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sua_layAuthor: Rimau Sua Lay
Rating: overall NC-17, Angst, Drama, Action/Adventure, First Time
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Harry/Snape, Ron/Draco, (Sirius/Remus)
Date: December 2002 - May 2007
Disclaimers: Not mine, borrowed without permission, am not making any money. Please don't sue. Sherbet Lemon?
Summary for Book Five: - It's time to try to save the world. Fools and idiots may be the wizards' only hope. Revenge does indeed taste strange. Kinda furry.
Warning: This part contains deaths, gore, total stupidity, explicit sex between men, disturbing themes and angst.
The earlier parts of the fic can be found here.
It was a miracle Snape was still alive.
The corridor he'd left a moment ago didn't exist anymore, the doorway filled with rubble. Brushing his robes with slightly trembling hands, Snape got to his feet, amazed by the fact that this one room was still intact.
There was sickly green light coming from the walls, a chemical reaction from mold and old magic. Snape was glad it was replacing the oppressive darkness as he spent a few moments looking for his wand. Even in the faint light, he couldn't find a trace of it and had to admit it was most probably buried under the rocks. Sighing, he turned his attention on the other person in the room.
No longer attached to the wall, he was lying on the ground, the shackles bending his left arm into a very painful looking position. Snape moved his gaze from the arm to a very familiar face.
He blinked. Then he had to curb insane laughter.
Not only was he trapped under tons of solid rock that had formerly formed the Malfoy Mansion. He was trapped here with Neville Longbottom.
"Why am I not surprised?" he groaned out loud. The universe was indeed laughing at him right now. "Longbottom!" When the boy didn't move, he repeated his name louder.
It brought forth a whimper.
"Who is it? Harry? Harr..." Eyes opening to stare without focus, Neville reached out, trying to touch whomever was trapped there with him.
Snape grabbed the flailing hand. "Harry is not here, Longbottom." It was the first time ever the name came out softly, and not as a vicious curse.
"Professor Snape?" Hysterical but weak laughter echoed in the small room.
Knowing exactly what Longbottom was thinking, Snape didn't comment on the laughter. It was ridiculous; to be here, confined with the most incompetent student he'd ever had the displeasure of teaching. It was even worse for the boy, he thought. He was probably scared witless and needed to have someone by his side.
And he had Snape here. Ironic.
"Are you... Are you here to rescue me?" There was desperate hope in Neville's voice. He didn't dare to believe it, but he had to ask. Snape was supposed to be one of the good guys now so please Merlin let him be here to rescue him. The alternative was unthinkable.
"Yes," Snape said. He hated the expression of joy that came to Longbottom's face, knowing his next words would chase it away. "But I'm afraid we can't leave right now."
The silence that followed his words was full of pain. He saw how the boy blinked furiously, his unfocused eyes filling with tears that didn't fall. Even though he realized that Longbottom could not see, he had to turn his gaze away.
"What happened?" Neville hated the silence. He'd been lost in silence for so long, with only his own thoughts to accompany him. Or then there would be the sound of cruel laughter and questions he couldn't answer. Even Snape's cold voice was better than the silence.
Snape recounted the way the ceiling had come down, keeping the sentences precise and simple. It looked like Longbottom was hovering on the edge of unconsciousness.
He moved a little as he described the way he had lost his wand, sitting next to the injured Gryffindor. Keeping his voice calm, he surveyed his wounds. It was clear that they weren't the result of the booby trap, they had been inflicted earlier.
There were little visible marks on the boy. Snape didn't know what his robes were hiding, but could smell the strong scent of blood in the room. Most of the things the Death Eaters were so fond of wouldn't even leave a mark. They would simply destroy a person from the inside, driving them insane.
He came close to the end of his story, already knowing that he wouldn't ask Longbottom any questions about his stay here. He didn't need to be told what had happened.
"So now we're trapped. I can't think of a way to get out of here, so we need to wait for people to find us." It was not exactly a lie, even though Snape knew that there was not much hope for anyone to find them in time.
The basement had no sensible ventilation system. He'd known that for years. It was uncomfortable to stay here for any longer period of time, to brew potions or to torment hapless victims. With the corridor sealed and a big part of the upper floors probably crumbled to the ground, they would only have the air that was trapped in the pitiful dungeon with them.
Neville tried to smile a little, but it came out more like a grimace. "All right." He actually sounded relieved he wasn't completely alone.
They sat in silence for a while. All the time, Neville's breathing got more labored. The wheezing sound echoed from the walls, making it sound haunting somehow.
Feeling his thoughts were slipping slowly away, he rasped out, "Professor? Please..."
"What is it?"
Focusing his unseeing gaze on where the Potions master's voice had come from, Neville gasped out, "My grandmother. Tell her I fought well."
It was a frightened whisper Snape couldn't shut out. Swallowing, he managed to put some of the old sneer into his voice. "You will tell her that yourself, Longbottom. You survived all your Potions classes, so you'll bloody well survive this as well!"
There was a stunned silence as Neville stared into the dark. Then he muttered, "Yes, sir." He would do his best as always.
But he knew that like in the Potions class, his best might not be good enough.
Squinting his eyes, Harry looked down below, trying to ignore the yells and the crying and the dying, focusing on one thing only.
It wasn't as easy as he'd thought.
He had no idea how long he'd been flying around Hogwarts' grounds trying to pinpoint his enemy. The sun was so bright in his eyes that he couldn't concentrate on determining the time from its position in the sky. There were more important things for him to watch.
Even though it had become apparent in the past few years that Voldemort preferred others to do his dirty work, Harry had thought the man would lead his troops himself. He could remember that awful night at the cemetery and how Voldemort had mockingly told him about the courtesies of formal dueling.
Now the bastard was nowhere to be seen, and Harry had the sinking feeling that maybe this had all been in vain. Their plan had been to flush all the Death Eaters and their Master in the open and then destroy them, their victory a joint effort. This first big battle was to be the last as well.
Harry didn't want to think of what would happen if he didn't find Voldemort on the battlefield. That could drag this on and on for years; that kind of a future was almost worse than death.
There was a blur of motion nearby, and Harry turned to watch Oliver speed through the air, heading toward something on the ground. Noticing how his former captain was dodging curses, he grabbed a better hold on his broom, figuring that he might as well help him.
The movement stopped, as he cast one more look towards the edge of the forest and saw a small group moving away quickly from the battlefield and towards the hedge, where a gate leading to the grounds had been blown open earlier.
It was clear to see that most of the people running were Death Eaters, their hoods unable to hide the masks completely, the sunlight reflecting off the smooth surface. But the most important was the figure running in the middle of the hooded men.
Harry let everything else drop from his mind and swooped towards the hedge.
He should have known Voldemort would do this; avoid a confrontation to the last moment and then realize it was too late. The master of survival, like some kind of a parasite, would never let go. He would now run and then lay low for some time.
Before returning again and again; killing innocents, preparing their world for yet another reign of terror. Harry would never be rid of the Dark Lord, forced to fight him throughout decades until generations upon generations of witches and wizards would know nothing of peace. There would be nothing but war and fear and destruction and death.
Burning rage filled Harry's whole being. Steering his ragged broom down, he pointed his wand at the small group of Death Eaters.
It was weird how he could feel such a hot surge of anger mixed with perfect calm. Somewhere in the middle of the fear and the doubt was absolute determination.
Down on the ground, one of the Death Eaters spotted him, letting out a warning yell. The others halted and looked up at him, wands ready.
Voldemort's dark clad form didn't stop. He continued his way towards the gates, obviously preparing to Apparate as soon as he was out of Hogwarts grounds.
Ignoring the wands pointing at him, Harry sped down, the move making even the Wronski Faint look like a walk in the park. He dodged the curses flung at him, focusing on the man who had brought all this madness into his world.
He could sense protective magic crackling all around Voldemort. An ordinary curse wouldn't work and he doubted even an Unforgivable would be enough to stop him. The killing curse had never stopped the man before.
Harry swallowed hard, not letting doubts fill him, not now. Even thinking about what he was about to do would be too much, so he shoved the thoughts back and raised his wand.
Concentrating on one thing only; a world without fear.
There were those short moments of perfect happiness he still carried with him. His first days in the wizarding world, meeting Ron and Hermione, finding a place he could call home. His first Quidditch match. Seeing his parents in the mirror of Erised.
His parents who had loved him more than anything in the world. Sirius and Remus, who were his family now. The joy that came with that simple concept went beyond perfection, burning away all doubts. His life, filled with warmth and laughter and sharing it with those he loved. Scent of herbs surrounding him, strong arms holding him all through the night, Snape's presence solid and firm and his.
Happiness so fierce it almost hurt, combining every good moment he had ever experienced.
"Expecto Patronum!"
The silvery phantom shape of Prongs shot forward, moving through the air with impossible speed. Not conjured up to drive back Dementors, it galloped down at the Death Eaters. The magnificent sight made Harry let out a choked cry.
It drove back shock and weariness, glowing with such radiant warmth.
The Death Eaters were staring at the Patronus, most unable to move. In front of them, the running form of Voldemort stopped and then turned slowly to look into the sky.
Harry could see the word 'no' form on Voldemort's lips. Frozen in place, the Dark Lord followed the shining stag with his gaze, unable to move until it disappeared.
There was utter silence. No one moved.
Then Voldemort looked up at Harry, his face a rigid mask of fear and hatred. "Kill him! Kill Harry Potter!" he yelled at his Death Eaters.
Now the curses would come in handy. "Avada Kedavra!" Harry didn't even flinch as the first Death Eater fell.
He didn't have to repeat the curse on the second Death Eater who slammed into an invisible barrier and let out a yelp as he tumbled down. It almost looked as if some creature was there with them, unseen, but still able to fight for Harry's cause.
Harry leaned closer to his broom, speeding down faster. Below him, Voldemort was running again, now desperate to reach safety. The Firebolt was shaking slightly, as if warning him of what would happen if he tried to fly any faster, but Harry paid no heed to it. His beloved gift from Sirius wasn't as important to him as it was to cut off Voldemort's escape.
He landed smoothly on the ground near the edge of the woods, the broomstick falling at his feet as he finally let go. There was a sound of wood snapping, but he didn't look down to see what had happened.
All his attention was focused on one fact. He was still on Hogwarts ground, standing between what was left of the gate and Voldemort, cutting off his easy escape to the Dark Forest as well. There was no one else here, only him and the Dark Lord. Harry's mouth tasted bitter, and his heart was racing, but he could handle the fear coursing through his veins.
Pointing with his wand, he didn't even have to think what to say next. No matter what he'd said earlier about using only whatever force was necessary, he knew without a doubt that there was only one way to end this for good.
Harry Potter stared at Lord Voldemort.
There was only a faint resemblance to the shadow of a boy he had met in his second year. Voldemort had nothing left of Tom Riddle. He looked more like a snake than a man, changed beyond any recognition when he'd been reborn.
For some reason Harry wasn't thinking about that awful night now. There was nothing but this moment.
"You can not kill me, Harry Potter." Voldemort's voice was oozing malice. "Leave now and I'll spare your life."
Smiling, Harry shook his head. "Of course I can't kill you. That's why you were running away like a scared rabbit." Now that the big moment was at hand, all he could think of was that this was utterly ridiculous. They were supposed to fight to death, and here was Voldemort trying to get away from it by lying.
He couldn't believe what a lousy liar Voldemort was.
The mocking words didn't change Voldemort's expression. He simply nodded. "Then die." No formal challenge, no threats. No attempt to catch Harry alive to use him in a dark ritual. Almost negligently, he flicked his wrist and said, "Avada Kedavra!"
Repeating the curse even as he jumped clear of the sparks, Harry let all the amusement slide away from him. Dodging the death curse was harder than anything, for there was no way one could really practice that. He hadn't been completely sure one even could do it before this moment.
Focused on nothing but the space between him and Voldemort, he yelled out the words again.
There were scents everywhere. Old moldy scent of decay mixing with the almost overpowering smell of fear.
The whole forest was alive with magic, the untamed nature of the wild. Every tree seemed ancient with roots reaching far beneath the ground, even the air here seemed thick with spells no one had ever uttered out loud.
Snuffles ran. Mindless of the sounds and sights around him, he ran focused on one thing only. There were other creatures around him, people and animals, magical beings fighting or hiding, but he didn't pay any attention to them.
Right there, in front of him, was the source of the smell.
It was such a familiar scent, tickling some hidden part of him that brought forth old memories he'd almost forgotten, taking him back to a simpler time, to laughter and friendship and joy. Now it was marred by another scent, the odor of silver as nauseating as the memory of betrayal itself. Wherever his prey ran, he would follow.
He couldn't see it right now, but the small shaking of a leaf, the small paw print of a front paw screamed at him. He knew he was gaining on his prey, and the mere thought drove him forward.
The pain came from out of nowhere. He was so focused on his chase he hadn't realized that one of the dark robed people had jumped closer.
Smelling his own blood on the knife the Death Eater held, Snuffles howled.
The final duel had come, and there was no one to witness the raw power of magic focusing around Harry Potter and Voldemort. Everything around the fighting pair was getting dark, as if the Dark Magic both were channeling was blocking out the very sun.
It was horrendous; naked destructive energy. Truly the fight of their time, and there was no one to see it.
Harry didn't know if anyone had ever really managed to survive a fight like this. There was no finesse, no strategy. Only him and Voldemort. Only this moment, only death.
This was not going to work. Throwing the curse almost aimlessly as both moved fast enough to make the green tingle miss, they were gaining nothing.
Soon, others would come. It would be in the hands of chance, for there could be Death Eaters or members of the Order, and then their world would either fall or be free. Harry had been lucky before, but now he couldn't rely on luck. There was too much at stake.
He didn't know what was keeping him alive right now. Could his mother's love still protect him? Or was there something in the nauseating connection between him and Voldemort that rendered their half hartedly focused curses useless?
This was too much like trying to focus on a hundred details at once; the people who would come, the spins and twirls that carried him away from the destructive power of the Unforgivable. He was trying to hit and hide at the same time, and it was not working.
He couldn't win like this. The thought wiped away the need to spend the next fraction of a second to plan his new escape. There could be no escape. This was the only thing in his world and he would bloody well do it right!
Standing still, he aimed with his wand. A good aim that would not miss its target.
He felt as if he was under water, everything moving through a haze. His tongue felt thick and clumsy as he spoke, "Avada..." The word came out agonizingly slowly. Across the small field, Voldemort seemed to have same sensations, his lips moving slow as well. "... Kedavra!"
Both were casting the curse at the same time, both standing here, not willing to move one bit. Not even thinking of surrendering. This one frozen moment, neither moved to escape the destructive energy.
Instead of making the world explode, the magic they both released hummed around them. It existed everywhere between their wands, unable to focus anywhere. Almost as a living being, it swum through the air, connecting with their wands.
Binding them together in death.
It was clear now, that the power building between the two of them would not be contained for long. As it unleashed, everything around them would be destroyed.
Harry felt the energy grow inside of him. Swirling just beneath his skin, making him tingle all over. He would burn slowly, his scar already on fire.
This was it, the final battle the whole wizarding world had been waiting for. The fight between him and Voldemort. Not what he had expected, but it was still worse than he'd feared.
Better than he'd hoped.
He wished he could tell Snape that. Wished he could have spent one more day with him and his family. He didn't even know if any of them was still alive; they could all be dead now, or they could all be alive, left behind to mourn him.
For he would indeed die here. Would die as the combined magic between Voldemort and him finally ate through his flesh, burning away the Dark Lord as well. Two opposites, equal in strength. What he lacked in experience, he had in stubbornness. He would not give up. Neither would Voldemort.
Dying to save the world. It was such a scary thought Harry knew he would throw up if he still could, but nothing could really touch him anymore, his whole existence frozen here. This moment, this place. The end was here, and as the magic swirled all around him, his mind was strangely clear.
He was going to die, right now. There was nothing more in this world for him, for he was fulfilling the destiny others had conjured up for him. He wished this had never happened, hoped this would make a difference and that there would be peace in their world.
Harry's mind was slowly shutting down, his thoughts losing focus. A sibilant whisper somewhere inside his head was telling him that this was the only proper way for him to die; as the savior of the wizarding world, a noble death, devoid of any sense of self.
A grin bloomed on his lips. Not bloody likely! He didn't want to die, but would if it was the only way to end this insanity. He only wished he'd really told Snape how much he loved him, just to see the incredulous expression on his face.
That was his last real thought, and then even that went away.
"Bastard!"
There was a yell, coming from the distance. Harry could hardly hear it, for his whole world had narrowed down to the space between his wand and Voldemort's. Everything existed in flashes of gold and silver, nothing else could penetrate the bubble that was building around him and his foe.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Thousands of tiny sparks of astonishingly bright green surrounded everything. The blinding burst drove everything else away.
Harry screamed as his thoughts and memories rushed back to him. He recognized the hoarse voice that had yelled out the most horrible curse he knew. It built the energy swirling around them so that it could no longer be contained.
As the power raged over him, he realized what had just happened.
"No! Don't!"
But it was too late.
The power of magic that had bound Harry and Voldemort together in death waned for just a second, releasing Harry from it's grasp before what was left of it refocused on another target. It snapped around, almost draining Harry, searching for another person to become the polar opposite of the Dark Lord.
Found it in an angry man who had raised his wand against the one who had been behind the murder of his wife.
"Percy!" Helpless, Harry lifted his arms to shield himself from the blast that followed. The whole world seemed to shatter in green sparks, the unleashed energy making the ground shake.
"No!" Voldemort screamed, his face contorting in horror. Then all sound died as the power between him and the redhead turned the space between them into a vacuum.
Nothing existed there. No sound, no light. No life.
Their world exploded.
Harry was thrown back by the shock wave, his ears ringing at the collision as he slammed against the ground. The earth itself moved, the force of the explosion tearing trees from the edge of the forest, sending timber flying overhead.
He could hear his own voice yelling in pain and fear until his throat was raw. The madness lasted for only seconds, but it seemed like a lifetime.
The silence was worse than anything.
It was as if everything had ended. There was nothing here and for a moment Harry thought the blast had finished him as well. Then the pain registered again and he knew that he was still very much alive.
"Damn it!" Harry moaned as he rolled onto his belly. His body ached and he doubted he could really get to his feet. His fingers were clenched around his wand, but as he focused his gaze to his hand, he could see that he was actually holding a large splinter.
His wand was broken. It was quiet and he was all alone and his wand was broken.
He looked up, wishing he hadn't a moment later as he saw the figure lying on the ground not far from him. Somehow he managed to drag himself towards it, needing to see if there was anything he could do.
Nothing else really got through the mist that was surrounding his thoughts.
There was no life left in the young man lying on the ground. It was probably better this way. There was not much of a body left even to be buried.
"Oh no..." Gaze blurring with tears, Harry stared down at Percy Weasley. "Damn it, no..."
It was not supposed to go like this.
He bent down to cover some of the burned body with the torn and charred cloak lying next to him, recognizing his father's Invisibility Cloak only when his fingers brushed against it.
He was too numb to even think of what it meant to have it here now. Later, he would wonder about Percy's tenacity and his own blindness, but right now, it was enough to cover his friend with the soft torn cloth that would never again make anyone invisible.
He didn't know what else to do. Should he stay here until someone came? Would anyone really come? Or was everyone dead, like Percy was dead and Voldemort was dead?
The thought made Harry turn to look at the other still form lying on the ground. It looked like the wraith like creature he'd met in the forest feeding from a dead Unicorn. A full circle in a way. All that effort Voldemort had put to rising again had been for nothing.
Mind still sluggish, he couldn't look away from his adversary. He couldn't be happy about his death. Right now, he didn't feel anything.
Then the unthinkable happened.
Voldemort moved.
Harry jumped as he saw the ragged pile move again. He couldn't believe Voldemort had survived the blast that had almost incinerated poor Percy. It had been unlike any death curse he'd ever witnessed, too much power to be released in simple sparks.
Holding the remains of his wand, he crawled over the debris, towards Voldemort. He couldn't see anything else, his ears still ringing from the blast. Everything was focused on this one thing.
Voldemort still existed.
A desperate wail escaped his throat as he raised his hand and then brought the splintered wand down, impaling Voldemort's chest as if he was a vampire. "Die!" It was a muffled sob. "Die!"
There was no magic behind the command, only desperation and Harry's determination to never face this again. This had to end now.
"No!" It came out as a gurgle. Voldemort's final denial over his own mortality that died alongside him.
Harry stared at his own bloodied hands, letting go of his wand with a flinch. Only then he turned his gaze on his enemy's face. The vacant eyed stare made him gag again.
There was no magic here. No power channeled through the small stick protruding out of Voldemort's chest. No life.
He flinched away from the body, his gaze sweeping the ground. There was Voldemort's own wand, still intact, a few inches from his outstretched arm. Harry shivered. Sooner or later someone would try to use something like that to bring him back, and this would all start over again.
Slowly, he got to his feet. Eyes hard, he stepped on the frail wand so like his own. It broke with a small sound.
Then there was nothing but silence.
It was over.
Voldemort was truly dead.
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Date: 2007-07-15 10:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-17 11:53 pm (UTC)