1. The Showdown

The Final….Closing Scene…Book 7.

Rated PG-13

Standard disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended. This is merely for entertainment purposes.

Author’s notes: I wanted to thank both Marie Granger and Dome36 for their feedback on this story. This is my attempt to look at the clues in canon and try to predict how I think it will all end. Read at your own risk of being forever spoiled…

Harry Potter opened the door slowly and saw his worst fear before him. At the front of the chapel stood Voldemort and Snape, they were standing over the outstretched body of Hermione Granger who lay motionless on a table.

Voldemort gave a wicked smile as he saw Harry approach.

“You could have saved your precious Mudblood, but your opposing me and my loyal followers has led to this. It is too late for her, but you can still save yourself. Bow down to me, promise me your fealty and I shall let you have a better fate than hers.”

Anger coursed through Harry’s body. He couldn’t believe that Dumbledore had ever trusted Snape. It had led to his death, Harry was sure of it. He simply didn’t believe that Dumbledore had died of old age. Now, Snape had caused Hermione’s death. Harry felt a hatred for Snape more acute than he did for Voldemort. He had lost his parents when he was a young child, and lost Sirius two years before. Those losses had been hard for him to accept, but the thought of losing Hermione seemed to pierce a large hole in his heart.

Harry glared at Snape, ignoring what Voldemort had just said. “You did this to her.”

“Yes,” Snape answered coolly. “She was always a very trusting young woman. She seemed to believe that any teacher hired by Dumbledore was to be trusted. She didn’t understand that a spy is someone never to be trusted, that trust led to where she is now. At least she had some spark of intelligence; you however have always been a dullard. From that very first lesson, you demonstrated to me that you were merely trying to coast on your celebrity status. I doubt that a single thing useful thing has ever penetrated that thick skull of yours.”

Harry felt bile rising in the back of his throat. It was just like Snape to remind him of that first day of school when he was asked all sorts of questions about potions Harry couldn’t have known about. Harry could still remember angrily writing “powdered root of asphodel” and “infusion of wormwood” with his quill after suffering that public humiliation. He then remembered something from that overgrown bat had said in his self-aggrandizing speech, something about trying to stopper death. Harry looked at Snape’s glittering eyes and began to wonder if Snape was trying to give him a clue. Perhaps Hermione wasn’t dead after all; maybe she was just under the effects of a sleeping potion.

“Master, perhaps this boy should have some time to reflect on his options,” Snape said. “He’s never been very bright, and now that his private tutor has been taken away from him, he’s going to have to do some thinking on his own for a change. He needs to decide if he would rather join us and share in power over the weak, agree to be banished from our world, or if he’d rather go the heroic martyr’s route and be imprisoned like his late godfather.”

He then conjured a large hourglass with emerald beads in it. Voldemort placed it on the table next to Hermione and the beads started running to the bottom.

“When the hour is up, I shall return for your answer. Needless to say, you will not be allowed to leave this building. Enjoy spending some time with your dead Mudblood girlfriend.”

With the swish of two cloaks, the two people on earth that Harry loathed the most left the chapel.

Harry sunk to his knees and placed his face in his hands. He needed to think, but was feeling overwhelmed. He could never join the Dark Side, nor could he leave and allow them free reign to terrorize Wizards and Muggles alike. And living as a prisoner? How would that be living?

No, what he needed was Hermione. He needed her by his side, only then would he know what needed to be done.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something hidden in the corner of the pedestal. It was a mortar and pestle. He lifted it up and smelled the powder clinging to the sides. It had the acrid smell of wormwood. Perhaps she was only asleep. The Draught of Living Death…His mind jammed as he was trying to think back to the rest of that painful lesson so many years ago.

“Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

The stomach of a goat. That’s where he should look. A goat, but where was he going to find a goat? He couldn’t leave the building, and his wand had been taken from him earlier that day. He felt utterly helpless and alone. Harry closed his eyes and started thinking back to his second year when he fervently wished for help to come and somehow Fawkes came to his aid. Maybe it could happen again, if he asked for help.

Suddenly a plan came to Harry. As he kneeled and prayed for Fawkes to appear, he heard the familiar cry of the phoenix as it appeared out of thin air and came to rest at his feet. Harry stroked the bird and then started going through Hermione’s book bag that lay on the ground beneath the table. He found a quill, parchment and a small ink bottle.

Ron,

This is an emergency! Get my father’s cloak and map and go to the Hogshead Inn and tell Aberforth that you need a bezoar. Use my Firebolt, and then bring the stone to me at the chapel behind the cemetery.

Hermione’s life is at stake, there is no time to waste.

Harry

He gave the note to Fawkes and told the bird to take it immediately to Ron. Harry could only hope that Ron could fly out the Gryffindor Tower window wearing the Invisibility Cloak and get past the Death Eaters that had laid siege to the castle. Harry began to pace in nervousness, but found that it only increased his anxiety. He turned and looked closely at Hermione, trying to see if there were any signs of life left in her.

Hermione looked as if she were peacefully sleeping; however there was no rise and fall of her chest to indicate that she was breathing. She was still, as still as a statue. Harry was forcefully reminded of her being petrified in their second year. At that time, her eyes were wide open and her hand was outstretched as she had held a mirror to protect herself from the fatal gaze of the basilisk. Now her eyes were closed and her hands were at her side.

As if she was merely asleep.

Harry grasped her hand and felt that it was as cold as ice. Her fingers were soft and not like a rock, but they were as cold as death.

“Don’t die, Hermione,” he pleaded. “Please don’t die. We’ve been through so much together. Remember when we first met? The first thing you did when you learned my name was to tell me how many books you had read with me in them. I should have known then, that you’d always keep me on my toes.”

He looked at her sleeping face and wished that she would blink, or smile, or frown, or something. Some sign of recognition. Nothing.

What Harry wouldn’t give to see her smile again, to see that spark of fierce determination in her eyes. She meant the world to him, and it was only now with the fear that he might lose her forever that he started to realize how important she was to him. She had always been loyal to him, even when it angered him. She had witnessed him almost dying in their third year when he fell off his Nimbus 2000, so she freaked out when he got the Firebolt anonymously. She was right about its source, and she risked his wrath to try and protect his life. He had been such a prat towards her, because he temporarily lost a racing broom. She never once in all their years together doubted him, his abilities or his sincerity. She pushed him to succeed, and at times he resisted it, but he needed her.

Harry needed Hermione badly.

He was mentally willing the idea that there was still time to save her life. He wouldn’t consider the possibility that she was already dead. He couldn’t.

Ron finally appeared in the doorway, looking out of breath and frantic. Harry ran to his friend and took the stone from him. Ron was staring at the front of the church at Hermione as tears began to fall down his cheeks.

“She’s not…” he began.

“I don’t know,” said Harry as he hurriedly went back to her side.

Harry touched her cold face and pried open her jaw to place the small stone under her tongue. He didn’t know how long it would take to work, if it would work at all.

Ron had come forward, knelt, and bowed his head in front of Hermione.

Harry leaned over and began to stroke and caress her cold face. He brushed the hair away from her eyes. She was cold, so cold. He felt a mixture of hope and dread fear course through his body. He kept reminding himself that there was still time, that there was still hope.

“Don’t leave me,” he pleaded. “I need you, Hermione. You’ve always been by my side. I can’t make it without you.”

He began to feel his emotions wash over him. “I love you, Hermione,” he said as he gently kissed her cold, lifeless lips.

Harry tasted the saltiness of his tears as he continued trying to revive her through sheer force of will. And then, he felt a slight change in the kiss. Hermione’s lips began to warm up and he began to realize that his very own Galatea’s eyes had opened and she was looking up at him.

“Harry,” she said grasping his hand.

“You’re alive,” he croaked as he helped her sit up. “Be careful, there’s a stone in your mouth,” he warned as he helped her remove it.

She looked at him and appeared groggy at first, but quickly recovered as tears welled in her eyes.

“I couldn’t move at all, but I heard everything. I heard everything you said,” Hermione whispered. “I love you, Harry. I’ve always loved you.”

Harry crushed her in his arms and clung to her. As he held her in his arms, he began to draw strength from her. He began to see that there was a fifth alternative that he had never considered. For years, he thought that he would have to murder Voldemort, but now he saw another way. One that didn’t involve trying to kill the evil wizard with his bare hands.

Harry looked at the hourglass, and saw that there were only a few minutes left. He had to tell his friends what was about to happen. He kissed Hermione on the forehead and held her at arms length with his hands on her shoulders, “I couldn’t have lived with myself if you had died. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but now that both you and Ron are here, I know the course I must take.”

Harry turned and saw that Ron had a look of utter anguish on his face.

“Voldemort knows that he and I share a magical bond between us. If I die, he dies. That’s why he wants me alive, but I will never serve him,” Harry then cradled Hermione’s face in his hands. “I’d love to try and start a new life with you somewhere far away like Barbados, and try to forget everything and everyone we left behind, but it wouldn’t work. We couldn’t be happy knowing that people here were being tortured and killed so that we could try to live ‘normal lives.’ I couldn’t bear it if Ron, Ginny or the twins or anyone else were harmed. And if I don’t do this, he will kill you and I couldn’t bear for that to happen.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Hermione fearfully.

“The only thing that I can do. I have to say goodbye to this life, for everyone’s sake.”

“No, Harry, you can’t kill yourself,” Hermione said forcefully.

“You’re right,” he said kissing her cheek. “I can’t do that.”

Harry then turned and placed a hand on Ron’s shoulder. “I need your help. When he returns, I need for you to do the biggest favour anyone could ever ask. You were willing to die for me in our first year, in order to stop him. Now I need you to do what I can’t, you must stop him by killing me.”

Ron had a look of terror in his eyes. “Harry, please, no…”

“It’s the only way,” Harry insisted. “Use the Severing Charm on me, only do it clean. I don’t want to end up like Sir Nick.”

“Harry – I-” protested Ron.

“You must give me your word,” said Harry firmly. Ron looked resolute and nodded.

Hermione embraced Harry and sobbed on his shoulder. He calmly stroked her hair.

“Take care of her for me,” said Harry to Ron. “I know you love her as much as I do.”

Ron nodded again as he tried to blink back his tears.

As the last emeralds fell through the hourglass, the doors opened and Snape and Voldemort entered the chapel.

“Well, well, it seems that Snape didn’t kill the little Mudblood after all,” Voldemort said. “You surprised me and you know how I dislike surprises. I didn’t realize that you had a soft spot for young love, Severus. That is a weakness that I shall deal with later. But it does allow for a greater dilemma for you, Harry Potter. Now I can see exactly how much she means to you. It would be a pity for you to lose her twice Harry, but if you don’t join me, I will kill her myself with you as a witness.”

Harry then gave Hermione one last kiss, walked over to the table and nodded to Ron who lifted his wand and uttered the Severing Charm.

As Voldemort began to comprehend what was happening he yelled, “NOOOOOOO!!!!!”

It was too late. No amount of wand work from the most evil sorcerer of all time could stop the decapitation of Harry Potter, nor of the parallel decapitation of Voldemort. Blood spilled forth like twin fountains from the two bodies, one young and red, one old and black. The blood mixed in the air and on the floor.

Hermione was covered in Harry’s blood and sank to her knees and prayed. Her heart was filled with an immense love for Harry, so much that it shook her soul.

“You can’t leave me Harry, you can’t leave me, I love you, you can’t leave me, I won’t let you,” she said fervently.

A rush of wind blew the doors to the chapel open and a swirl of leaves encircled the altar. As it moved around the room, an ethereal glow emanated from it. Hermione felt hope rise in her heart as the spiral reached the dead form of her beloved. She closed her eyes and prayed and saw the form of Harry rise and his head reattach itself in her Mind’s Eye.

She opened her eyes and saw the smiling face of Harry Potter looking at her.

“I think you found a way to unlock that special door that Dumbledore told me about.”

She laughed and cried as she kissed him. Harry held her close to him, and then whispered, “Thank you for saving my life.”

“Sure, anytime. Thank you for saving mine.”

They turned to Ron, who looked shocked.

“Wh-what happened?” he asked. “You – you were dead, and now…”

“Voldemort was defeated by a power that he’s never known. Your love for me, helped give me the strength and courage to do the right thing, but Hermione’s love was strong enough to resurrect me to life. What saved me was the Power of Love. ”

Hermione gave Harry a knowing smile and then said, “It's strong and it's sudden. It can be cruel sometimes…”

Harry started to laugh when he recognized what she meant and joined in with her singing, “But it might just saaave your liiiife.”

Ron frowned at them, “You two are mental.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been one of those days,” Harry admitted. “Thank goodness I’m done with school...I’d hate to think that next year in June I could face anything worse.”

Harry then looked up at Snape who had walked over to them, and was surprised to see that the Potions master was wearing a genuine smile on his face.

“You did well, Harry,” he said. “You passed the test with flying colours. No one can claim that your defeat of the Dark Lord this time was by sheer luck. It was due to your stout heart. And look,” he said rolling up his left sleeve. “The Dark Mark is gone. His followers will be abandoning their posts knowing that their Master has been defeated. A new day has dawned, and now there is a brighter future. Thanks to you and your friends.”

Harry looked at him and wondered, just what is up with Snape? He began to think that maybe Dumbledore was right in trusting him after all.

“Harry,” Hermione said touching his forehead, “your scar. It’s gone.”

“Is it?” he said sounding surprised and happy. He looked at the body of the dead wizard on the floor. “Good. That means that I’m finally freed of him and that wretched prophecy.”

Hermione slid her arm behind Harry’s back as they walked out of the chapel into the rays of the setting sun. It had been one of the worst days in Harry’s life, but now it was turning out to be one of his best. He now had a bright future to look forward to. He had finished his last exams a few days before, no longer had the Sword of Damocles hanging over his head now that Voldemort was finally dead, and he had finally realized that he was in love with his best friend and the woman of his dreams. He could also look forward to possibly living a “normal life” as a wizard. Sure, he would still be known as “The Boy Who Lived” and now “The Young Man Who Vanquished Voldemort,” but he wouldn’t be as quite as recognizable in public now that he no longer bore that accursed scar.

***

Author’s comments: I wound up changing the ending to this slightly, upon Marie Granger’s suggestion. I had merely put in the Power of Love, which she correctly started thinking of the great Huey Lewis song. I had wanted to make people think of it in a subtle manner. She thought it should be more explicit, and to leave people in a better ending mood. So I did.

So, yes, I did include some lyrics from the song, “The Power of Love” by Huey Lewis and the News.

I also think, deep in my bones, that Neville will have some kind of role in the final showdown. I just can’t figure out how to include him, so I didn’t. I also have no idea whatsoever the magical significance of Harry’s green eyes, so I didn’t include that either. However, the other aspects of the story are what I am expecting come the final chapter.

Dome 36 suggested that I try and write this scene again with the perspectives of Ron and Hermione, to see what they were feeling during this ordeal. I now have, so just click on the next chapter where you’ll see Ron’s POV. I’ve almost finished Hermione’s POV, but am still tweaking the text slightly.

2. Ron s Perspective

The Final….Closing Scene…Book 7.

Rated PG-13

Part II, Ron's POV

Ron Weasley was out of breath when he finally reached the 7^th year boys' dormitory in Gryffindor Tower.

“Where is it? Where is it?” he muttered as he tore apart his trunk. “Ah, here it is!”

He brandished the latest edition of Inside Quidditch! magazine in front of Seamus Finnegan.

“Let me see!” Seamus demanded.

“Oh, it's priceless,” Ron said as he riffled through the pages. “This is a great photo-shoot. Just check out how the wind keeps whipping up her robes. I keep hoping that it'll change and you'll get to see just a little more.”

Seamus was mesmerized at the sight. “Why'd Delphina agree to do this? I mean, the way she's sitting on that broomstick…”

Ron snorted, “She found her fiancé, Barton Killingsley, in bed with a set of blonde twins.”

“Ooooh, I wouldn't want to be in his shoes,” Seamus said looking sideways at the picture, “Delphina is one of the best Beaters in the league, and the Canons are playing against the Harpies this weekend.”

“Yeah,” Ron chuckled, “I doubt that he'll be able to do anything, but try and dodge the hail of Bludgers she'll be sending his way.”

Ron and Seamus stared for what seemed like an hour at the beautiful young witch that was looking defiantly at the camera and wearing a special Quidditch robe with nothing on underneath it. They were watching how the silk fabric flapped around her curves, occasionally showing large flashes of skin. They became lost in their reverie and were totally unaware of the chaos that was happening in the castle, so they were surprised when the door to their dormitory opened and an ashen-faced Neville Longbottom entered.

“Neville, what's wrong?” Ron asked.

He tried to speak at first but no words came out. Then he swallowed and said, “Death Eaters…downstairs. They're in the process of taking over the castle.”

A chill ran through Ron's body. “How many?”

“I dunno. There's only two downstairs now, but they've taken everybody's wands as they enter the Common Room. I think by nightfall, they plan on having complete control and holding us all as hostages.”

“Why'd they let you come upstairs?” Seamus asked.

“They didn't want to be outnumbered. Even if we weren't armed, there would be too many people that might attack them. So they're trying to round everyone up and then keep us trapped in our dormitory rooms, while they work to secure the perimeter. I overheard them say that the Owlery was secured as well.”

Seamus grabbed his wand and started toward the door, Ron saw this and blocked his way. “No, Seamus, we have to think. They don't know we're upstairs. We left dinner early because of this stupid magazine picture, so we've still got our wands, but…”

“Come on, Ron,” Seamus pleaded, “we've got the element of surprise on our side. And, we're evenly matched, there are two of us and two of them.”

Ron gave him a scathing look. “You have no idea what you are talking about. They'd kill us in a heartbeat, and then any chance of beating them might be lost. Neville, do you have any idea where Harry or Hermione are?”

Neville scratched his head. “I think Harry was going to the library to look something up.”

“Harry?” Ron asked. “Sure that wasn't Hermione?”

“No. She went off with Snape to do something.”

“Snape,” repeated Ron tonelessly. “I wonder if he's part of this or not. Is he with us or against us? Harry and Hermione are out there, and we don't know what's going on with them.”

Neville shook his head.

Ron sat down dejectedly on his bed, and put his head in his hands. “Wait, we'll just have to wait.”

Time seemed to crawl, while the anxiety inside Ron began to build. A few screams in the distance were heard and he had to hold himself in check to not move from his hiding place. He had been relatively certain that the Death Eaters wouldn't want to try and enter the dormitories, the threat of being ambushed was too great. Instead, he figured they'd be content waiting downstairs and controlling the portrait hole exit. He just didn't know how long he'd be able to be patient and wait to act.

Seamus meanwhile was busy rigging a booby-trap for the door should anyone try to enter, he didn't care if Dean or Harry got blasted if they tried to enter their room, because Seamus could always perform the counter-charm.

Neville sat stone-faced on his bed and didn't say a word.

Ron began re-packing his trunk in the hopes that it would keep his mind occupied while he waited, when Fawkes flew through the walls and fluttered down at his feet. He was shocked to see the phoenix, but he quickly grabbed the letter that was held in the bird's beak.

Ron,

This is an emergency! Get my father's cloak and map and go to the Hogshead Inn and tell Aberforth that you need a bezoar. Use my Firebolt, and then bring the stone to me at the chapel behind the cemetery.

Hermione's life is at stake, there is no time to waste.

Harry

Ron unlocked Harry's trunk and found the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map that was carefully hidden on the bottom, and then grabbed the broomstick. Ron tapped his wand and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” and watched as the lines spread over the map showing the interior of Hogwarts castle and its grounds.

“What's that?” Seamus asked peering over Ron's shoulder.

“A map,” he said scanning it and seeing for the first time dozens of names of people who weren't students at the school.

“How come you didn't bring that out earlier?” Seamus asked.

Ron gave him a withering look. “It's Harry's stuff, and lately he's kept these things in his book bag, so…I didn't think about it.” He went back to surveying the map, “Damn. Where is the chapel and the cemetery?”

“Over there,” Neville said as he pointed on the map.

“Thanks,” Ron said as he swallowed hard. He saw Harry and Hermione's names inside the building, as well as four Death Eaters who appeared to be posted outside. He grabbed a handful of dungbombs and put them into his pants pocket, and thrust the map inside his robe pocket. He then mounted the broomstick, threw the Invisibility Cloak over his head and opened the window.

“Wish me luck,” Ron called out.

“Where are you going?” Seamus asked.

“To try and save us all,” he replied as he zoomed out on the fastest broomstick on earth.

Ron had always enjoyed flying on Harry's broom, but now he felt no pleasure, only a sense of impending doom. He willed it to go faster, and faster, as he held securely onto the Invisibility Cloak. He flew around the Quidditch Pitch rather than a direct route around the castle, because he wanted to avoid any potential entanglements with Voldemort's minions. He flew over and past the Whomping Willow and through a bit of the Forbidden Forest until he had a chance to fly in a circuitous route to Hogsmeade. He figured that the Death Eaters might have already cast enchantments on the gates of Hogwarts, but he doubted they'd have gotten to the more dodgy areas of the castle grounds.

Hogsmeade wasn't the bustling town that Ron remembered from the weekend outings. It seemed almost deserted. That suited him, because he didn't want to have to deal with anyone. He was on a mission, and couldn't allow for any delays. He opened the door to the Hog's Head Inn and walked directly behind the bar and stuck the handle of the broomstick in the small of the bartender's back.

“Aberforth,” Ron hissed in his ear, “I'm here on business for the Order. Take me to your backroom.”

The old man nodded, and grunted to a waiter, “Hey Oscar, watch the bar for a minute, I gotta get something from the stockroom.”

Aberforth opened a door that had blended in with the wall, and torches magically became lit as they entered a cramped supply room crammed with dusty bottles, wine casks and a small goat pen in the corner.

“Show yourself,” he commanded as the door behind them closed.

Ron took off the cloak, “I'm Ron Weasley, and I need a bezoar.”

“A bezoar?” he said scratching his beard. “What makes you think I've got one of them?”

“Look, my best friend's life is in danger, she must have been poisoned, Death Eaters have taken over Hogwarts and I don't have time to argue with you. Harry Potter seemed to think you had one, or could get me one, so please help me.”

“Why didn't you say so?” Aberforth said as he reached onto a top shelf and grabbed the dustiest bottle and tapped his wand on it. The bottle changed into a small leather pouch, and it was handed to Ron. “Inside you'll find your bezoar. Here, go out the back way, and I'll send word to your father. You'll soon have some help.”

The barkeeper then tapped his wand in quick succession over a few bricks and a small doorway opened to the outside. Ron became invisible again and was quickly flying with the strings of the pouch tightly wound around his wrists.

As he flew near the chapel, he saw the four sentries still posted outside the entrance. He grabbed the dungbombs and hurled them in four different directions hoping that they'd each try to identify the source of the smoke. As soon as the momentary coast was clear, he opened the door of the church, looking out of breath and frantic.

Harry Potter ran to his friend and took the stone from him. Ron was staring at the front of the church at Hermione, as tears began to fall down his cheeks. He had avoided thinking of what might have befallen her, but now as he saw her lifeless body, his fear took hold of him.

“She's not…” he began.

“I don't know,” said Harry as he hurriedly went back to her side.

Harry touched her cold face and pried her jaw open to place the small stone under her tongue.

Ron didn't know what had happened to Hermione, he just hoped that Harry was right and that the bezoar would save her. He didn't want to think of losing her forever.

Ron came forward, knelt, and bowed his head in front of Hermione. He began to fervently pray to God that she not die, that she be saved.

“Don't leave me,” Harry pleaded. “I need you, Hermione. You've always been by my side. I can't make it without you. I love you, Hermione,” he said as he gently kissed her cold, lifeless lips.

Ron looked up startled. “Since when did Harry start loving her,” he wondered. “I've loved her for years, and now he's…” Ron stopped himself mid-thought, knowing that feeling jealous wouldn't help bring Hermione back to life. They both needed to pray for her.

Harry continued to kiss Hermione, and then there were signs of life. Ron felt his heart jump when he saw her looking up at Harry.

“She's alive!” Ron thought with great relief.

“Harry,” she said grasping his hand.

“You're alive,” he croaked as he helped her sit up. “Be careful, there's a stone in your mouth,” he warned as he helped her remove it.

She looked at him and appeared groggy at first, but quickly recovered as tears welled in her eyes.

“I couldn't move at all, but I heard everything. I heard everything you said,” Hermione whispered. “I love you, Harry. I've always loved you.”

Ron felt as if a knife had pierced his heart, because he realized that Hermione had lied to him. He had asked her to be his girlfriend a few months before, but she turned him down and said that she didn't have time for romance, because she had to concentrate on their upcoming N.E.W.T.s and employment applications. She led him to believe that once they finished Hogwarts, they might be able to date at that time. He now knew that she never had any romantic thoughts about him, because he wasn't Harry. Ron began to fume, he should have known. She had always been obsessed about Harry. Harry, she loved Harry. It was always Harry. He was the one with the fame, the money, who got all the attention, and now he got the girl, a girl that Harry had never shown any romantic interest in at all. Harry never had to work for anything, anything.

Harry crushed Hermione in his arms and clung to her. Tears were running down both of their faces. Ron could see the love and devotion that they had for one another. Ron then felt pangs of guilt and shame. His two best friends were in love with each other, and here he was feeling sorry for himself. He then reminded himself that Harry's fame and attention was all because he had somehow survived a murder attempt when he was a baby, that Harry didn't have his parents, and had to grow up with nasty, horrible Muggle relatives, and had spent the last few years dodging a psychopathic murderer. Ron felt miserable for thinking such thoughts against his best friends. He loved them both, and could see their strong bond of love for each other. How could he stand in their way?

Harry then looked at the hourglass, and saw that there were only a few minutes left. He kissed Hermione on the forehead and held her at arms length with his hands on her shoulders, “I couldn't have lived with myself, if you had died. I didn't know what I was going to do, but now that both you and Ron are here, I know the course I must take.”

Harry looked Ron squarely in the eye. “Voldemort knows that he and I share a magical bond between us. If I die, he dies. That's why he wants me alive, but I will never serve him.” Harry then cradled Hermione's face in his hands, “I'd love to try and start a new life with you somewhere far away like Barbados, and try to forget everything and everyone we left behind, but it wouldn't work. We couldn't be happy knowing that people here were being tortured and killed so that we could try to live `normal lives.' I couldn't bear it if Ron, Ginny or the twins or anyone else were harmed. And if I don't do this, he will kill you and I couldn't bear for that to happen.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Hermione fearfully.

“The only thing that I can do. I have to say goodbye to this life, for everyone's sake.”

“No, Harry, you can't kill yourself,” Hermione said forcefully.

“You're right,” he said kissing her cheek. “I can't do that.”

Harry then turned and placed a hand on Ron's shoulder. “I need your help. When he returns, I need for you to do the biggest favour anyone could ever ask. You were willing to die for me in our first year, in order to stop him. Now I need you to do what I can't, you must stop him by killing me.”

Ron had a look of terror in his eyes. “Harry, please, no…”

“It's the only way,” Harry insisted. “Use the Severing Charm on me, only do it clean. I don't want to end up like Sir Nick.”

“Harry - I-” protested Ron.

“You must give me your word,” said Harry firmly. Ron looked resolute and nodded.

Hermione embraced Harry and sobbed on his shoulder. He calmly stroked her hair.

“Take care of her for me,” said Harry to Ron. “I know you love her as much as I do.”

Ron nodded again as he tried to blink back his tears.

As the last emeralds fell through the hourglass, the doors opened and Snape and Voldemort entered the chapel.

Ron had never seen Voldemort in person before, and he felt his body involuntarily shudder at the sight of that gray, snake-like face. Pure evil emanated from his body, and it caused Ron's blood to turn ice-cold.

“Well, well, it seems that Snape didn't kill the little Mudblood after all,” Voldemort said. “You surprised me and you know how I dislike surprises. I didn't realize that you had a soft spot for young love, Severus. That is a weakness that I shall deal with later. But it does allow for a greater dilemma for you, Harry Potter. Now I can see exactly how much she means to you. It would be a pity for you to lose her twice Harry, but if you don't join me, I will kill her myself with you as a witness.”

Ron felt a surge of anger well inside of him. He did not want to follow through on Harry's request, but knew that it was the only way. He gripped the wand that was hidden in his pocket and was simply waiting for the sign.

Harry then gave Hermione one last kiss, walked over to the table and nodded to Ron who lifted his wand and uttered the Severing Charm.

As Voldemort began to comprehend what was happening he yelled, “NOOOOOOO!!!!!”

Ron was overcome with emotion, and began to weep. He had voluntarily killed his best friend. The boy he had shared so much with, the boy he had befriended so long ago on their first train ride to school. He would now be known as The Man Who Killed The Boy Who Lived. Ron hated himself.

Hermione was covered in Harry's blood and sank to her knees and prayed. “You can't leave me Harry, you can't leave me, I love you, you can't leave me, I won't let you,” she said fervently.

A rush of wind blew the doors to the chapel open and a swirl of leaves encircled the altar. As it moved around the room, an ethereal glow emanated from it. Ron looked up in surprise to see Harry's dead body rise up and his head re-attach itself in mid-air.

Harry was gently lowered to the ground and was smiling at Hermione when she opened her eyes.

“I think you found a way to unlock that special door that Dumbledore told me about,” he said.

She laughed and cried as she kissed him. Harry held her close to him, and then whispered, “Thank you for saving my life.”

“Sure, anytime. Thank you for saving mine.”

Ron was having a hard time understanding how Harry was now standing before him, alive and smiling.

“Wh-what happened?” Ron asked. “You - you were dead, and now…”

“Voldemort was defeated by a power that he's never known. Your love for me, helped give me the strength and courage to do the right thing, but Hermione's love was strong enough to resurrect me to life. What saved me was the Power of Love.”

Hermione gave Harry a knowing smile and then said, “It's strong and it's sudden. It can be cruel sometimes…”

Harry started to laugh and joined in with her singing, “But it might just saaave your liiiife.”

Ron frowned at them, he figured it must be some Muggle cultural thing, “You two are mental.”

“Yeah, well, it's been one of those days,” Harry admitted. “Thank goodness I'm done with school...I'd hate to think that next year in June I could face anything worse.”

Snape walked over to them, and wore a genuine smile on his face.

Ron and Harry exchanged a look; Snape had just complimented all of them. That was something that no one, not even Trelawney would have predicted. Ron gave a low smile; he could never stay mad at Harry. They had shared so much together over the years; he couldn't think of anyone that he felt closer to than Harry Potter.

“Harry,” Hermione said touching his forehead, “your scar. It's gone.”

“Is it?” he said sounding surprised and happy. He looked at the body of the dead wizard on the floor. “Good. That means that I'm finally freed of him and that wretched prophecy.”

Hermione slid her arm behind Harry's back as they walked out of the chapel into the rays of the setting sun. Ron walked behind them, and began to wonder just what the future had in store for them now that they were not only done with school, but also that the ever present fear of Voldemort was over.

Ron felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders as well. He no longer had to worry about his best friend's life being in constant danger, and he now knew exactly where he stood with Hermione. He still cared deeply for her, but he was now free to seek love with someone else. Someone who would hopefully be as fiercely devoted to him as Hermione was for Harry.

Tonight was a night to celebrate, and Ron was ready for that. The trio of friends had been through so much together, ever since that fateful night when they worked together to knock out a mountain troll. And tonight, they worked together to destroy the most evil wizard of all time, and in the process saved each others lives again. It had been a rough day, and Ron was ready to celebrate life, and that he was truly alive. This celebration would be more than a simple party after a win in a Quidditch match, this would be celebrating Life, and their future.

Tomorrow would be a new day, and for the first time in several years there was hope for peace. Ron even dared to hope that Harry might be able to live his dream of having a “normal life” as a wizard. Sure, Harry would still be known as “The Boy Who Lived” and now “The Young Man Who Vanquished Voldemort,” but he wouldn't be as quite as recognizable in public now that he no longer bore that accursed scar.

***

Author's notes: I wanted to especially thank Dome 36 for urging me to write this piece from Ron and Hermione's perspectives. I have never done that before, but it was an interesting exercise which allowed me to expand some of the surrounding plot points that set up this scene.

I'd also like to thank those who reviewed my previous installment of this fic:

C.K. Talons, Gal-Texter, Goldgrin, HarryHerm84, Heaven, Hermione Granger, JF, Joogie, Lahdidah, LilLamb, Magical Me, Marie Granger, Miss Moral, Musique, NAPPA, Obsessedharryfan, Padfoot, Puck_NC, Red_Gold_Phoenix, Romulus Lupin, Shayna4H/Hr,

JF had wanted me to try and do a songfic with Bonnie Tyler's song, “Holding Out for a Hero.” Sorry, but songfics just aren't my thing. I'll work in a line or two, but that's just about it. My muse doesn't do FILKs either.

Romulus Lupin (Gil) had asked me to try and write the last few chapters and not just the last scene. Hopefully, by expanding this scene from three perspectives it'll help to satisfy his request. If not, oh well.

I'll post Hermione's POV, once I'm satisfied that I'm done wordsmithing it.

-->

3. Hermione s POV

Rated PG-13

Hermione’s POV

Hermione Granger readjusted her normally bulging bookbag, and continued to trudge behind Professor Snape as they climbed a steep hill behind the grounds of Hogwarts castle. She wondered again what it was that he wanted her assistance with. She couldn’t think of a single time when the Potions Master had asked for her help in anything. Other professors were quick to ask her to help them when they had special projects, for they knew that she would be willing and able to do whatever task they had. They also knew that she was trustworthy. Snape, on the other hand, had gone so far as to refuse to call on her in class, even though she was always prepared to answer his questions.

They had approached a small chapel that was hidden by old oak trees, behind that lay a cemetery that was obscured by a ring of yew trees. Snape continued walking until he reached a rocky outgrowth that had a low growing woody plant spreading out in many directions.

“Miss Granger, can you identify this plant for me?”

She stooped to look at the light green leaves and the white star-shaped blossoms. “This looks like false Dittany.”

“Correct. Can you tell me some of the properties of this plant?”

Hermione had to stop and think, she had studied hard for her N.E.W.T.s, but she hadn’t had to recite the medicinal uses of Dittany since her first year in Herbology. She began to visualize the page from her old textbook, and then it all came back to her. “The scientific name is Dictamnus albus, it can be used as a diuretic, to treat epilepsy, and can clear obstructions of the womb. It is commonly known as a burning bush, because the plant’s oil can catch fire, emitting a blue flame that does not harm the plant. It is one of the herbs used in the making of absinthe, and it is said that if a deer eats Dittany they are protected from arrows. This is different from Dittany of Crete, which is also known as ‘eronda’ for its aphrodisiac properties. Dittany was used by Angelica the princess of Cathay, in the epic poem Orlando Furioso, to staunch the flow of blood of a soldier that she fell in love with.”

“A very lengthy recitation, Miss Granger,” Snape said lazily. “However, you left out the circumstances in which this plant should be picked to derive its most potent magical essence.”

Hermione racked her brain, but couldn’t remember any mention of when it should be picked. She knew some herbs that were to be picked during a full moon, while others during a new moon. She shook her head, “I don’t recall anything in our textbook, or in our lectures regarding when it was best to harvest Dittany.”

Snape sneered at her, “Yes, I have told Professor Sprout for many years that the required textbooks, while adequate for covering the most pedestrian aspects of medicinal plants, lack the most vital information, such as when and who should pick things.”

Snape then pulled out a small wicker basket. “Dittany should be picked on the day of the Summer Solstice, which is today, and by the hands of a maid. Since I obviously don’t meet that latter requirement, I must ask for someone else’s help. I hadn’t thought to ask before, but do you currently fulfill those requirements, or should I ask for another female?”

Hermione sputtered in disbelief. “Wh-what?”

“Are you a maid? Or have you allowed one of your male friends to…”

Blood rushed to her cheeks. She berated herself for beginning to think that Snape was capable of being civil to her. He had found a way to shame and humiliate her, even in the process of asking her for a favour.

“Yes, I fulfill the requirements,” she said defiantly.

Snape arched an eyebrow, “Good, then I haven’t wasted my time. Please gather some plants, and put them in this basket. I can use the entire plant for different potions. When you are done, please bring them into the chapel. I shall be waiting for you there.”

Hermione took the basket from him and quickly set out to work. She was glad that she’d soon be leaving Hogwarts and wouldn’t have to deal with that insufferable man on a regular basis. She had thought that he would have treated her, Harry and Ron better since they were all working with the Order, but nothing had improved their interpersonal relationship. Snape still treated them all abysmally.

Hermione began seeing his slimy face on each stalk of flowers and viciously yanked the plant up by its roots and pounded the dirt clods loose. She could see why Snape continued to treat them horribly in class, because he was still a spy for the Order and had to maintain appearances in front of the Slytherins. However, he could have treated her with civility when they spoke privately, when he didn’t have to worry about Draco and his goons being nearby. She shook her head, and felt that this was a subject that would only cause her aggravation, and that she should just forget it. That’s when she noticed how thirsty she was getting. At first she just attributed her thirst to being in the hot sun, but soon it seemed as if her thirst was intensifying with each plant that she pulled. She started to place blame on the aromatic oils on the plant. If it could survive burning, it must have some other protective mechanism such causing someone to become terribly thirsty if they harvested too much.

The basket was half full, but Hermoine felt that she had done more than enough for that ungrateful man, and she had never felt so thirsty in all of her life. She simply needed to stop and get a drink of cold water. She opened the door of the chapel and saw that Snape was standing at the altar in front of a long table and using a mortar and pestle to grind some potion ingredient.

“Here’s your Dittany,” she tried to croak, but found that no sound came out. There was a small table at the back of the church that had a glass and a pitcher full of ice water with lemon slices floating in it. She gratefully poured herself a glass and began to drink. She had quickly consumed about half a glassful, when she realized that the water tasted very bitter. It had a metallic taste to it, and starting to feel wary, she put down the glass.

Snape looked up at her and had a wicked smile on his face. “You are far too trusting Miss Granger. I thought it might have been more difficult to trick you, but alas, you didn’t learn from Moody to be wary of food and drink that you haven’t prepared. And it was all just a simple spell, every plant you touched caused your thirst to increase twofold. I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did.”

She clutched her throat.

“Yes, the potion has already started taking effect, soon you shall appear to be dead, but you shall be quite alive and alert. That is the ironic thing about the Draught of the Living Death; you cannot sleep at all, but no one knows you are alive. As we speak, there are Death Eaters that are taking over the castle grounds, and it is likely that there will be fatalities in the takeover battle. Should your boyfriend not be able to save you, it is likely that you shall be buried alive. For in the aftermath, it is doubtful that anyone would even consider doing autopsies and realize that one of the apparent casualties, was a victim of poisoning and not just murdered outright.”

Hermione fell the floor.

“Mobilicorpus!”

Hermione felt her body being lifted off of the ground and moved through the air. She tried to open her eyes, but felt as if her eyelids had become glued shut. At last her body was placed on the hard table, and she began to fully realize the depth of his deception. She had trusted him, because he was a teacher, because he was a member of the Order, and because the late Albus Dumbledore had trusted him. Yes, but Voldemort also trusts him, she reminded herself. She was a fool. For years she simply dismissed any concerns that Harry and Ron had about Snape. They tried to tell her that Snape wasn’t to be trusted, but she wouldn’t listen. Now, she was lying corpse-like in a church, and might wind up spending eternity like Sleeping Beauty -- only six feet under. All because she trusted a teacher, and ignored all the warning signs.

Hermione could feel her heart slowing down, and her blood becoming thicker and thicker. She remembered reading about the how the victims of this sleeping potion appeared to be fully dead, that their respiration and circulation was non-detectable by traditional means. They only remained alive due to magic, and they could remain in that state of suspended animation indefinitely, until the spell was broken. She felt a great shudder roil through her body as her body temperature dropped and her limbs stiffened.

She heard Snape say, “Master, the task is done” quietly in the distance, but she tried not to concern herself with it. Right now, she was worried about Harry and Ron’s safety. She was unable to help anyone, but wanted to concentrate on them and not herself.

A few minutes later, she heard the door of the chapel open.

“Master, as you ordered, here is Harry Potter’s Mudblood girlfriend.”

Hermione was repulsed as she realized that Voldemort was standing before her and looking at her. She had never been in his presence before, but could sense the palpable malignancy surging from his body.

“Excellent,” Voldemort said. “I will have him brought here. Avery captured him in the library a short while ago. It seems that the boy was trying to fill out an employment application and was doing a bit of research for it.” He then emitted a cold high-pitched laugh. “As if he had a future to look forward to.”

Harry! she thought. Dear God, please don’t let them harm Harry. I don’t care what they do to me, but don’t let them harm Harry. He’s the only one that worries Voldemort, and the only one that has a chance of defeating him. Please, spare Harry. Please, God, I beg of you.

Hermione felt the two evil men leave her side for a few minutes. She continued her fervent prayers, and tried to send thoughts out to Harry in the hopes that he’d somehow realize that this was a trap.

“Yes, he should be here shortly,” Voldemort said softly stroking Hermione’s cheek. “Pity that such talent was wasted on a Muggle-born. Ah, but after we have gotten Potter’s compliance, we may still have some use for her. There are many potions that I’ve never had time to make, that all require blood from a virgin. That would be a good test of his loyalty to see whether or not he will brew something that contains the essence of his girlfriend.”

Oh, dear God, don’t let that happen. Please. I don’t want to be the force for any evil, and don’t let Harry have to suffer that way.

“Unfortunately Master,” said Snape, “After having taught the miserable brat for years, I’d have to say that allowing him to attempt to brew anything for you would be an utter disaster. If she hadn’t been by his side and hissing directions in his ear, he would be incapable of boiling water, let alone the simplest of draughts. Asking him to make a potion would be a waste of precious resources, even if it would make for good entertainment.”

The door to the chapel opened once more and Hermione knew that Harry Potter had come at last. It was a feeling of familiarity, and a sense of hope that came flooding to her.

Don’t Harry, whatever you do, don’t give in to him!

“You did this to her,” Harry said accusingly.

“Yes,” Snape answered coolly. “She was always a very trusting young woman. She seemed to believe that any teacher hired by Dumbledore was to be trusted. She didn’t understand that a spy is someone never to be trusted, that trust led to where she is now. At least she had some spark of intelligence; you however have always been a dullard. From that very first lesson, you demonstrated to me that you were merely trying to coast on your celebrity status. I doubt that a single useful thing has ever penetrated that thick skull of yours.”

Harry, don’t believe him. He’s trying to bait you. He’s always tried to get you to lose your temper. Stay calm, stay focused.

“Yessss,” Voldemort hissed, “perhaps the boy needs a little time to decide. I shall give you one hour’s time to decide your fate. Live as my servant, be banished forever or survive as a prisoner. When the hour is up, I shall return for your answer. Needless to say, you will not be allowed to leave this building. Enjoy spending some time with your dead Mudblood girlfriend.”

Dead? Voldemort thinks I’m dead? Did Snape lie to him? Or are they just trying to fool Harry?

Hermione sensed that Voldemort and Snape had left her side and the building. The door closed with a loud snick.

Harry, don’t give up hope. You’ll think of something. This is what you have been training for all your life. This is your destiny, to fight for all of us. For mankind. Please don’t despair. We need you. I need you.

Harry knelt before her. A few minutes later, there was a loud cry of a bird, a swoosh of warm air, and then she heard Harry rummaging through her bookbag, followed by the tell-tale sounds of a quill scratching out a hurried note on parchment.

“Take this note to Ron, do it quickly Fawkes,” Harry said.

Fawkes. Harry had summoned Fawkes. And he was going to send a message to Ron.

Hermione didn’t know what Harry’s plan was, but she felt a renewed sense of hope, because he had thought of a way to get word out. She only hoped that Ron hadn’t been captured as well, and that he could try to come to their rescue.

Hermione felt Harry’s warm hands grasp hers.

Harry, I’m not dead. I’m not. I’m here. I’m right here!

She felt his tears fall on her hands.

Harry, please, try to think of a way to save yourself. You’re more important than I am.

Hermione continued to try and somehow let Harry know that she was alive. She tried with all of her might to squeeze his hand, but to no avail. She did feel comforted that he didn’t leave her side. She began to once again blame herself for trusting Snape. If it hadn’t been for her mistake, she would have been in the library when Harry was captured. If they had been there together, and worked together as a team, he might not be in this position right now. She brooded on that thought and began wondering just how she could try to help Harry, even though she couldn’t move or speak.

The door to the chapel opened again, but Hermione knew that a full hour couldn’t have passed by already. Harry left her side and ran to the front of the church. Then she heard Ron’s familiar voice asking, “She’s not…”

“I don’t know,” said Harry.

Hermione felt Harry return to her side, touch her face and pry open her jaw and place something hard under her tongue. Instantly she felt a warm glow fill her mouth, and then the warmth began to pulse throughout her body. Her body felt as if it were thawing out of a deep freeze and needles began to prickle in her arms and legs as the solid blood mass began to liquefy, and her heart began slowly beating once again.

Harry began to stroke and caress her cheek, and then brushed the hair away from her eyes.

“Don’t leave me,” he pleaded. “I need you, Hermione. You’ve always been by my side. I can’t make it without you. I love you, Hermione,” he said as he gently kissed her.

He loves me. Harry loves me.

Hermione began to feel her chest rise and fall again. She tasted the saltiness of his tears that had spilled into her mouth, and willed herself to return his kiss. As her lips started to move, her eyes fluttered open. She looked up to see Harry looking at her with an intensity she had never seen before.

“Harry,” she said grasping his hand.

“You’re alive,” he croaked as he helped her sit up. “Be careful, there’s a stone in your mouth,” he warned as he helped her remove it.

She looked at him and appeared groggy at first, but quickly recovered as tears welled in her eyes.

“I couldn’t move at all, but I heard everything. I heard everything you said,” Hermione whispered. “I love you, Harry. I’ve always loved you.”

Harry crushed her in his arms and clung to her. She could feel his body wracked with sobs, and she began to comfort him in her arms and tried to give him the strength he would need for the showdown to come. Tears ran down both of their faces. Hermione was grateful that one spell was broken, and she felt confident that somehow by working together they could overcome anything.

Harry turned and looked at an hourglass that was sitting on the table next to Hermione; there were only a few minutes left. He kissed Hermione on the forehead and held her at arms length with his hands on her shoulders, “I couldn’t have lived with myself if you had died. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but now that both you and Ron are here, I know the course I must take.”

Hermione turned and saw Ron had a look of utter anguish on his face. She had forgotten that he was here, and she felt a pang of guilt for professing her love to Harry in front of him. She knew that she had hurt him, for he would now know the truth of why she couldn’t be his girlfriend. Her heart had been given to someone else, but it was only now was that her love was returned. She sighed, and willed herself to stop thinking about this, because Voldemort was going to return at any moment, and all of their lives were in danger. This simply wasn’t time to reflect on Ron’s hurt feelings.

Harry turned to Ron, “Voldemort knows that he and I share a magical bond between us. If I die, he dies. That’s why he wants me alive, but I will never serve him.” Harry then cradled Hermione’s face in his hands, “I’d love to try and start a new life with you somewhere far away like Barbados, and try to forget everything and everyone we left behind, but it wouldn’t work. We couldn’t be happy knowing that people here were being tortured and killed so that we could try to live ‘normal lives.’ I couldn’t bear it if Ron, Ginny or the twins or anyone else were harmed. And if I don’t do this, he will kill you and I couldn’t bear for that to happen.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Hermione fearfully.

“The only thing that I can do. I have to say goodbye to this life, for everyone’s sake.”

“No, Harry, you can’t kill yourself,” Hermione said forcefully.

“You’re right,” he said kissing her cheek. “I can’t do that.”

Ron had a look of terror in his eyes. “Harry, please, no…”

“It’s the only way,” Harry insisted. “Use the Severing Charm on me, only do it clean. I don’t want to end up like Sir Nick.”

“Harry – I-” protested Ron.

“You must give me your word,” said Harry firmly. Ron looked resolute and nodded.

Hermione embraced Harry and sobbed on his shoulder. He calmly stroked her hair.

“Take care of her for me,” said Harry to Ron. “I know you love her as much as I do.”

Ron nodded again as he tried to blink back his tears.

As the last emeralds fell through the hourglass, the doors opened and Snape and Voldemort entered the chapel.

Harry then gave Hermione one last kiss, walked over to the table and nodded to Ron who lifted his wand and uttered the Severing Charm.

As Voldemort began to comprehend what was happening he yelled, “NOOOOOOO!!!!!”

Hermione was covered in Harry’s blood and sank to her knees and prayed. Her heart was filled with an immense love for Harry, so much that it shook her soul.

“You can’t leave me Harry, you can’t leave me, I love you, you can’t leave me, I won’t let you,” she said fervently.

She opened her eyes and saw the smiling face of Harry Potter looking at her.

Harry, my love, you came back to me.

“I think you found a way to unlock that special door that Dumbledore told me about.”

She laughed and cried as she kissed him. Harry held her close to him, and then whispered, “Thank you for saving my life.”

“Sure, anytime. Thank you for saving mine.”

They turned to Ron, who looked shocked.

“Wh-what happened?” he asked. “You – you were dead, and now…”

Hermione gave Harry a knowing smile and then said, “It's strong and it's sudden. It can be cruel sometimes…”

Harry started to laugh and joined in with her singing, “But it might just saaave your liiiife.”

Ron frowned at them, “You two are mental.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been one of those days,” Harry admitted. “Thank goodness I’m done with school...I’d hate to think that next year in June I could face anything worse.”

Snape walked over to them, and was wearing a genuine smile on his face.

Harry and Ron exchanged a look, and Hermione felt an old familiar sense of camaraderie pass between them. She felt a sense of relief, she knew that their friendship would still be intact, even in the face of her and Harry’s newly professed love for each other.

Hermione then began to wonder if Snape had set this whole thing up as an elaborate test for Harry. Would he have let her be buried alive if Harry hadn’t saved her? Or worse, would he have allowed her blood to be used in Dark Magic? She didn’t know. She also couldn’t see herself ever trusting that man again. She shook her head, and turned to look at Harry and was startled when she noticed that his face looked different than she remembered.

“Harry,” she said touching his forehead, “your scar. It’s gone.”

“Is it?” he said sounding surprised and happy. He looked at the body of the dead wizard on the floor. “Good. That means that I’m finally freed of him and that wretched prophecy.”

Hermione slid her arm behind Harry’s back as they walked out of the chapel into the rays of the setting sun. She wanted to feel his strong arms around her and to be reassured of his love for her. The events of the last few hours had left her emotionally drained, but right now, she wanted simply to be alone with him. She knew that the world would want to celebrate Voldemort’s death, and would make him the center of attention, but she didn’t want to share him with anyone, and she didn’t want to be at any party. Not tonight. She wanted to demonstrate her love to Harry in private, and to dream of their future together. She hoped that he could at long last live “normally” as a wizard, and not have to worry about constant threats to his life. She knew that he would always be known as “The Boy Who Lived” and now “The Young Man Who Vanquished Voldemort,” but she hoped that he wouldn’t be as quite as recognizable in public now that he no longer bore that accursed scar.

~Fin~

Author notes: In case anyone was wondering, Dittany is mentioned very briefly in canon. This goes to show just how fine of nits that I look for in trying to comb for H/Hr clues. It is in the “Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback” chapter of PS/SS, and Harry is in the library studying and happens to look up “Dittany” in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. I noticed that in one of my more recent re-reads and wondered if there might be any symbolic importance about Dittany, and found a treasure trove of information on the net. It is an herb that in one form is associated with blue flames, (bluebell flames anyone?), and another form found on Crete is associated with aphrodisiacs. Gotta love it!

I drew my discussion of the medicinal properties of Dittany from several different online sources that I found with a quick Google search with the term “Dittany.” I cobbled what sounded good together and left off other stuff. The bit about picking it on the Summer Solstice and by maids is strictly of my own invention, for plot purposes. I wanted Snape to humiliate Hermione, and to have a reason to delve into the personal relationship between her and Harry, and so I gave him that excuse. Whether or not the magical properties of the plant would truly be influenced by the one who did the picking is immaterial, because Hermione would have had no ability at the time to know if Snape was lying to her.

And in Orlando Furioso, the passage referred to is Canto XIX, verse 22, Penguin Classics, Volume One, translated by Barbara Reynolds:

During her journey she (Angelica) had chanced to see a

Herb upon whose efficacy she reflects.

It dittany, or if a panacea

It was, I cannot say, but its effects

Are such it staunches blood, nor can there be a

Wound it does not soothe; straightway she collects

Some samples of it from a near-by rise,

Then hurries back to where Medoro lies.

A few verses later, it is revealed how deeply Angelica had fallen in love with the wounded soldier. This was a woman who was very beautiful, but had spurned many would be lovers, because she was a disdainful woman. However, she became humbled by the sight of Medoro, and for the first time allowed love to enter her heart, and it was without the influence of any magical spell. Previously, Angelica had been passionately in love with Rinaldo due to drinking water from a magic stream, but later she had been cleansed of that passion due to drinking other magic waters that chilled her ardor. Angelica’s love for Medoro was far different because it was genuine, and not influenced by any enchantment. And Angelica used the herb Dittany to save the life of a man that she fell in love with.

This was from the same poem that popularized the hippogriff; a symbol of love.

Anyway, I wanted to thank everyone who has taken the time to review my stories. I really appreciate hearing what people think of my writing.

The Final...Closing Scene...Book 7

1. The Showdown

2. Ron s Perspective

3. Hermione s POV