A/N: This story was inspired by the drawing 'Before the Dawn' by Gwyllion. you can find the picture here - http:www. livejournal users/ thegwyllion/ 47881. html#cutid1 just remove the spaces

Harry raced through the corridors of the ancient house, not caring anymore about how much noise he made. Now was his chance to escape. Once again it was the end of the year and Voldemort had found a way to get him away from the school and into his clutches. He could hear the pounding feet of the Death Eaters following him, feel the curses rushing past his body. His heart beat fast, adrenaline coursing through his veins, and breathing was becoming painful, but he continued on. To stop was to die.

Finally he reached to main doors, throwing them wide open as he dashed out of the house. Unfortunately he made a better target out in the open, and was taken down with a well placed blasting hex. He was sure he felt several ribs snap as he landed roughly. Before he could get to his feet, the Death Eaters had surrounded him once more.

"Well, well, well, thought you could get away, did you?" Voldemort taunted. "Never again boy, never again will you defy me. Tonight I will rejoice as your lifeblood runs out of you body and soaks into the ground, relishing the screams of pain you make as you leave this retched world once and for all." He cackled.

"In your dreams." Harry spat.

"Crucio." Voldemort hissed. Harry sank to the ground, convulsing in pain, but he refused to scream. He wouldn't let that bastard have the pleasure of hearing him scream.

"Aww . . . is wee wittle Potty in pain?" A simpering female voice asked once the curse was released.

"Fuck you." Harry said, voice hoarse. He could taste blood in his mouth and spat it out.

"Now, now Potter, no need to be vulgar." An oily voice that could only belong to Lucius Malfoy said.

"Enough. Potter dies tonight!" Voldemort said with a high-pitched laugh that was more of a cackle. He was cut off, however, by a series of pops that indicated the arrival of several witches and wizards by way of apparation.

"Destroy them!" Voldemort ordered. Immediately all the Death Eaters turned to face the advancing Order of the Phoenix. Curses flew between the two sides, lighting the night sky with an eerie glow.

"Seems I have you all to myself Potter." Voldemort said. "And I've learned from my mistakes. No more waiting around, though it is so much fun. No, this time there is no chance of escape. Goodbye Potter, have fun in hell. Avada Kedavra." Harry could do nothing but stare like a deer caught in the headlights as the green light exploded from Voldemort's wand, heading straight for him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a dark figure rushing toward him as well. Seconds before impact he realized who it was and what they were doing.

"NO!" Harry shouted, too late. The figure moved in between him and Voldemort, and Harry watched helplessly as the curse connected, dissipating into the body as it crumpled to the ground.

"No . . ." Harry breathed.

"TRAITOR!" Voldemort screeched, kicking the crumpled form of one Professor Severus Snape. He could do nothing more though, as the order was rushing over to them. Voldemort, sensing defeat, apparated away. The battle between his followers and the light side continued, however.

Harry was oblivious to all of this as he crawled to the body of his fallen professor. Frantically he searched for a pulse, for any sign of life, knowing it was futile but hoping he was wrong just as well. Nothing was there. He was dead. Curses flew over Harry's head, people ran past him, but all he saw was the lifeless body of his professor.

Tears flowed freely down Harry's face as he gathered Professor Snape's body to his, holding him in his arms. Harry pressed his face into the professor's shoulder, gripping the limp body like a life line. He screamed out all of his sorrow, all of his fury, all of his emotions in one primal scream as he clung to the corpse before descending into tears and sobs wracked his entire body.

Why? Why him, why now of all times? Sure Professor Snape was a bastard to him most of the time, especially during the training Dumbledore had forced them into, but they had just begun to get past the state of being constantly at each other's throats. Why, as soon as even just the potential for love and caring was there, did he have to be taken away? Was this some kind of sick cosmic joke? Why was he never allowed to care for anyone without them dying? Why did another person have to die because of him? All these questions and more ran through Harry's mind as he sat screaming and weeping, slowly rocking back and forth as he held his professor's body.

"Harry?" a voice asked, accompanied by a hand on his shoulder. Harry jerked away from the touch, but it returned. "There's nothing you can do child, I'm sorry." The tired voice of Albus Dumbledore said.

"No!" Harry shouted, voice cracking, his throat raw from emotion and screaming.

"He's gone child, let him go."