Breaking Glass
“What?” I spluttered, entirely forgetting the situation I was in. Kill me? So that Snape could prove his bloody worth? Surely, surely, I deserved a better end than giving that snivelling git a second chance with Voldemort.
“Quiet, girl,” Bellatrix hissed, her sallow eyes alight with glee as she watched Snape and Voldemort.
Snape did not respond for a few moments, and I felt like I was going to vomit. Really, I was getting rather sick of these stupid, pregnant pauses where my safety or feelings were being debated. Each one felt like the sharp twist of a knife in my belly every time it happened. The drying blood on my head was beginning to itch, and my feet felt tingly and numb as I knelt on the ground, awaiting my fate from a man who had betrayed so many people already.
Who had already attempted to torture me once. Christ, I hated him.
Voldemort, his smoky robes swishing, moved closer to Snape, his bony fingers gripping his knobby wand. “Well, Severus? What shall it be? The girl’s death and your redemption, or the girl’s death, followed by yours?” Voldemort had to know Snape was only concerned with self-preservation, didn’t he? That was why he posed the question the way that he did. It would make much more sense in Snape’s mind for him to just kill me and be done with it, rather than lose his life for a student he’d never cared much for in the first place.
“My lord, I-” Snape began, but Voldemort suddenly shushed him, his eyes rolling back slightly as he hissed with displeasure. Voldemort didn’t say anything, but when he righted himself, a dark fire seemed to crackled around him angrily.
“Severus, it seems that time is of the essence,” Voldemort mused. “Make your choice, now, or I shall make it for you. Who will you pledge your loyalties to, hm?” Voldemort grinned darkly at his follower, whose beady eyes were stuck on his lord as Voldemort paced in front of him. “Me, the man who has given you everything you asked for? Or the man who couldn’t even save the woman you loved?”
Snape stiffened. It seemed Voldemort had hit quite the mark with that one, hadn’t he? Harry had told me that Sirius had told him a while ago that Snape had had some sort of terrible obsession with Harry’s mother while they were at Hogwarts. Not only an obsession, but that Snape had been in love with Lily, and according to Sirius, he might very well still be. Like Harry’s mother would’ve ever bothered with Snape in the first place. I’d seen pictures of Lily, and she’d been incredibly pretty; long red hair, kind green eyes, and a bright smile.
Snape, according to Sirius and Professor Lupin, had been as vindictive as a child as he was as a teacher. Snape had hated James even before Lily had fallen in love with him, and though it was unfair, that was the reason Snape despised Harry so much, even before Harry knew who he was. They hadn’t done into much detail, but from what Harry had relayed to me one night, on the anniversary of his parents’ death, Snape had loved Lily, and Lily had loved him too, as a friend. But that hadn’t been enough for Snape.
“My lord, you know that my allegiance has always lied with you.”
“Then killing the girl should not be so difficult, yes?” Voldemort asked. “Her life is worth nothing-- her blood is easily spilt. Do it, Severus, before I lose my patience.”
I was wracking my brain, trying to find anything that might delay my rapidly-approaching doom, but there wasn’t much coming to mind. Believe it or not, I wasn’t entirely eager for Snape to kill me. I knew it was ridiculous, but I felt rather jilted that my demise came down to some greasy teacher who never grew out of his childhood bigotry proving his worth. If anyone had asked me, I would’ve told them Snape didn’t have much worth to prove anyway. But unfortunately, my opinion did not seem to be of interest to anyone.
It should be, I thought miserably. I’m the one whose life is on the line.
“Yes, my lord,” Snape nodded reverently to Voldemort, and the wizard stepped out of his follower’s way, opening up the path between Snape and I. I felt like I was going to be sick all over the Malfoy’s lovely tile flooring as Snape approached me, his black wand rising steadily to point at my kneeling form. This truly couldn’t be it, could it? I hadn’t ever taken the time to imagine my death in detail, but surely this was not how I was meant to go out.
I refused to go out quietly, though. If this was my last chance to do something (what a strange thought that was), I might as well use my last moments to make sure Snape never forgot me. And this, I realized suddenly, was where my Slytherin traits came in. I felt vengeful, I felt angry and bitter. I wanted to make sure Snape’s dreams were plagued with me. He deserved to feel remorseful and vile and unforgivable for the rest of his life, and I wanted to be the one to make him feel that way if he was enough of a fucking bastard to take my life purely because he was a bloody coward.
Not only did I feel like tearing Snape apart, but I suddenly knew exactly how to do so.
“You know, you’ve done a lot of things that Lily would’ve never forgiven you for, but this might just take the cake,” I said sweetly, locking eyes with my professor.
Snape’s face reddened, and the grip on his wand tightened so much I thought I could hear the wood groaning. “How dare you speak her name?” Snape snarled at me.
I let out a humorless laugh. Okay, maybe this really will give me a bit more time. “How dare I? You’ve spent the past six years tormenting her son for no reason, and you’re saying I shouldn’t say her name? Like Lily wouldn’t tell you off herself if she could.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re just a child. You know nothing about L- about her,” Snape said, struggling to regain his calm. I didn’t, not really, but it was getting under his skin. The Malfoys were looking at the pair of us, and I longed for the comfort of Draco’s silver eyes, but I kept my gaze on Snape.
“I may not know much about her, but she’s Harry’s mother, and I know Harry didn’t get everything from James. I’m guessing he got his loyalty from her, didn’t he? His eyes, too, but you knew that. Does it hurt, to look at him and see Lily? To see the woman who didn’t want you, the woman you couldn’t save?” I asked Snape, doing my best to make each word sting as sharply as the cut on my forehead did. Snape may be a vile, bitter asshole, but everyone had a tipping point, and it seemed I’d found his.
“You speak so bravely for a brat whose life will not last another hour,” Snape hissed. “You think you can distract me? You think you can hurt me by bringing up her name?” Snape walked forward, coming so close that I had to strain my neck to look up at him. “You know nothing of hurt.”
“I know that Lily might’ve given you a chance if you weren’t such an asshole. Maybe if you’d ever bothered to do the right thing, to be brave, you would’ve ended up with Lily instead of James. But there is a reason you ended up in Slytherin, isn’t there?”
Snape glared at me, his shabby black shoe lifting to step on my hand that was splayed on the ground to hold myself up and ground into my fingers, the treadmarks biting into my skin. I winced as he said, “It is rather pathetic that you think you can speak about things you weren’t even alive to witness. James Potter was a pompous, stuck-up, proud boy who never grew up, and Lily couldn’t see that-”
“See what? See that the boy who claimed he was in love with her was a part of a group that hated her very existence? Yes, how romantic of you.”
“Severus, I’m growing tired of her, and I am growing tired of your pathetic rambling. Kill her, now, or I shall. And I will let Bellatrix do the honor of taking your life afterwards,” Voldemort growled. “Kill her. Now.”
No, no, no. This couldn’t be it. All the stupid cliches started running through my head- I’m too young, I’m too scared, I haven’t done enough, I don’t want to die!- but it was useless. Snape pointed his wand directly at my head, and my heart was in my throat and I genuinely thought I might throw up all over Snape’s stupid shoes, which would be so bloody embarrassing. I wanted to look at Draco, wanted to see reassurance in his face, but I knew it wouldn’t be there.
None of the Malfoy’s had said a word in many minutes, and I was wondering, stupidly, if Draco would miss me after I was gone. What would they do with my body? Would Draco tell anyone what had happened, or would he just let everyone think I’d gone missing?
As Snape’s mouth opened and my stomach jolted violently, Voldemort let out an inhuman noise, something that was a half hiss, half screech. Snape’s head turned towards Voldemort, whose eyes were fluttering as he muttered softly to himself. I looked nervously at Bellatrix, but she, too, seemed entirely confused by Voldemort’s sudden outburst.
“He knows,” Voldemort hissed, his voice low, dangerous. “The boy knows. He is near.”
Harry. He means Harry. Harry knew I was gone! Surely that’s what Voldemort meant, right? Who else would inspire such hatred in his serpent-like eyes?
“My lord?” Lucius asked apprehensively. Voldemort held up a skeletal hand, silencing the blond man. Voldemort groaned, as if it pained him to speak.
“Severus, kill the girl. Now!” Voldemort commanded, and Snape looked nervously towards me. “Now, or I promise you, Severus, you shall beg for the mercy of death by the time I am done with you.”
Before Snape could turn towards me once more, the large windows that were casting shadows and moonlight onto the tile floor shattered with a sharp, high crack, raining glass onto the floor. The shards hit the ground all around me, some slicing into the bare skin of my hands and face, but I hardly noticed the stinging pain as I heard shouts and voices bursting from the destroyed windows.
“Elaine!” Harry called out, and I swore I could’ve sobbed with relief as I heard his familiar voice. “I told you she was here! I told you!”
“Is now really the time for that?” Hermione asked sharply as she drew her wand on the group surrounding me. “We have to get Elaine, then you can gloat all you want, Harry.”
The words almost sounded surreal. They’d actually come for me. I had hoped for that, of course, but I hadn’t thought it was going to happen. Snape was still standing above me, frozen in partial shock, and I suddenly remembered the digging presence of my wand in my waistband. With a quickness that surprised even myself, I grabbed my wand from under my shirt and yelled, “Stupify!”
The red sparks hit Snape square in the chest, throwing him back against the wall of the dining room. He hit it with a sound of heavy pain and fell to the ground, temporarily incapacitated. I stumbled to my feet, my head spinning in a kind reminder that I had likely hit my head hard enough to give myself a concussion. Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa were standing wide-eyed, but Bellatrix and Voldemort were tense, ready, like predators starting a hunt.
“Elaine!” Harry yelled again, and without turning my back to Voldemort, I hurried towards him. With him was Hermione, Ron, Professor McGonagall, and Arthur Weasely, who looked like he had only been awake a very short time. Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen, which meant he couldn’t see Snape’s betrayal first hand.
Oh well. Tonight was likely going to be enough to convince him of Snape’s true loyalties, even just by word of mouth. It had to be. Harry grabbed my wrist, tugging me into the group and shoving me behind the lot of them. I was grateful, as much as I hated to admit it. I needed a moment to collect myself and get myself right again before I could even hope to be any help at all.
“My, my,” Voldemort snarled. “Who would’ve guessed the Mudblood had so many people willing to save her? Of course, I am not surprised in the least that it is all blood traitors and Mudbloods that came. Like calls to like, does it not?”
Draco and I finally locked eyes, and I felt a crack in my heart as I saw the terror in his eyes that he wasn’t bothering to hide. I knew he was fearing the worst, for much of the worst had already happened. I couldn’t muster even a ghost of a smile to offer him some semblance of comfort, but I knew Draco understood what I was trying to tell him.
I was going to get him out of here too. There was no way I’d leave him behind.
“Voldemort,” McGongall said calmly, and I had never been more terrified of her than in that moment. “Let the girl go, and we can settle this. She is a child, and knows nothing of import. She is not a part of this war.”
Bellatrix cackled, the pitchy sound ringing in the unfurnished room. “Shut it, bitch.” I bristled at her insult, but McGonagall didn’t even seem to hear it. “My lord, can I-”
“Stupify!” Arthur called out as Bellatrix began to raise her wand at McGonagall’s chest. The red sparks hit her and she stumbled back, shrieking horridly.
And suddenly, the dining room was filled with the shouts of spells and colorful bursts of sparks as magic started flying every which way. Arthur was facing Bellatrix, Hermione and Ron were aiming their wands at Snape, though Hermione still looked hesitant to attack a teacher even if he was a spy, and McGonagall was doing her best to shield Harry from Voldemort.
Lucius and Narcissa had not joined the fight, and while everyone was preoccupied, I rushed over to the three of them, not caring if Lucius hated my damn guts. Draco’s safety was worth putting up with his father’s wrath for a few minutes.
“Draco,” I said, my voice cracking on the second syllable. “We have to get out of here. We-”
“He will not be going anywhere with you,” Lucius snapped, tightening his grip on Draco’s shoulder. “This is our house. You will not-”
“Will you shut up?” Narcissa hissed, whirling towards her husband. “We will not survive this if you continue to let your inane prejudices control you. We have to leave if you want your son to survive this. You know the Dark Lord won’t let us leave willingly, not after this. He’ll blame us. He’ll blame you.”
“He won’t,” Lucius snapped, but he didn’t sound entirely confident about it. “How dare my wife speak to me in such a tone?”
Narcissa tore the large silver-and-emerald ring off her left ring finger, throwing it to the ground where it clattered with a high clink. “I have no interest in being your wife any longer, Lucius. Never again will I let you put my son in danger for your own damn gain. You stay here, then, and see what the Dark Lord does to you.”
Draco looked shocked at his mother’s outburst, but Lucius looked positively murderous. “How dare you! I-”
“You,” Narcissa cut off sharply, “Will either be the man I hoped you were when we first met and help these children escape, or I shall never speak to you again. Draco shall never speak to you again.”
“I likely won’t even if he chooses to stop being a groveling coward,” Draco informed his father bitterly. Lucius’ hand shot out, intending to strike Draco across the face, but I directed my wand at his moving hand and cast a wall of protection around Draco. Lucius’ hand hit the charm with a thud, and Lucius took a step back as his blow was halted.
I pointed my wand to him, then, anger heating my body as I looked at the man who had caused Draco so much pain. Perhaps I was seeing my father, too, as I growled, “You lay a fucking hand on him again, and I will tear you apart piece by fucking piece, you sorry excuse for a father.”
Draco looked rattled as he recovered from my spell saving him from his father’s quickly approaching wrath, but the panic turned to appreciation soon after. I couldn’t take my eyes off Lucius, though, to return Draco’s gratitude. I couldn’t help the fiery rage that was coursing through my veins as I faced Lucius.
Lucius swallowed shortly, but his steely demeanor remained unchanged. So that was where Draco learned it. His eyes darted to his wife, then to Draco, who returned his gaze as if Lucius was utter scum. As Lucius breathed in deeply, a crack sounded, and his body twisted out of existence as he Disapparated.
That coward! Narcissa looked strangely unsurprised. “I told my mother that man was a bloody coward,” she muttered to herself. She looked at me, then, and even with the fighting going on behind me, I was tempted to take a step back as she studied me. I was sure I looked a mess; I certainly felt like one. My hair felt dirty and I was sure at least a bit of it was matted with blood, my entire body still ached as though I’d been hit by a train, and my arm was shaking as it struggled to repair itself from the repeated injuries it had suffered.
All in all, I probably was quite an unpleasant sight. But I held my head high and kept my shoulders back, even though it ached, because honestly, I was rather tired of bowing to people today.
“You love my son,” Narcissa said. It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway. Admitting it out loud to someone that wasn’t Draco was entirely terrifying, and even more so considering who Narcissa was, but I figured I’d wasted enough time hiding it.
“Yes, I do,” I responded. “I-”
“No. I...must apologize to you. I have seen...I have started to see things in a new light, but now, we must focus on leaving,” Narcissa said. “We have time for apologies and righting wrongs after.”
I couldn’t help feeling rather surprised, and I found myself almost liking Narcissa. Draco was still standing by her side, and I waved down the invisible wall of magic I’d cast around him. He reached out and grabbed my hand in a grip that was nearly crushing my bones, but I squeezed his hand back as my heart jumped in my chest. It was such a small thing to be excited about, especially while we were literally less than ten feet away from Voldemort, but I couldn’t help it.
Any small contact with Draco always set my heart racing, always made my skin prickle with heat, and I doubted that was ever going to change. Narcissa looked at our interlocked hands, and nodded once. “You realize-”
“Yes. It doesn’t matter to me,” Draco told her confidently. “It has...I have changed too, Mother. More than you know.”
A small smile danced across Narcissa’s rosy mouth, and affection shone in her eyes. “I am proud of you, my dear. Now, we must get going, and I mean it this time. We shall have time for all this emotional blubbering once we’re safe.”
Arthur was still sparring with Bellatrix, though her wild hair was coming loose from its updo, and the look in her eye was more panic than joy. I’d never seen Arthur with such a stern look on his face, with such conviction as he threw spell after spell at Bellatrix with such speed that I could barely follow them. Narcissa drew her wand and cast a non-verbal hex that hit Bellatrix soundly, knocking her out cold. Her body thudded to the ground and Narcissa waved her wand again, causing ropes to appear and slither around Bellatrix’s body like tan snakes, tying her arms to her torso and her legs together.
Arthur quickly picked up Bellatrix’s crooked wand and tucked it in his pocket. With obvious surprise, he said, “Thank you, Narcissa.”
Narcissa waved her hand, almost dismissing his thanks. “I’ve been wanting to do that to Bella since we were twelve. Really, it was more for me than anything.”
“Even still,” Arthur insisted. “Where is-Ron!”
Just then, Snape managed to fire a hex at Ron, and Ron was unable to dodge the dark jet of silvery light that shot towards him. Hermione let out a cry as the hex hit him in the left shoulder, burning through his shirt and immediately causing his skin to turn reddish purple as he cried out with pain. The hex was spreading quickly, down his left arm and his chest. Ron dropped to the ground, his breath short and pained. His body started shaking as the hex spread over his body and Hermione rushed to him, entirely forgetting Snape behind her.
“Ron,” Hermione gasped, cradling his head in her arms. “Ron, Ron, come on, don’t-you’re okay! You’re okay.” Her voice was thick with tears, and even from where I was standing, I could see her hands shaking as she pulled him closer.
Ron looked up at Hermione, tears starting to drip down her face. “‘Mione. ‘Mione, I love you,” Ron choked out, the hex now creeping up his throat, causing his face to contort with pain as he spoke. “You know that? Loved you since the day you-you told us you thought getting expelled was worse than dying.” Ron let out a shuddering laugh at the memory. “Just wish I realized it sooner. Just wish I had more time with you. I was so dense, wasn’t I? Couldn’t see my soulmate right in front of me even though you’d been my best friend for years.”
“No, Ronald, no,” Hermione told him shakily. “Don’t- you’re not- come ON, Ronald, you can’t do this to me! I’ll-I’ll never forgive you if you leave-”
“That’s okay, ‘Mione,” Ron assured, smiling softly at his girlfriend, as though she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. “I’ll always…”
I watched on with horror as Ron closed his eyes, his hand dropping to the ground from where it had hovered in the air, almost resting on Hermione’s cheek. Hermione let out a sound that made loss hit me so hard I couldn’t breathe. I could no longer see Ron’s chest rising and falling.
“No, no, no,” Hermione insisted, searching Ron’s face. “No! No, this isn’t fair. I-I wanted more time. We deserved more time.” Her voice was cracking with pain and interspersed with gasps as she tried to hold back the sobs that were causing her to shake.
Hermione had shiny tears dripping down her face as she looked up from Ron to Snape, who was standing triumphantly a short distance away. The anger that erupted in Hermione was so strong sparks were beginning to dance around the ends of her hair, which I had only ever seen happen once before when Snape had gotten Professor Lupin fired our third year.
Snape had the good sense to take a step back, but Hermione’s wrath was too large to escape. “You,” she growled, still holding Ron in her lap. “You foul, traitorous, murdering BASTARD!”
Hermione, who apparently had been learning non-verbal spells (though that didn’t really surprise me) jabbed her wand at her former professor and he froze, dropping with a thud as Hermione’s perfected Petrificus Totalus took hold of his body and immobilized him.
She turned her attention back towards Ron, and I rushed to her side, dragging Draco with me. I dropped to my knees, sinking with a sound that meant I’d surely have bruises the next day, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was Ron lying still, too still, in Hermione’s lap. Hermione’s wand bounced as it hit the floor, her hands coming to cup Ron’s freckled face.
The hex was a nasty, sour shade of red, one that had what little food that remained in my stomach threatening to reappear. I couldn’t tell if Ron was breathing, and he wasn’t moving at all. I kept waiting for him to jump up and laugh at our shocked expressions, but he just kept lying there. Time almost seemed to freeze as I waited desperately for him to show us he was alright.
Hot tears welled in my eyes as I looked down at one of my best friends in the world. As I looked down at one of my best friends in the world who I’d never get to see smile again, whose room would now always be empty at the Burrow.
Whose hand on the Weasley’s family clock would no longer move.
I couldn’t even think of anything to say; all I could do was look at Ron’s body, half covered with the hex. It didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel like I was looking at my best friend lying on the ground, because it couldn’t be. It had to be fake, didn’t it? Ron couldn’t...he couldn’t be...I refused to even think the word. If I thought the word, that would make it real, and it wasn’t. Ron was alive, he was fine, he was just closing his eyes, right?
Arthur let out a wail as he came over to us, seeing his youngest son’s body prone in his girlfriend’s arms. “No, Ronald,” he choked out, his voice cracking with sorrow. “No, no, it-no.”
Arthur’s broken voice caused fresh sobs to tear through me as he stared in utter despair at his son. “Is he-he’s not-”
“I’m so sorry,” I managed to choke out.
Narcissa placed a steadying arm on his shoulder. “Arthur, go help Minerva and Harry.” Arthur went to protest but she said, “I know this curse, and I know how to fix it, but I have to do it now, and Draco has to help me. It takes two people, and we have to concentrate for the magic to work properly. You go help Harry, yes? If Draco and I start now, Ron might have a chance. We are losing time, though, and quickly. It may already be too late.”
Arthur looked incredibly reluctant, but he went over to McGonagall who was shielding Harry with her body as Voldemort advanced on the two of them. “Draco, help me,” Narcissa told her son. “My dear, you’re going to have to let him go now, alright?”
Hermione clung to Ron tighter, but I put a hand on her arm. “‘Mione, I promise they’re going to help. Please let them help,” I said, a sob cutting through my words. “Please, I can’t- Ron-”
Hermione clenched her jaw, looking distrustfully at Draco and Narcissa, but I let out another broken plea, and she let go of her grip on Ron. Narcissa knelt next to her, transferring Ron gently to the floor in front of her. Draco knelt down too, on the other side of Ron’s body, and with a grim look, they began.
I wrapped a sore arm around Hermione as we watched the two work, waving their wands in an intricate pattern. The magic already seemed to be taking its toll on both mother and son, beads of sweat appearing on their hairlines as they cast spell after spell over Ron. It felt like my breath was cement in my lungs as I waited, waited for anything to happen.