, letting her head rest on one of the volumes as images of Severus engulfed her. She regretted not making love with him. She desperately wanted his child within her now, if only to have one small part of him to live on.

She brought her hands to her eyes, letting the loud hiccupping cries sound off in the room. Echoing around the bare excess of the room, only heard by her and her alone. Severus was gone.

Suddenly a billowing movement of black caught her eye and she straightened, her tears drying as she went to cry out in sudden joy. Somehow, somehow Snape had made it back to her and-

She stopped then, letting her arms deflate at her sides as she looked to the billowing curtain at the far side of the room. The curtain she had viewed on her first arriving her. A stupid, bloody curtain. Her lip trembled and she looked to her hands, forcing herself to stand.

While curiosity had always overruled her in the past, seeing what was behind the dark curtain seemed justified. As if doing so was preserving Snape's memory in some shape or form. As if she were seeing all of him that he kept hidden.

Slowly she made her way there, expecting someone to catch her midway and reprimand her for it. Not that she'd care. She felt a deep emptiness within her now, something that had been carved out by Snape, and like a tree with engraved initials of two lovers, it would grow in age over time, bent and haggard but would never lose that beloved imprint.

The curtain was upon her, suffocating her in dark color. She had always thought it black, but now up close found it to be a tapestry of black and red. She raised her hand, feeling the soft fabric of the curtain against her damp palm. She almost didn't dare touch it, as if her hands weren't good enough to even brush it.

But in one movement of confident decision, Hermione took a large swipe at curtcurtain and brushing the large mountain of fabric away. Stepping behind it she took one look and what lay within before she let out a gasp of shock.