When All is Lost One is Found

Chapter 63: Battlefield Realities

When All is Lost, One is Found

Author: Rinoaebastel

Chapter 63: Battlefield Realities

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and gain no profit from this fanfiction other than writing practice. JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.

AN: This story may contain scenes taken from the Harry Potter movies and books, but it's not exact dialogue, just rewording of dialogue or omission. It is not marked.

February, 1997

"Come on, Miss Granger!" he growled as he pointed his wand at her face. "Curse me!"

She was breathing hard, sweating, and her hand shook as if it was going to drop her wand at any time. Forcing her through this hurt him almost as much as her, but it was necessary. He had been distracted enough the past weeks.

He had to focus on helping her recovery and improving her skills. She would become better than she ever was. She would become a fighter. A remarkable duelist.

She had potential and skill; she just needed to conquer her fear. He was determined to have her survive this war.

It would be his final gift to her.

She had progressed. She didn't hesitate in lifting her wand around him anymore.

He knew she hated him during these lessons, but at least she wouldn't hate him permanently. She'd get angry and curse him, but he expected that. Had he been in her shoes, he'd probably feel the same way.

"Granger! Do it! "

A tiny growl escaped from her lips in response.

Her wand stopped trembling and the muscles in her hand tensed and gripped the wood.

He gave a barely there smirk. One not strong enough for her to see, but good enough for him to know he was doing it. Almost there.

With a violent movement, she waved her wand, fueled by irritation, and cast her spell.

"Stupefy!" Her ragged voice echoed, and he blocked the spell. The spell was strong but his reflexes were better.

She finally did it! After four classes of trembling hands and hesitation, she had done it and she still had a shadow of determination in her eyes.

"Again," he ordered.

She casted various spells, throwing them with a strong voice and motions as if hurling all her anger, her guilt, and her pain at him. He blocked them all.

An even louder cry of anger accompanied her last spell. It was powerful enough that he had to repel it and send it to a corner of the classroom, reducing a shelf and its contents to dust. Fortunately, there was nothing of value on it.

She took a deep breath and let her arm fall to her side.

"You did it. You used your magic."

He thought she'd have a look of accomplishment on her face, or at least feel happy about it. Instead, her face was as neutral as he kept his. "Yes, but I still killed a man with it."

He hid his ebony wand in his coat.

"It was an accident. You need to accept that." He knew it wasn't that easy, but he wasn't one to attempt to say anything more than that. He wasn't a therapist. If her incident hadn't had to do with magic, he would've suggested she go to one of the muggle ones.

"I'm learning to, but someday I will have to make the decision to kill someone in this war, and I don't want to use my magic for that."

"That's exactly what war makes you do." He wished he could be sensitive about it, but it wasn't in him to do so. He had to be realistic in what was happening. "In wars you must choose your position. Be a victim and die accomplishing nothing, a murderer that satisfies their thirst with every life they take, or someone who defends themselves and their friends with everything they have. Black knew the risks when he went to the ministry. There are casualties in every war."

"Is that what you try to say to yourself about the people you couldn't save?"

His face showed disgust for a moment, but he knew Granger didn't mean to hurt him. In fact, he was relieved she was so blunt.

"I'm darker than you, Miss Granger. You've never wanted to hurt others."

"That's not true at all. I want the monster that has you chained to die. I want to hurt people who hurt you."

His eyes softened. She warmed his heart, but she was so wrong.

"You would never do it. You're not that kind of person."

A light blush covered her cheeks. "You...You didn't answer my question."

He tried to think of a way to word his answer without saying something that would throw her back into distress.

"I'm a spy. I choose my battles. I have to decide whom I can save and who has to perish for the sake of the many. I have to ensure that people like you survive this war so the world doesn't go to hell anyway."

"What if we fail to destroy the Dark Lord? Things will go to hell anyway."

He'd thought of that. "That enters my mind a lot. I have little faith to be honest, but lately, I've had hints of hope inside me."

He walked over to his desk to put some distance between them when she took a step forward. If she gave him any affection right now, he didn't know what he'd end up saying. He spoke again when he heard her move towards him. "It's your intentions that count," he said. "You'll have casualties, and people will despise you if it's someone they love. But you look at the greater good. No one comes out of a war without being hated by many."

He felt her stop closer to him, but he wasn't sure if she was within arm's reach.

"And you think your death is the greater good? Is that what you really want though? Casting away the fact you think you have to die, what do you truly desire, Severus?"

His stomach lurched when she spoke his name. His shoulders became rigid. Familiarity. This woman was too close to him. No one had ever recognized that he had desires for things. He hadn't even been willing to recognize it until this witch came into his life. He knew what he wanted, but it was not to be.

"Finish the reign of the Dark Lord and be free of my torment."

She walked up to stand at his side. "I refuse to let you be alone. I'll help you."

He turned his head and looked at her. Her brown eyes bore into his. He hadn't realized he'd leaned over his desk, showing a weakened posture to her. Her face was so close to his that when she breathed his hair moved.

"What have you decided to be?" he asked, his words soft but stern.

"A fighter who supports you, her friends, and knows how to defend herself."

Why did she set him apart from her friends? He was her friend. She'd said that numerous times. He had a suspicion of why she did it, but he pushed that back and denied it. It was too outrageous.

"Then I will teach you how to truly fight the Dark Arts."

AN: More steps in overcoming her difficulties with harsh practices and more support from his part...Mmmm Hope you like it and let me know what you think! See you on Wednesday.