Since the War, Kingsley (Hermione's Minister of Magic predecessor) had banished all dementors from Azkaban with one exception: they were allowed to patrol the top level of the prison, where those sentenced to death dwelt. Death Eaters and murderers, the lot of them.
However, knowing they deserved such punishment didn't make going to face dementors any easier. So Harley brought along bottles of her Tenebris Exilium for both her and Harry to drink before going in there.
"Thanks. Good thinking," Harry said, downing his. "So, what's your plan to get Malfoy to talk to us?"
"I have two plans. One, I already know what his horcrux is: the crystal serpent that topped his and now tops Draco's wand," Harley said. "If he knows his will be destroyed regardless if he helps us or not, he might perhaps have a change of heart and want the others destroyed...for a sort of twisted revenge."
"And if that doesn't work?"
She held up a third bottle of her potion. "Then I bribe him."
Harry shook his head, showing his Auror badge to the guard at the door. "Slytherin at heart, aren't you?"
"Gryffindor at heart, Slytherin in the head."
They walked up a long, narrow, dark stairwell that gave even Harley the creeps as they ascended to reach Lucius in the conference room Harry had asked the guards to set up for them.
The room was made of stone, no ingress or egress save for the door they had come in. The table was wooden, the chairs iron. It was as dreary a place as any, and Harley felt the deep chill in her bones from the dementors, and she was glad they had both taken their potion. She had a funny feeling that they had entirely different worst memories since both she and her brother had first encountered dementors and she was not keen on discovering them.
"You feel them too," Harry said.
"Indeed I do." Every second was unnerving her more and more, making her feel weepy and anxious. Control, control, control, she thought, gripping her black robes in her hands.
A moment later, the door opened and two guards led in Lucius Malfoy. He didn't look anything like he had when Harley had last seen him on the battlefield. His hair had thinned and got completely white, and his face was drawn in, bearing the marks of longtime treatment from dementors.
"Well well," he sneered as he sat down, handcuffed. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? The Boy Who Lived and the Girl Who Betrayed?"
You filthy bastard, Harley thought. It should be you who's dead. You should have been poisoned by the Dark Lord, not my father. You never deserved life and yet you're still here, wasting oxygen while he's gone.
Out loud, she said, "I won't beat about the bush with you, Lucius. We discovered some information that we need you to elaborate upon."
He scoffed, looking amused and very much like his younger self. "And what makes you think I will acquiesce?"
"Because you've got nothing to lose." Harley gestured to Harry and he put the parchment on the table.
"This is a list of horcruxes Voldemort made his followers create. We already have yours and a way to destroy it. We just need to know exactly what all of the others are and where to find them," Harry explained.
The surprise that passed the Death Eater's face was hard to miss. He moved the parchment closer and began to examine it, reading the list. When he got to the end he narrowed his eyes, as if confused. The expression cleared and he pushed the paper back towards Harry.
"You'll accept my apologies that I do not wish to assist you with nothing in return. I am going to assume, Miss Snape, that you came prepared for negotiation?" he said.
"I certainly did," Harley replied. "While I am sure what you'd really want is a way out, a shortened sentence, we both know the Minister would sooner avada kedavra you herself than see you go free or receive leniency.
"However, I brought you something that I believe will make your time here less of a burden until your execution." Harley reached into her bag and pulled out the final bottle of her potion and placed it on the table.
"What is that?" Lucius asked, eyeing it warily.
"A potion I created decades ago. It eases the effects of dementors. I brought you this so you could sample it. If you find that it works, I will send you a supply to assist your mind in exchange for your assistance now," Harley said.
Lucius stared at the potion for another moment. "How long do the effects last?"
"Depends on the taker. One bottle this size should last at least twelve hours," she replied. "And before you ask, it's not poisoned. I need you for the moment, so if I were plotting your demise, I'd not do it now."
Lucius chuckled. "Amazing. If you were a man, I'd think Severus was the one sitting here right now. Well, when it comes to dementors, I do have very little to lose." He opened the bottle, sniffed the contents, and then drank.
Hiding her satisfaction, Harley sat back in her seat, waiting for the Veritaserum to take effect. If the Ministry ever found out about her continued illegal use of the potion, she'd be in a cell right next to Lucius.
She slid the paper back towards him and then took out more parchment and a quill for her own use. "Now, your turn. What exactly is each item on the list and where do we find them?"
Lucius, pupils dilated and cheeks rosy, began to speak, listing each item and it's location with perfect clarity. "Now, that does not mean they are still in these places. It has been many decades since I have seen them. ...The Dark Lord wanted us to all rise again with him, but some of us refused. Those who refused were killed on sight. Others died in the attempt to make a horcrux.
"I will freely admit that none of us--save perhaps Bellatrix--wanted to make these. We were all wary of splitting our souls in two. Even those of us who had murdered before did not want to taint ourselves like this." He looked up at them and said, "I'm actually glad to be helping you. I will feel better when they're gone."
"Thank you, Lucius. I will have a shipment to you as promised." Harley and Harry stood up, both of them scurrying to escape that oppressive room and get as far as they could from the dementors.
Harley took a deep breath of the cold winter air, clearing her head and her lungs of that dark place. "So bloody glad to be out of there." She glanced over at her brother. "You look like someone stole your cauldron cakes. And it's not because of the dementors. What really happened with Ginny?"
He looked up, wary behind his spectacles. "Why do you care?"
She sighed. "I am your sister, and she's loved you since you were children. What is it?"
"It started because of Albus," Harry said. "And his friendship with Scorpius."
Harley wrinkled her brow. "Old prejudices die hard, do they not? I'll inform you that my godson is a sweet little boy who adores your son. They're nearly inseparable."
He nodded. "I told Ginny it was a good thing that we could put everything behind us. She went on to say that the Malfoys will always be evil. It was a long argument, and it grew from there. It ended with...with..."
Harley waited, a little push of Legilimens telling her all she needed to know. "You told Ginny you loved Draco, not her."
The look of shock on his face was almost comical. "How?"
She tapped the side of her head. "Father gave me training in more areas than just Potions. Brother dear, I knew you loved Draco since you were in school. It was obvious to anyone paying attention...which counts Ron out, I suppose."
Harry sat down on a bench. They were in Muggle territory now, and needed to be careful of their words in case they were overheard.
"What do I do, Harley? I didn't mean to hurt Ginny," he said.
Harley shrugged. "There's nothing you can do. You hurt her, and no apology will make her forget that. But Ginny's a strong, smart woman: she'll suck it up for the sake of the kids." She sat next to him. "If you are asking me what you should do about your recent revelation, I cannot give you anything but this: there is a man out there whom you love. Go after him. Because I learned long ago that any love you can grasp is worth whatever it took to obtain it. Love and life are fleeting: enjoy them to the fullest while you still have the chance." Her finger caressed her engagement ring, remembering her sheer joy at Fred's proposal, dreaming of a future after the war with children and a real family. Oh, to be young and naive again, she thought. I'd give it all up to be eighteen and back in 1996.
"You think I should, what, just go up to someone who has hated me for years upon years and tell him I fancy him?" Harry asked with a scoff.
Harley shrugged. "You're both far too old to beat about the bush any longer. It's been twenty-five years, Potter. Time to man up and tell that boy you love him."
Harry went to say something more when they heard his name being called.
Harley turned to regard the speaker, a tall man a year or two older than her.
"Harry, just the man I was looking for," the man said. Judging by his robes, which didn't fit into the Muggle community, he was a wizard, and a very handsome one, at that. He turned to her. "Harley Torrance! Wait...sorry, you're Snape. Long time no see, eh?"
She was a bit embarrassed that she had no idea who this was.
He grinned. "Don't remember me, do ya? I guess you never really gave me the time of day anyway. After all, the only Quidditch player you cared for was Freddie. I was just the lowly Gryffindor captain."
That rang a bell "Oh, Merlin! Oliver Wood," Harley said.
"Long time," he repeated. "You look great. And congrats on everything, you know, the potions and the makeup."
"And the teaching gig," Harry spoke up.
"Pardon me?" Oliver looked between them, confused.
"I'm teaching at Hogwarts," Harley replied. "I'm sure your daughter has mentioned me."
He chuckled, embarrassed. "Oh, yeah. About that...sorry. Lavender can be a bit like her mam sometimes. ...Look, Harry, I really needed to talk to you. D'you have a minute?"
"Sure." Harry stood up. "Give me an hour, okay, Harley?"
She swallowed a huff. "One hour. We have things to do, Potter. Get the sword from Grimmauld Place and meet me at the manor." She turned, but Oliver called her back.
"Hey, it really was great seeing you again."
"Yeah, you too."
****
As promised, Harry came to Malfoy Manor in one hour, while Harley and Draco were having tea in the library. She'd brought Albus with her once he'd figured out where she was going, and both boys were studying together on the floor before the fireplace.
"Draco, may I ask you something?" Harley asked.
"Yeah, what?"
"Do you still...fancy my brother?"
Draco nearly spat his tea in shock. "What in Merlin's name made you ask that?"
"Just answer me, Malfoy."
He nodded quickly, almost imperceptibly, and Harley smirked. Two decades was more than enough time to reconcile and confess.
She noticed the blonde man jumped slightly when the doorbell rang, echoing through the manor.
"Are you going to get that?" she asked him, sipping from her glass of firewhiskey. She hadn't bothered with tea. They were destroying horcruxes, this was no time for leaf water.
He glared at her, but the glare was made less potent by the blush suffusing his fair face. "He's your brother: you get it."
Harley stood, straightening her skirt and bent over Draco's chair. "Man up. You're a wizard, not a mouse. Act like it."
With that she went to the front door to let in her equally nervous brother. No need to use Legilimency now, his emotions were written right there in his mother's eyes. That fear and concern had nothing to do with the horcruxes and everything to do with the sleek blond sitting in the other room.
"You look like death," she commented. "Come on. Draco's in the sitting room."
Harry followed her, their footfalls echoing on the high stone walls of the manor. Once they entered the sitting room, Draco also stood, his discomfort highly apparent.
"Potter."
"Malfoy."
For Merlin's sake I'd like to hex them both, Harley thought.
"It's good to see you," Draco managed to say.
Harry nodded, looking around. "The last time I was here, Hermione was tortured."
What the Hell? Harley thought. That's what you say to your paramour?
"I'm sorry," Draco said, eyes downcast.
Harry continued. "You saved my life that night. Pretending you didn't know who I was. If not for you, everything Severus and Albus and Harley had planned would have gone to shit."
Draco looked embarrassed. "I didn't know about any of that. I just--I knew what was going to happen and...I don't know."
"Malfoy, cut your bullshit and why don't you tell my brother what you told me when you visited me at my shop when we were in the war?" Harley spoke up, impatient.
All colour drained from Draco's face except for two red spots high on his cheeks.
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked.
Harley cocked her head and looked at Draco, who she also thought of as a little brother in a way. "Draco," she said, and this time her voice wasn't as cutting, "you'll both be better off if you just tell him. I know from experience that holding things in only makes you sick and bitter. Tell Harry why you wanted to quit the Death Eaters."
The two men stared at each other, neither one seeming ready to speak. After a moment, they spoke at the same time.
"The truth is..."
"You see..."
They both chuckled a little and that seemed to ease the tension between them a little. In the end, it was Harry who made the first move. Pulling something that was so completely Gryffindor, he lunged forward and pressed his lips to Draco's.
Oh, if these two haven't irreparably damaged their children already, they have now, Harley thought, glancing over at the two boys who were gaping at their respective fathers.
When they pulled apart, Harry was deathly pale and Draco's cheeks were flaming. The blond man was slack jawed, and Harley wished she had a camera, positive that no one had ever seen Draco Malfoy look like that.
"I--I--I--"
"Spit it out, little brother," Harley said, amused.
"Please don't hex me," he said to Draco.
"Why the Hell would I hex you?" Draco asked. "I've wanted to do that since we were fourteen!"
The two men stared at each other before Draco pulled Harry to him and kissed him, much gentler this time, and without the element of surprise. If Harley didn't know better, she'd say it was sort of sweet. She glanced down at the boys and said, "If you've got questions, you better ask me. They won't be speaking coherently for a bit."
Scorpius shook his head, but Albus said, "So I can tell my dad that I like boys, too?"
With a light chuckle she said, "Somehow I don't think he'll have any issues with that." She clapped her hands sharply, startling the wizards. "Break it up, gentlemen. You've got all night once I leave to catch up. Right now, we need to destroy that horcrux."
They broke apart, now both embarrassed as Harry dashed to where he'd left the sword of Gryffindor and reentered the room, looking a bit less flustered.
"Here." Draco handed Harry the Goblin-made serpentine topper for his wand. "The beginning of the true end starts here, with my father's rotten soul."
Harry stared at it for a moment, as if the little platinum and crystal snake would come to life and bite him, before he handed it to Harley. When she held it, he also held out the hand holding the Sword Of Gryffindor.
"No," Harley said, immediately taking a step backwards.
"It's your turn. You got us this far, now it's time to finish what's left of Voldemort's legacy. To avenge your dad," Harry said.
"I can't," she said. "That was sweet of you, it was, but I can't."
"Why not?" Draco asked.
Harley scoffed. "I am no true Gryffindor. The sword will not work for me."
"Try."
Persistent bastard, Harley thought. She reached for the sword's hilt, half afraid it might burn her hand, the other half afraid it would be like Mohilinjar, Thor's hammer, and would weigh roughly ten tons when she tried to wield it. If that were to happen, she would be mortified.
Her pale hand closed around the hilt and she lifted it easily. It wasn't her imagination that she could feel power in her veins and spirit. She placed the horcrux on the marble table and took a breath as she held the sword up, certain it would do nothing for her, its magic meant for true Gryffindors like her brother and Neville only. She brought the sword down in a short stab, feeling it go through the metal like butter, spearing it and the soul contained inside. The basilisk venom began to do its job, dissolving the soul. A gust of wind like a shuddering scream rang through the house, and then it was silent. It was done.
She'd killed a horcrux and wielded Godric Gryffindor's sword. For a moment, all she could do was stare dumbly until the sound of clapping roused her from her shock. Scorpius and Albus were applauding, and soon their fathers joined in.
"I did it." Never had she been so surprised.
"So you know, Hermione told me that a true brave person--not necessarily a Gryffindor--is the only person who can even touch the sword without being repelled. So that means your dad was just as brave as you," Harry said. "Because he's the one who put the sword at the bottom of the lake."
****
The other items were spread out around Britain, and it would take them the rest of the break to find them. Bellatrix had a few in her vault, which the Ministry had cleaned out and kept in their evidence room now, so those were easy to obtain and destroy. Harry, Harley, Hermione, George, and Ron each took turns in destroying them until only four remained.
"Dolohov, a family heirloom ring, probably still at his old manor," Harley read off the list from Lucius. "Dolohov didn't live near Durmstrang, did he?" That was where he had gone to school, not Hogwarts.
"No, he lived in England according to our records," Hermione said. "Harley, I'm surprised your father didn't make one."
"That was probably before his time. The youngest person on the list was Bellatrix, and she joined them even earlier than he did," Harley replied. "Father waited till right before he graduated, she joined when she was just sixteen."
They decided that Harry and Ron would go find it, and they'd all take turns going in pairs for the remaining three.
Harley mixed some drinks, as Harry kept up the Black tradition of keeping top notch liquor in the house, and everyone seemed oddly relaxed for searching for Horcruxes.
"Hermione, why did you change Wizarding law to allow divorce?" Harley asked. "Were you apprehensive about your own husband driving you batty?"
George laughed and Hermione blushed.
"No! Actually, it was because of you. Had divorce been allowed, Lily would have left James and the entire war might have been avoided. I love Harry, but..." She trailed off.
"Don't worry, I get it," Harley replied.
"Harry and Ginny put in a formal request yesterday for divorce, and so did Oliver Wood," she revealed.
Harley chuckled. "So, Oliver finally wised up as to the monster he'd married. Brilliant. What could he have possibly seen in her?"
"Beats me," George said. "Fred liked her, but that was before he met you. And you kinda woke him up as to...well, love. Real love, not 'that chit is pretty'."
Harley laughed. "We were fourteen, George."
"And professed your love a year later," he replied. "You were like a Muggle fairy tale."
Harley drained the rest of her drink before saying, "Yeah, but at least Disney made their stories have happy endings. Ours was more like a Brothers Grimm original. ...I still miss him more than words can say. Every day. And it hasn't gotten easier to bear."
George nodded. "No, it hasn't. But I think we made a huge step towards recovering by not being so childish. At least, I hope you'll start looking my son in the eye in class now."
"It wasn't being childish. It was self preservation," Harley disagreed. "All right, come on, we need to see who is best to get the rest of these horcruxes."
She knew that they knew she was changing the subject, but frankly who could blame her? Death had defined her her entire life. It was much better to ignore it than wallow in the sadness that was already barely repressed.
But George was right: everyone was healing. Harry was accepting himself and his feelings for Draco, Ginny was moving on from her childhood crush, the Weasleys weren't setting a place for Fred at the table anymore, and she...well, she was behind in that area. But she would heal, even if she had to force herself, she'd figure out how to heal and make Fred, Remus, and Severus look down on her with pride.
****
"This is it."
Harry, Hermione, Ron, George, and Harley were all standing around Rodolphus Lestrange's grave. Bellatrix had made her husband's wand into a horcrux, and it would not be fun retrieving it. Bella had really wanted it kept safe: it was buried with the man.
"Grave robbing," Hermione said, her voice flat. "We are grave robbing."
"Not if you sanctioned it, Minister," George said, but even his terrible attempt at humour didn't stop everyone from feeling a sense of distress. Harley admitted that she'd seen enough corpses to last her a lifetime, and Voldemort's desecration of Dumbledore's grave for the Elder Wand had really hit her hard. Even someone as nasty as a Lestrange deserved to be peaceful in death.
She made a face as she raised her wand. "Well, we can't stand here all night bemoaning our task. It must be completed...the sooner the better. Alohomora."
The aboveground stone tomb in the Lestrange vault began to shake as the lid separated from the tomb's body. Dust rose in a small cloud, making Ron cough. It smelled sweet and cinnamony, like mummies in Muggle museums.
"Oh, this is so wrong," Hermione moaned as Harry and Harley both stepped up to the tomb, staring at the mummified body of Bellatrix's late husband. His hair and beard were brittle, his body was nought but skin and bones, teeth showing through lips that had all but disappeared. His eye sockets were empty, and Harley figured the eyeballs had become dehydrated raisins and fallen into his skull. His hands were placed traditionally on his stomach, his wand clasped between them.
"I'm not touching that," Harry said, his face white.
"Squeamish, brother dear?" Harley asked. "Wingardium leviosa." The wand slipped from the corpse's grasp and floated in the air. Harley set it down on the floor before them. It and the entire room radiated of malevolence.
"Who does the honours?" George asked.
"Harry, of course," Ron said.
Harley and Hermione nodded. This had been Harry's quest, and he had to finish it. He deserved to finish it.
But the Boy Who Lived shook his head. "No. Both of us." He gestured to Harley. "The Death Eaters took more from you than they did from me. We both lost loved ones. Our mum. Friends. We were both scarred by this." He motioned to her left arm, where the Dark Mark was naught but an ugly scar, and then to his forehead.
He held the sword's hilt and moved closer to his sister. True to her heritage, she didn't show the shock or appreciation she felt as she took the hilt with him.
"Ready?" he asked and she nodded.
"On my count," Ron said. "One. Two. Three. Kill the thing!"
They swung the sword down and the splintering crack as the wand was hacked in half. Despite their victory, they had no time to celebrate: the second the horcrux was destroyed, the vault began to tremble, the stones shaking as if they were in a California earthquake instead of an abandoned London cemetery.
"Um, guys, I think we should get out of here," Harry said, wide-eyed.
"Really, Potter? What made you come to that brilliant conclusion?" Harley snapped as everyone turned towards the doors, which were promptly covered by falling stone. "Apparate back to Grimmauld Place! Hermione, get Ron before he Splinches again."
With a series of cracks, everyone appeared one-by-one inside the old Black manor, bringing dust and dirt with them.
"Who the Hell puts a posthumous hex on their bloody grave?" Ron cried, rubbing stone fragments from his hair.
"Psychos like the Lestranges," Harley replied. "That was quite the close call."
"This place looks like a tornado hit it," Hermione commented. "We have to clean up."
During the Scourgifying, Harley asked, "Is it customary to bury the dead with their wands?"
George nodded. "Yeah, unless they have heirs who might be able to use them. Like Neville, he never should have had his father's wand because Frank Longbottom wasn't dead. But Fred's got my wand, and I use Fred's."
Harley nodded sadly. "I noticed. ...I ask because I have Father's wand on the mantle. I couldn't bear to bury it. It was a part of him for twenty-seven years."
George clapped her on the back. "Hey, I get it. ...Will you ever use it? I mean, I know you did by accident in our fifth year, but like, to honour him?"
"Oh no," she said. "Never. I might be able to master his wand, but because I can doesn't mean I should. I honour him in other ways."
"Like making him famous with those books," Harry said.
She nodded. "For once, brother dear, you're completely correct."
She stayed late that night, even after everyone else had gone home, to talk with her nephews and niece a little bit more. She told them about potions she created, learning alongside her father, preparing for the war, and being a businesswoman at only eighteen. Lily liked hearing about Fred the most, James enjoyed her (slightly exaggerated) tales of war, and Albus wanted to hear about Severus.
"How did he die?" Albus asked just as he was drifting off to sleep.
"Voldemort's snake bit him," she replied.
"Were you there?"
She shook her head. "No...I was in battle. We had to pretend to be on opposite sides, so I was not with him in his last moments. Your father was, though. My father helped yours end the war with his memories. Now, that's all for tonight. Get some rest."
She left his room hastily, feeling a bit queasy at the remembrance, and now facing something she had never really wanted to think about: she had not said goodbye to her father. She'd not been with him for over eight hours before his death. If not for Harry, he would have died completely alone.
Leave it to Potter's little brat to make me feel like a louse two decades after the fact, she thought, rubbing her eyes so she would not cry.
"Hey, you okay?"
She jumped, having not heard Harry approach. Nodding, she said, "I need a drink."
Harry asked Kreacher to get them their drinks. Glasses of firewhiskey in hand, she and Harry stared at the fireplace, just as they used to when the Order was staying at Grimmauld place, keeping them out of things because they were children.
"Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you...could you tell me..." The words refused to come out as she felt her hands begin to shake. "What happened, exactly? When Father died?"
Harry's eyes widened. "Why the Hell would you want to know that? I saw both my parents die, thanks to the Dementors digging that memory up. Why would you want to know about his last moments? Let your memories of him be happy and alive. Well...as happy as a Snape can get, anyway." He smiled weakly.
"I wasn't there, Harry," she said. "I couldn't be with him for his last moments and...I didn't get to say goodbye. Fred's death I had to accept. I watched it happen. Same with Remus, and he and I had cleared the air right before. I guess I still hold a bit tighter to Father because, despite bringing his corpse back with Neville, there's still a sense of unreality hanging over me."
"And you want to know what happened." Harry heaved a sigh and said, "Hang on." He left the room and came back with a small Pensieve, a pricey item that could be purchased from specialty shops recently. "If you really wanna know, I'll give you the memory. But if you can't handle it, I won't Obliviate you, and Lockhart is still in St. Mungo's, so he won't either."
Harley scoffed. "Such a sensitive man you grew up to be." He put his wand to the side of his head and a silvery wisp came along with it, and he placed it in the Pensieve.
"Go on," he said. "But if I were you, I'd sod it."
"Potter, never tell a Gryffindor something like that. It only makes us more stubborn."
"But you can't want to do this," Harry protested.
"You're right, I don't," Harley replied. "However. I need to. I need to get closure and this is the only way I know how." With that, she turned towards the Pensieve and dipped her head in, getting sucked into the memory.
It was that familiar falling sensation and suddenly she was standing in nearly complete darkness with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. There was just a sliver of light where Harry was holding up a trapdoor, and she saw the Shrieking Shack through the slat.
"You think he's up there?" Ron whispered.
"I know he is," Harry replied. "Come on and be quiet!"
Harley was forced to follow them, as this was Harry's memory, and they slowly crept up the stairs till they got to the highest floor. Harley could hear two voices getting louder and louder as they got closer. Her father's was instantly recognisable, as was Voldemort's measured hiss.
"I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore."
Snape's face went even whiter than usual at the sight of the wand. Many might think he had looked that way out of mere shock, but Harley knew better. He knew what was coming. But if he knew, why didn't he stop it?
Voldemort raised the Elder Wand, holding it as delicately and precisely as a conductor's baton. "Why doesn't it work for me, Severus?"
"My Lord, I do not know. Please, let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can -"
"No."
Harley paused with her father. This was the moment they had planned for, the final battle as they had plotted. This was where everything went awry.
"The wand can only be passed from owner to owner through murder. Therefore, I am not the true master of the wand...yet." Voldemort stepped a bit closer to Severus. "The one who controls this wand is the one who killed its previous owner."
Realisation seemed to hit Severus at that very moment. "My lord..."
"There can only be one true Master of Death. You have served me well, but your usefulness has come to an end. I must master the Elder Wand in order to kill Harry Potter." He flicked his hand and made a harsh hissing sound. Because this was Harry's memory, Harley could understand his Parseltongue: "Nagini, kill."
Harley knew her father could have fought, but she also saw something Harry probably hadn't: Severus knew the Trio was there. He had glanced that way for the second that Voldemort had looked at the Elder Wand and seen them from the corner of his eye. Had he fought, he would have never been able to give Harry his memories. His death wasn't a murder over a wand: it was a calculated sacrifice.
Harley watched in mute horror as the snake snapped forward through the air and embedded its poisonous fangs into her father's throat. Severus fell back against the wall, slinking to the floor as the deadly poison hit his bloodstream.
Voldemort laughed and left then, not even staying to see if he really had killed Severus. His arrogance had been a saving grace: had he stayed, Harry never would have gotten the memories.
The moment Voldemort was gone, the Trio rushed forward, Harry falling to his knees at Severus' side, immediately trying to staunch the flow of blood from the wound. She wondered why Harry had done that, thinking that he had been their enemy, but she realised it was simply Lily's influence that made him do it, that kindness she had left in both of her children.
Her father grasped Harry's arm, his head was back against the wall, and he began to cry, his tears glittering silver. Memories. She'd had no idea that could happen. No wonder he had always told her that her enemies didn't deserve her tears.
"Take it...take them..." he said, his voice weak and raspy. Harley could hear the blood in his throat gurgling and she felt sick.
Hermione wised up as to what he meant first, reaching into her Charmed bag and retrieving an ampoule.
She handed it to Harry, who nearly dropped it for the shaking of his hands, collecting the memories she knew her father had held so close to his heart.
"Tell her...goodbye for me..." he rasped, coughing up blood. Harley's already broken heart broke just a bit more, because she was the only "she" he could have meant. She'd not been there to say goodbye, but even in his last breaths, he was thinking of her.
"Tell who?" Harry asked, eyes wide in mixed shock and confusion. But Severus didn't respond to that, staring fixedly at Harry's eyes. At Lily's eyes.
"Look... at... me...." he whispered. The green eyes found the black, but after a second, something in the depths of the dark pair seemed to vanish, leaving them fixed, blank, and empty. The hand holding Harry thudded to the floor, and Snape moved no more.
The scene faded, going black, and Harley was ejected from the memory. Unable to stand, hating herself for asking to see the memory and glad that she did, she fell to the floor, her every wall and defence down, crying harder than she had in years.
Her father sacrificed himself. He let Nagini poison him instead of trying to fight back so he could get his memories to Harry, so he could complete their plan.She had always called him a hero, always thought of him as a saviour of the Wizarding World alongside Harry, but even she had no idea how much he had given until this night.
He gave his time to Hogwarts, his freedom to both Voldemort and Dumbledore, his powers to the Order, his heart to her and Lily, and his life for Harry. And even in his final moments, he gave his thoughts to her and to her mother. The best of Severus Snape was taken, and all he had ever received in return was ridicule, scorn, and mistrust. What they say is true: no one respects you until after you're dead.
Harley jumped, feeling a hand on her shoulder. It was just Harry, on the floor beside her.
"Did he mean you?" he asked quietly. "All this time, I thought the poison made him hallucinate, but was he saying goodbye to you?"
"Yes," she said, slightly gasping, feeling fortunate to have gotten even that one word out.
"I'm sorry I never said anything. I wasn't thinking," Harry said.
She hiccuped. "You never do."
Harry surprised her by laughing as he put his arms around her. For the first time ever since they met, Harley hugged her baby brother tightly. Suddenly, he leapt to his feet, leaving Harley there in confusion.
He dashed away to another room in the house and came back with something tightly clasped in his hand.
"These should be yours now."
Harley held her hand out and saw the ampoule in which her father's dying memories were contained.
"There shouldn't be anything you don't already know in them, but you should have them anyway," Harry said.
A million snarky comments ran through her head, what she thought about him keeping them, but Lily's nature prevailed and she simply thanked him for giving her back a piece of her heart.
"Did you make Draco Disarm Dumbledore on purpose?" Harry asked.
"Huh? Why would I do that?" she asked, wiping her tears hastily.
"To try and save your dad," Harry said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Elaborate, Potter," she said, leaning back against the couch.
Harry ran a hand through his dark locks. "I guess they didn't tell you. Dumbledore intended for Snape to be the one to get the Elder Wand, not Draco and--by extension--me."
Harley leaned her head against the cushions, trying to get her sudden anger under control. Even decades after death, Dumbledore was still pissing her off. "Well, even though he didn't, Voldemort still killed him. Dumbledore's plan worked perfectly."
"Not exactly. If I wasn't master of the Elder Wand, I wouldn't have been able to deflect Voldemort's curse. I'd be dead, but then he'd be defeated as well, with only one bit of his soul left in his own body. That was Dumbledore's intention. Kill all three of us and have peace and a new regime in the Wizarding World."
"And my father knew this?" Harley asked. Harry nodded and she covered her face with her hands. "He never told me," she said, her voice so quiet it was nearly drowned out by the crackling fireplace. "He knew the whole time he was never meant to survive and he never alluded to it even once."
"He wouldn't want you to worry," Harry said. "Snape and I had our differences until his death, but I feel like I understand him better than I used to. He didn't want to have that on your head. He wanted you to have more to fight for."
She sighed. All those times he'd said it wasn't worth it, but that she needed to fight for Fred or Lily. He'd never said to fight for him. Not once.
It was soon after she took her leave of Harry, going back to Spinner's End and standing before her own miniature Pensieve, her father's memories in her hand. She uncorked the bottle and held it aloft above the Pensieve before stoppering it again. Of all the things she wanted to know, all the things her father had kept from her, she decided they weren't worth it. She'd lived with a deep ache ever since the war had ended, and she couldn't bear to have any more heartache.
It took her stubborn, Gryffindor brother to teach her that sometimes ignorance is actually bliss.