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Description
The End?
____________________________
Voldemort seemed to be gaining ground, Harry grimaced as he jumped to the side yet again and shouted yet another fruitless disarming spell. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a black figure sweeping towards them, wand drawn and at the ready.

Snape!

Harry jumped back, feet sinking into the soft mud that been turned up in their dueling, mixed with blood and rain water and other nameless things which he wished to put no name to mixed in. Voldemort drew closer – he was now ten meters from him - a smirk on his face showing that he, too, had noticed the presence of the potions master.

“How lovely. Severus, do join us and witness the demise of young Mr. Potter here,” Voldemort’s lips curled up maliciously at Harry as Snape ran closer and closer.

Harry’s heart seemed to plummet in his stomach and as a last ditch effort he raised his wand.

“Expelliarmus!”

“Avada Kedavra!”

• • •

Snape had come lately upon this scene, having stealthily done away with a few Death Eaters as the situations presented themselves to him. He didn’t kill them, per se, but certainly he made sure that they would be interfering in the Order’s fight no longer.

He could make out two vague, shifting figures distantly in the mist, engaged in a furious duel and as he drew closer he broke into a run.

The Boy-Who-Lived and the Dark Lord.

Wand at the ready, his mind swiftly ran down a list, trying to figure out the best spell for this. He vaguely heard the words from the dark figure to his right as he sped up. Seeing both figures move into action, he heedlessly shouted a spell of his own moments before he heard the others shout their own spells.

“Prote-coomph!”

Snape, always graceful, if somewhat ungainly Severus Snape, tripped over a rock sunk into the churned up muck and mire on which this final battle was taking place and landed flat on his face, about ten meters from both wizards to his sides, his misstated spell firing off wildly through the air. Pulling his face free from the grime, he anxiously looked up, afraid of what he’d see.

• • •

It was, frankly, a miracle. As the spells, all three, unbeknownst to the duelers, flew threw the air to meet in the middle, Snape’s spell crashed sidelong into Harry’s and the most unusual barrier shield Harry had ever seen sprung up four meters in front of him. Instead of the spells dissipating, as Harry thought it would, thus leaving him vulnerable to the most unforgivable of all the Unforgivables, this spidery web of almost translucent silver and gold rapidly formed and then, for no explicable reason, appeared to take on the shape and look of – a window? – framed in a purple-black wood. The Killing Curse hit it dead center.

Harry’s eyes went wide as, instead of shattering, the curse seemed to push in the glass – was it glass? – and suddenly the threads of silver and gold were visible as the green light seemed to be held in a writhing ball in the crackling see-through net inches from his face before suddenly, for no apparent reason, the net contracted and flung the lethal spell right back at Lord Voldemort.

Lord Voldemort crumpled to the floor – he hadn’t seen it coming, either.

As Lord Voldemort died, the window seemed to vanish slowly as well until nothing remained of the odd side effect of two spells (one of which was poorly performed.) Harry stared at the still figure in front of him before sitting straight down in the mud and began to laugh wildly.

Snape pulled himself up from the mud and walked the rest of the way over to the hysterically laughing wizard. He took one look at the frantic expression on the boy’s face, tears – of relief, of happiness, he did not know – streaming down his face, and promptly slapped him across the face.

“Mr. Potter, no need to work yourself into hysterics. Now is not the time to be going into shock.” Snape said as blandly as possible.

Harry turned a wet face up to look into Snape’s still muddy face and barely cracked a smile as he said dazedly, “What – What just happened here?”

“A bloody miracle, that’s what. If you hadn’t noticed, I didn’t exactly aim, and frankly Protego wouldn’t have been of much use as it was, either. We got lucky, that’s what.” That said, Snape also sunk to the earth, squatting staunchly on his haunches and rummaging through his inner robe pockets. “I need to get to a pub, that’s what I need to do,” he muttered as he started cleaning his face up with a, thankfully clean, handkerchief he’d found in one of them.

Harry cracked a smile. “I think I’d like to join you, sir, if you don’t mind.”

Snape grimaced. “If you must.”

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing his forehead before glancing over at Snape again.

“It’s quiet now.”

Snape nodded slightly. “The fighting was mostly over, I believe, by the time I got here.”

“I thought you were going to attack me,” Harry confessed. “I was pretty sure you hated me.”

“Six years at Hogwarts together, Mr. Potter,” Snape said slowly. “If you still can’t grasp the concept I just plain don’t like you, then you must be ever stupider than I thought.”

Harry grinned wryly. “Gee, I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.”

“Take it as you will.” Snape glanced over at Harry’s scar as he rubbed at his forehead again. “Is it hurting?”

“Is what hurting?”

“Your scar.”

“No, it’s just a headache.” Harry paused and ran a finger over his scar. “I think it’s just a regular old scar now.”

“Hn. How lovely for you.” Snape seemed to debate within himself for a moment before grudgingly asking Harry a question. “The rest of the wizarding world will probably hang me for this but… You can probably get that removed you know – I have potions and there are spells—”

“Not that I’m ungrateful for the suggestion, but no thanks.”

“Ever the little celebrity, are we, Mr. Potter?” Snape drolly raised one eyebrow at him.

Harry made a face. “Not that I enjoy the attention, really, it’s just—” Harry looked Snape in the eye. “It’s just – I’ve always liked my scar.”
___________________________________
Another stand alone story...
A misfired spell! I just loved that idea, couldn’t stop myself. And Snape being the one who cast it incorrectly was just an added bonus to me. (I love Snapey. He tastes like chocolate. XD Just kidding, just kidding. Honestly, I don’t know what Snape tastes like. –w– OwO)

Description
The End?
____________________________
Voldemort seemed to be gaining ground, Harry grimaced as he jumped to the side yet again and shouted yet another fruitless disarming spell. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a black figure sweeping towards them, wand drawn and at the ready.

Snape!

Harry jumped back, feet sinking into the soft mud that been turned up in their dueling, mixed with blood and rain water and other nameless things which he wished to put no name to mixed in. Voldemort drew closer – he was now ten meters from him - a smirk on his face showing that he, too, had noticed the presence of the potions master.

“How lovely. Severus, do join us and witness the demise of young Mr. Potter here,” Voldemort’s lips curled up maliciously at Harry as Snape ran closer and closer.

Harry’s heart seemed to plummet in his stomach and as a last ditch effort he raised his wand.

“Expelliarmus!”

“Avada Kedavra!”

• • •

Snape had come lately upon this scene, having stealthily done away with a few Death Eaters as the situations presented themselves to him. He didn’t kill them, per se, but certainly he made sure that they would be interfering in the Order’s fight no longer.

He could make out two vague, shifting figures distantly in the mist, engaged in a furious duel and as he drew closer he broke into a run.

The Boy-Who-Lived and the Dark Lord.

Wand at the ready, his mind swiftly ran down a list, trying to figure out the best spell for this. He vaguely heard the words from the dark figure to his right as he sped up. Seeing both figures move into action, he heedlessly shouted a spell of his own moments before he heard the others shout their own spells.

“Prote-coomph!”

Snape, always graceful, if somewhat ungainly Severus Snape, tripped over a rock sunk into the churned up muck and mire on which this final battle was taking place and landed flat on his face, about ten meters from both wizards to his sides, his misstated spell firing off wildly through the air. Pulling his face free from the grime, he anxiously looked up, afraid of what he’d see.

• • •

It was, frankly, a miracle. As the spells, all three, unbeknownst to the duelers, flew threw the air to meet in the middle, Snape’s spell crashed sidelong into Harry’s and the most unusual barrier shield Harry had ever seen sprung up four meters in front of him. Instead of the spells dissipating, as Harry thought it would, thus leaving him vulnerable to the most unforgivable of all the Unforgivables, this spidery web of almost translucent silver and gold rapidly formed and then, for no explicable reason, appeared to take on the shape and look of – a window? – framed in a purple-black wood. The Killing Curse hit it dead center.

Harry’s eyes went wide as, instead of shattering, the curse seemed to push in the glass – was it glass? – and suddenly the threads of silver and gold were visible as the green light seemed to be held in a writhing ball in the crackling see-through net inches from his face before suddenly, for no apparent reason, the net contracted and flung the lethal spell right back at Lord Voldemort.

Lord Voldemort crumpled to the floor – he hadn’t seen it coming, either.

As Lord Voldemort died, the window seemed to vanish slowly as well until nothing remained of the odd side effect of two spells (one of which was poorly performed.) Harry stared at the still figure in front of him before sitting straight down in the mud and began to laugh wildly.

Snape pulled himself up from the mud and walked the rest of the way over to the hysterically laughing wizard. He took one look at the frantic expression on the boy’s face, tears – of relief, of happiness, he did not know – streaming down his face, and promptly slapped him across the face.

“Mr. Potter, no need to work yourself into hysterics. Now is not the time to be going into shock.” Snape said as blandly as possible.

Harry turned a wet face up to look into Snape’s still muddy face and barely cracked a smile as he said dazedly, “What – What just happened here?”

“A bloody miracle, that’s what. If you hadn’t noticed, I didn’t exactly aim, and frankly Protego wouldn’t have been of much use as it was, either. We got lucky, that’s what.” That said, Snape also sunk to the earth, squatting staunchly on his haunches and rummaging through his inner robe pockets. “I need to get to a pub, that’s what I need to do,” he muttered as he started cleaning his face up with a, thankfully clean, handkerchief he’d found in one of them.

Harry cracked a smile. “I think I’d like to join you, sir, if you don’t mind.”

Snape grimaced. “If you must.”

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing his forehead before glancing over at Snape again.

“It’s quiet now.”

Snape nodded slightly. “The fighting was mostly over, I believe, by the time I got here.”

“I thought you were going to attack me,” Harry confessed. “I was pretty sure you hated me.”

“Six years at Hogwarts together, Mr. Potter,” Snape said slowly. “If you still can’t grasp the concept I just plain don’t like you, then you must be ever stupider than I thought.”

Harry grinned wryly. “Gee, I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.”

“Take it as you will.” Snape glanced over at Harry’s scar as he rubbed at his forehead again. “Is it hurting?”

“Is what hurting?”

“Your scar.”

“No, it’s just a headache.” Harry paused and ran a finger over his scar. “I think it’s just a regular old scar now.”

“Hn. How lovely for you.” Snape seemed to debate within himself for a moment before grudgingly asking Harry a question. “The rest of the wizarding world will probably hang me for this but… You can probably get that removed you know – I have potions and there are spells—”

“Not that I’m ungrateful for the suggestion, but no thanks.”

“Ever the little celebrity, are we, Mr. Potter?” Snape drolly raised one eyebrow at him.

Harry made a face. “Not that I enjoy the attention, really, it’s just—” Harry looked Snape in the eye. “It’s just – I’ve always liked my scar.”
___________________________________
Another stand alone story...
A misfired spell! I just loved that idea, couldn’t stop myself. And Snape being the one who cast it incorrectly was just an added bonus to me. (I love Snapey. He tastes like chocolate. XD Just kidding, just kidding. Honestly, I don’t know what Snape tastes like. –w– OwO)