AN/: Usual disclaimed and Dumbledore is not dead in this story and Horcruxes aren't really focused on at all.

Stand Afar or Take a Chance

By So Yun

Part one, Section I

I Remember You

See the stone set in your eyes
See the thorn twist in your side
I wait for you-With or Without you, U2.

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Prologue

Frantically, Harry stumbled; loosing all sense of time and momentum as the ground tilted underneath him. He had to reach them, but his own body's disorientation stopped him; he could scream in frustration but his shredded vocal chords would not allow it.

The ground was thick sludge, mud, leaves, rotting bodies. His feet seemed to be glued into the earth. It was quiet though, like a graveyard and the wind whipped around his. Dislodging his ebony hair that was plastered to his sweat covered face.

Crusted blood stood starkly against his pale, deathly pale skin. Black and purple hued bruises marred his cheek bones prominently and his lips moved silently; gasping for more air.

His feet stumbled forth at a deathly rate and he felt as though he would never get there. Suddenly the whole world tilted up towards his face in a rush. He hit it with a crunch and he immediately felt pain fill his bones.

His eyelids felt like iron doors, willing to shut. He shuddered against them; he would not let them die. But they shut with a crunch and the room he entered was black.

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June, 1997

The war had been going for some time now. During Harry's sixth year Wizarding war broke loose and pandemonium was rank in the world. Dumbledore lead the Light side and Voldemort the Dark. Hogwart's students were openly recruited as soldiers for the Light and havoc ran across the country.

The Ministry was in shambles and the Dementors of Azkaban recruited for the Dark along with many numerous other species of creature.

The Order was at full force with near one hundred members making peace to join. The Aurors of the Ministry fought for their families and their country.

Creatures of the Dark run amuck, killing, eating, sensing mudblood families. The Dark Lord himself, Voldemort tortured muggles and light side who were captured on a regular basis, to insanity.

News of slaughter ran through the country, spinning a web of fear around the Wizarding community of Britain and Europe alike.

The Dark killed and plundered anything they could; everyone knew the final battle for the Wizarding world's fate was drawing closer. They all knew that the fate of their world also rested on one sixteen year old boy's shoulders.

Harry James Potter.

"What mood is he in today Miss Granger?" Professor Snape's tone is nothing but a hint of concern. Hermione shook her head; they both knew that Harry's mood determined the day.

"He's not good, I couldn't get him out of bed today," She said solemnly but looked up quickly to give her professor a pointed look.

"Don't be too harsh, he was looking through his photo album, there…there was one of Ron and him flying…I-I guess it triggered…." She trailed off and sat down exhausted.

Snape merely nodded and went to leave, but her next comment made him pause, "Just do what you must Professor Snape, pull Harry out of this. I know you can."

Snape nodded grimly then entered the teen's tend, pulling the door aside roughly and hissing loudly, "Mister Potter!"

He strode over the still lump under the ragged sheets on the make shift mattress in the corner. He bent down and forcefully yanked the sheets of the huddled boy and then stood up right, with his arms crossed.

He watched as the ebony haired teen turned over roughly and groaned, not wanting to open his eyes. He lent forward again and took the bare shoulders of Harry, shaking them as hard as he could.

The teen's dull orbs opened slowly and he moaned, looking away from the agitated face of his professor.

"Not today, Snape." He mumbled, turning over without looking once at the older man.

Snape's face gradually become calmer, but he growled under his breath. He relented and knelt down beside the make shift bed and put a gentle hand on the boy's back.

"You cannot just try to forget Mr Weasley, you also cannot be afraid to remember him Harry," His tone was gentle and soothing, but Harry remained ignoring him, or at least trying.

"You may pretend I do not exist but you will heed my words. Do not let your grief destroy you."

After that sentiment he stood up and left briskly, Harry turned around afterwards and got up, joining Hermione for breakfast.

"How is Mister Potter today, Miss Granger?" His mellow, deep voice startled Hermione and she whipped around, a grin on her face. It lit her whole appearance up and she nodded with a wane, close lipped smile.

"Oh professor Snape, he is happy today. He won't stop smiling and he actually played a game of exploding snap with me! He's also talking a lot and-"

Snape never stuck around to hear the rest as he rushed off towards Harry's tent, his robes billowing. Hermione was left behind, her mouth agape, the smile having slipped off her face completely.

"Oh no…how could I not see it…" She murmured to herself and sat down, not bothering to follow Snape. She knew she wouldn't be any help.

Snape rounded the tent and sighed disappointedly as he found Harry, kneeling behind his tent vomiting his entire stomach up. Snape bent down and peered into Harry's eyes as the teen looked at him. Harry could sense the disappointment the man was at him, he wiped his mouth and waited.

"I was wondering why some of my ingredients were missing. I should have known you would try and make another mood altering potion, I cannot believe I missed that…" The man was murmuring to himself, looking away from Harry which filled him up with sadness.

Harry bowed his head and sobbed, he was sobbing quietly for a moment before Snape noticed. He knelt beside Harry and lifted the teenager's chin lightly, "Promise me you won't do it again. Only you can bring yourself out of this depression. Potter, this is war."

Harry nodded, carefully looking in the older man's obsidian depths to show he was telling the truth. He couldn't bear to disappoint the man again, ever.

He felt he did not deserve his kindness.

"Mr Potter, you are awake early," Harry turned and nodded at the voice. He smiled faintly at Snape before continuing to stare at the horizon.

"I slept well Professor Snape. Ron …Ron-he came to me in my dreams, he forgave me," The teen said softly, acknowledging the gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Forgiveness is all we need sometimes Mr Potter, I am glad you are adequately and sufficiently in a good mood today. I do believe Miss Granger has cooked pancakes this morning,"

Harry grinned, smiling at his professor, "Sometimes I wish Dobby were here…Hermione's cooking is well….ah….atrocious,"

Snape had a faint trace of a smile as he retracted his hand, "Better not let Miss Granger hear you say that."

The boy actually giggled as Snape led him away to kitchen tent. Sometimes he was quite happy to see the boy act in childishness; it was refreshing. He felt very contented in that moment. It seemed that maybe Harry was healing.

Harry had turned Snape into a better man even if the elder man loathed admitting it. But Harry openly admitted that Snape had changed him, for the good.

"Harry! Harry!" Someone was practically screeching his name and he rolled over to his side and blearily opened his eyes. Hermione's face swam into view and he sat up slowly, rubbing grit from his eyes as he did so.

Her disapproving stare penetrated his defences and he looked back at her softly, "The battle is about to begin isn't it?"

Hermione's eyes softened and she nodded at him; sitting beside him she created a dip into the makeshift mattress. Her soft brown eyes were swimming with unshed tears as she buried her face in his broad shoulder.

He stiffly put his arm around her shoulder and rubbed it comfortingly.

She softly sobbed then pulled back, staring at him through her tear glazed eyes.

"Don't do anything stupid Harry, please. I can't lose you too…not after-after Ron,"

Harry closed his eyes as she whispered his deceased best mate. He didn't and couldn't speak of him, it was far too painful. He felt as if he had been doused in icy cold water and he was drowning in it as it swallowed him.

The Golden trio had been ripped apart in a small battle just a month ago, Ron had gone and stupidly scouted ahead without his buddy, Harry. By the time they had fended off the attack from around the camp, they had found Ron's lifeless body lying under a bush.

Thank god he had died an unpainful death with just one Avada Kedavra; nothing more; nothing less.

Harry nodded dimly and got up, pulling on a robe and checking his wand holster. Hermione watched as he gathered his things he would need for the battle.

They both knew in their hearts that this was not just a petty battle between a handful of Deatheaters and Order members.

This was the full scale attack from both sides, the battle that would finish the war.

The war had begun at a time when Harry was growing up. He and his peers had grown up in the desolate times of despair and a glimpse of hope. It had made them seem older, colder and weary. It changed them from the bright happy students who laughed and smiled all the time at Hogwarts.

They would never be the same.

They had lost classmates, peers, elders, role models, relatives, family.

The Order of the Phoenix had its losses too; Ronald Weasley was just one of the many. Colin Creevey would never click away with his camera of his, being accidentally impaled by a gate fence when he was running away to protect his brother Dennis.

His brother saw it all and had been comatose for weeks now.

Fred Weasley had seen his twin tortured to death on one of the Deatheater raids; he had been hapless and now he was stony, silent; without his twin, without his brethren.

The Weasley's had lost many of their children; no one could reach Molly Weasley anymore, too catatonic in her grief, a total loss of four children out of seven.

Percy's soul was sucked out by a Dementor as he went to save his father, Arthur Weasley cradled his son's lifeless body as he cried, and wailed into the dawn sky, murmuring that it had been his entire fault.

Ginerva Weasley was killed all too familiarly by a green light as she streaked across the battle ground at the Ministry, which had fallen a day ago to heal the wounded. They had found her body buried under a mound piled up by the fountain.

Remus was watched over by Kingsley Shacklebolt in a large tent; he hadn't spoken or moved since Nymphadora Tonk's death on the battlefield of Stonehenge a day earlier.

The Light side was failing and they all knew it. They were becoming overwhelmed by the creatures of the Dark and Voldemort's minions. People were giving up, people were Avada Kedvra-ing themselves, alone in their tents; their family and friends gone or dead.

People were drinking themselves to oblivion as they stumbled out of the battle grounded, to inebriate to care.

Dumbledore, leader of the light army was also becoming weary. He trudged on day after day, but people could see soon he would not be able to move forwards anymore. Professor Minerva McGonagall stayed by his side as a faithful lieutenant.

Professor Severus Snape helped to collaborate attacks on the Dark side's weak spots. He was no longer undercover, him having been caught saving the Dark Lord's nemesis.

Harry had been captured by Deatheaters when he had stumbled into their trap at the old Riddle Mansion. They had tipped off Snape that that's where they were hiding the last Horcrux. Snape in turn told Harry and he blindly stumbled into the trap.

He was captured for three months and tortured endlessly. His screams and blood were rank upon the dungeons of the Voldemort's lair. Snape carried him out, carried in the teen's blood and left him at Order head quarters.

It was a pity Lucius Malfoy saw him taking Harry, he immediately reported to the Dark Lord.

Snape never went back to his previous master and never would. He continued working for the Order, brewing enough healing draughts for the army and pinpointing precise attacks.

He also became Harry's mentor. Somehow, after he rescued him they forged a bond. Ron had been incredulous of it before he died; for that, Harry resented him even if he was dead.

Hermione and Remus had been quite happy about it and congratulated the two on putting aside their differences. But that had been before Tonks and Ron had been killed.

Everything changed after death, whether grief overcame you or it changed your perspectives. Death could and would destroy you if you let it.

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Hermione and Harry made their way outside and stood in front of the tent flaps, surveying the destruction around them. Hundreds of the Light side aurors and fighters stood idle around their own tents, some loitering round common places talking quietly among themselves.

For such a large camp, it was far too quiet.

Then Harry swivelled around swiftly when he sensed someone's presence beside them, closer then everyone else.

Months of strenuous training on the battlefield had taught him a lot of things.

He found himself face to face, wand to wand, with Snape who looked grim. Harry and Hermione nodded at him and he put down his wand, pocketing it.

"The Dark Lord's army has mobilized and is making their way here by-foot. They will be here within the hour, are you both ready? Miss Granger? Mr Potter?"

His deep voice penetrated them and they both nodded, they were nervous and Snape could sense it. As Hermione left to get the med witch supplies ready, Snape put a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Do not be afraid Potter. As Albus has said, death is the next greatest adventure. You are in pain, terrible pain. Though you have not let your grief completely overcome you and I am proud of you for that Mister Potter," The older man commended the still teen then turned and left.

Harry leaned against the kitchen tents posted idly, twiddling his wand in his now trembling fingers. Fine tremors ran thought his knuckles and his hands shook lightly. He had always wondered if it was because of the war he had acquired it. He was only sixteen for Merlin's sake.

He always hated looking at his reflection in anything, a spoon, a mirror, a bowl of water. He had seen his reflection once and that was enough. His eyes were no longer brilliant emerald; they were a dull, empty, pained green now. Almost swallowed by the blank look he always stared.

His skin was gaunt and pale, dark rings lay under his eyes making him look like some morbid zombie from a nightmare. He now looked older than he should have, he felt older.

He did not know how long he stood there but he was calmly startled when he heard drums in the distance. Someone nearby sent up a siren spell and suddenly the Light camp was a flurry of movement.

People were scrambling into formations to the forefront of the camp, past Dumbledore's tent and onto the stretching plain that they would use as a battlefield.

People flooded from everywhere, Harry and Hermione recognised their peers, people from the Ministry and Order members. They followed the flood of people until they stood on the forefront of the battle line.

In the distance black specs could be seen marching towards them, gruelling creatures flanking Voldemort's massive army. Dementors floated in the distance, ready to suck out the souls of remaining innocents after the battle was won.

Wild werewolves strayed, growling and clawing, eager to eat.

A mass of Deatheaters stood in a large formation; all wearing the terrifying porcelain face masks that obscured their appearance. They looked morbidly beautiful amidst the barren battle plain.

Voldemort himself could not be seen. Harry growled quietly and tightened his grip on his wand.

This was the last stand.

Voldemort was going to die even if it meant taking Harry's life with him.

No one saw who threw the first curse but it someone on the Light side. Dumbledore merely closed his eyes gently then launched himself into the battle. Everyone followed.

Harry soon found himself buried in the turmoil of war. Hexes and curses sizzling the air, sounds thick and heavy. Laboured breathing, screams of pain and anguish, thuds, snarls, yelling. But Harry ploughed on, felling anything or anyone in his path.

He had destroyed the last horcrux weeks ago, a few days before Ron died. Voldemort was mortal now and he knew it. Harry just had to find him first.

Harry beaten a couple of times when many Deatheaters surrounded him; but still he managed to get back up and fell them with a few curses. Many unguarded Crucios had managed to hit him, but he had just gritted his teeth and ploughed on.

He hadn't seen anyone he knew for awhile now, in the back of his mind was worry but in forefront he was hungry to beat Voldemort for once and for all.

The battle played on for hours, Harry soon found himself stumbling over mangled corpses of his peers and people he knew. The battle was dying down and Harry was becoming weaker, he did not know what he was going to do, almost all of the light side was felled with a large majority of the Dark.

But still Harry fought on.

Soon the armies were thinning and Harry noticed a crimson robes figure standing, silent, still in the midst of the fighting. He had his back to Harry, but he could see the man's skin looked horrible, distorted, rotting.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, looked old, looked mortal.

Harry tightened his grip on his wand before striding up the to figure and hissing out his name, "Tom, good to see you have actually shown up,"

The ugly, horrible man turned around and his red, slitted eyes narrowed as he noticed Harry. But instead of simpering on about the annoyance of Harry calling him by his muggle name, he merely smirked.

Harry felt a sense of dread before he lifted his wand; now or never.

"Avada Ked-"

He never finished the sentence because he was thrown off his feet by a powerful blast exhibited from Voldemort. Harry breathed shallowly as he fought his way to his feet again. It would do no good to be on the ground as Voldemort killed him.

He lifted his wand, but nearly lowered it when he heard a loud cackling laughter surrounding him. He eyes Voldemort carefully.

"Thissss issss the end, Haaary Potter." Voldemort hissed in pure delight through parseltongue at Harry and lifted his wand, training it on the teen's heart.

Harry took this moment of stillness to rip the melted knife that Sirius had given him a year ago and lunged forth.

It seemed that time paused as Harry plunged the melted, but sharp blade into Voldemort's chest. Harry watched in blank satisfaction at the look of shock on the ugly man's face as rivulets of blood dripped from the wound.

Then the man fell, face first, driving the blade even further into his stone, cold heart.

Harry got over his shock and checked the man's pulse, flinching at having to touch him. Voldemort was dead.

Suddenly the battlefield seemed so indefinitely quiet. Lone figures stumbled and fell; soon Harry was the only one standing. Moans of agonised pain reached his ears and he felt a sudden coldness gripping at his heart.

The Dementors…

Hermione, Remus, Dumbledore, The Weasley's, The Order, Professor Snape…

Frantically, Harry stumbled; loosing all sense of time and momentum as the ground tilted underneath him. He had to reach them, but his own body's disorientation stopped him; he could scream in frustration but his shredded vocal chords would not allow it.

The ground was thick sludge, mud, leaves, rotting bodies. His feet seemed to be glued into the earth. It was quiet though, like a graveyard and the wind whipped around his. Dislodging his ebony hair that was plastered to his sweat covered face.

Crusted blood stood starkly against his pale, deathly pale skin. Black and purple hued bruises marred his cheek bones prominently and his lips moved silently; gasping for more air.

His feet stumbled forth at a deathly rate and he felt as though he would never get there. Suddenly the whole world tilted up towards his face in a rush. He hit it with a crunch and he immediately felt pain fill his bones.

His eyelids felt like iron doors, willing to shut. He shuddered against them; he would not let them die. But they shut with a crunch and the room he entered was black.

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Severus Snape crawled in an undignified manner across the sloping plains of decaying bodies and mud towards the teen. He could feel, to his horror coldness seeping into his mind and heart. He was running out of time…

He had seen the last stand between his previous master and Harry, he had seen the way the teen had killed the Dark Lord. But he also felt extremely proud and gleeful, but then Potter had collapsed as the Dementors closed in.

He struggled across fallen bodies and injured aurors, moaning and groaning. No one was going to save them now. Snape knew in his heart if he could save anyone it would be Harry.

He knew that he; himself was destined to die along with the many other helpless dozens unable to move as the soul stealers moved closer. Finally he was near Harry and he struggled closer on his elbows and stomach.

Snape could feel warm blood seeping through his lips and his side was on fire. He struggled to pull the chain off from around his neck as it tangled into his dirty hair. He breathed harshly and wheezed as it finally slid off.

He used both of his long fingered hands to placed the golden chain over the unconscious boy's head and onto his neck. He gently lifted Harry's head and slipped it on then closed his eyes as he began to slowly turn the winder backwards.

It was a slow and strenuous task; finally he breathed a sigh as he finished winding the twenty first turn. He wheezed then whispered quietly into Harry's year, "Be in peace Mr Potter, I still remember you. You were and are my friend. Goodbye."

In a flash of light Harry disappeared, Severus Snape collapsed heavily against the ground. He found himself moaning loudly as the coldness covered him, the ground turned into icicles.

He could hear distant screaming of the people who had survived before a sweeping figure began to extricate his soul. His obsidian eyes widened slightly before dying into a dull, blank look.

He was as good as dead.

"Goodbye."

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To be continued…

I know, I know, I've started another story again…sorry but I couldn't kill the plot bunnies!

This is my first shot at a Time travelling and/or Marauder Era story, so please be gentle! It isn't mentioned in the summary, but apart from Snape, Harry will also become good friends with the Marauders!

Also, if I have any of the dates wrong, please tell! I got very confused until I worked it out!

Please review (yes the little button down in the left hand corner, press "Go")

Thanks, till next time (Hopefully soon)

Yun