Chapters 131-140

Beautiful

Without the crackling noises of the fire, the library would have been deathly silent. Severus stood with his back turned towards her, gazing out of the windows into the gloaming. Hermione could just make out the darkly glittering surface of the water. November was definitely one of gloomiest months of the year at Hogwarts.

‘Yes.’

The single word, spoken so softly, shattered the quiet more devastatingly than the explosion of a curse.

Her heartbeat seemed out of synch when Hermione finally moved. With every beat of her heart, she took another unsteady step towards the window. She didn’t speak, couldn’t think of anything to say. When she was at his side, he hadn’t moved at all, presenting a stony façade to her and the rest of the world, his profile set in harsh angles and bitter lines, his eyes even darker than the gathering gloom outside.

With a sigh she stepped in front of him. She curled her arms around him and laid her head against his chest. At first he didn’t react. Had she embraced a tree, it would have been more pliant.What would I have done if Harry had been killed? she mused. If I had possessed the power to bring him back. Hermione shuddered. She was glad that she would never find out.

The shivering that gripped her body finally caused Severus to react to her presence. He stiffened; for a second she feared that he would push her away, retreating from her and everyone else, the way he had spent most of his life. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her tight.

‘Not even Necromancy can bring someone back to life who has passed beyond the Veil of the Ninth Gate,’ he said at last. ‘The best Raisers can do is bring back a zombie or an Inferius, with the help of magical items such as the Resurrection Stone, or the Philosopher’s Stone, or the Holy Grail. But I am not a Raiser. I am what they call a Binder. Someone who can banish and bind demons, zombies, and spectres easier than others. Usually, at least. A few centuries ago the Inquisition would have paid good money for my services.’

He exhaled deeply. His breath stirred the curls above her ear, tickling her. But she didn’t dare to move, now that he was willing to talk.

‘However, it can be a long way from the First Gate to the Veil of the last and the point of no return, especially if there is unfinished business calling you back. The currents are not as strong then, they can even turn against you. The river or the road may be longer.’

‘The road?’ Curiosity won out. She tilted her head back, so she could see his face.

‘I think I mentioned it once. There are two dimensions of death. The objective dimension—the River of Death—and the subjective dimension. Though I am not sure how “objective” a dimension can be. My personal theory is that it is shaped by centuries of mythology and shared beliefs. Maybe there is no river in other cultures, or in future times. Harry can tell you more about the subjective dimension of death than I. I only ever see the river. I think he was at a train station, wasn’t he?’

Hermione nodded. ‘King’s Cross. He never got on the train, though.’ She smiled weakly. ‘I guess he had a lot of unfinished business.’

Severus’ lips curved into an unhappy smirk. ‘I should say so.’

Hermione took a step back and reached for his hands. ‘Let’s sit down and have some tea, okay?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘As long as you don’t offer me a lemon sherbet.’

Hermione snorted. ‘Not bloody likely.’

A short time later, they were ensconced on the big sofa in the library, a tray with tea and shortbread on the coffee table in front of them. Hermione kicked off her shoes, and to Severus’ discomfiture proceeded to curl up against him.

‘So you found Lily before she reached the Ninth Gate?’

‘Yes.’

Another long silence stretched and crept off into the shadowy corners of the room before he continued. ‘She may have died by choice, sacrificing her life for her son. But a child is a child, and love is one of the strongest anchors that tie souls to this plane of existence.

‘All the same, I only reached her in the starry waters before the Ninth Gate.’

Suddenly Severus reached for Hermione, drawing her close. ‘Now I think would not have been able to bring her back even if she had allowed it.’ He shuddered.

Hermione realised what he did not say. She had almost died on Halloween. ‘Wow,’ she said softly. ‘Wow. So that’s what it will be like? Dying?’ She angled her head, so she could meet his eyes.

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he swallowed hard, before he asked. ‘What was it like?’

She couldn’t reply right away. ‘Beautiful,’ she said at last. ‘The river was different from when I was there with Alina. The water was brown and green and alive, and there were green trees growing in the water at the sides, like…I suppose like a mangrove forest. In front of me there were those huge round leaves of water lilies and behind them high stemmed lotus. There were flowers, too, water lilies and lotus flowers, brilliant like precious jewels. I was floating with the current, and I could slow down or speed up just by thinking of how fast I wanted to go. But the open water before me became narrower and narrower…until it was a meandering trail around the water lilies. I stopped and looked toward the end of the water path. Just in front of me was one of those giant water lily leaves. And beyond it I saw a bird, surrounded by a bright light—I think it was heron.’ Hermione took a deep breath. ‘And then I woke in our bed.’