Anti-litigation charm; JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter Universe, to her we bow. Warner Brothers and Various Publishers also have their own rights. We are just playing in their backyard and we promise to clean up when we have finished.

This is in response to the 2nd PERSON CHALLENGE on WIKTT.

Plagiarism is sometimes the sincerest form of flattery, Plot elements identifiable from fics on Whispers, WIKTT and fanfiction.net are likely to be just that. To those who write them........ Wow.

Special thanks to those who put up with spelling errors etc and reviewed anyway. Do I feel like a fool for missing those. Anyway thankyou thecurmudgeons(), Altaria Volante and Pandora Culpa() especially.

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You couldn't believe your eyes, she stood before you, her hands stretched out to you; but she couldn't be there, she was gone. But still you look into her eyes, drinking in the sight, anything to forget the pain of your loss. You, who had never cared, had been the consummate loner; you had finally been struck down.

She had snuck in under your defences, looking at you, not the face you showed to the world, and she granted you absolution. She had been your salvation when all others would have burned for you your treachery; she had seen pain it had caused you and she cared. While everyone had lauded it over the boy who lived for the final stroke he delivered, you had to hide. They would not forgive you your sin, even though it was that sin gave that wretched boy the opportunity to strike.

You were the only one who knew his terrible secret for you were the one who had brewed the potions daily to sustain his life. He would not go until Voldemort was gone, and so you brewed, and he lied. But at what cost, for in the end, it was you who really defeated the Dark One, it was you that knew the one frailty of Avada Kedavra; it needed a live target, or it would rebound on its caster. Knowing this you had stayed by him throughout the fight. Knowing that he would be a target, and knowing the blessing he desired. At that fateful moment you struck, your knife faster than Voldemort's curse, and so he had fallen, and the curse cheated of its target had rebound on its caster. As the curse hit, the boy who lived struck, he never knew that he was not needed.

You were the snake in the grass, they said, seeing you as you collapsed by the cooling body of Dumbledore. They would have taken you to Azkaban there and then, and you would gladly have gone, but she aparated in behind you. She whispered, "I know," and she apparated out of there with you. She took you into her world to hide. Taught you to cope, helped you to heal, and loved you till she passed.

The last week has not been kind to you, you cannot grieve, for whom could you grieve with? You are dead to your world and have been for over a century. You cannot even let others know that she has passed finally, for she passed with you; both traitors. Your names will have been struck from all records, the two most brilliant Potion Masters in history, gone and forgotten.

Still she stands before you; her hand now reaches for your cheek, the gesture so familiar that you begin to cry. Tears, cleansing tears, that you had not been able to shed suddenly fall like a spring shower, each tear a crystal, tears of pure love, the most precious thing in the world and no-one is here to see them fall, no one is here to marvel at the shower of diamonds. "Severus," she whispers as her hands draw you up.

"Hermione," you say with your last breath. You feel your shell crumple and fall as she enfolds you in her wings. Her kiss awakes you again and you are free. Together you join eternity.

Jeanette

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