Snape looked over the sea of faces as the students filed into the Great Hall. They looked frightened and unsure, expressions that seemed to have become permanent on the children's faces as of late. He waited until the hall became deathly silent before speaking.

"If anyone in here has any knowledge," Snape began slowly, walking in between the columns of students to emphasize his role as Headmaster, "of Mr. Potter's movements this evening I invite them to step forward." He paused, glancing at a few students. "Now."

The students were silent, looking at the floor, terrified of looking Severus in the eyes. A quiet gasp spread throughout the room as a lone figure stepped from the crowd. Harry Potter.

As Harry stepped out of the crowd Severus almost smirked. The boy certainly had a hero complex. No matter what the situation, if it was at all dire and the boy could save lives, one could be sure that Potter would be there.

"It seems, despite your exhaustive defensive strategies, you still have a bit of a security problem Headmaster." Harry said, looking at Snape as though he would strangle him with his bare hands.

The doors to the Great Hall opened and members of the Order walked in, Potter's obvious support.

Severus pointed the wand at Harry with practiced ease, ready to spell him to continue his role as the Dark Lords servant. He knew he could do no real harm to the boy, as much as Severus' loathing for James remained, the bit of Lily that the Potter boy had inherited always stood out to him plainly. It had steadied his hand and his anger more than once. He almost took a step forward when Minerva stepped out of the crowd, throwing Potter out of the way and pointing her wand at Snape.

He hesitated, backing up unconsciously, almost lowering his wand in surprise. He recovered quickly, pointing it at her as though she was another enemy.

But she wasn't. She was Minerva. He couldn't hurt her. He knew he couldn't. But if she had lost faith in him, if she had no faith in him, no one did. She used to fervently assure him that she trusted him. That, if everyone in the world suddenly turned against him, she would be standing next to him. It was one of Dumbledore's traits that she had had the misfortune of developing. Trust was a powerful thing. A weakness and a strength. To McGonagall, it had become an asset to her already noteworthy qualities. It allowed her to form allies. To create allegiances on the idea of trust alone being a tie. To Dumbledore, trust had been as much of a weakness as love had been. His trust had been misplaced. His faith in the notion that Tom Riddle would learn compassion. His faith that Tom Riddle retained even the slightest bit of humanity. It had led to his downfall. But Minerva...

Why would she turn on him now? She was standing rigidly, braced against an attack. Her mouth was set in determination but her eyes were wide. With doubt, with hesitation. Severus knew that, whatever Minerva was thinking, she didn't want to spell him.

They stood that way, wands pointed at each other for what seemed like an eternity. They stood, staring into each other's eyes, waiting.

Then Minerva moved. She slashed her wand through the air and a golden streak of light shot at Snape.

He looked at her in disbelief as he quickly blocked the sudden strike, stunned that she would attack him. Her eyes caught his and he suddenly realized. She wasn't trying to kill him. Minerva was strong, courageous, and powerful. If she decided to kill someone, they would already be dead.
She wasn't trying to kill him.

That thought alone gave him hope. That, maybe, not everyone had lost faith in him. That, perhaps, someone had seen through his facade. Had seen his true intentions all along.

Minerva struck again and Snape blocked it easily. This time throwing the spell around him so that it knocked out the two remaining Death Eaters behind him.

Severus and McGonagall locked eyes one last time before Snape took off. He could see the warnings in her eyes. Telling him to watch out, to be careful. He had made no promises. He wasn't about to make an oath that he couldn't keep. He knew as well as her that he might not make it back. That she might not survive the night. The world was a blur as he flew out of the window towards his own personal hell. The Dark Lord.

McGonagall screamed a stinging shout after him as he leapt.

"COWARD!" She shouted.

His heart almost broke. If only they knew, if only they all knew. How much he'd sacrificed, how much pain he had to endure for all of them. For the chance that one day everyone might be set free. That one day, Harry Potter would free them.