There were no words to describe how Narcissa Malfoy felt at that moment. She wanted to run to her daughter. She wanted to run and encircle her daughter in her arms. To hug her, love her, cry with her. She wanted to hold Hermione and let the child sob to her heart’s content.

Narcissa could not even feel the tears that were trailing down her face. Yes, she had lost her sister, but in truth, she had lost her sister years before. It was sad, and the grief had not yet sunk in, but her child was hurting and that grief was instantaneous. It went so deep that Narcissa would have given anything to make her daughter hurt less.

She took three steps towards Hermione but stopped when she felt the teenager’s magic. Hermione was sobbing over the body of her biological mother. Her mother. Her protector.

Narcissa had never felt more helpless.

And then Hermione suddenly stopped crying and she stood up.

She turned first to the crowd, her eyes searching from left to right slowly, but then stopping on Narcissa.

Narcissa stared at Hermione. The child had just aged a hundred years in front of her eyes. Her curly hair had fallen from its braid and there was a gash on the side of her head that was still bleeding profusely. Her wand was held limply in her hand, and her eyes begged Narcissa to make everything right again.

It was a look Narcissa knew well, but this time her heart broke because she didn’t know how to make it better. No matter how much she wanted too, she just didn’t know how.

Narcissa took another step. It was eerily quiet; especially, since just minutes before, it had been so loud with the sounds of destruction.

Something happened though. Whether it was a slight noise, or a movement, no one would ever remember. What they did remember, though, was Hermione Black throwing her wand to Narcissa Malfoy. The story would, in fact, go down in history books.

The only thought running through Narcissa’s mind was this: ‘What in the world is she thinking?’

~*~*~*~*~

Time froze for Severus when he realized Bellatrix was going to push Hermione out of the way. He had been a spy for so long that he was certain he had known what was happening before anyone else. He had been a spy for far too long not to notice small movements out of the corner of his eye.

Of course, nearly everyone had noticed the movement even if they had not, at first, realized her intent. It was the fact that Severus always tried to think three steps ahead of everyone else that allowed him to realize what was happening.

This time he hated being right.

He listened to the sobs of Hermione as he slowly started to make his way through the crowd.

Harry was on the ground, and Severus needed to get to him. He could tell the boy was hurt, but unless he was able to get to him before bloody Potter got to him, Severus would be of no help.

He could feel someone following him, and he knew that it was Rose without even turning around. Her agenda was probably more desperate than his own. She needed to hold Harry close to her, look him over herself, simply to make sure that the boy actually was alive.

Severus merely needed to help him heal.

He also had to be cautious of Hermione. He could feel the waves of magic flowing off of her. This was no time to make a mistake.

But the one thing that always happened when dealing with one’s children happened.

The unexpected.

When he saw Hermione toss her wand to Narcissa, Severus simply stared. He was standing on the left side of the Great Hall, trying to get to Harry, but stopped to watch Hermione for a moment.

He could have dropped a pin in the Hall and it would have been heard it was so quiet.

After tossing her wand to Narcissa, Severus watched Hermione turn back around. Hermione kissed the tips of her first two fingers, and then leaned down and placed her fingertips to the forehead of Bellatrix.

Part of Severus was in awe of the strength the girl was showing. He wasn’t sure how the other part felt.

Severus turned his head to look back at his son, only to notice the boy was standing.

Severus sighed.

Harry had obviously done something to his ankle. His child looked beaten, hurt. Yet, he still had the strength to walk towards Potter. He still had the courage to do what he felt he had to do.

Severus knew what that felt like. It was an urge that built in the pit of one’s stomach and worked its way up until the urge was so great that the task had to be executed.

Severus knew his son well. While he wanted Harry to sit down, lay down, to do whatever he must in order to survive the battle, he knew that it wouldn’t work that way. Harry was too much like his father, too much like a man who knew what it felt like to lose everything.

But he was also the same as the man who had gained nearly everything back. Harry Snape, however, was not going to let his bonded go without a fight. He couldn’t.

He loved her too much. He had loved her since they were children. They were two parts of a whole. Severus knew, though, that while Harry thought Hermione could live without him if he was killed, and Hermione thought the same if Harry lost her, Severus knew different.

True bond mates were rare. After they had told the children that they were, for all purposes, soul mates, Severus and Lucius had hid all the books in the Malfoy library about them…not that there were many. Three. There were none at the Hogwarts library.

But they hadn’t wanted them to know, hadn’t wanted them to be afraid when they were young.

If one died, they both died. Their souls were too connected, too intertwined with one another.

Severus wondered if he had told his son this, if he would be so quick to sacrifice himself, if for no one other than Hermione.

~*~*~*~*~*

Harry stood up. His left ankle was swollen and hurt, but he blocked it out. He didn’t want to pay attention to the pain. What would it really matter if he was fixing to die?

The same thing kept running through his mind: he had to kill Potter to protect his family.

Harry watch as Hermione threw her wand at Aunt Cissy. What the bloody hell was she doing? What was she thinking?

Harry stared at her for several moments.

“No, Mione.” Harry whispered. Unfortunately, despite the whisper, James Potter swung around and glared at Harry.

“Tsk tsk. Baby Snape has decided to play a bit more? Your girlfriend has already given up. I have already killed her mother. She doesn’t care what happens to you. What do you have to say now, little Snape?”

“I believe that you are an utter bastard, Potter. You are a jealous coward. And I am fixing to kill you.” Harry said, stepping closer to the man.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione walking closer to them.

What was going through her mind? He glanced past Hermione and saw Aunt Trixie laying on the floor, dead, the light completely gone from her face. Near her was Aunt Cissy.

He had never seen the woman so…disheveled. In the midst of everything, it stuck out in his mind. Her dress, a deep blue velvet, was dirty, and torn. Her hair was falling down. Then Harry laughed to himself. How in the world had she fought in a dress? Harry shook his head in an attempt to clear it.

His field of vision also included Uncle Lucius. The man was holding onto Aunt Cissy’s arm, trying to keep the woman from running. He didn’t understand why. Didn’t Uncle Lucius know that they needed to get Hermione and protect her?

Draco was behind them both. He looked frozen. Harry wished that he would be able to make fun of Draco’s unkempt hair after everything was said and done. The older boy had always been particular about his hair, and with Harry caring less about his hair that stuck out everywhere because he refused to grow it out like his father’s. Again, Harry stifled a small laugh.

Next, he looked at his mother. She, too, was dirty and unkempt. Her massive curls were everywhere, her golden eyes were glowing slightly, a sure sign of her displeasure at the scene before her. Harry wondered if she knew how much he loved her. Did she know that she was one of the reasons that he had to end this? He hoped that she did. She was part of his world. She protected him, she cared for him, she disciplined him when needed. She loved him. And he loved her. She was his. His mother.

Harry looked more. He bypassed familiar faces. He passed the face of Ron. Mrs. Weasley. Luna. Flitwick. He passed over them until he looked over to his left side and finally found his father.

His father. The man who had found him and saved both him and Hermione from a lifetime of hurt and pain. He was the man who had yelled at him, and then later apologized for yelling so many times that Harry had lost count. He was the man who had discovered he and Hermione messing around with Polyjuice potion, and then had them scrubbing cauldrons at the manor for weeks. He was the man Harry depended on when he needed help.

He was Dad. And Harry was doing this to save him as well.

“Little Snape, going down memory lane, trying to decide just how to defeat me; trying to decide how to say goodbye before you die. Well, Baby Snape, I almost hate to tell you: It isn’t going to work.” Potter droned on, his voice dripping with sarcasm and hate. Harry stared at him with disdain, and his own hate.

Harry then turned his face over to Hermione, and realized that she was much closer than she had been, her magic literally causing her hair to fly behind her, her caramel eyes glowing in a way Harry had only seen his Mum’s eyes glow. Harry could feel her magic searching. Searching for him.

He took a deep breath, and suddenly he was overtaken with the need to run to her, to his bonded, no matter what the consequences were.

Harry took another deep breath, he stood straighter than he had ever stood before, and then ran.

He ran straight for Hermione, hitting her with a flash of magic that caused them to only see each other for several moments.

“It’s time, love. It’s time. This is how it all ends.” Hermione whispered into his ear. Harry nodded, and hugged her to him. He bent his head, “I love you. Always. Now, let’s finish this, for them.”

Hermione nodded, and then stepped away, keeping her right hand latched onto Harry’s left.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Lucius watched the magic surrounding Hermione and Harry. It was all he could do to keep Narcissa from running towards them. But it was no longer in their hands. There was literally nothing else they could do for those two children.

The magic coming off of the two fifteen year olds was humming. Lucius was positive that he had never felt magic that strong, so intense…so fluid and powerful.

He looked at the satanic form of James Potter, the megalomaniac, who was staring in anger at the duo in front of him. Staring in anger at something he had never had, and never would have. The power of true love, of soul mates.

Hope entered Lucius’ very being when he realized that perhaps those children did have a chance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Severus stopped when Harry and Hermione clashed together, their magic combining as one.

He held his breath when they stepped apart and let it out slowly when their magic was felt all around the room.

All Severus could do was listen.

“Potter, this all ends here!” Harry yelled.

Suddenly, before anyone could say anything, Harry and Hermione lifted their combined hands towards Potter. Harry dropped his wand. It was no longer needed.

Harry and Hermione whispered together, and then, so quickly that everyone in the room nearly missed it, threw a stream of continuous, pure magic at Potter.

At the same time, Potter threw an Avada Kedavra at the pair, both met in the middle.

It was a sight to behold. It would, had it not been such a tragic moment, have been a breathtaking moment to see the bonded pair, Harry and Hermione, sharing such pure, white magic. It contrasted against the bright green of Potter’s death curse greatly.

Severus watched as Harry looked over towards him. Past him.

“We all have to fall down sometimes, Potter! Neville! It has to be you! Now!” Harry screamed, and then went back to focusing on Potter.

Severus whipped around quickly to look for the Longbottom boy. There he was. Standing not eight feet away from Potter, his wand in hand.

“Potter!” Neville yelled, “Expelliarmus!”

It was exactly the distraction needed.

For when Neville yelled his name, he looked.

When Neville cast the Expelliarmus spell, Potter lost his grip on his wand.

And at that exact moment, Harry and Hermione put up their outer hands, Hermione’s left, Harry’s right, and Harry pulled Hermione into a tight hug. It was what they needed, for a ball of magic flew out of both their hands, combined, and flew at James Potter.

James Potter fell backwards into the wall of the Great Hall.

James Potter, however, was not the only one thrown. When the spell was finally cast, and James

Potter was finally crumbled on the floor, a backlash of magic hit the three children who had just brought down the false Lord of light.

Neville flew backwards. His parents caught him before he hit the floor.

Narcissa ran towards Hermione, Lucius having finally let her go, but was close behind. She caught Hermione just before the girl hit her head on the rock floor.

Severus, who just happened to be in the right place, caught his son, and then watched as Rosemerta ran towards them.

Crying was heard throughout the entirety of the Hall. Tears of relief.

Sometimes, we all fall down.

But, luckily, most of the time, there is always someone to catch you.

There was a collective sigh of relief.

Harry Snape was alive. Unconscious, drained, but alive.

Hermione Black was also alive. Tears slipping down her cheeks even in her unconsciousness.

And Neville Longbottom, a boy who everyone thought was supposed to be a Hufflepuff, but who had stepped up when he was needed, was sitting between his parents, alive and well, hugging them both, thankful that he had not been taken from them like they had been taken from him.

Sometimes we all fall down, but then we must get back up…