A primal scream of anguish tore through the night, and Severus wondered where it had come from. The voice wasn’t Draco’s or Harry’s, and he suddenly realised that it had been his own. Severus was on his feet in an instant. Wand at the ready, he rushed forward—all his thoughts forgotten except his desperate need to ensure that his sister was all right. This primitive urge, so ingrained that he could not fight it, was his raison d’être since the day their mother returned from the hospital with a fussy blue-eyed baby girl in her arms. Fear tore through him like a living thing, pulsing outwards from within and destroying everything in its wake—all sense of reason. He could only think of one thing—Saturnine—as his mind repeatedly replayed the image of her tumbling over the edge of the cliff.

Severus was casting spells before he even knew it. At a flicker of his wrist, Draco and Harry were immobilised by the tombstone where they stood. He moved forward without sparing them a glance.

The two Death Eaters who had been fighting the flames had their backs turned to him, but he hit them anyway, stupefying them on the spot. It was the type of cowardly attack he would not usually have indulged in. But Severus wasn’t thinking straight. He wasn’t thinking at all. They tumbled to the ground in a jumble of limbs, and he distinctly heard one of them crack his skull open on a tombstone corner.

Acting on pure instinct, Severus kept running forward as another spell burst forth from his wand and aimed at the third cloaked figure—the man who’d dared go after his sister. A crimson streak of light surged from his wand and crashed against a shield that the man had raised in front of him. He followed it by a counterattack of his own. Severus barely moved out of the way in time.

“You’re too late to save her, Severus,” the man sneered. “Your precious sister is dead—just as you will be in a moment, traitor.”

It was Lucius Malfoy. Severus recognised his haughty voice as easily as if he could have seen the long blond hair of the man facing him.

He felt himself snarl in reply, his rage boiling up inside him and coalescing into a solid mass. It took shape deep within, birthing a dark monster with a life of its own and a will to match. And he hurled out another attack and another.

Lucius blocked each of them effortlessly. He was a powerful wizard, and Severus knew the two of them were evenly matched on a good day. But this wasn’t a good day. Severus was still reeling from his injuries, and his magic level had not increased to the fullest. But he would give it all away if it could rid him of Lucius Malfoy once and for all.

Reaching deep within, he feasted on the hate, pain, and rage. Gathering strength from deep within, he pushed it outwards and through his wand, and more blasts of light spurted out.

One of them hit home and sent Lucius falling back a few steps, knocking off his mask as it did. It revealed an enraged face and blood-red lips twisted into a disfiguring grimace.

“Touchy, are we, Severus?” Lucius taunted as he brushed a hand over his bloodied lips.

“You pathetic monster,” Severus spat through clenched teeth. “Your own son... How could you?”

“I’ll have another one. One you won’t be able to steal from me,” Lucius retorted as he hurled another attack Severus’ way.

The Potions Master chose to dodge rather than parry it, leaving him free to attack once more. But Lucius blocked it with a raised palm and wandless spell.

“You can’t win,” the blond snarled. “This will be a glorious night. The end of the House of Snape once and for all—first your annoying sister, and now you.” He snickered. “Bellatrix was right about you, you tainted freak—you’re no better than your filthy Muggle of a father.”

The words tore through Severus like a blade, cutting deep and leaving him bloody. He feasted on the fury that rose within to strengthen his magic. And he threw another attack at the blond, and another and another. He pummelled him with spells as he would have with his fists if they’d been Muggles. He’d have roared at him to shut up if he’d had the breath for it.

Lucius parried his attacks, one after the next. They crashed up against his shields as if Severus were punching a wall, and Lucius cackled at him. “Weak—like the little Half-Blood you are! Weak like your sister—weak like your father!”

Severus threw more and more attacks as he advanced further, no longer thinking about protecting himself. He could feel the adrenaline fading; his arms ached under the strain of the sustained offensive. His breaths came out in short gasps, but he refused to slow down, to relent in his blitz. He would feed his own soul to the shrine of his magic if he had to. He would rid the world of Lucius’ nasty, perverted influence—once and for all.

Desperation was the only thing fuelling his veins now, but still, Severus refused to stop. He couldn’t. He had to save Harry and Draco. He couldn’t be the reason both boys died tonight. Severus had promised the ghost of Lily that he would save her son, and he’d promised a silver-eyed baby boy that he would protect him from the monsters. He would fulfil both promises tonight—even if it cost him his life; it was a small price to pay. His life wasn’t worth much anyway.

With another primal scream that came from deep within, he hurled out stronger attacks and stepped forward as the beginning of a plan came to him. They were standing close to the edge now; it could be easy to throw Lucius over—to send him plummeting down to his death on the sharp rocks and the raging sea below. He’d hurl himself willingly off the edge, too, if it meant Lucius went down with him.

He could lunge at the blond and grab him by the middle—the momentum would be enough. A Muggle attack felt like a worthy ending for a Pureblood fanatic like Lucius Malfoy. Severus smiled as he enjoyed the poetic irony of his choice. Then, having made his decision, he readied himself for his last act of bravery on this earth.

Just then, the most impressive sight he had ever seen came to life before his eyes. A dragon surged upwards from the depth below. It reared its head up past the edge of the cliff, jaws gaping open, teeth ready to sink into his flesh. It was huge and seemed entirely made from rippling water. It undulated high in the night sky, its slippery skin reflecting the moonlight at every angle and making its surface shimmer.

Even Lucius was awed by its presence, and the fight between the two wizards halted momentarily as they looked up to gawk at it. The creature opened its scaly snout wide, and Severus half-expected the motion to be accompanied by a scream. But no sound, other than the gushing of water, could be heard as the dragon’s muscles undulated.

It was the most majestic and impossible creature Severus had ever seen. And then it did something that surprised him even more: its liquid gaze locked onto Lucius. Its slitted eyes narrowed at him as the dragon lunged forward. His wings spread, flapping as the creature hurled itself to the ground with one clear target in sight. With speed equal to its mass, it slammed into Lucius. And the blond wizard disappeared within the dragon’s open snout. Water cascaded downwards and onto Lucius, crushing him under the strength of a raging torrent. And Severus was forced to step backwards hurriedly to avoid getting caught in the whirling tsunami that shook the edge of the cliff he stood on. Jets of water sprayed him, and he tasted the salt on his tongue.

And then he saw it: the person who had called forth the dragon—the person who controlled the elements themselves. She came flying from the darkness, supported by neither spell nor broomstick. She controlled the winds just as skillfully as she had controlled the sea below—a witch more powerful than he had ever seen. She raised a hand, and the waters lurched towards the edge. In an elegant swirl, they took their final bow and returned to the sea below, leaving behind the drowned body of Lucius Malfoy.

The night was too dark for Severus to see the witch’s eyes. But he looked up into her face anyway. He knew what he would find there without needing to see it—a piercing azure gaze that he knew better than his own obsidian one. Saturnine’s feet touched the ground a little ahead of him—unhurt, safe. And he felt his own legs buckle underneath the sheer weight of the relief he felt. Exhausted, Severus couldn’t keep himself upright anymore. But Saturnine was there. Her strong arms enveloped him and cushioned his fall as she had weeks ago when he’d been too weak to make it to the bathroom on his own.

There was no pain, no hate, and no anger in her face now, and none of the fury he had felt so acutely only minutes ago. She was compassionate, tender, and caring, and Severus let himself be held as his body absorbed her warm, healing life force. Her concern and love for him enveloped him like a blanket, reaching deep inside to soothe the beast within and lull it back to sleep. And Severus went to sleep alongside it; his eyes closed of their own accord as he rested his head against his sister’s shoulder, the thumping of her heart echoing in his ears.

***

Without a word, Saturnine Apparated them all to Cove Cottage in turns, Levitating an unconscious Severus to their shared bedroom. Left behind in the living room, Harry and Draco wore matching puzzled expressions.

“What the hell was that?” Harry asked once he’d found his voice again. “Have you ever seen anything like that before?”

Draco shook his head. “I didn’t even know that it was possible. I mean, I knew Severus was powerful—but, Merlin, that dragon...”

“She didn’t even use her wand,” Harry said in awe, remembering that both of Saturnine’s hands had been free throughout the attack.

The night had been a maelstrom of conflicting emotions, and he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. He had thought Saturnine had been killed. And he’d been about to lose Severus, too. But then she had surged from the darkness alongside that mighty creature. It was a dragon unlike any he had ever seen—and he’d seen some up close. He’d watched, mesmerised, as it came down on Lucius Malfoy, crushing him beneath its liquid weight. And suddenly, the enormity of what Harry had seen finally caught up with him.

“Your father,” he hurried to say. “Oh, Draco—I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he muttered, with a shrug of his tensed shoulders. “That man doesn’t deserve your pity. He had it coming.”

Their gazes met, and he could tell the blond was putting up a brave front. Now that he could, Harry did what he’d refrained from doing in the mausoleum. He stepped forward and caught Draco in a tight hug.

“He might have been a bastard, but he was still your father,” he murmured. “I’m sorry for your loss, Draco.”

He felt the blond shudder against him as he heaved in a wet breath, and Harry held him a little tighter. “You’re not alone,” he continued. “You’ll never be. We’re here for you, the three of us. We’ll be your family now—if you let us.”

He felt Draco nod even as the tears came, and Harry finally had a name for what they were. They weren’t enemies, and they weren’t friends. They were family.