Sirius PoV.:

The Queer ball snapped into war preparations from one moment to another. In one, Sirius had been dancing and singing on the dance floor with the love of his life, the next he found himself ordered to Dumbledore's office. Why Dumbledore had disappeared from the Great Hall only to call them here was one of the many annoying mysteries the headmaster of Hogwarts liked to keep. That didn't mean Sirius was very pleased with the idea that Remus and he had been sent away from the students who were relying on their guidance and expertise.

There were many things about Dumbledore that Sirius had never managed to figure out. More than anything else, it was his plans that appeared to be obscure and ominous. It almost felt like the man was thinking ten steps ahead, always anticipating actions and reactions from Voldemort himself. They shouldn't be wasting this much time, he thought and said as much as they finally reached the hidden staircase to Dumbledore's office. For once, the entrance was open, awaiting them, as if Dumbledore himself had only arrived here mere seconds ago.

Remus didn't sound as doubtful as Sirius felt, when he said: "Dumbledore has a plan. We should trust him." As much as Sirius cared for Remus, he knew that his friend still felt like he owed Dumbledore everything. It was understandable to a degree but as someone who had spent twelve years in Askaban and never had anyone, least of all Dumbledore, to defend him, it was a scary idea to trust someone with so much conviction. Despite his doubts, Sirius didn't correct him, knowing that his own hesitation could cost them important moments, if not minutes rather spent fighting this war.

"Ah. Sirius, Remus, come in." Dumbledore said. He was marching through his own office with determination, as he opened a drawer near a podest that used to hold the Sword of Gryffindor.

The door magically closed shut behind them, locking them in with anticipation and curiosity. Dumbledore wanted to be alone with them. This was the reason why Sirius was very confused when Dumbledore didn't pull out a weapon from that drawer, but something else entirely. It was a piece of jewelry.

"Dumbledore, why did you call for us –," Sirius began but was promptly interrupted. And that, in itself, was a first.

"I'm afraid I have too little time to explain," Dumbledore said regretfully and stuck the silver ring upon his finger. "Severus and Mr. Longbottom are about to kill the final Horkrux and this means Voldemort will be vulnerable." Despite the interruption and the reminder that they had little time, Dumbledore spoke with an eerie calm, or a patience that set Sirius' nerves on edge. "Once we arrive at the manor, Voldemort will do everything in his power to survive. Which means it is likely that he will attempt to flee."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Sirius asked. "While he is there, the students are in the most danger. And there are still hostages in the dungeons. Once Voldemort is gone, their defenses will break!"

Dumbledore shook his head. "There is a high chance that he will create more Horkruxes if he leaves now. Which is why I need the both of you." Dumbledore finally faced them, his piercing blue eyes scanning them both down to the very structure of their souls. "You are both the most skilled Defense against the Dark Arts teachers I have ever employed. I need you both to cast spells all around Malfoy Manor to trap Voldemort's soul inside. If you do that, no one will be able to leave the manor."

"Locking Voldemort in?" It sounded impossible. Almost too good to be true. "But what about the students? We're invading Malfoy manor! If no one can leave, then what about our people?"

"Sirius." Remus reached for his arm. "There is no time for questioning everything." His kind eyes returned to Dumbledore. "What is the spell?" He was right, of course. The sooner they stepped in, the better.

Dumbledore nodded at him, sounding grateful. It would take time, Sirius knew. But if this plan was going to work, then this might turn the tides of this battle in their favor.

"Animo captanda decrepitus animae."

-------------------

Snape's PoV:

The silence rang loud and numbing in his ears as he came to. Blinking through dust and clattering stone, Snape remembered to breathe before his lungs violently protested against the thick cloud around him. It smelled like smoke and dust. The dust covered his hair and stung in his eyes as everything around him greyed under its weight.
Faintly, he could hear people shouting, could see how someone tried to dig Theo out of the rubble. It took him a few moments to identify the dusty hair as Narzissa's. In his lack of consciousness, Snape had forgotten about them both.

Arching, and barely there, Snape tried to reach for something. At this point, he didn't even know what he was searching for, only knowing that it was important. The explosion had snapped his wand from his fingers, and he couldn't see through the misty fog. Colorful explosions disrupted the grey, reminding him that he was deaf for the moment, apart from the ringing in his ears.

The first thing Snape managed to reach felt like an almost slimy liquid, dust mixed into it, giving it a much rougher texture. The dark wooden floor remained mostly unharmed though. As he was finally close enough, he recognized that what he was brushing against was an arm.

Cold as death and ashen due to the poisoned, blackish oozing wound, Neville's arm was slippery from blood.

"Longbottom," Snape rasped, hoping that no one else could hear him. He tugged at the arm, but it gave way, motionlessly rolling backwards into a sharp looking stone. Neville did not react.

Snape heaved himself up, searching for Lonbottom's pulse.

Nothing.

"Longbottom!" He tried again, confusion growing in his mind.

"It's pointless." A quiet voice said, sitting not far from him. Luna Lovegood must have gotten to her her senses earlier than him, because she sat beside Longbottom, her hands covered in his blood, her dress ripped in places and her face so hollow that Snape was beyond concerned for her. There was nothing left of the quirky fun personality he'd grown to ignore. What was left of her was eerie, foreboding silence.

More crawling than anything else, Snape ignored her and tried to lift stones from the motionless body to uncover his face, then he moved his hand to Longbottom's neck. He wasn't breathing, his eyes glassy. His head moved due to Snape's attempt to shake him awake, but it felt more like moving a heavy, stringless puppet than a man. An unmovable object in a puddle of blood. The snake's headless body not far from his injured arm, its head completing the picture on Neville's other side.

This was the moment it fully registered, settling in Snape's consciousness like a heavy stone. It felt worse than he could have ever imagined, had he allowed himself to think this far. The green light, Bellatrix' laughter, warning signs inside his mind that told him he should have known. It was the lifeless eyes that hit home the simple fact:

"He is dead." Luna told him, her eyes darkening further.

Snape coughed again at the dust and the feeling of utter dread and misery. A grief and a regret he hadn't known he could feel caught hold of him, reminding him that -once again- Snape had failed one of his students. In more ways than one. Snape pressed his lips into a thin line, not allowing himself to show his grief.

For a few moments, Snape stared at the student he'd taunted for so many years. Who had been so easy to torture with words alone. A Gryffindor through and through, a dead hero, like the man Snape had despised for most of his life.

It had registered now, but Snape still couldn't understand it. Neville Longbottom wasn't at all like James Potter or those other Order members who ran headfirst into trouble. Longbottom was merely a kid. Merely someone who had wished to fulfill whatever destiny had expected of him.

What Dumbledore had expected of him.

What was Longbottom to Dumbledore, Snape wondered bitterly. A hero? Or another piece of collateral damage.

Another cough interrupted the numb silence. Snape swirled around, to find Bellatrix Lestrange stumbling over towards him. Her dress was ripped in some places, blood oozing out of smaller wounds and from her nose. Something must have hit her during the explosion because she was limping and holding her head. The pain didn't seem to deter her much, her eyes wide and manic, her grin wider than he had ever seen it. Her laughter rang through the setting dust, made the heavy atmosphere even heavier, even as she continued to stumble and sway, as if she couldn't fully make out what was in front of her.

"Severus," she sang, a wand, - Narzissa's wand, Snape's mind supplied – twirling freely in her hand. "You've been a very bad boy." She pursed her lips as though she were talking to a dog. Perhaps that's what she believed he was. No more than a pet to the most powerful wizard in Hogwarts' history. There was a moment of silence, as she seemed to remember herself. "TRAITOR!" She screeched at him, her mind clear for only a moment.

Snape got to his feet, calmly, brushing off remaining dust and blood from his cape, succeeding only in spreading the damage. She seemed disoriented, as if she couldn't quite make out a proper charm. Perhaps she'd been hit on the head. Snape used the moment to walk forward, his legs shaking under his own weight. Then, finally, his eyes caught on to something silvery and glistening, not too far from Bellatrix's feet. She didn't seem to notice it, her left eye probably blind.

Snape wasn't close enough to reach for it either. His movements would be too quick and Bellatrix was agitated already.

"How could you?! How could you betray our master!" She muttered. Yellow and green lights erupted in the dust cloud, accompanied by shouts by DA members that slowly got louder as Snape's ears stopped ringing. She sounded confused. The lights painted Bellatrix in light and shadow, one pupil wider than the other, her hair wild and crusty with blood. Something must have hit her. The laughter sounded more desperate and manic than ever, her breathing uneven and shaky.

She stumbled again; this time unable to catch herself. The wand fell from her hand and rolled over to Snape's feet.

How ironic, he thought, as he crouched down and grabbed it. It didn't even feel very satisfying, this triumph. The death of the last Longbottom, their families last suffering at her hand, too fresh, too bloody.

Finally, fear washed over Bellatrix' face, her eyes glued to the wand in her hand. "You wouldn't!" She whispered. "You wouldn't kill anyone. You're too much of a coward!"

Snape swallowed around the emotion he couldn't name and pointed it at her face. All sounds were deafened for him anyway.
"Sectum sempra."

Bellatrix Lestrange had loved three things in her life. Voldemort, her flowers and her knife. This was the first step to take down her legacy.

Snape's spell hit her right in her manic face, a giant gash wound opening widely across her normal looking eye. More wounds appeared on arms and legs, her chest and her neck, like a knife digging through skin and flesh. She screamed at him, not out of pain but anger. Her blood forming a puddle around her like the one around Longbottom. The Queen of the Death Eaters fell over as she bled out onto the Malfoy manor floor. She was twitching and turning. It took entirely too long for her gasping and screaming to stop. But eventually, it did. And Bellatrix Lestrange moved no more.

Snape watched the scene unfold without a change of expression and without remorse. Without fear.

Luna remained sitting where she was, her eyes soulless and empty. Snape had never stopped to think about her relationship with Longbottom. He doubted that anyone had paid them any mind. Perhaps not even Longbottom and Lovegood herself. But it was evident now. The grief and pain, it had poisoned the usually flowery spirit, taking her down, not even bothering to reach for her wand to defend any of them, despite the fact that she could.

It was only now that some of the Skeeters seemed to come back to themselves as well. It was too quiet here; they were wounded and delirious and didn't notice the scene unfolding. But their fear was dense enough to taste it in the air.

But that was before Voldemort's shadow began to form from the shadows of Bellatrix' bloodied body. Formed not just behind her, but right over Snape's own shaking form.

Glinting red eyes appeared far too close to Snape, reflecting in the blood of the bodies around them. A mad shout, undefinable, gave Snape his last sign that he needed to get away and that SOON.

"PROTEGO!" Snape yelled through the silence, which was just enough to avert the screamed death spell directed at him and hit someone else behind him who had just begun to move. The form of Rita Skeeter broke back into the dust, never to get back up again.

"SEVERUS!" Narzissa yelled from behind, positioning herself between the shaking and terrified form of Theodore Nott. The poor boy held his hands over his head, while Narzissa crouched down and grabbed for the only weapons available to her. She reached for stones from the ground to throw them at the Dark Lord.

A rather stupid idea really, but the sword of Gryffindor was hidden beneath rubble near Bellatrixe's corpse, which happened to be closer to the Dark Lord than anyone else in the room.

Another blade, however, seemed to have ended up beside her. When the wall of Malfoy manor had come down, it must have done the most damage inside the kitchen, because parts of the kitchen counter had crashed across the living room, a different knife embedded into it. Narzissa saw it, reached for it and pulled it out of the wood, clinging to a weapon a pureblood would normally be ashamed of.

Voldemort, not seeing her or him as a threat, used his time to wave the stones off and look around. "You've really done it now, Severus." His cold voice cut through the fog in Snape's ears. Then his eyes fell onto the Snake and his amused expression changed instantly. "No." He said, momentarily distracted and it was the first time Snape had ever heard something like grief fall from those lips. "WHO DID THIS!" Voldemort yelled around.

It was only now that the Death Eaters struggled to come closer to aid their master. Most of them seemed to have lost their wands, all of them their orientation. Snape felt paralyzed. Unsure what to do now. He felt weak, distraught, irritated. Voldemort was too big an opponent for him, was he not? His hesitation, his hesitancy, it was what he would blame himself for for the rest of his life.

"That was for Draco!" Narzissa gave away her crime in the voice of someone who was willing to die for their revenge and threw the knife at him with precise aim.
The Dark Lord swirled around in a matter of seconds, to see her hate filled eyes, her arm still raised.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The knife missed its target by an inch and clattered uselessly to the ground far off in the distance.

Snape couldn't have reacted fast enough to defend her. Voldemort hit Narzissa right in the shoulder, but it was enough to make Snape despair. With a quiet gasp, Narzissa Malfoy collapsed into the rubble. The green exploded around her shoulder, reaching her eyes. She was dead before the ground could claim her.
Snape froze where he knelt, the entire reason for joining this suicide mission lying dead right in front of him.

"Kill the child!" Voldemort carelessly shouted at one of the Skeeters and directed his wand back at Severus, who was struggling to find a place to hide. The child? Theo. He had hidden himself somewhere in the rubble behind Narzissa and now looked like the world was ending.

After Voldemort uttered the order, everything happened very quickly.

A snapping sound accompanied by golden explosions painted four more figures into the room.

"I believe that won't be necessary."

Snape would very nearly have laughed in relief. If he wasn't so distraught, so angry to see Dumbledore.

Narzissa Malfoy was dead, and Theodore Nott looked like he wished he could switch their fates.

"I hope we're not too late, Snivelus." Sirius Black grinned in Snape's direction. His easy smile, however, fell as he saw Snape's face, as he saw who Snape was crouching next to. "No." He mouthed in total shock as he saw Neville, his raised wand lowering only a little. They were too late. Literal seconds too late.

Voldemort screamed at Dumbledore, wand raised once more. From his wand hand gleamed a broken stone, imbedded in a ring. It seemed almost familiar, but all Snape could think was that Dumbledore never wore jewelry. Was THIS what had taken him so long? Whether the object was important to this fight no longer mattered to him. Dumbledore had failed them – again.

Dumbledore deterred the spell, letting it crash against reminders of the walls around them. It was now that Snape could hear more figures approaching from across the walls, DA and Order members, reaching the living room and forcing more Skeeters falling back into the manor.

"Severus." Dumbledore said, his eyes silently traveling over the corpses as Voldemort stepped back into a circle of his Death Eaters, not revealing any of his thoughts.

Theodore Nott had managed to scramble to his feet and hide close to Remus Lupin. His eyes still trained on Narzissa's lifeless body, he clung to the first adult who'd stretched out his hand to help.

"Take Mr. Longbottom and bring him back to Hogwarts, if you please."

"What?" Snape mouthed, still on his knees and not wanting to know what Sirius Black was thinking at the sight of him. How pathetic he must look. He'd failed to protect the boy, had failed to protect Narzissa, had failed to protect Nott. To be given an order felt like a forgiveness. And it made him so angry, he nearly directed the killing curse at Dumbledore himself.

Sirius Black, however, was no longer looking at him. He was more focused on raising his wand in defense against the Skeeters.

"Narzissa-" Snape tried but Dumbledore shook his head.

"Professor Black will take his cousin."

Sirius pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded.

"And do not apparate." Dumbledore said, loud enough for the Dark Lord to hear. "Malfoy manor is under siege." He raised his wand arm. "Everyone, evacuate!"

------------

Theo's PoV:

His life wasn't supposed to become worse. It wasn't supposed to be possible. And yet, Theo found himself crouching behind rubble, watching Voldemort himself stand off against Dumbledore himself, surges of power leaving him terrified and defenseless. One of his classmates dead, the woman who'd tried to protect him laying to his feet and several wands directed at himself.

Terror was not strong enough a word to describe how Theo was feeling. He was exhausted, he was tired, he wanted to lay down beside her and sleep for the few moments he was left with.

Instead, a hand grabbed his wrist, a wand raised against his attackers. Theo let himself be pulled away when the first spells were cast, reverberating and exploding against the ruins that had buried them alive. Dust and rubble exploded in his face as he tried to follow the fierce tug that would lead him... somewhere.

Safety was a dream too far away to consider a destination. There were only other places with new methods of torture waiting for him.

"Sirius, hurry up!" That voice belonged to Professor Lupin.

Theo felt a panicking ache run through his veins as he recognized the smell as belonging to another Werewolf. He was certain that Lupin would notice it soon as well. His own state of being, his perversion of an existence. He would have felt guilty for that thought, considering who was trying to save him, but he couldn't. Every bit of control over his own body had been vandalized and been taken away. He had nothing left but his hatred.

"How am I supposed to carry her AND fend of Death Eaters?" Sirius shot back, his back to them. He was sweating, Theo could taste the salt in the air. And not too far off was Professor Snape, carrying what smelled like a bundle of blood. Theo's mind went blank as he tried not to vomit on the floor. He barely registered the blond Ravenclaw marching after them, too calm for this situation, her expression a little too dark.

"Are you a wizard or not?!" Lupin snarled back.

Theo knew that Lupin had a point. But he also knew that multitasking two spells at once was difficult and a risk. And why do that for a corpse? Couldn't they care about them later? Why return them now? When the next explosion hit, a ball of bluish fire nearly burning down everything, singing the remains of Bellatrix in their wake, Theo understood that this had to do with a stupid code of dignity for the dead. Gryffindors. They would die for a dead body they barely knew.

Then why had no one saved him? Was he worth so little?

The faintly muttered 'Levicorpus' from Sirius interrupted their defense only momentarily before he continued, his face twisted in concentration. Professor Snape behind them wasn't even trying to do any of it. His wand, or rather the wand that Bellatrix had used and originally belonged to Narzissa, was tugged away as he carried Neville's corpse with an expression so hardened and short tempered that Theo didn't even know what to name it. Desperate? Painful? Frustrated? Guilty? Snape had never looked like this before. Theo barely recognized him.

The three adults pulled the corpses and Theo, although he thought there wasn't much of a difference, outside into the garden. Theo wanted to protest; he really did. He'd take the snake before he'd take that garden again, where the remains of the child he'd murdered was still laying somewhere near the deadly plants Bellatrix had grown.

Theo quivered, seeing the damage he'd done once more. The wounds had dried, but the blood was still smeared over her neck and face.

And then, as soon as Theo looked up once more, he found himself fainting with fear.

The battle outside had developed remarkably well. The Hogwart's students were surrounding the entire manor from all sides and angles, slowly forcing the Death Eaters to retreat into the walls. One member of the DA had managed to find her way into the garden and fight the Death Eaters who were hiding there.

"Fuck." That was Lupin's voice and Theo could feel his hair stand on end as they watched Fenrir Greyback engaged in battle.

It must have been going on for a while, because there was damage on both ends. Greyback's face looked like it had been smashed in, blood oozing from cuts and one eye swollen. His opponent was fighting despite a large gashing wound in her wand arm, if you could still call it an arm. Strings of muscles had been cut through, leaving bone bare and the arm no more than a limb. Even Theo, even he, who had little knowledge about magical cures, knew enough about Werewolf attacks to know that Ginny Weasley would lose her arm when this fight was over.

A grim but fierce expression made her glare deadly, her wand still fast, even as she used her left arm to fight the Werewolf. Her screams deafened beneath all the other spells thrown around them. Behind Theo, several Skeeters were slowly returning to normal as the Polyjuice potion finally wore off.

That was before. This was the last second before grief and pain would create something new and terrifying within their midst.

Everything Theo had believed to know changed when Luna Lovegood pushed her way forward, tripping only once on a stray rock. "Stop." She mouthed quietly. "This is enough." It was as if she was talking to herself.

The battle continued undeterred by their presence, blood loss making Ginny Weasley delirious and sluggish. She wouldn't do much longer, but the adulte were too busy fending off other Death Eaters and the Skeeters pushing on after them.

It was then that a pulse went through their small group of fighters. Most of them wounded or dead. Death Eaters all around them, impossible to fend off, impossible to defeat. The pulse cracked the air and suddenly, Luna Lovegood was no longer an innocent but smart Ravenclaw, she had turned into a monster.

Her eyes went wide, not with fear or shock or any emotion. There was a complete shutdown, as if any remorse or emotion was cut off in an instant. Luna Lovegood turned her wand at Greyback: "Diffindo."

The spell nearly sliced his right arm to pieces.

The hairs on Theo's neck, his Werewolf instinct telling him to flee, warning him of this new threat and it seemed to affect Greyback too. For a moment, just a moment, he was distracted, and Ginny used that moment to cast a 'Petrificus totalus.' Greyback stiffened instantly and fell face forward to Ginny's feet.

Luna didn't think to deem that enough because she stepped over, grabbed Greyback by the throat and pushed him right into the blood sucking plants. With a small move of her wand, Greyback's throat was cut open. Whatever his expression was, Theo could no longer see, he could only watch him struggling to get air and choking on his own blood instead.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still.

Luna turned around to face Snape, who was still carrying the corpse. Even Snape's expression had frozen, revealing a hint of shock, if only for a couple of moments.

'Get them out of here.' Luna seemed to say with her gaze alone and Snape all but nodded, as if it were obvious.

Behind her, another Death Eater was rising, his voice angered and furious. Before the man, whom Theo recognized as Yaxley, could do anything, however, Luna had snapped back around. "Avada Kedavra." The spell hit him with such force that the man was thrown backwards into another Death Eater.

Not much after, she directed her hand at the blood sucking plants. "Incendio." With that, she lit the second reminder of Bellatrix' legacy aflame.

Before they knew it, Luna had nearly disappeared, her wand carving a road of corpses in her wake that would give them all a chance to escape and regroup with everyone else.

Theo could do nothing but follow. The fire created a wall between them and the Death Eaters that would have followed from the manor, even as their unwanted disguises slowly dissolved in the cold air. The hour of the Skeeter army had come to an end.

Over their heads, icy cold that had little to do with the winter, followed their every step. Dementors flowing over their heads, only kept at bay by Remus wolf Patronus. Theo wondered if anyone else of their little group would have managed to cast a corporal Patronus under these circumstances. Sirius Black was too busy defending them, Snape was too exhausted, the wand not bending to his will as he liked, and Luna Lovegood gone, her rage likely creating a fire inside her that kept her protected. If it wasn't for the glowing wolf, Theo was sure he'd been targeted first.

The creatures roamed all over the sky, gaining souls after souls, even as some Patroni flew and jumped and slithered defensively over their heads.

On the south side of the manor, the first DA members had managed to break through the front lines. The fight between Dumbledore and Voldemort escalated in its center, several walls crashing down around them until what was left of the ceiling followed.

Dust exploded all around the manor, slowly hiding them in their midst and covering their escape.

More than once, their little group had to dug under new onslaughts of spells that flew criss cross over their heads, hitting people almost at random. From somewhere far away they could hear loud screams, deafened only by the distance. The screams didn't sound human, some of the explosions not like normal spell work. Theo would only learn days later that what he'd heard had been mandrake roots and firecrackers.

Only when the dust settled did it become clear where this fight was headed. Voldemort and Dumbledore were both still standing, spells flying back and forth, straying above the masses, hitting some bystanders who hadn't managed to take cover. Reds and blues and yellows blinked up in the remainder of the dust cloud, accompanied by screams and terror and calls for help.

And then, there was a voice. Loud enough to carry over the battlefield, causing the people to stop and stare.

The words themselves were swallowed by explosions and spells cast all around, but the voice itself was recognizable when you knew him. When the Green light hit Voldemort square in his backside, the war was as good as decided.

He fell to his knees, expression blank, despite the manic laugh forever glued to his face. The wand that the final death curse had been cast from remained in the air, as a red haired individual, covered from head to toe in dust and grime stepped forward. Surprised, and yet smirking, his mouth formed around words that he'd said so often that even Theo could read them from his lips. "Bloody hell," mouthed Ronald Weasley.

Bloody hell indeed.

-----------

Harry's PoV:

Explosions. Screams. Spells. Color. Lightning. Darkness. Shadows, looming threats above their heads. Patroni. Harry's sight was blurry from the crack in his glasses. His ears hurt from the loud sounds.

And yet, his full attention was directed at Draco, whom Pansy was still holding back from smashing Harry's face in.

So much rage, and hurt and pain and Harry was the cause of it. The guilt ate him alive.

Everyone else had long moved on, deeming the war more important and Harry dreaded the moment when he'd find out how many of them would die this time. This fight between him and Draco, it was going to cost at least a few, right? The cold blanket of the Dementors made his heart and mind heavier than they should be.

"You have to stop!" Pansy yelled at them both, trying, somehow, to calm them. But it wasn't working. Draco's breath came out in visible puffs, his eyes drawn to furious slits.

How long they had been here, just staring at each other, Harry didn't know. "I'm just trying to protect you." Harry directed at Draco, hoping to reach him, knowing it was futile. This war had always been the end of their relationship.

"My life is not for you to protect!" Draco snarled. "This is my choice, MY life! I never stopped you from risking your life! You never stopped anyone else!"

"Draco!" Pansy was struggling to keep Draco at bay and it was almost absurd that she wasn't even using a spell to do so.

"He used a fucking IMPERIUS ON ME!" Draco was screaming, his anger spiking.

Pansy's eyes widened and snapped to Harry. "What the fuck?"

"I can explain!" Harry said, sounding desperate and more and more frustrated with each word. How was he supposed to explain it?

"Oh, you don't need to explain." Draco's voice had taken on a dangerous tone. "I know exactly what this is about."

"And what?" Harry asked, snarling back at him, trying to find his wand with his limited sight.

"This is about your stupid hero complex! This is about your trauma that you refuse to address and refuse to deal with!" Draco said in a tone that was almost accusing. "You have to protect everyone, but you know you can't, so you're holding what little you have closer. You're treating me like I'm weak, like you own me! Guess what, scar face, you DON'T!"

Every word felt like a punch to his gut. Harry's mouth fell open, trying to protest, but he clapped it shut when he realized that Draco was right all along.

"And the worst part is," Draco whispered, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. "I finally trusted you."

He might as well have sliced him open with an axe. Harry didn't know what to say, how to apologize, how to make any of it make sense. So, he said nothing. He clapped his mouth shut, trying to find something to attack Draco with instead, trying to find a defense for himself. But he couldn't find one. Not when Draco's accusations were justified.

An explosion caught their attention, louder and more deafening than every other explosion they had witnessed so far. Even Draco froze as the walls of Malfoy manor came crashing down. And it was with a wonder, and a fear that they watched the fight between Dumbledore and Voldemort escalate, waves of power crashing like waves against even the outer ranks of the battlefield. Blue fire surrounded them, reminding Harry eerily of the goblet of fire, when suddenly, eventually, Voldemort fell.

Harry's eyes widened. 'What'?

It was over?

Draco hissed in a gasp, and even Pansy was too petrified to hold him back much longer.

It was a mistake. A mistake Harry would curse much, much later. But he couldn't blame her for her surprise. She couldn't have known that a moment later, Sirius, Remus and Snape, would return with two corpses on their shoulders.

Harry himself was too distracted to find Theodore Nott alive. He had thinned down, he had black circles under his eyes and cut wounds everywhere his clothes had been ripped open. Harry was distracted by the reunion of Pansy and Theo, who held him in a tight hug, crying painfully that her friend was alive. He was too distracted, seeing Remus and Sirius alive, even after the war.

Harry was too distracted to make out the faces of the corpses. Draco, however, was not. He'd found Neville's face first, his expression frozen in terror. His hands trembling, his mouth shaped to a quiet 'no'. A moment, only one glance later, his eyes found the dead body of his mother.

Harry hadn't noticed yet, but Draco was already stumbling backwards. His breath hitched in panic, in utter pain and a grief so allcompassing that Harry should have been able to sense it.

It took a crack of wood, breaking under Draco's feet, for Harry to gather himself again.

"Hey, wait!" Shouted Sirius, but Draco had already run off into the forest.

It was only then that Harry finally registered the price for this war. Harry had paid a lot for the first one. He still remembered the moment he'd seen Fred Weasley die, when he'd been confronted with Remus' and Tonks' corpses. He remembered the misery and grief that befell him even as the light had faded from Snape's eyes. He still remembered the pain.

And yet... the loss could barely be compared to this. Harry had lost his parents before he'd been able to think for himself. His best friends had survived and married each other.

But Draco...

Harry ran after him. Despite all the pain and torture Draco himself had endured, the loss he was bearing must hit far closer to home. Harry cut through the forest, unarmed and half blind, chasing the white hair of his boyfriend – were they still boyfriends, after this – deeper into the woods, ignoring the warnings coming from behind.

The defeat of Voldemort must have been a catalyst to help their side win against the Death Eaters, because more and more Patroni lit up behind him, making it even harder to see. The world grew colder, icier before him and he knew that the dementors were closing in, both hiding in the forest and chasing after the two of them.

Harry's misery was multiplied by the weight of the dementors' presence. And his misery was amplified by Draco's own. Draco had lost his best friend, a hero he himself had motivated, had basically sent to his death because of his encouragement. His mother, he himself had left behind in Voldemort's grasp. Theo's life, his absence barely noticed, his wounds still open and bleeding, on Draco's hands, who had promised to protect them.

And for what?

The only action Draco had made in this war was to punch Harry in the face. It was only now that Harry understood the notion, the misery he had caused rather than prevented. But Harry couldn't bring himself to regret it.

And that felt even worse. Because Neville's death cut deep. But Harry couldn't help but think that Draco would have been dead in his stead, had he jumped at the chance to fight in this war.

The darkness looming over them grew to near black, when Harry finally caught up to Draco. For a moment, Harry wanted to blame it on his own stamina, and Draco's lack thereof. Then he noticed that Draco had fallen to his knees, a Dementor looming directly over him. Draco's hand was loosely wrapped around a wand that had never produced a patronus in its entire existence. And above and beyond Draco, loomed a dementor, its ugly face only inches away from Draco's.

"No." Harry said and tripped over the root of a tree. He fell to his knees himself, finally, and totally aware that he had no wand with him, no chance to save them both. And a part of him knew, when the screaming in his head finally appeared, that even if he'd had a wand, he was in no condition to fight them.

Harry Potter had lost everything. He had even lost himself. What he wanted to protect didn't wish to be protected, the victory he could have celebrated was no longer his own.

Loneliness.

A light emerged from Draco's defenseless form and everything quietened. Before Harry could do or say anything, before he could gather the strength to take Draco's wand, his own soul faded as well.

When Sirius' Patronus finally reached them, it was already too late.

... To be continued in Chapter 24: 'Sarah'