Chapter 12: Dying of the Light

So this is it.

Harry looked around the entranceway, taking in the determined and surprisingly calm faces of the assembled faculty members, and glanced around at the interior of the castle, committing to memory everything he saw. It was a nonsensical gesture, in a few hours’ time Harry would no longer be in a position to remember anything, but he did it anyway. More than a mere force of habit, it was the only way Harry could think of to say goodbye to his memories. And to his life.

It felt as if he were seeing everything for the first time again. The castle, the faces, everything was new just as it had been when he had first come to the castle so many years ago. Why must we lose everything just to appreciate it? Why can’t the wonder and awe last, regardless of how many times we experience it?

“The Muggle army approaches,” Albus informed them, breaking into Harry’s thoughts and drawing his attention. “Has everyone taken the potion?”

There were nods and murmurs of agreement all around.

“I must ask you all once again, are you sure you wish to go through with this? There is still time to escape,” Albus looked around. “And there are none who would think less of you for leaving.”

Harry shook his head along with everyone else.

Albus nodded his acceptance of their decision. “Let me remind you all once again that we are fighting to buy time for Hermione and Draco to see the children and themselves to safety. Take whatever positions about the castle and grounds that you feel will most serve this end. And do not hesitate. This is a highly trained military force that believes itself to be riding the world of some vile, dangerous evil. They will not hesitate,” Albus paused, as if giving everyone the chance to assimilate his words.

“Before they left this morning,” Albus continued a moment later, “I gave Fawkes instructions to notify me when all of the children have been returned to their homes. At that time, Minerva and I will cast the spells necessary to destroy the castle. All of the protective wards and charms will dissolve at that point. Apparition will then be possible.”

Albus gazed around the room. “If you are alive, take the opportunity to escape. Our diversion will have been a success. There will be no reason to needlessly sacrifice your lives. Minerva and I will be dead, and anyone still alive will be able to Apparate. Do not be any more of a hero than you are already going to be.”

“Do you truly believe that there will be any survivors, Albus?” Severus asked curiously from Harry’s side. There was no apparent sarcasm in the question, nor was there any spark of hope. It was just simple curiosity.

Harry watched Albus as the Headmaster turned to look Severus in the eye. They stared at each other for a long moment. It seemed to Harry as if Albus thought very carefully about his answer.

“The chances of survival are very slim,” Albus remarked, looking intently into the Potion master’s eyes. “However, the future is what we make it to be. Do not forget that, Severus.”

Harry looked over at Severus in time to see the slight raising of the man’s eyebrow. As innocuous as the statement was, Harry had a suspicious feeling that the words, though applicable to everyone in general, were reserved for Severus alone. And the Slytherin knew it too.

Harry felt the hair on the nap of his neck rise. He could not explain why.

Albus stiffened, raising his head as if hearing – or sensing – something the rest of them could not. There was sorrow etched into every inch of his face when he looked back at them. “It is time. Farewell, my friends.”

“We should be there,” Draco growled under his breath, watching as the last child stepped into the fireplace with his mother and disappeared.

“Someone had to get them out,” Hermione admonished him sharply, the first words she had spoken to him since they had entered the tunnel.

“It could have been anyone,” he returned angrily, standing up from his slouch against the wall. “It didn’t need to be us.”

“Well it was,” Hermione shot back furiously. “What else should we have done, Malfoy? Stayed there and died with the rest of them?”

“You know damned well that that’s what we should have done!” Draco rounded on her. “What are we going to do now, Hermione? Try to pretend that we’re Muggles? Go hide? Join up with your in-laws and start slaughtering whatever Muggles happen to cross our path?”

“I don’t care what you do!” Hermione snarled, eyes flashing. “You can go to hell for all I care!”

“Open your eyes, Weasley. We’re already there.”

Hermione glared at him, then turned away. “Leave me alone, Malfoy.”

“I can’t.”

“And why not?” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Too hard to pass up the opportunity to gloat about how your father was right all along?”

Draco looked at her mildly, ignoring the jab. “I gave my word that I would protect you.”

“I don’t want your protection!”

“Do you think I want to be your baby-sitter?” Draco snapped, feeling his patience – threadbare under the best of circumstances – unravel. He strode across the room, grabbed her arm, and whirled her around to face him. “Do you think I wanted any of this? Do you think I wanted to watch the only place I could call home be destroyed by Muggles? Do you think I like the choices I have right now? Damn it, Hermione, I never asked for this! I didn’t ask to be my father’s son! I didn’t ask the Muggle world to start eradicating us! And I sure as hell didn’t ask to fa-” Draco cut himself off mid-sentence, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth as he fought to bring his temper under control.

“If I could turn back time, I would,” Draco continued in a calmer manner, opening his eyes slowly. “If I could go back and save Ron and Hogwarts and everyone else, I would. But I can’t.” He let go of her arm and took a few steps back from her, rubbing at a suddenly aching head. “There isn’t anything I can do about anything, Hermione, except keep a promise I made. And I will. Whether you like it or not.”

What I wouldn’t give for the ability to wake up. Walking away from her, Draco took off the invisibility cloak, folded it up carefully and placed it back into the knapsack he had brought with him. A whispered “Mischief managed” and a tap of his wand against the Marauder’s Map wiped it clean. Folding it up, he placed it on top of the cloak, closed the knapsack, and shrugged into it. I don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe I never did. But I’ll try my best. I promise.

“Malfoy?”

“What?” Draco turned back around wearily.

“Why?”

Draco sighed. “I hear that salt’s really good for raw, gaping wounds. Have you got any of that, too?”

“I didn’t ask for any of this either, Malfoy,” Hermione murmured quietly after giving him a long, considering stare. “I didn’t want to leave them behind any more than you did.”

The tension was slowly easing out of the room.

“I think it’s safe to assume that the list of things we didn’t want is far longer than the list of things we did want.”

“Yes,” Hermione agreed softly. “I think it is. I’m s-”

“Don’t say it!” Draco broke in, holding up a hand warningly. “I don’t care why you’re going to say it, but I don’t want to hear it!”

A small, tentative smile ghosted across Hermione’s face. “Right, then.”

They stared at each other in awkward silence. This was new and unfamiliar territory; territory that would never have been explored had the world not gone to hell. As it was, tragedy had thrown them together and bonds that both had reached a silent agreement not to discuss held them that way. Now the problem was deciding what to do about it.

“We can’t stay here forever,” Hermione told him gently.

“No, but we don’t know if-…” Draco paused a moment to regroup, then went on as if he hadn’t stopped. “We don’t know that the wards preventing Apparition around the area have dropped either.”

Across the room where he was perched on the back of a chair, Fawkes rustled his wings restlessly. Is he dead? Draco thought, looking at the phoenix. Has Dumbledore been killed yet? What of the others? Draco tamped down on the thoughts. That was a path best not taken. There was only one place it led, and he knew better than to linger in the realm of what might have been.

“Why don’t we go outside?” Draco suggested, already moving to the doorway. “Just let me go first, make sure there aren’t any Muggles outside.”

“All right.”

The coast was clear, however, when Draco cracked open the door and peered outside. When he stepped out – Fawkes flying over his head – and walked a few feet away from the shop, wand at the ready, the village remained empty. A muttered spell turned up nothing.

“It’s all right. Come on out,” Draco called out as quietly as he could.

Hermione edged out, wand in hand, and walked over to join him. Above them, Fawkes circled. “Anything?”

Draco shook his head. “No.”

“Should we-” Hermione’s words died on her lips as the sky around them lit up with a blinding white light at the same time as a shrill, mournful cry rang out from Fawkes. “Oh my god…”

The castle! Draco’s eyes widened as he stood there, staring out at nothing. It’s gone. They’re gone…

“The- Draco, no! Come back!”

Spinning around on his heel, Draco took off at a dead run. Behind him, Hermione was still calling his name. Draco did not hear her. Dimly, with the part of his brain that was attuned to all things magical, Draco could sense Fawkes flying above him. Ahead of him stretched the path that led to Hogwarts.

It was too late.

Draco ran anyway. Faster than he had ever run in his life.

Severus felt Harry nudge him in the ribs and turned his head, following Harry’s line of sight as he pointed off into the distance. There were three more uniformed men, slinking along the path.

And so you end up killing them anyway. I am sorry, Harry.

Everything had happened so quickly.

The faculty had scattered, as the echoes of Albus’ farewell died away, each seeking out the place best suited to their unique talents. Some had remained relatively close to the castle; others had spread out along the grounds. Albus and Minerva had immediately disappeared into the bowels of the castle. Severus and Harry – already accustomed to fighting together after the trials of the Dark Lord and having no intention of separating even if they hadn’t – had gone down by the lake, casting concealing charms on themselves as they went.

When the first armed Muggle had appeared before them, Severus had not hesitated. Even after all the years that had passed, Avada Kedavra still came easily to his lips. Harry, loath as Severus knew he still was to kill a Muggle, had opted for a disabling curse on the next soldier. It was not until Hagrid has come lumbering over a hill only to be gunned down before Harry’s eyes had Harry uttered the Killing Curse.

After that, there had been no hesitation.

There is no mercy in war, Harry. For your sake, I wish there was.

For his own sake, Severus did not care. They had invaded his home, they had begun killing his people, they were Muggles, and they had hurt Harry. Any empathy Severus might have been able to conjure for them had vanished; only to be replaced by the deep-seated hatred his family had always had for Muggle-kind. The Death Eater inside of him, long chained by Albus’ forgiveness, had finally broken free.

The area around their chosen stretch of lake was now littered with Muggles.

Severus stood up from his crouch, feeling Harry do the same. These three would be no threat. Severus raised his wand, the words of the Killing Curse on his lips.

For one split second, Severus felt the air around them thrum with energy.

A brilliant flare of light exploded all around them. Beneath his feet, the ground heaved.

Albus is dead. The certainty of the knowledge knocked the air from his lungs.

All around them, extending out from the epicenter of the spells that had destroyed the castle, the magic surged in chaotic waves.

The wards fell.

And the spell of concealment that had allowed Severus and Harry to move about the grounds invisible to the Muggles faltered.

As Severus blinked the afterimages of the flash out of his eyes, he felt Harry stumble against his back. No!

Time seemed to freeze then, as Severus whirled around, his hands reaching out to steady the Gryffindor. Oh gods, no…

A fleeting sense of pressure passed over his back.

Severus barely noticed, so focused was he on Harry’s slumping body. And then his fingers, gripping so tightly to Harry’s arms, suddenly became slack. Unable to retain his grasp on the younger man, Severus could only watch in helpless horror as Harry crumpled to the ground.

It was so hard to breathe.

“Harry…” The word was a breathless gasp.

Severus felt his knees buckle, though he did not feel the impact when his body hit the ground. Something wet slide down his face, his vision grew hazy and dim.

Harry…

His hand would not respond, as Severus bent his scattering focus toward reaching Harry. If I… just touch him…

Just… touch…

Everything went black.

Author’s Notes: This marks the end of One Moment. The story continues in Written in the Sand, the fourth segment of the series that I’ve collectively called Embers and Ashes. I assure you that I am not going to give up on the story now, so you need not worry about my losing interest.

Thank you, everyone, for following me on this journey, for encouraging me and sharing your thoughts about the story and the characters.

To Starrygazer – This chapter I dedicate completely to you, on the grounds of a conversation we had a long time ago about cliffhangers. - As to the story itself, I dedicate it all to you. You are, without a doubt, the best friend that I have ever had. Without even trying, you lit up the darkness that Cache’s absence left behind. And for that, I thank you with all that I am. Happy Birthday, my friend.

To Stellahobbit – My awesome beta, who has bravely slogged through the morass of this mess. I am truly grateful for all of your help. It wouldn’t be what it is, without your guidance.

To Isis and the rest of the cats – You can’t read this, Icy. But you’ve laid by – and on – my computer for hours as I worked on it. You’ve attacked my hair, chewed on my head, and clawed your way through all of the hurt. I don’t know what I would have done, all those hours of staring blankly at the screen, without the background accompaniment of you, Finnigan, and Bud knocking things over, running into each other, and growling and snarling at each other. You gave the emptiness meaning.

And to you, Cache – To you, I dedicate my life.