Hollis Potter looked up from the latest reports about Death Eater movements in relation to their supply lines as a messenger darted into the room. Her assistants stirred as well, automatically reaching for their wands.

"Ma'am!" the slip of a girl, with red hair, bright blue eyes, and pointed chin said, running up to her. Hollis was pretty sure her name was Mary or Carrie. "Severus Snape is here – in the Medic wing."

Hollis swore under her breath, gesturing to her two attendants and walked quickly from the room. Texas and Maine followed her easily, both of them taller and older than her. They had real names but went by their states so that if Voldemort ever got a foothold in America, he couldn't track down their families and make them pay for their actions like he had so many English Aurors.

Texas was a late twenties, early thirties Mexican American, tall with a solid build, liquid black eyes like Severus', equally dark, thick curly hair, and one of the best cooks they had. She, like the rest of the Americans on Hollis' base, were the best America had to offer – the Wizarding version of Special Forces or Marines or whatever they were. Maine was an older guy, probably late forties, with short blonde hair, glinting hazel eyes, a broad, powerful build, and full of infectious, unfailing good humor. Sometimes, Hollis couldn't fathom why they'd follow her, a skinny twenty-one year old who hadn't even finished Hogwarts, but England had been following her since she was just seventeen, so she probably shouldn't have been so surprised. Besides, she considered their opinion on just about everything, so it was kind of like the group making decisions. Both were strategic genii that had helped her direct and win several battles.

"What happened?" she demanded, sweeping into the Medic wing. Their base was one of the larger, better supplied ones and they actually had three fully qualified Healers.

"We're not sure yet – he refuses to speak with us or let us tend to him. He wants to speak with you first, says it's an emergency," Anna Athers said, falling into step with them. Hollis was not surprised. Severus only appeared once in a blue moon, usually preferring to use other methods should a message need to be delivered, but when he did, he was still disagreeable with just about everyone, though he did get along with Texas the two times they had interacted.

Texas and Maine didn't need to be told to stay back as she approached the curtained off bed. She entered alone and found Severus partially sitting up. A few more streaks of grey had appeared since their last talk over five months ago, making him look older than his forty-two years. From the stiff way he was reclining, she was sure his injuries had to do with his ribs, but she didn't remark on it, merely waited for him to speak.

His dark eyes studied her in return, filled with that foreign emotion that was always there when they spoke alone. "You look sick," he said critically.

Her lips quirked into a faint smile. "What a way to greet a girl," she said dryly, not at all surprised by his deduction. She hadn't had a solid night's sleep in ages and she ate smaller portions than her men, though she hid that small fact from Texas, passing it off as having a naturally small appetite. "What brings you here?" It was always vitally important if it forced him to risk coming here. Part of her wondered just how badly he was injured if he had to force that point with the Healers to get them to send her a messenger. But it wasn't her business, so she didn't ask.

"Full on attack, all bases," Severus said, growing even more serious. "They plan on ending it tomorrow. And we both know they could," he added even more lowly despite the privacy spells he had undoubtedly put up.

Hollis sat hard in the chair by his bed, trying not to feel overwhelmed.

The past six years had been open warfare, first in just England, but it was so severe, so brutal, that they hadn't been able to hide it from Muggles. Within a year of the Second War starting, clips of the 'Shadow Terrorists' attacks filled the internet, bringing magic to the forefront of Muggle attention as they tried to explain it. They couldn't and, eventually, Wizarding kind had been exposed all over the world.

The war spread like wildfire from there. Dark wizards from nearly every country rose up, deciding to follow Voldemort's lead and starting wars against the Muggles, who had mostly allied with the Light to fight back. It had been a gruesome slaughter, Muggle machinery going haywire during battle because of all the magic flying around. Somewhere along the way, they had figured out how to get Muggle tech to work with magic rather than trying to force it to work around magic, but still, they were losing ground at the sheer brutality of the attacks.

What had started as a civil war had become World War III. The only countries not involved by 2000 were the Americas, protected as they were by the Pacific and Atlantic oceans and the way they had developed, isolated for so long. Hollis didn't know how things worked in other countries, but Texas had said the reason the United States hadn't suffered any rises in Dark wizards was because when they came of age, each witch and wizard had to sign an oath that said they'd do their best to follow the law.

If they didn't, their magical signature lit up like firework – the larger the offense, the brighter it got – and their Aurors moved in, arresting and interrogating them. Depending on a variety of variables, they could be penalized with everything from a fine to jail time to being stripped of their magic completely and turned out into the Muggle world with a watcher to make sure they behaved and assimilated to Muggle culture properly.

When the civil war started in England, the Americas had all tightened their borders and it was extremely difficult to gain access without undergoing questioning, signing forms similar to the ones their eighteen years olds signed, and being tagged, so the government could find you at any one moment if you broke the law. Everything had gone well but some of their workers on this side of the pond had been killed and polyjuiced, which allowed Dark wizards to board a few Muggle planes. Once there, they accessed some other planes and attacked the World Trade Centers on September 11, 2001.

America had been sent reeling from the attack and Severus had reported that Voldemort had hopes to invade the country soon – once they fell, it would be easy to spread to Canada and Mexico. Instead, he seemed to have woken a sleeping giant like the Japanese had during World War II.

A furious United States gathered their forces and thrown themselves into the war with all their considerable might, sending the best of the best into Voldemort's home territory – England. Canada, Mexico, and most of Central and South America had followed suit. They were all clever enough to see what Voldemort aimed to do after he toppled the U.S. and they wanted to cut him off before he destroyed their countries as well.

That had been nearly a year ago and things had become stalemated with the extra forces. But still, a full assault could and most likely would cripple them, if not outright destroy them. Hollis didn't know if they'd be able to withstand it, though she wasn't prepared to concede defeat just yet.

"Are you fighting with us, then?" Hollis asked, keeping her voice even as she looked at the floor, trying to think. She didn't want him to really, but she knew better than to think she could stop him, the same way she knew he preferred she wasn't in the fight but also accepted that he couldn't stop her, particularly since she was the 'face' of the rebellion and the only one who could defeat Voldemort.

"Yes."

More often than not, he had arranged to be otherwise occupied during major conflicts and limited the damage he could inflict during the ones he had to be in, making the Dark Army think he was a good dueler, but that his genius truly lay in Potions.

"What time is the attack?"

"Three a.m."

Of course he'd attack at the body's natural low point, she thought absently. Voldemort, she knew, also had Vampires in his forces and this would be their natural high point as nocturnal creatures. Thankfully, it wasn't a full moon and he couldn't use werewolves against them, though Fenrir and his ilk were still people to look out for.

Hollis checked her watch. It was seven thirty-two p.m. – they had less than eight hours to be ready. "Let them heal you and then join me in the War Office," she told Severus, standing, already mentally listing all the things they'd need to do.

He gave a short nod and she left, waving Anna in. Texas and Maine joined up at her side and she started delegating tasks. They had a plan for such an attack as this, procedures to follow, chain of communications to enact, and they had little time to spare. By two-thirty a.m., everything was in place, the other bases had been notified and stood ready, and everyone was in their place, alert and waiting for the attack.

They didn't have to wait long and Voldemort's Dark Army advanced boldly, not bothering with stealth. They had decided to pretend that they were unaware of the attack and had men scrambling across the rooftops, shouting orders, and alarms renting through the air.

Hollis stood in the command center and took a deep breath and released it, giving the order for the first assault. They were in the middle of a decimated London and they had rigged rings of buildings around them to go off at a certain signal. She waited until more than half his army – coming, as expected, from all directions – had crossed into through all of the rings and then set them off.

"Move out," she directed, following her own orders and heading for the nearest exit. They had made all sorts of tunnels and exits that led into their main building and around, most of their base being underground.

The surprised army was pushed back even further as the men previously running turned and started firing their strange mixture of weapons. Gun reports and spells shattered through the night air, and everything became chaotic. Screams and explosions became background noise, and the coppery scent of blood and the scent of everything burning quickly filled Hollis's lungs as she, Texas, and Maine cut through the ranks, searching for Voldemort. She choked on it and put a bubble head charm around her head, squinting so that the constant, almost strobe like lights from spellwork and gunfire didn't blind her. She kept her muscles taunt, ready for sudden movement at any given moment.

After what felt like hours but probably wasn't more than thirty minutes, she spotted Voldemort cutting through her army as easily as she cut through his and turned to Texas and Maine. They were looking back at her with solemn faces.

"It's been an honor serving with you lot," she said, just like she did every time she left them to confront Voldemort.

"Godspeed," they both replied, giving her a salute. She gave a nod and darted back into the fray, knowing they would stick somewhat close to her to help keep Death Eaters and Dark creatures off her back.

"I was wondering where you were," Voldemort called over the noise of the battle around them. Bodies littered the ground before him and she stepped gingerly over the young red head, Mary or Carrie, the one who had brought her the message earlier. She wondered briefly where Severus had gotten off to and sent up a short prayer for his safety. Out of everyone, she wanted him to live most.

Hollis didn't bother replying to him, instead choosing to fire off a stream of curses. He returned them and they went back and forth. It, she had thought more than once, was like a deadly dance between them. They circled and parried and came alarming close together before spinning away. They took hits here and there, lost ground there, gained here, seemingly forever locked in what felt like a stalemate that reflected the larger war conducted by them. For brief instances, they would appear to have the upper hand, but then something would occur – a spell from one of the States or the other fighters, an explosion nearby, stumbling over a body – and they'd lose that edge.

She always hoped that one of her men would take him out with a sniper rifle or something, but it never happened. Through some weird twist that she blamed on the prophecy, neither of them could be brought down by another magician – though they could certainly be injured by them as the thick scar along her thigh could attest – and gunfire never seemed to make its mark. If either one of them was going to fall, it would be by the other's hand, and it would take out-dueling them with magic.

Finally, when her arms were burning and her ankle twisted and throbbing, when the sun was peeking over the horizon and both of their armies were decimated, her spell – an overpowered, desperate Blasting Hex – hit him square in the chest.

Hollis wasn't sure who was more surprised as he was blown back, a gushing hole where his sternum and heart should have been, but it didn't matter just then. He was dying and all she had to do was stand there and watch.

When he stopped making that horrible gurgling noise and lay still, she put her wand to her throat, muttering, "Sonorus." She turned to face what was left of the struggling armies. "He's dead!" she yelled, her voice ringing through the streets. Everyone froze. "The Dark Lord Voldemort is no more!"

A tremendous cheer went up from the ragged remains of her army and, as she gazed about, she saw them take prisoners with a renewed vigor and the soon-to-be-prisoners trying to Disapparate before the crushing reality that they couldn't set in; their Wardsmith, Ohio, had seen to that.

She slowly started making her way back towards the base, her eyes flitting around, trying to find members of her army that were hanging on to their lives, but all she saw was death. Blood squelched under her boots and she forced the gorge in her throat down. After all the battles and things she had seen, one would think she'd be more accustomed to it, but she wasn't.

It, she couldn't help but think as she gazed around and remembered all the others that had been lost, was a pyrrhic victory. There wasn't more than a few thousand witches and wizards left in England if they were lucky and it was getting just as bad in every other country.

She spotted a flash of the U.S. military camouflage that her States wore and jogged over. Texas and Maine had fallen next to each other and she paused, crouching next to them. She knew they kept letters to their families in the sides of their boots and she tugged the slender envelopes out, determined to mail them. She looked at the addresses.

Texas' last name was Ramirez and Maine's was Jacobs. Hollis wished she knew their first names. Maybe, one day, she'd be able to find out.

"God bless," she told them both. She didn't know much about God, didn't want to know about him – how could some all-powerful being let something like this happen? – but they had both been Muggleborns raised in Catholic and Christian churches respectively, and neither had quite given up some of their ingrained habits, including their belief in God. They admitted they didn't know how magic jibed with what they had read in the Bible, but both kept Bibles in their quarters and recited Psalms 23 over the dead when they could.

For a moment, she struggled to remember the words, thinking it was something they would want said over them, a way for her to honor them and everything had done for her and this war, but then she heard Texas' smooth, honeyed accent in her head, murmuring the words. She started reciting them quietly -

'The Lord is my Shepherd;
I shall not want.
He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside the still waters
He restores my soul;
He leads me in the paths of righteousness
For His name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I will fear no evil;
For You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil;
My cup runs over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life;
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord
Forever.'

She had a moment of silence, crossing herself the way she had seen Texas do, and then moved on, tucking their letters into her left inside chest pocket. Suddenly overcome with the desire to find out where Severus was and if he was injured or not, she held her wand flat in her palm.

"Point Me Severus Snape," she whispered. It spun and she quickly followed it. It led her not all that far from where she and Voldemort had dueled, just about a block away. He was lying on the ground, surrounded by a multitude of dead Death Eaters, and completely still. A sudden fear seized her heart and she ran towards him, ignoring the sharp pain in her ankle, and dropped onto the ground next to him, uncaring of the blood soaking into her pants. "Severus?" she said, rolling him on his back.

He let out a hiss of air and his eyes fluttered open. They seemed to have trouble focusing on her. "Hollis?" he whispered, his voice laced with pain, though he was clearly trying to hide it.

"It's me," she said, starting to cast spells to figure out what exactly was wrong with him. She wasn't a Healer by any means, but she could get by as a Medic. It was one thing she made sure everyone on her base studied. A person never knew when a simple spell like a blood clotter could save someone's life or help them hold on long enough to hand them over to Healers.

One of his hands came up and lightly gripped her wrist. "It's no use," he said. "I've got maybe a minute and half."

A lumped formed in her throat. "Don't say that, just tell me what to do – I'll heal you," she said, looking around desperately. She could see all three of her Healers from here, but they were all preoccupied and she couldn't pull them away. As much as she valued Severus, she couldn't put him above her other men. It wouldn't be fair. She'd never be able to look at their loved ones if they died while she saved Severus.

He sighed. "There isn't anything you can do. No cure. Just..." he trailed off.

"What?" she demanded when he didn't continue and let go of her wrist.

His hands unbuttoned the front of his robes and he reached in, pulling out a small, thin metal box. He handed it to her, his dark, expressive eyes fixed on her violet ones, that strange emotion shining bright and fierce in his. It made her lungs catch and she wished she had the courage to ask him about it before now. "All you have to do is tap it once for it to expand. It's fixed to your magical signature."

She nodded, pushing back tears, knowing they had less than a minute now. "Alright."

Hollis accepted the box and took his hand again. He sighed deeply again, still holding her gaze. Severus hated tears, he never knew what to do about them, and that was the only reason she wasn't bawling out her eyes right now. Severus had been the one constant in this war, the one person she knew beyond a doubt would survive until the end. It was one of the things they did best, him and her.

And Severus, no matter how far apart they were or how long they went without so much as seeing each other, had been her anchor. Over the years, she had come so far from her childish hatred of the man. She understood him far better than ever before and the same could be said of him. And, during that time, that respect, that admiration and understanding had shifted into something more. Something she didn't like naming to herself.

But now he was dying. Any hope she had never officially acknowledged, hope of the life after the war that she had scarcely let herself dream of, was going up in smoke, just like the buildings around her.

His hand tightened around hers for a moment. "Goodbye," he murmured. And he was gone, his last breath given, his hand lax in her grip.

"Severus?" she whispered. It seemed wrong to speak any louder. "Severus?" She didn't expect an answer, but oh God, did she crave one. Shakily, she reached out her hand and brushed a lock of his inky black hair from his face.

She didn't know whether to cry or find the closest living Death Eater and rip them to shreds.

She ended up sitting there, numb and disbelieving. Absently, she started straightening him out; mending the tears in his clothes, cleaning away the blood and grime, healing wounds, and re-buttoning his clothes. She transfigured a nearby hunk of stone into a simple black coffin and managed to place him in it. She'd be damned if he didn't get a proper burial.

But she couldn't bring herself to close the lid. Once she did, she'd be admitting that he was gone, she'd be locking him away. And she couldn't do that.

"Hollis," a soft voice said. She looked up into the face of Anna Athers and saw sympathy in her molten grey eyes. She was crouching in front of Hollis and looked between her and Severus for a long moment. Then she reached out a hand and closed the coffin. "He's gone, dear. I'm sorry."

Hollis numbly nodded. "Can I have a few more minutes?"

"Of course," Anna said, standing and walking away.

Hollis could feel the numb shock starting to fade and a heavy weight settled on her. It felt like she couldn't breathe and she leaned against the coffin, pulling her legs up to her chest. How could she lose him after all of this? How was she still alive and why was it him that died? It was a question that had plagued her since she had learned of her parents' death, but never had it seemed more important than now. What sick higher power could make this happen to her? After all she had lost, after all she had given to win this war, she was now being forced to accept that the only man she had ever loved was to be taken from her as well?

Her head fell forward onto her knees, ignoring the blood smearing on her forehead, and she struggled to keep her composure. Her men expected her to be grim or triumphant, not out of her mind with grief. She had to be strong. She could cry later.

Hollis never saw the golden glow surrounding them, never felt the world around them vanishing. What she did notice was the sudden feeling of hardwood flooring under her, the change of air – it was fresher, no longer reeking of sweat and smoke, blood and death – and the sudden cacophony of voices around her.

Her head jerked up in surprise, waving her wand and silently throwing up a shield before she even fully registered what was around her. She was on her feet a moment later and then it clicked, what she was seeing.