The End of the World

Time it was and what a time it was, it was,

BOOM!

The battle raged outside, shaking the castle as dust sprinkled down overhead. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Madam Pomfrey sat in the Great Hall, silent, as the battle roared. The sounds of the fighting echoed throughout the Hall. Finally, their concern for the wounded that might be trying to straggle in through the main gates drew them out to view the carnage. No one came. They watched the fierce fighting from a distance. There were moments where Poppy wanted to run out to help a wounded student or Order member, but Kingsley held her back...the Death Eaters were out for blood. No one was spared if wounded. They sat all night; the only light came from the illumination of the hexes and curses cast. Towards dawn, Kingsley saw the battle shift slowly from the west towards the east.

Kingsley had witnessed a magnificent duel between Severus Snape and the Lestrange brothers early on in the battle. It had been a ruthless, take no prisoners, fight that the Potions master had won. Yet, as soon as he had claimed victory, a stray spell in the back had taken him down. Kingsley had watched the tall, dark wizard fall gracefully to his knees and then sink to the ground. Kingsley had punched his hand into the wall he had been standing behind in sorrow and frustration. He had hated that he had been ordered to remain behind, to not getting directly involved with the fighting since the Order had decided that if they destroyed Voldemort, Kingsley, with his undercover work experience with the Muggle Prime Minister, would be the perfect choice for the new Minister of Magic. Other warriors who had charged forward and clashed with the vast armies of Voldemort had quickly obscured Snape's figure from Kingsley's sight.

***

The shifting battle made it impossible for either Poppy or Kingsley to see clearly. The fighting was now a kilometer away. All that could be heard were the screams and shrieks as spells collided with the fighting and the fallen. Kingsley looked back onto the western field that had been abandoned. The darkness was receding as the sun began to rise over the eastern side where the battle still raged. He wondered if there were any wounded that were unable to speak. Then, he saw a Death Eater walking amongst the strewn dead, casting the Killing Curse as he walked. That did it for the seasoned Auror. There were some things that were NOT fair in war; and the outright murder of the wounded was one of those things. He raced out of the castle gates and strode out with all the stealth with which he had been trained. He crept slowly towards the murderer. Every once in a while he would hear a scream or a guttural pained cry of "NO," a green light would flash, and all would be still.

"Sick bastard," he growled as he carefully edged closer. Finally, he saw the profile of the Death Eater by the glow of the green light as he killed one helpless victim after another. He recognized him as Crabbe, a vicious, but cowardly, Death Eater.

Only someone as gutless as he would go about murdering young and wandless people! Kingsley thought angrily.

He crept up to him, and before Crabbe knew it, Kingsley cut him down with the same Killing Curse. As soon as the slaughterer's lifeless body hit the ground there was a deafening explosion from the eastern side, where the fighting was still raged. He turned around sharply, blinded partially by the rising sun, yet made out a sweeping green flash and a mighty wind that roared towards him, knocking him off his feet. As soon as he could gain his footing, he dashed back inside the main gates of the castle where Poppy was waiting, wringing her hands in terror and anticipation.

When the sound of the battle could no longer be heard, he and the Mediwitch faced each other fearfully. They both had the same thought: were they the sole remaining survivors? He stood just inside of the gates of battered castle where he had earlier been keeping his vigil. He wearily decided to walk outside of the walled grounds to see if any life could be found on the gruesome battlefield.

Poppy had sobbed on Kingsley's shoulder before he had walked out from the gates, distraught over the death and destruction they were facing alone. Hogwarts was a war torn battlefield full of dead bodies. The steam of so many spells that had erupted from so many wands rose from the ground. The dust from the almighty explosion from the east had finally settled. The field was so hushed; it seemed it impossible for such deafening silence to exist with so many bodies around him. Kingsley could not accept that he and Poppy were alone. He kept walked on, searching, calling out for survivors, and straining to hear, to listen for a call or a scream for help. He stood in the middle of the battlefield turning around and around until he was dizzy. Overwhelmed by the multitude of dead faces in front of him, he closed his eyes to gather himself and return to the castle. Finally, as he slowly began to walk back, he saw two figures had emerged from the decimated corpses: one from the east, one from the west. They were weary, he could tell. He could see one was a witch, the other, a wizard. He yelled for Pomfrey to see to the witch, and he ran towards the wizard. As he came closer, the figure collapsed, and he saw Severus Snape, bloodied and breathing raggedly as he pointed his wand shakily at the older wizard.

"Don't – kill – me!" he gasped.

Kingsley smiled broadly. "Of course not, Headmaster. I saw your spectacular work against Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. Impressive dueling, if I may say," he said while offering his hand to help the wizard up from the ground.

"You certainly may," he groaned as he rose from the ground, holding his side. "I suppose that is one thing I can say to Potter and Black's credit: they assisted me in learning how to survive a double onslaught."

Kingsley laughed in his relief as he supported Snape in their slow gait back to the castle. He was so happy to have found a survivor, he felt practically gleeful!

Snape gasped and stumbled. He was far worse off than he was letting on. He was panting for air, feeling as though he could not draw enough into his lungs. His eyes darted around the blood-soaked battlefield, and in the distance, he saw two figures ahead of them. Kingsley could feel Snape's fear seep from him and into his skin. The wizards heard Madam Pomfrey's jubilant cry, "He's dead! Voldemort is dead!"

They stood frozen at the announcement. Snape finally spoke. "Kingsley, it's far too quiet. I thought I was the only survivor. Please tell me there are people in the castle," he begged softly.

"Severus, I won't lie to you," the wizard said darkly. "Madam Pomfrey and I thought we were the remaining survivors. However, it looks as if another witch has survived. Let's go see."

The two made their way past the castle gates and into the Great Hall. There, with Madam Pomfrey, was Hermione Granger. She was like Snape, bloodied and weary. The two wounded survivors laid down the tables next to each other as Madam Pomfrey checked their wounds. They turned their heads and looked at one another, both in pain, both struggling for breath.

"Miss Granger," he said tiredly.

"Professor Snape," she replied with a wheeze. She was having difficulty breathing.

"Severus," he whispered as he willed her to keep eye contact with him while he watched her gasp for air.

"Hermione," she replied as she continued to take shallow breaths.

They both turned their heads and looked up at the enchanted ceiling as Madam Pomfrey suddenly stood between them to attend to Hermione's breathing problem. It was so quiet in the Great Hall, surrounded only by the loud stillness; it was near apocalyptic in its intensity!

Poppy was a wreck; she stripped Hermione naked right in front of the two men, not even bothering to shield them from each other for propriety's sake. She seemed barely able to function, going on ingrained training alone and allowing the rest of her mind to shut down.

***

Severus weakly turned his head and looked again over at the young woman as she resumed normal breathing. She was bloodied and filthy, but she had fought bravely and survived. It was a strange feeling, looking at her, naked and wounded. He had seen with his own eyes how extremely talented a witch she truly was. As he studied her, he tried to figure what emotion he was feeling. Then as he watched the young witch grit her teeth while Poppy tended her wounds, he realized what the feeling was: respect.

***

Hermione felt a sheet pulled up to her neck and soon began to feel warm and cozy.

Poppy must have place a Warming Spell and Cushioning Charm around me, she thought drowsily.

She looked over towards Severus. Yes, Severus. He had asked her to call him Severus. He was being stripped naked now just as she had been and was being healed. He slipped in and out of consciousness as his eyes opened and closed weakly. He looked bone weary. He was a terrible sight, bloody and grimy, but the young witch felt something familiar bubble inside her: respect.

***

Kingsley contemplated the witch and wizard before he tore his eyes from them to walk again amongst the carnage outside. He could not contain the vastness of death he was facing in his mind. What was he going to tell the nation? What would the other Wizarding countries have to say that only four out of thousands had survived the final battle against Voldemort? How was he going to tell the parents of so many dead children how they had fought so bravely, but in the end gave their lives? In addition, the question uppermost in his mind was how did it all happen to be that these two had lived while all the others had perished? He would have to wait and find out when the two could talk. But first, he wanted to see Voldemort's dead carcass with his own eyes.

***

The Infirmary had been untouched by the battle, and when Hermione awoke, she found herself surrounded by the familiar sights of the white beds with their crisp, cotton sheets, the sun pouring in through the windowpanes, creating beautiful shades of colors that soothed her senses.

She turned her head slightly and saw Professor Snape lying on the bed next to her. He was fast asleep. His usual scowling face was relaxed into a peaceful, tranquil expression. The hardness of his face was softened and he looked...content.

The reality set in all at once and she felt the weight of it like a boulder on her chest. She wanted to cry so badly, but she was so weak, she could not. She lay on her back as the tears streamed down the sides of her face, into her hair and ears. She had to move, she had to do something! She lifted up to a sitting position, and her peripheral vision grew black and fuzzy. She was light-headed and dizzy. She heard a noise and capable hands were gently pushing her back onto the bed. A potion was poured into her mouth, and Hermione found herself falling back into a deep sleep.

***

Snape woke up and immediately realized what had occurred. He looked over for his fellow survivor and saw she was asleep. She was frowning and had an upset look on her face. The world is going to hang heavily on her small shoulders, he thought grimly. She would need a great deal of help to get on with her life. First, the four of them would have to speak of their collective knowledge. Exactly what had happened that left so many dead? They were the only two who would ever know what it had been like on that killing field. He pondered the whys of his fate and hers. However, after so much mental exercise, he fell back into the welcoming arms of Morpheus.

***

As Snape and Hermione recuperated at Hogwarts, Kingsley returned to the Ministry of Magic. The first sight had deeply unnerved him. The main lobby was full of parents, colleagues, and relatives, trying to find out news of their children, parents, brothers, sisters, and friends. Once in his office, Kingsley had begun to make out his plan of action. He had enlisted the expertise of the Unspeakables to help with the collection of the dead. He had his assistant speak his message to the waiting crowd: "Hogwarts is deemed off-limits until order can be established. Once a list of the dead can be released, families can come and collect the bodies." Still, even after the announcement, no one had left. No one had known what to do except wait...

***

Kingsley sat in his office after a very trying morning. He was faced with a crisis that seemed to unearth more difficulties as he came up with solutions for the original issues. It was a trying time as entire families, such as the Weasleys and the Malfoys had been wiped out. There was more than just the turning over of the remains of the young students and collecting their personal effects. Estates would have to be settled. For example, The Burrow had to be handed to the nearest relative. For the Weasleys, that happened to be the ancient Aunt Muriel. For the Malfoys, their estate, including their manor was given to Narcissa's estranged sister, Andromeda Tonks. Kingsley delegated the Records Office of Birth, Death, and Marriage assist with the handling of estates.

Earlier in the morning, the weary Minister had spoken with the Head of the Aurory, Gawain Robards, and found out how many Aurors had survived, meaning, how many had NOT been at the battle. Telling Robards that there had been no survivors had been extremely difficult. Robards, who had been told to stand down from the battle and remain at the Ministry, had been angrier than a robbed goblin upon hearing the news! The tough, towering man had broken down like a baby and bawled initially, but then had grown furious with rage when told that so many Hogwarts students had fallen alongside his Aurors.

"Minister, I've got greenhorns!" he had roared impotently. "Kids! I did not dare to send them out to fight against Voldemort. Shite! If I had known the students were going to fight...fuck!" He had hung his head like a beaten dog. Kingsley had then placed his hand on his shoulder.

"Gawain, don't apologize; we need Aurors, no matter how green. Just because Voldemort is gone doesn't mean all the law breaking will end. We needed you to keep the inexperienced ones behind for just that reason. As for you, my friend, I have enough to deal with than to be lacking a new Head Auror," he had said sadly.

"Kingsley, what the bloody hell happened out there? How can they all be dead? This is insanity, this is!" he had yelled. "Minister, how am I supposed to train these kids? Tonks, Moody, Dawlish...what am I to do?" he had pleaded.

Kingsley had tried his best to reassure the wizard. "Gawain, the other Wizarding countries are going to help us. We shall get the best Auror Trainers from France and Bulgaria...even the United States has offered their assistance. We just have to hold on to what we have until then!"

Gawain had nodded. He was so tired. After the Minister had left him, he had cried as he stood in his normally bustling office, all the reminders of those who would never return. The overwhelming reality of the loss set in, and he did not know how he was going to face the families of so many dead.

***

Kingsley sat in his chair contemplating all of the events of the first morning after Voldemort's defeat. He massaged his exhausted eyes and hoped to God that he would have the strength to continue.

***

A/N: Special thanks to my beta, MadBrilliant, for all her hard work. Please leave a review. This is my own foray into the HG/SS "forced marriage" scenario!