I Beg Your Pardon, Potter?

Chapter 62

March melted into April and April bled into May and before any of them felt entirely ready, Dumbledore called the six of them, along with all of the professors, to his office again. It was a warm, sunny Monday and before the summons, Harry had been thinking about going out to sit by the lake while he did his homework. He'd felt on edge for the last two months — they all had — and he was almost looking forward to the final confrontation, even if it just meant that he could get on with the rest of his life. His life with Draco.

He'd thought about little else since the party in the Shrieking Shack. It was hard not to, when Draco would catch his eye during class and Harry's heart would skip a beat. Or when Ron and Pansy would sit so close together it was hard to tell where one of them ended and the other began, and Harry would look at them and wish he could do that with Draco. Oh, how his heart yearned for it. Or when Hermione and Blaise finished their work on the elevator into the Chamber of Secrets, giving the students a place to hide during the upcoming battle. Which meant that all that they were waiting for now, was the battle itself.

It had seemed more urgent as of April, when the news came that there had been a mass breakout at Azkaban. The dementors, it seemed, had abandoned their posts and joined Voldemort's side. As the months progressed, the news in the papers had become more and more grim. There were disappearances and deaths reported almost daily. More than once, Harry's lessons had been interrupted by a somber Professor McGonagall, who had come to inform one student or other that a family member had either vanished or perished. It had been a bleak couple of months, and with every passing day, Harry became more and more impatient to do something about it.

As he stood on the moving staircase up to Dumbledore's office, Harry wondered if that time was drawing near. Part of him wanted it to be, part of him didn't. Because... what if they lost?

"I believe," Dumbledore said, once everyone had assembled. "That my time is growing near. I'm certainly becoming more uncomfortable as the days go on. It would almost be a mercy if someone were to just finish the job, so to speak." No one said anything at that. Because what does one say to that? It was not as if anyone were going to volunteer. Except —

"I could do it," Draco said in a small voice. "And complete my task."

"Don't be stupid," Snape hissed. "You'll do no such thing. I'll do it."

"Or we could just wait," Harry suggested. "And not become murderers."

"I swore an oath," Snape muttered.

"Sorry?" Hermione asked.

"I swore an Unbreakable Vow to Draco's mother, that if the time came and he couldn't, ah, finish the job that I would."

"Which I of course know about," Dumbledore said. "But I don't think it will be necessary."

"On the contrary, Albus," Snape said. "It's imperative for Mr. Malfoy's safety that the Dark Lord thinks that either he or I were the ones who ended your life."

"You could lie about it," Ron suggested. "What's Voldy going to do? Perform an autopsy?" Harry laughed, then quickly realized he was the only one laughing and so stopped.

"But Ron," Hermione said. "It's an Unbreakable Vow. If Professor Snape doesn't do it, he'll die."

"I believe," Dumbledore said. "Miss Granger, that if I die of natural causes, Draco will appear to have done his job, particularly if he then lets the Death Eaters into the school. This should let Professor Snape out of the vow." Hermione chewed her lip but nodded. Blaise shuffled closer to her and put an arm around her and she leaned gratefully into his side.

"So, is now the time to prepare the castle for battle then?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"I believe so," Dumbledore said. "Yes."