Disclaimer: Nothing here is mine; it is all written for pure enjoyment and borrowed for JKR’s world.
Author’s Note: I’ll keep the apologies brief. I worked two jobs for a month, then quit and moved to a new state. Needless to say, time was a commodity. But, all that aside, I’m happy with how this chapter turned out, and I’m excited to say this is the last cliffie you will ever have to endure with this story (and sadly it will also be the worst of the lot, so good luck one and all!). One more chapter guys! Thanks for sticking around, your thoughts and feedback are most welcome. Special thanks to Amy and Mar for being my muses.
"Wake up, Ginny! Come back to us now..."
"Does anyone know where he might have gone?"
"Ginny?"
"What if more Death Eaters come?"
"Just open your eyes..."
"We need to get everyone out of here..."
"We have to find Harry first..."
"Come on, Ginny!"
It was all too much for Ginny to handle, the voices tangling around her. Frustrated, painful tears swelled beneath her closed lids, her insides shaking as she fought to release the straining sadness building inside her.
"We can't find Harry if no one has any clue where he went-"
"That's why we're trying to wake up Ginny!"
"Quiet, both of you!"
Blessed silence followed Lupin's words, his body radiating warm life against Ginny's arms as he leaned over her, gently examining the injuries strewn across her body.
"She's starting to wake up," he whispered, conjuring a cool wet cloth to wipe her brow. Ginny groaned against the shocking roughness of the cloth's material, fevered shivers starting to creep down her back as cold droplets of water slid along her temples.
"We need to get her to St. Mungo's," Charlie said somewhere in the distance, his feet rustling the grass as he moved in her direction.
"I need to speak with her first," Lupin insisted calmly as he gave Ginny's arm a gentle shake.
"But she's hurt!" Charlie growled with worry, his calloused fingers clutching at her hand as he dropped to the ground beside her.
"Just give me a moment-"
"She's burning up!"
"Charlie!" Tonks stepped in, stumbling slightly as she joined them at Ginny's side. "Ginny is the only one that can tell us where Harry's gone. If we don't find Harry, we have no chance or finding Ron or Hermione, either."
Ginny knew her brother would have nothing more to say after that. Tonks' words had struck an important chord, her candor strong enough to still his tongue. Yes, Charlie was worried about everyone, especially Ginny, herself, at the moment. But she was here before him, injuries plain to the eye and help but a leap away. There were no answers in Ron's case, no absolutions about whether he was still alive, or what torments he might be facing. That alone, the worry for his youngest brother, was enough to keep Charlie at bay for a few moments.
Ginny heard more shuffling around her, the sound of robed knees catching on rocks as two strong arms slipped beneath her body, lifting it slowly from the ground. The cry of pain was beyond her control as they lithely settled her against Charlie's broad chest, each of them speaking soothing words of encouragement and even praise as she finally opened her eyes.
Her lips trembled upon seeing the expectant looks on their faces, the hopeful glow in their eyes as they prodded her to try to speak. She didn't want to face this, the angry defeat that was bound to follow her words. How could she tell them they were just wasting their time?
She didn't know where Harry had gone.
"Alright, Ginny, I know you've been through hell tonight, but I need you to tell me where Harry has gone. Do you have any idea?" Lupin questioned with gentle urgency, his thin frame swimming before her eyes.
Ginny opened her mouth meekly, unable to form a single word as she struggled with her uncooperative lips. She tried to tell them everything with her eyes, to express her helplessness as she fought to remain calm, hysteria threatening to creep in at any moment. She sent Tonks a pleading look as she uselessly opened her mouth again, her heart swelling with relief when understanding shone in her friends' eyes.
"She doesn't know anything, Remus," Tonks whispered, shaking her head slightly as she reached for Ginny's hand. Lupin seemed to ponder this for a moment, his face clearly falling with resignation.
"Are you sure you don't remember him saying anything, Ginny? Anything at all?" he asked with kind firmness, shifting his weight anxiously from side to side.
Ginny closed her eyes and sighed, unnoticed tears sliding done her cheeks as she wracked her brain. The last day was a blur of sounds and colors in her memory, sheer happiness from the morning melting instantly into despair and fear. An exasperated sigh seemed to be all the answer they needed now, Charlie moving immediately to sweep her into his arms as Tonks and Lupin rose from the ground.
"Take care of everyone, Charlie. We'll do our best to find the others. Hopefully you won't have any more uninvited guests tonight," Lupin spoke in quiet, rushed tones, his static calmness waning as he prepared himself for departure.
"She's too hurt for Side-Along," Charlie murmured, casting his eyes questioningly around the clearing in search of other options. "Floo?"
"No better than Apparating," Tonks replied with a rueful look.
"Well I can't very well fly everyone out of here!" Charlie groaned in exasperation, looking to his fallen family, his own body looking worn and near collapse. "What about a Portkey?"
Someone responded to Charlie's question, but Ginny paid no notice. Something was buzzing to life in her brain, the word, 'fly,' itching at some subconscious memory. Angry, panicked words, spoken between Harry and Flint in the broom shed stirred to life in her ears, pushing past the fog of her thoughts until they rung true.
You have to meet somewhere, Flint. Where did you join up before coming to ruin the wedding this morning? Where were they going to bring me once it was over?
"Graveyard," Ginny choked, rasping out a dry cough as the word scratched across her tongue. Charlie stopped dead in his tracks, pulling her body higher upon hearing her voice.
"She said something!" he practically shouted to Tonks and Lupin, pressing his ear closer to her lips as the coughing subsided.
Worried and curious faces filled her streaming eyes as she attempted to speak again. As she struggled with another wave of coughing she found a cup of water pressing against her lips, the cool liquid inside sloshing welcomingly onto her chin as she took a drink.
"Graveyard," she finally managed to pant, her body falling quickly into exhaustion as she sensed her part in the night's action coming to an end.
"A graveyard?"
"Why would Harry go to a graveyard?"
"He could be anywhere-"
"Why a graveyard?"
"I don't know."
"Could they be at Hogwarts?"
"Perhaps... no I don't think so-"
"Wait!" Tonks finally shouted, holding her hands in the air to call for silence. "I know that look," she said with a weak grin, pointing her finger at Lupin.
"It's just a hunch, but I think I might know where they are" he said simply, the look in his eyes suggesting he was fairly certain, and rather sick at the thought.
"Then let's go!" Tonks said, squeezing Ginny's arm once before moving rapidly to Lupin's side.
"Now you can rest," Lupin smiled weakly at Ginny, turning briefly to Charlie. "Take care."
"Good luck."
"Thank you... I think we may need it," Lupin said dismally as he pulled Tonks to his side, disappearing with a resounding snap.
Colorful slashes of pain painted the backs of Hermione's eyelids, bloody reds accented with blinding white as the deadly mist sank into the marrow of her bones. Her mind was shutting down, no longer registering her continued screams or shaking limbs. Her insides felt as though they were boiling, and her flesh burned. Her whole being seemed ablaze, fueled by an unseen fire of dark magic. The spell had far surpassed torture, making the dark gloominess of the graveyard more akin to the depths of hell.
Having reached her center in moments, the mist began returning to the surface, lapping like flames around her face and hands before returning to the air around her, glowing prettily, innocently awaiting further instruction. Though she was no longer under attack, the damage had been done. The pain did not subside, the burning stronger than ever with each unrelenting scream. The evil remnants of the mist seemed to be lingering inside her like a poison, slinking through her veins, seeking out the last remnants of life that remained intact.
It would fulfill its purpose soon; she could feel her body slowly dying.
And then, suddenly, somewhere beneath conscious understanding, Hermione sensed that something was happening. The world started shaking, rattling noisily as though the bones buried deep beneath the soil had come to life in their crypts. The Death Eaters shouted in surprise, swearing angrily as they toppled to the ground, crashing into one another among the aging headstones.
She was too far gone to be afraid. There were no thoughts to be had, no worries for the fate of Ron, or anyone else that she loved. No room to ponder what was to become of her now. Logic and reason, her grounding elements in life, were gone, their place in her heart and spirit replaced only with a desperate wish for fast release, away from the world and into the waiting arms of death.
Beside her someone rose from the ground, seemingly blind to the startled screams rising from the cemetery around them, uncaring of what had caused the strange blast. The shadowed figure settled at her side, cold hands analyzing the tortured inches of her face and limbs, prying open her clenched eyelids until she was looking straight into a pair of emotionless black eyes.
Severus Snape's face was grim, as haunted as it had ever been. He stared into her eyes, perhaps trying to read her mind, but there was nothing there for him to find. She couldn't form a single logical thought, no coherent words. But even through the muddled pain, the wish for mercy was evident. If she were able, she would have begged him to finish what he'd started, to deliver her to her end.
His cold eyes flashed momentarily, his mouth almost a grimace as he vanished from her struggling gaze. The sounds of rustling robes and small clinking bottles mixed quietly with her sobs, adding little to the already deafening cacophony around them. It took only a second for Snape to return to her side, a small bottle of unidentifiable potion clutched in his bony fingers. He clenched his jaw tight and looked off into the distance as he pulled the stopper free, moving with haste, as though afraid he would be stopped at any moment.
Hermione felt the cool glass brush against her mouth as he brought the potion forward, tipping it past her lips and down her throat while she choked and coughed painfully. She gasped for breath as she finally swallowed the cold liquid, her insides trembling as it clashed with the burning of her flesh and bones. And then, as quickly as it touched her stomach, she felt it taking effect.
Her mind was drifting into darkness, her limbs growing heavier even as they still shook violently with ache. The potion slipped through her veins, her blood slowing rapidly as it spread, settling a frosty chill in her muscles. Her breathing slowed until her cries were nothing more than feeble whimpers, withering into the night as she felt herself fading away.
Snape rose from her side and disappeared quickly, not lingering to witness the finality of his deeds. In her slowing heart she thanked him for his mercy. His motives in the war were still unclear, but this brief show of humanity gave her hope. Hope that the others might have an ally waiting in the wings, someone who might be able, before the end, to deliver them from sharing her fate.
Hermione's chest shuddered, a breath hissing past her lips, taking all physical feeling with it. The weak rhythm of her beating heart was the only sound that remained, pictures of her family and friends flashing in her eyes with each soft thump. Images not of the life she'd known, but of the life she hoped would continue after she was gone. Happiness for her parents. A future for Harry... and love for Ron.
With another gentle pound the outline of his face died, her world drifting into nothingness as she knew no more.
The blackness shattered abruptly, flashes of light piercing the darkness like shards of glass. Ron winced at the unexpected sensation, his frazzled mind barely able to register its alarm before his muscles suddenly went taut and rigid, his aching body pulling into a powerful bow-like arch. The life in his very core began to tremble, shaking straight through his bones, his veins tingling with tangible power as the very magic inside him seemed to come to life. It shot out from his body like unseen ribbons of fire, carrying all the strength of his love with it, slashing at the evil around him with one harsh blow.
The unknown spell only lasted for a moment, an infinitesimal note on the battle's bloody score, but the effects were no less damaging than the Blasting Spell Percy had cast the previous morning. The Death Eaters flew off their feet, torn from their rooted stance of torture, tossed effortlessly like dried leaves through they air. Their shouts rattled the darkness, startled cries scratching their throats with rage and fear as they smashed roughly into the gravestones around them, falling helplessly in the crumbling dust.
Still lying on the ground, his unblinking eyes streaming with tears, Ron fought to breathe, hardly managing the simple task in his weakened state. He'd done magic without his wand before, long ago in his childhood, usually after finding himself an unwilling victim in some hapless prank at the hands of his brothers. But never before had he done something so terrifyingly powerful...and never before had he feared the consequences. He could already feel the pain building inside him, an ache that was beyond physical discomfort, but rather a trembling hollowness in the very heart of his spirit. It pooled like wicked poison in his stomach, churning up regret even as he told himself it had been beyond his control, stirring up nauseated understanding as he struggled to remain calm.
With an almighty lurch he tossed his body sideways, ignoring the warning crack in his bound limbs, turning his head until he finally retched violently. He choked and shuddered as a second wave overpowered him, all too aware of his helplessness, and the smattering of dark figures rising like shadows from the graves all around him. He groaned in despair as they approached, his heart sinking in resignation. His energy was spent, his power drained. There was nothing left he could do. It was the end.
He looked blankly into the ghostly mask rising before him, his eyes barely registering the wand trained angrily as his skull. He cast his mind out one last time, searching for Hermione as he awaited the final blow. He whispered one last apology in his heart for failing her as her continued to scream weakly in the distance… at least they would be together soon. Clenching his jaw tightly, Ron focused his eyes on the ground and waited expectantly, arduously holding his breath as the Death Eater raised his wand to strike.
There was a sudden shout of alarm and a blast of light, but rather than the expected green of a Killing Curse, the world had been momentarily lit with a blast of heart-stopping, brilliant red. The Death Eater faltered for a moment before toppling limply to the ground, falling stunned at Ron's side. Two more jets of light shot rapidly from behind him, soaring into the distance and toppling two Death Eaters that had risen near the graves.
His brain spinning with confusion, Ron watched quizzically as a black shrouded figure dropped to the ground beside him and reached without pause for the ropes binding his wrists. Finding his arms finally free he tried in vain to push himself off the ground, collapsing in exhaustion after only a moment and rolling onto his back.
"No, Ron, don't try to move," a muffled voice trickled through the mask swimming above Ron's gaze.
Ron felt his insides lurch, his heart pounding into a painful fury. Harry was alive, and he was here. He made a feeble attempt to speak, to utter his friend’s name in thankfulness, to inquire about Harry's unexpected disguise, but his lips couldn't form the words. Even without speaking Harry understood, squeezing Ron's shoulder briefly before leaping back to his feet and charging out of sight.
Feeling a surge of strength come over him in the light of this sudden change in his favor, Ron, rolled once again to his side, reaching with a grunt for the wand of the fallen Death Eater beside him. Gripping the dust covered wand between his fingers he shoved his free hand roughly into the dirt, pushing hard against the earth until he finally rose to his knees, he body shaking tremulously. He had to rise to his feet. He had to fight! Even without looking he could hear that Harry needed help, the sounds of screaming and exploding spells growing more raucous with each passing moment.
Screaming…
Ron froze and listened with all his might, his heart refusing to beat as he waited with baited breath, picking through the deafening sounds around him one by one. He couldn't hear her. Hermione had stopped screaming…
No! She couldn't have stopped, the fight is just drowning her out, Ron thought desperately, pulling himself forward in an awkward crawl. She's still alive, she has to be!
The trek across the cemetery was painful and slow, his shredded robes clinging like fingers to the dried grass, his limbs heavy as lead. He no longer cared about the fighting behind him, or the occasional spells burning past his gaze. He could only think of getting to her side, or comforting her in his arms. They'd come so far, gone through so much together. It couldn't be over now!
Slowly her outline appeared in the distance, still swathed in an ethereal glow from the spell. No sound could be heard from her lips as he approached, no movement coming from her small frame.
She's just passed out, his mind screamed frantically as his pace increased, she's going to be fine!
Choking on her name Ron collapsed at her side, reaching frantically to touch her stilled limbs, his heart exploding with dying hope. He shook her urgently, clutching at her fingers and sobbing out desperate whispers for her to awaken, to open her eyes. Shaking madly he brought both of his hands to her face, cupping her pale cheeks in his palms as he lightly slid his thumb across her parted lips. There was no warmth in her, no flutter of movement from her closed eyelids. Her expression was peaceful, as though she had simply fallen asleep.
The heart wrenching cry that left his lips went unnoticed in the din of the battlefield, though it was just enough to camouflage the shattering sadness that exploded in his chest as he pulled her into his arms, cradling her close as the dawn began to break.
For the second time in less than a day, Harry found himself lying prone on the ground, having been knocked off his feet by an unseen magical explosion. For a few moments he could only stare at the purpling sky above him, utterly at a loss as to where he was. His mind was blank, as though every last ounce of mental sense he'd possessed had been knocked out of his brain by the force of the blast and the weight of his exhaustion. But then he heard a small sound, the slight groan of his best friend, struggling helplessly nearby, and reality came crashing back.
"Ron," Harry mumbled painfully as he pushed his body off the ground. He rolled into a cat-like crouch, scanning the broken graveyard around him, his stomach filling with grim satisfaction to find only a handful of the fallen black figures starting to rise following the blast. After a quick search he spied Ron upon the ground not ten yards away, limbs bound and body shaking, his face turned away from Harry's gaze, locked on the blackened outline of an approaching Death Eater. Just beyond Ron lay Hermione, still screaming in pain, her body trembling as Snape loomed ominously above her.
With a protective growl Harry leapt to his feet, running quickly to aide his helpless friends, their outlines fading rapidly with the magic of the mask he wore as three shapes materialized out of the dust and debris. With an angry shout he fired a Stunning Spell at the closest one, not pausing to watch him tumble to the ground before turning on the others. Even as he watched his spells connect with their marks, he knew he'd only bought himself a few moments as he dropped to Ron's side, fiercely slicing his wand over the bonds at his wrists, his heart wrenching with regret as he watched Ron attempt to rise from the ground.
"No, Ron," he whispered urgently, "don't try to move." He did his best to bite back the worry in his voice as he spoke, his throat tightening with guilt. The side of Ron's face was covered in blood, his eyes watering and painfully red around the edges, locked open in a wide, unblinking stare. Ron's chest seemed to rumble from the effort as he attempted to speak, his words deafened by overwhelming exhaustion and emotion, but his expression spoke clearly enough. There were a million things that needed to be said, from him and Harry both, but they had no time. The Death Eaters were closing in, and he still needed to help Hermione.
Harry grasped Ron's shoulder for a moment, bidding him to stay down and out of harm’s way as he jumped back to his feet, turning rapidly towards the last place he'd seen Hermione. He felt his heart stall when he caught sight of her again, her chest lurching painfully beneath a rasping cough, choking on an unknown potion that Snape was pouring down her throat.
His world seemed to explode in that moment, blind rage moving his limbs as he drew his wand high, aiming it at the heart of the man before him, the man that had cost him so much. He could feel a hateful spell building in his heart, the incantation bubbling on the tip of his tongue like venom, but the words never left his lips. He'd been so focused on bringing Snape down that he hadn't seen the Death Eater closing in, nor the fast approaching light of a Stinging Spell.
He toppled sideways when the spell collided with his shoulder, cringing at the biting sting that sizzled down his arm and across his chest, momentarily sucking the air from his lungs. He rolled to his back a moment before the Cruciatus Curse struck, seizing his body in a rippling wave of torture as a tall masked figure loomed angrily above him. His bones twisted painfully, kicking up heaps of dirt as he rolled upon the earth, his mind unwilling to accept defeat, even in the face of imminent failure. Ron and Hermione had fought for him, risked their lives. He couldn't give up now!
And then, as though by a miracle, the spell was lifted, his attacker screaming in startled pain as a spell slammed powerfully against the blade of his shoulder, toppling him to his knees. Harry took aim at the wounded man's chest, forcing a gasp of air into his lungs before shouting a Stunning Spell, bringing the Death Eater known as Hawkins down in a dazzling red blaze before throwing himself back into the fray.
He fell quickly into the rhythm of combat, the intoxicating focus of his mask pulling him straight to his enemies. In the shaded parts of his vision he could see Tonks and Lupin, their presence filling him simultaneously with confusion and an overwhelming sense of victory as they slowly faced the remaining Death Eaters, working together to bring them down one by one. They pushed them back until, sensing defeat, the last of them scattered, breaking madly for the edges of the cemetery, desperate to escape before the whole of their number could be brought down.
Without thinking Harry broke away from Tonks and Lupin, flying fast on the heels of one of the fleeing Death Eaters, determined to stop him before he reached the edge of the Apparation ward. Just one more, his mind kept screaming as his lungs begged for air, his legs moving on their own volition over the stony earth. Just one last enemy to face and this hellish night would be over. One more spell and this battle could end.
Growing tired of their endless chase, Harry finally growled in frustration, taking aim at the base of a large stone statue of an angel in the distance. The side of the sculpture shattered, her open wings and up stretched hands crumbling to rubble and falling right across the path of the escaping Death Eater. With an angry shout the man turned around, firing a succession of bright spells in Harry’s direction, putting up a spectacular fight as he searched for another route of escape. Casting a Shield Charm over himself Harry gritted his teeth in annoyance, searching for an opening before it was too late. After a few tense moments he finally lowered his shield, casting a series of nonverbal spells at his opponent until a Full Body Bind finally broke through, bringing his final challenge down with a resounding crash.
With a relieved sigh Harry took a step forward, moving to disarm his now prone enemy, when something unexpected caught his attention. Just behind the shattered remains of the statue was a tall, black cloaked figure, standing alone at the edge of the ending battle, staring inscrutably in Harry’s direction. The world froze for a moment as realisation set in, Harry’s insides trembling as he shook his head in disbelief, his wand hand dropping in shock. He was looking into the face that had haunted his dreams and waking thoughts for the past few months, reading unspeakable emotion in black eyes that had passed on nothing but scorn for everything he held dear for the past seven years. He was looking upon the countenance of Severus Snape, finding his form as dull and unlit in the mask’s power as the lifeless headstones all around them.
They stared at one another for the briefest of seconds before Snape disappeared from sight behind the statue, leaving Harry to gape in wonder for a moment before launching after him. He leapt at the marble pedestal, pulling himself over the mounds of rock and rubble, scanning his surroundings for any sign of Snape’s fleeing form. All that met his eyes was dazzling light from the slowly rising sun, an empty graveyard, and the remnants of a once grand plaque reading, ‘Grace is with thee,’ among the broken remains of the beautiful statue.
Senses by Gryffinpuff
Chapter Notes: Love knows no limit to its endurance, no end to its trust, no fading of its hope; it can outlast anything. Love still stands when all else has fallen.
-Unknown