Title:In Darkness Let Me Dwell
Author: Blue
Rating: R for language,violence and eventual sexual situations.
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Summary: Harry thought he knew the consequences of his actions. He was wrong. Now he had to seek out the only person who could help him before it was too late.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money from this. If I did, I surely wouldn't be writing fanfiction. I just like to borrow the songs and the characters and screw with them a bit.



“They’re over here!” shouted Harry Potter , as he ran down the hill. The sword of Gryffindor hung heavy in his hand as he skated his way over lose rock and soil. There were two bodies below and Harry feared the worst. Unwilling tears burned his eyes as he reached the bottom and fell to his knees beside the closest body.

“Remus…Remus…” he whispered, shaking the man’s shoulder. Remus Lupin moaned and Harry’s stomach fluttered. He stood up and rushed over to the red head that looked as though it was thrown a great distance. Harry stopped halfway. His eyes filled with tears of anger as his heart clenched. The angle at which Charlie Weasley’s neck was turned…no one could have survived that.

He could hear the others as they reached the bottom of the hill. He turned, fast, to grab Ron as the young man caught sight of his brother and tried to get to him. Harry held his best friend, tight. “He’s gone, Ron. I’m so sorry,” he whispered. He really was. He liked Charlie.

“Go, I’ll take care of it. You need to take care of Ginny and your Mum and Dad. Go, Ron. Go back to camp.” He met Ron’s blue eyes and for a moment, the world stood still. If anything happens to him or Hermione, I swear I’ll go mad, he thought.

“Make sure he gets home. Mum’ll want him home,” Ron said, his voice hoarse. He seemed hypnotized by Harry’s eyes and he looked so lost.

A gasp from behind them broke the moment. It was Hermione. She’d seen the body of Charlie and rushed over and grabbed Ron. She buried her head in his shoulder and he held her back. Ron clapped Harry on the arm and squeezed gently. Unspoken words passed between them. Ron pat him again and then turned back to the group. Harry watched them as they walked away from him and he honestly couldn’t tell who was holding who.

Neville and Luna were both tending to Remus. Harry caught Neville’s attention and motioned him over. Neville whispered something to Luna, she nodded and he hurried over to Harry. “How is he,” Harry asked, jerking his chin in Lupin’s direction.

“He’s serious, but he will live…possibly. We need to get him back to Pomfrey. Luna doesn’t have enough training and I’m only good with healing herbs.” He paused to look around them, his eyes grazing over the dead body in the distance. Harry noticed him grimace before he continued. “I’m not seeing anything of use in this valley.”

“All right,” Harry said, his voice low and commanding. “I’m going over that ridge in the distance behind us. I’m going alone. If I don’t come back, please make sure Charlie’s body gets back to the Burrow.”

Neville nodded. “Harry, be safe.” He offered Harry a weak smile before returning to his patient.

Harry stood there and watched them for a few moments. Neville returned to Luna’s side and Harry noticed the soft smile she gave him. He looked at Ron and Hermione, she was now holding him, his head buried in the crook of her neck. It was time. He had to end this horror and he had to end it now.

His free hand slid over the pocket within his robes. A squat round bottle nestled there. It’s greenish-black liquid was their salvation. He only hoped he survived to see them all free.

Clutching the sword tighter, he turned his back on his family and headed toward the ridge.

The woods were silent as he travelled. He felt light, despite the heavy sword in his hand and the leaden pain in his heart. Normally he travelled with packs and supplies. This time it was only what was on his back. He didn’t know if he’d be returning, but he knew that he only needed to walk for a short while before reaching his destination.

A wolf cried in the distance and Harry cursed the creature. Greyback was dead, but he’d destroyed so much, Harry wished he could have killed him ten times over.

He neared the ridge and began to climb. He knew that his chances were slim. He’d have to make it past all the Death Eaters, all the Inferi. They wouldn’t allow him to just waltz into their camp and stab Voldemort.

***

Hiding behind some trees, he watched the camp below him. Something was odd, it seemed so empty. There were a few men wandering from tent to tent, but nothing else. This just seemed too simple.

But he had no choice. He had to do it this way, or not at all. He left his secure post and began to walk down the hill. The sword was raised before him. A sentry guard saw him and ran to the largest tent. And now it begins, he thought, knowing that now that he was seen, the minion would be pouring out of those tents.

But nothing happened.

He made it to the bottom of the hill and began to walk toward the big tent. He passed a few Death Eaters, but they only looked at him as he passed. Something was wrong.

As he neared the tent, he was immediately flanked by two Death Eaters. This wasn’t exactly what Harry had pictured, but it was at least beginning to feel a bit normal.

The pair were silent as they escorted him into the tent. Inside the tent was so un-tent-like that, if Harry wasn’t already used to magic, he’d have been impressed. Before him was a large, circular room that looked to be made of black marble. In the centre, on a dais, stood a throne. On the throne sat Voldemort.

“Come, Harry. I’ve been awaiting your arrival.” The Dark Lord spoke, with a jovial gesture of his hand. “I assume you saw my presents that I left for you. What is one less werewolf to the world? And for that matter, what is one less Weasley?” He laughed, mirthlessly. The sound made Harry’s spine crawl.

“Severus, Draco…bring our guest closer. I wish to look upon his lovely eyes. I’ve been told of their jewel-like beauty. I may just pluck them out and keep them as such.” He smiled as Harry drew closer. The Death Eater to his left touched his elbow. Harry thought that it might be Snape, but brushed the thought aside. Malfoy, on the other hand, grabbed his sword arm and held tight, pulling Harry toward the dais.

He was pushed down into a kneeling position. The sword was being pulled from him, but a voice stopped it.

“Leave it, Draco. Let him have something to defend himself with,” the madman hissed. Voldemort stood, waving Snape and Malfoy away. Harry could feel a moment of hesitation from Snape before he was left alone.

Voldemort began to circle Harry. “So wonderful, this moment. I’ve waited for it for so long,” he began as Harry stared at the floor, waiting for his moment. “Tell me, Harry, do you think that I deserve to die?”

Harry remained silent. Voldemort kicked him in the side, just missing the glass bottle. Harry crumpled forward, reaching for the bottle and holding it against is stomach. “Answer me!” Voldemort shouted, then regained his composure. “Do you think that I deserve to die?”

“Yes,” he ground out.

“And why do you think this?” Harry remained silent again. Voldemort kicked him in the ribs once more. “Answer me!” he demanded, his voice echoed off the stone walls. But once he spoke again, his voice had regained its normal tone. “Why do you think that I should die, Harry?”

Harry leaned his head against the cool floor. “Because you’re a monster.”

The room suddenly reverberated with the sounds of a cruel high laugh. “Ah, yes. I am a monster. I know this very well. But I’m a monster with purpose.” He kneeled beside Harry and reached down to clasp his chin. Lifting Harry’s face, he smiled down at the young man. “We are one in the same, Harry. It’s really a shame that you must die, but we both know that it is inevitable.” He stood, bringing Harry up with him.

“Now, my pretty boy, do you know how to use that toy of yours?” he asked, taking a step away as he motioned toward Harry’s sword.

Harry lifted it, for the first time since he arrived, he smiled. “Better than you realize.”

Voldemort lifted his hand and a Death Eater slunk over and handed him a sword. “Primitive, but it could be fun.” He held it before him and smirked.

Harry paused for a moment. It was now or never. Holding up the bottle he’d been clutching against his stomach, he brought the sword down atop it, smashing it into his palm. The thick liquid burned like fire over his hand, but he forced himself to ignore it. Bringing the sword across the palm of his hand, he effectively coated it with potion and his own blood. Harry could feel the glass grinding into his hand, but it was necessary.

Voldemort only watched him, the action was too fast for anyone to react. Harry swung the sword and Voldemort blocked it. Harry knew he had only moments to go so he had to move fast. They locked swords once more and Harry pushed them together to the hilt. “It’s over, Harry,” the Dark Lord hissed.

“I know,” Harry smiled, “it is.”

In one swift movement, he swung the sword around and plunged it deep within the heart of Voldemort. The madman laughed. “Do you honestly think that I’m that easy to kill?”

Harry pushed against the hilt of the sword of Gryffindor and smirked as the expression on Voldemort’s face suddenly changed.

Then it happened. The sword and Harry’s hand both burst into flames. The potion had ignited and was devouring the Dark Lord from the inside out.

There was a blinding gold light that emanated from between the two wizards. Harry could hear the Death Eaters rushing around, panicked cries and screams. This isn’t what they’d expected. He could hear some coming close to them. His hand was burning, he could smell the charred flesh but couldn’t decide if it was his or Voldemort’s.

“Don’t touch him, Draco!” Snape’s voice yelled from behind him. They sounded far away.

The glow grew brighter. It seemed to be gathering above Voldemort’s head. A rush of sound deafened all noise from the room as the glowing light rushed at Harry’s head and knocked him back, his hand had been extinguished but still burned. He felt two hands grasp his shoulders and two others grab his feet. As he was carried away, he could feel his body vibrate with power.

“Bloody fool, Potter. A bloody, briliant fool…” was the last thing he could remember before his world went black.

TBC