Chapters 181-190

At Death’s Door

The night pressed in on Hermione, cold, damp and dark.

Now there was nothing she could do but wait.

She slid down on the ground until she sat cross-legged on the white stone. Her hands rested on her knees, palms turned upwards, fingers lightly curled around her wands. With her eyes closed, she concentrated on the barely discernible pulse of the connection that hummed through her wands. It felt like the distant echo of a heartbeat.

They were still there. Somewhere.

Hermione shivered with cold and weariness. And waited.

oooOooo

‘One of the most powerful wizards alive, my arse,’ muttered Severus and pulled at Harry’s hand. Harry lay collapsed on the ground, curled around his right and Severus’ left hand, as if that was all that kept him alive. Maybe it was. ‘Get off your damn arse, Harry, or you won’t be alive much longer!’ Severus snarled. ‘Dammit, are you The-Boy-Who-Lived to be an eternal pain in my arse or not? Get UP!’

The melody of the hurdy-gurdy wound itself around his throat, tighter and tighter as Death turned the wheel faster and faster. As the tempo of the tune picked up, Severus began to shake, his muscles seizing up. He wouldn’t last much longer.

He thrust his wand into the bandolier with the bells and groped for the key inside his robe. For an endless, frightening second he feared that he had lost it. Then his fingers curled around the shaft of the key. He tugged feebly at it. It was an effort to remove it from the pocket. The song of the hurdy-gurdy seemed to dance around him, sounds similar to a violin and a bagpipe, an incessant see-sawing that was draining his energy and bringing him down on his knees.

‘Up, Harry,’ he rasped. ‘One last time, get the fuck up on your feet!’

This time he jerked at Harry’s hand with all his strength. Somehow Harry scrambled to his feet. He staggered, then stumbled into Severus’ arms. He clutched at Severus with his left hand, while never letting go with his right.

The impact almost sent both of them sprawling on the ground. Clinging to each other in a desperate embrace they tottered—lurched—reeled—a grotesque dance to the tune Death was grinding out, until they collided with the Gate.

Distantly, Severus realised that the wood of the Gate was made of white poplar. The tree that transcends fear. Black poplar for death and lost hope. White poplar for resurrection and hope assured.

He fumbled for the key. He could feel that Harry’s knees were giving way again. And this time, he didn’t have enough strength left to haul the younger man back onto his feet. The melody of the hurdy-gurdy twirled and skipped around them. Severus could have sworn that Death was laughing at them.

There, the keyhole!

His hand was shaking too hard. He missed the hole. Once, twice, three times the key scratched over the fittings.

He pressed his forehead against the Gate. His leg-muscles were quivering with exhaustion, every breath cost him supreme effort. Potter leant against him heavily, dragging him down.

Not quite yet, Severus thought. I’ll be damned if I lie down and die right in front of the Gate. If we have to die, we’ll do it on the other side, just out of spite.

The key slid into the hole.

With a desperate wrench, he twisted it around.

Severus turned his head for a last glance at Death. Death was looming behind them, still grinding his instrument laboriously, but at a slower pace. Next to Death the silhouette of a large black dog was barely visible in the gloom.

‘For heaven’s sake, why don’t you get a guitar?’ Severus rasped.

Then his legs gave out under him, the door opened and they fell through the opening, hitting the ground hard.

oooOooo

When Severus regained consciousness, he lay on a cold, hard surface. Stone, he realised. Granite, from the smell of it. Someone—oh, Merlin—Harry Potter lay sprawled across him, still clutching his left hand in a death grip.

But he was not dead. Severus could feel the rise and fall of his breath against his chest. The-Boy-Who-Lived had lived up to his nickname all over again.

‘Get off me,’ Severus coughed and shoved weakly at Harry’s prone body.

‘Nrgh.’ Harry just tightened his hold.

‘I’m not your teddy-bear, boy,’ Severus growled. He pushed at Harry again and sighed with satisfaction, when the wizard rolled off him and landed with a thump on the floor of the Death Chamber.

The effort made him dizzy, the chamber spun around him in streaks of black and red.

‘We’ve given them fifteen minutes,’ a voice floated down to him. ‘They should be gone now. We should set up a watch, so someone is there if—when—they…Severus? Harry? Why are you still—You’re back? Already?’ Minerva McGonagall’s rolling contralto soared to a squeaky soprano. ‘Andromeda, get the healers down there! Now! They’re back, and they look more dead than alive!’

Severus tried to sit up and to extricate his hand from Potter’s—he didn’t need healers, he’d had enough of healers to last him three life-times—but he discovered that he was too weak. Steps clattered closer. A moment later he felt how someone lifted him a little, until his head rested on someone’s lap. He found himself looking up into Minerva’s piercing blue-grey eyes.

‘You made it, Severus, you’re back! The healers will be here in a jiffy,’ she murmured almost tenderly. ‘Don’t worry.’

He thought he’d only blinked. But his head felt fuzzy as if he’d lost consciousness again.

‘Do you hear that, Severus? Harry’s already arguing with Poppy over there. Everything will be all right.’

Severus wished he had the strength to laugh at that statement. Instead he only coughed, then croaked weakly, ‘Hermione. She’ll be worried.’

The witch had the nerve to stroke his hair back gently. ‘Don’t worry, Severus. Hermione’s already on the way.’

oooOooo

---

« Chapters 171–180 oooOooo Chapters 191–200 »

---