AN:Many thanks, as always, to Ariadne, who is always up for reading versions one through forty-three. A special thanks as well to The Church, for the song Under the Milky Way from whom I borrowed the chapter's title. And yes, it really is the end.

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Bella raked a jagged fingernail down Hermione's face, her eyes flicking to the whimpering elf Voldemort held aloft. On the nearby mantle, a seemingly peaceful painting of a sprawling country landscape rested against peeling wallpaper. Two men sat leisurely on a stone wall while the forest behind them burned furiously, the flames rising in time with the fireplace below.

A log let out a shrill whine and crack, spitting sparks tumbling out onto the hearth.

Bella's finger trailed to a distracted halt under Hermione's chin, then her grip around Hermione's throat seized with terrifying force. “Witch! I keep her! I caught her!” she shouted to the room, her eyes wildly searching for anyone seeking to dare offer a challenge, only to be met by Lucius' bored expression.

“Pity,” Voldemort tutted, twisted his wrist, and lowered the screaming elf closer to the fire. His eyes turned sharply toward the mantle painting where the two men instantly stood and fled into the burning woods.

Severus caught Hermione's panicked eyes and saw something there. Survival.

Hermione watched Voldemort as he stared into the flames, thoughtfully turning the elf, which conjured an image of roasting marshmallows at camp, an image that nearly sent her into deranged giggles.

Without looking from the flames, Voldemort asked Bella above the elf's rasping pleas. “Quite sure?”

Bella giggled nervously and clutched Hermione close. “Quite, my Lord.”

All eyes watched the red rug slowly form a bulge, then a writhing tunnel. Voldemort observed the rug with a bored expression and then dropped the pole to clatter on the hearth.

Voldemort said placidly, “Now, Snape, back to the subject at hand. You will have me believe this witch is of no significance?”

“None, my Lord.” Severus stated, ignoring how the elf hyperventilated, its terror torn between burning alive and the seemingly innocent tented carpet edge where two shining eyes appeared.

“None whatsoever,” Voldemort echoed thoughtfully, his voice darkening as he clasped his hands behind his back.

Severus remained silent, the bones in his hand grinding once more, this time along with sickening dry crack as Nagini burst from beneath the rug, snatched the elf head-first and violently twisted.

“If I may, my Lord,” Lucius interjected, carefully circling around the writhing snake-shaped rug in the middle of the room.

Bella watched the exchange with distracted suspicion, her grip around Hermione tightening with each feverish breath. She distanced herself from the others, and Hermione felt a wave of renewed dread as she caught sight of the darkened hallway.

Voldemort made an impatient gesture.

Indicating Hermione, Lucius stated, “They will hunt for her, my Lord. Come right to our doorstep.”

“Perhaps,” Severus countered. “But, would you have the Order and their allies descend on...” Severus paused, raising his arms to indicate the dilapidated mansion. “This?”

Voldemort narrowed his eyes.

As Bella froze, her grip loosening a fraction, Hermione tore a hand free and snatched hold of the door's frame, her fingernails catching in dry wood. Bella snarled and clamped her hand over Hermione's, prying her fingers back one by one, her eyes still riveted on Voldemort, who stood contemplating Snape's words.

Severus' eyes slid to Hermione. A fraction, nothing more.

“As Snape has claimed the witch is of no significance, my decision stands. Bella may have her,” Voldemort stated, waving his hand dismissively.

Twisting Hermione's wrist free of the door, Bella let out a triumphant cry and nearly snapped Hermione's neck as she dragged her through the pitch black hallway, laughing wildly whenever Hermione stumbled over twisted floorboards, then swung her to crash into a wall, sending a shredded painting sliding to the edge of its nail to catch and sway, the canvas billowing out like a ship's sails in the cold air.

“Ready to die?” Bella asked with mock sympathy, her eyes flicked sharply to the darkened hall, searching.

A sweeping sound and a rustle.



The leaves, nothing more.

Bella contemplated an echo for what seemed an eternity, losing focus, then frowned and viciously tore the painting from the wall, following as Hermione backed away.

“Who is, really?” Bella contemplated this, then snatched hold of Hermione's shoulders, shaking her. “We're all just two words from death, don't you see?” Bella trailed off, her eyes lost as she stared into space, then said with near wonder, “You've got to mean it. Not everyone can, you know.”

Bella released Hermione so suddenly she stumbled awkwardly backward and slipped in an indoor snowdrift. A startled scream cut short as Hermione reached a staircase in the dark, her hands flailed for a railing, anything, and found a tree branch instead. Bark broke apart in shards, slicing skin as she frantically tried to slow her fall, coming to rest in the crook of a bough.

Bella peered down at her with detached amusement, her grin widening as Hermione tried to right herself and instead fell sideways to crash into the wall.

A crow called from impossibly close, and, looking up, Hermione saw that the monstrous tree had grown though the walls into the stairwell, sending dozens of limbs soaring overhead in every direction, scratching patterns on the ceiling. Hundreds of shining eyes watched from above in loveless fascination.

Bella drew her wand in a dreamlike afterthought. “Any last words?”

“I pity you,” Hermione stated coldly as she backed down through spiderweb-thin branches, the blood from her fingers mingling with bark dry as dust.

Bella's eyes widened as the triumphant grin fled from her lips.

“Pity me?!” Bella shrieked, startling panicked crows to crash through the upper floors. Forgetting magic, Bella violently beat her fist against the tree, shaking snow loose and shattering twigs against the walls as she descended upon Hermione like a starved animal fixated on a difficult kill.

“How dare you?!” Bella screamed, tearing fistfuls of branches free, crawling down the tree, growing more enraged as Hermione slipped down out of sight. Remembering her wand, Bella's screams spiraled upwards into gales of laughter, punctuated by gasps for air as she carefully aimed.

Shards rained down into Hermione's hair as she blindly descended, her hands rasped raw, catching then slipping, another slice. A groan and crack and the shadows twisted as she fell again, rammed into the wall, felt an open edge, and shoved herself through just as Bella's wand stabbed through thick brush and she screeched, “Avada Kadavra!” Green light filled Hermione's world as wooden knives tore at her arms, hands, fingers, and then she fell into the black.

Hermione's breath tore out of her as she slammed onto a table-top, her coat torn to shreds and her arms soaked. Bloody, her mind calmly informed her.

A wail of utter fury erupted from above as Bella searched for her suddenly missing prey.

Heaving for air, Hermione rolled off the table, half falling in the process when a hand clamped firmly over her mouth and dragged her backwards into the cold, wet dark.

Screaming was impossible, and an arm pressed against her throat. Her mind reeled for alternatives as her burning fingertips slipped over cool wool.

“Biting, I assure you, would be counter-productive,” a deep voice breathed in her ear.

Hermione nodded as Severus' grip eased. He leaned forward and instructed silence with a look. She watched as he edged himself closer to the hole in the high corner of the wall and drew his wand. Dim light filtered through as Bella's plaintive calls for Hermione to come out, come out from her hiding hole echoed in the cold air. Wooden fragments trickled through as Bella negotiated the tangle outside, her hissing curses competing with mockingly soothing calls.

While watching Severus' dark shape move into the shadows, Hermione's eyes tracked upwards, and she barely stifled a gasp. Bella had lowered herself and was a head's turn from discovering the hole.

In one sudden movement, Severus climbed a chair, stood on the table, raised his wand, and cast barely above a whisper, “Petrificus Totalus!” then cursed loudly as Bella instantly swung her wand wildly.

“She's mine!” Bella raged, clutched the hole's edge, and blindly cast spell after spell, sending frantic streaks of light spiraling in shutter speed. Flashes of red and green exploded simultaneously, some rebounding off of the walls at impossible angles and others blasting flaming holes through towering stacks of books. Starlight shone in from two floors above and ashes fluttered like snow in near daylight, and Hermione could see an armchair engulfed in greenish flames, its shape disintegrating to a skeleton before her eyes.

Hermione's hair was rapidly becoming wet, and she looked up just as a loud groaning sound erupted, rose to thin pitch, then cracked, and her world cut short to damp black.

Severus Snape stood tall on the massive table, icy smoke flowing around his legs and burning mahogany filling his lungs. He reached out to Bella in a soothing gesture of peace.

Bella paused, half-wrenched through the hole, teeth bared, her wand poised to strike.

“Now, Bella,” Severus said in a soothing tone, slowly raising his hand toward her.

Bella then began to laugh, softly at first, then in fits and starts as another massive icicle impaled the floorboards near where Hermione lay, her wand arm still drawing back even as she reached with the other hand toward his.

“She was mine.” Bella whispered as if telling him a deep secret.

“I know,” Severus said softly, his hand closing over hers. “I know.”

Bella's twisted her hand, another spell on her lips, then halted as Severus looked into her eyes and spoke to her in a quiet rush.

She froze as he spoke, eyes slipping closed, wand forgotten.

“The chair's on fire,” Bella mumbled absently when she climbed down to stand next to him.

Severus nodded, raised Bella's hand, and lowered his head to lay a kiss.

“So it is.”