the hallows - f. weasley

- c h a p t e r - t w e n t y-s e v e n -

 Gemma stood before Harry did–who just stared at Snape's still body, lying in the pool of dark blood.

Shakily, she wiped her hands on her jeans before holding them out for the flask. Hermione passed it to her–her face white as snow while she watched the corpse of Snape turn more and more grey with each passing second.

Only when Voldemort's cold voice reverberated around the room did any of them really react.

The Dark Lord wasn't present in the Shack, but it didn't stop it from sounding like he was: "You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. "You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.

Gemma's breath caught as the voice shifted slightly in tone, "I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

Gemma slowly looked at her brother, who had stood up beside her.

Ron and Hermione shook their heads frantically, the former demanding, "Don't listen to him..."

"It'll be all right," Hermione exclaimed wildly. "Let's—let's get back to the castle, if he's gone to the forest, we'll need to think of a new plan—"

Gemma watched Hermione and Ron rush into the tunnel, leaving Harry and her alone in the house.

Harry picked up the Invisibility Cloak–holding it in his arms as he stared at Snape again.

"Har?" Gemma breathed carefully. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

He just lifted his eyes to her, and the guilt that reflected back was immense.

She pinched her lips as he didn't reply–just ducked into the tunnel after Ron and Hermione. Gemma stood there–cradling the flask in her arms before looking back at Snape. With a small breath, she moved to kneel next to him–closing his eyes just as she did with Sirius earlier.

"Goodbye, Professor..." She whispered before hurrying after her family.

When the four of them arrived at the castle, Gemma couldn't help but think it was sickeningly quiet.

There were no spells being thrown, no shouts or screams, there weren't even sobs–which Gemma had become accustomed to since the battle started to rage.

"Where is everyone?" Hermione whispered from Gemma's side–her eyes taking in the demolished castle.

Gemma looked over at Ron, who looked sick, before he took charge and led everyone toward the Great Hall.

She jerked to a stop in the doorway, though–tears filling her eyes at the sight of all the injured and terribly still bodies lying in careful rows now that the tables had been pushed away.

Her eyes searched for three people as her hands clutched the bottle of glowing silvery liquid.

She spotted the first person being attended to by Madam Pomfrey, and with a cry, Gemma rushed into the room. Ron and Hermione were close behind her. When he saw her, he gently pushed Madam Pomfry out of the way and opened up the arm that wasn't tied to his chest–bloodied wraps extending from his fingertips to his elbow–to reclaim her in an embrace.