Chapter Three

SIRIUS

I Disapparated in the ruin and looked around, my heart in my mouth, and my stomach flooded with trepidation. The youngsters were standing in the corner of the garden behind the remains of the house, at the tumbled back wall. Neville and Hermione were bent over, looking at something on the ground, talking urgently with one another, and Ginny was on her knees in the muck, holding something. I couldn't understand why they had called me so urgently, not until I realised just what Ginny was holding... it looked like a dirt and blood streaked hand. I found I couldn't move; after all this, all my longing, I found I didn't even have the bottle to face what was left of him.

Harry was walking the short space to where I stood frozen in some sort of terror; his eyes were troubled behind his glasses, his face was white. 'He's in very bad shape... Merlin alone knows how he's alive.' He touched my arm. 'I don't know, Sirius... I don't know if he can make it.'

Alive. The word slammed home as I felt Remus arrive at my side.

'Come on, Sirius,' he said, seeming to understand my fear, my inability to move forward; he took my arm and guided me the short distance.

I have to admit I'd never have recognised what was lying there as being a man, far less the man that Snape had been. He was curled tightly, and what had been his black clothes were charred and wet and torn, like so many discarded rags caught on a boulder. He must have been lying there for days: broken, injured, cold, wet... alone, and all I could do was stare. Merlin alone knew what Hermione and Neville were doing, but they were working frantically, saying nothing apart from the few uttered commands to Ginny, who was assisting them. I knew it was pointless to suggest that we try to get him to Hogwarts; he'd never make it.

His hair covered his face, like a wet black curtain hiding something from view, something that should not be shown. I didn't want that; I wanted to see it... him, see this shattered thing for what he was, but I suppose mostly I just desperately wanted him to know that we were there for him. I don't know when my thoughts became actions, or when I moved across the short space and knelt at his other side, careful not to get in the way of Neville and Hermione. I brushed the hair aside... and felt my heart plunge; he was so cold that I doubted he could possibly be alive. His skin was clammy but icy, if that makes sense, like a fish newly landed from a cold river.

'Don't you dare die on me now, Severus,' I whispered. 'Don't you dare die.'

Neville stood up at last, and started barking orders, reminding me of the way he had spoken to Moody in Dumbledore's office. 'Get a fire lit now, Harry,' he demanded in a way that was so unlike him, that I almost thought someone else had taken Polyjuice and tied the real Neville up in a cupboard in Hogwarts. He'd dropped back down to his haunches, and looked up for a moment. 'Now, Potter,' he snarled. 'We need to get heat into him. I want an inferno to heat up that wall, from the other side, and I don't care if you've got to get it from hell.'

'Ginny, give me the water bottle,' Hermione said, quietly and calmly, as Harry's fire took hold. She took the bottle, and I lifted his head slightly as she nodded to me. I watched as she heated the water a little with a muttered spell, and began to tilt tiny drops into his mouth as Neville held it open. 'Enough,' she murmured, as Neville began to massage his throat.

'Do you think we should try to get these clothes off him?' Ginny asked doubtfully, as she touched the wet cloth.

'Not yet,' Neville said, 'he's not strong enough. Heat and water... that's all we can do just now... Dumbledore will be here soon.' Neville looked up at Harry again. 'You have sent for him, Potter, haven't you?'

'Of course he has,' Dumbledore murmured back, as he appeared with Fawkes on his shoulder. The bird lifted itself into the air, and circled above us for a few moments, keening a song that sounded uncomfortably mournful.

Albus bent down to Severus, and he seemed to probe his body with his mind for a long few moments, as Hermione and Neville sat back to give him space. He nodded gravely to them. 'You have done everything that can be done for now,' he said, and then looked at me. 'Do not ask me, Sirius... I just do not know. I do not know if we can save him.'

*****

REMUS

Dumbledore had sent for Flitwick, and he'd cast Charms around the entire area to give us peace from the Muggle interest that had begun to spring up at the sight of fire at night. Kingsley had all of the prisoners back at Hogwarts, in cells in the Dark Tower. By all accounts Lucius Malfoy wasn't taking too well to incarceration; I could live with that knowledge.

Madam Pomfrey made the journey to the ruin of the Riddle house, and tutted in approval of what Hermione and Neville and Ginny had done, but it wasn't looking good, I knew that much. He'd really been dead when we got here; he just hadn't had the strength to let go. Neville was by far and away the star of this show; even Hermione had retreated to allow him centre stage. I wished for nothing more than to be there if Severus were ever presented with the irony of that.

Neville had stabilised Severus's body heat, and Hermione had raised his fluid levels before they began to seal some of the more gaping wounds on his body. Ginny had managed to straighten him out a bit, and get most of his clothes off now, and we could see the extent of the flesh damage was huge. He had been ravaged by insects and small animals... it was like looking at an exhumed corpse. Nobody was making any predictions; all they had succeeded in doing so far was to arrest the external damage, to stop the deterioration.

As the night wore on, more and more people arrived. It was amazing, heart-warming, it was as though they were making some sort of pilgrimage; of course, I realise now that that was exactly what they were doing. Molly and Arthur spent some time talking with Dumbledore, and I found I was smiling to myself, imagining their conversation. She was probably making some arrangement to spirit Severus off to the Burrow to recuperate; I could just about imagine his face if that one were a starter, and that made me think that I was beginning to hope. Our inner circle was almost all there. Apparently Dumbledore had sealed Hogwarts to Filch and Flitwick for the night; it was nearly empty anyway. I saw with little surprise that Minerva had roused herself from her recuperation to be here. She kind of summed it all up.

'How are you feeling?' I asked a little guiltily. I hadn't even been to see her since she'd been brought in injured, just before Harry had rid us of Voldemort.

'Oh, I am fine.' She cast a glance to where Severus lay: Sirius still at his side, Neville and Hermione quietly conferring with Ginny and Harry, Ron talking with Dumbledore and Kingsley, even Moody had made the trip. All around the quiet chatter of old acquaintance. She gave a little sniff; perhaps it was the cold night air, but I don't think so. 'Maybe he can't go to Hogwarts, Remus... but it doesn't matter for now. Hogwarts has come to him.'

*****

SEVERUS

Every time I tried to recoil in some sort of self-preservation, something dragged me back: not forward, just back to the unendurable status quo in which I had... to say lived would be an exaggeration, but it was back to where I had teetered these last days on the edge of existence, as though looking over my shoulder to check that nothing was there to hold me back from the ultimate journey we all make. And every time I saw my way clear at last to wander that final path, I felt him, and felt the vague tugs of regret that make we mortals cling to our final breaths, as though our very souls can keep our hearts beating and the blood flowing through our veins, as though it had ever mattered, as though what I had felt had ever mattered to anyone but me.

I wearied now, perhaps in some odd way even more than when I had been alone, as though I had been, even in that most pitiable of states, still the final master of my destination. I wished they would leave me now, while I could still remember what way I had been going. At first I had been sure I had finally passed from the disappointments of life to something kinder, to a place where someone cared, where he cared as much as I had done, and then as the pain gripped me again, sharpening my mind and reminding me of mortal flesh, I understood that what I had mistaken for care was just concern, the primary aid any decent soul would give to an injured dog, or even a dying Death Eater, as the case was. I had thought I had been struggling to live, and now I finally understood that I had been struggling to die.

Why, I wondered, could I not let go? I had it in my grasp now, at long last; I could pass from this world with him at my side, I could even pretend to myself that he would mourn my loss as I had mourned his since I had been a schoolboy, when our paths had met, and we each had turned aside as our lives had beckoned with lying promises and hidden price tags. And at long last, as the warmth from somewhere seeped into my body along with the pain, I felt myself slip, and this time nothing called me back, and the murmuring voices faded, and I knew they had left me, given up on me as I had long ago given up on myself.

And then I heard him, the answer to a dying man's dying wish.

'Severus, please, please hang on,' he whispered, and I knew the others were not at my side any longer; I knew it was just me and him. 'Not just for you, Severus, hang on for me too, I beg you.'

I could go now; I had everything I had ever wanted, I could leave now without regret.

*****

HARRY

It was sometime in the middle of that surreal night that Hermione left his side for a while. Sirius was still sitting beside him, and I could only imagine the emotions that were running through his mind: that awful feeling of helplessness when you watch someone you love dying in front of your eyes, as Draco had died in front of mine; that outrage that death recognises no power but its own, and refuses to let anyone stand in its way. I turned back to Hermione, and looked at her face; it was etched with fatigue, streaked with mud and blood.

'Will you get someone to go to Hogwarts?' she asked me.

I could see Neville talking to Madam Pomfrey; he was trying to explain something to her, she looked doubtful, but Dumbledore was nodding to him. She seemed to back down with what I mistook for bad grace, and gave Neville a look; for a moment I thought she was angry. She turned and muttered something to McGonagall, and the two older women looked back at him in what I now recognised as respect; I saw a glint of pride in our old Scottish lioness as well.

'Of course, what for?' I didn't even dare ask how he was. There was only one consolation for us; he couldn't be any worse than he was when we'd found him.

'Neville has a list, and we need a silver cauldron with a copper base. It must be silver, Harry, not just shiny metal.' She handed me the note of the things Neville wanted, without bothering to tell me I was going to have to smash through the wards of Snape's office to get them.

'Okay, silver with a copper base. Hermione,' I asked, 'what's happening? Is he... is he even alive?'

She sighed. 'We're trying so hard. He's just not responding... I think he's just so tired. He waited so long and... and I just don't know.'

I wished I hadn't asked. I decided to go to Hogwarts myself so there was no mistake about what Neville needed; maybe Remus would come with me.

*****

REMUS

It took us damn near fifteen minutes to slice though Snape's wards, even with Flitwick's help. Argus Filch hovered over us as we collected the stuff on Harry's list; anyone would have thought we were going to make off with the family heirlooms.

'Some of this stuff's really dangerous, Harry,' I said. 'Are you sure Neville knows what he's doing?'

'Hope so... let's face it, he can't do much damage to him, can he?'

I watched as Harry gave Filch a list of the hardware he wanted, and I sat at Snape's table as he checked it all over. I chafed at the time we were taking, almost wondering if they had got us out of the way to let Severus die in some sort of peace. Eventually Harry satisfied himself that everything was right. I was glad, feeling, as I had, like a trespasser; Snape's rooms without Snape glowering from the corner seemed cold and damp and empty.

Filch stood at the door as Flitwick sealed the rooms again with a fresh ward of his own; he had his scrawny cat clutched to his scrawny chest. 'Potter,' he rasped, as we moved away, 'let the Professor know we was asking... me and Mrs Norris.'

I felt the humility scald the back of my throat as the old caretaker turned and shuffled away.

*****

SIRIUS

I was frightened to look at any of them, frightened for the moment when they drew back, when they could do no more. I'll never know where Neville and Hermione and Ginny found the skill to do whatever they were trying to do, what well of knowledge they seemed to be tapping; perhaps it was the confidence of youth, I just don't know.

Ginny had managed to straighten his limbs now; it had taken her ages, easing his cramped arms and legs, and stripping the clothing away to allow herself the access to do her surface repairs. If nothing else, at least he began to look human again.

The heat was stifling now; Neville hadn't been exaggerating about the ferocity of the fire he needed to keep that stone wall, against which he rested, warm. Dumbledore had conjured up fur rugs from somewhere, and they were packed about him. It had been painfully slow to levitate him a tiny bit at a time, to clear the damp soil and rubbish underneath, and spread fur for him to lie on.

I watched on, aware of my helplessness, as Neville slowly but surely took total control of what was happening. Everyone here now deferred to him; somewhere through the long night this little mouse had grown to a true Gryffindor lion, or maybe he always had been.

Harry and Remus arrived back from Hogwarts with whatever it was that Neville had wanted. My muscles screamed in protest as I stood up, shooting pins and needles through my limbs.

'I... I think we should let him rest for a while... I, erm, I know it doesn't look like he's doing anything,' Neville stammered on, 'but I think we should let him rest. The next bit will need whatever strength he's got.'

'Strength?' I gawped at him. 'Neville... he hasn't got any strength; he's hardly even breathing.'

He drew himself up, and gave me a look. 'Of course he has... what do you think has kept him alive? Now stop fussing over him, and give him peace.'

I had no answer. I moved away from everyone, sat on part of the back wall, and took his letter from my pocket. I'd only read it once, couldn't bear to read it again; I would now, I owed him that much.

It started without preamble, no "Dear Sirius", not even "Dear Sir".

"I don't know if I shall be dead or alive when you receive this, or even if you will read it. I know I have no right to expect you to read on, but for what it is worth I ask that you do. Maybe you will delight in this tortuous admission; perhaps it may disgust you. I set it down on parchment in the hope that you understand and forgive.

I have come this far, and if you have stayed with me this long I arrive at last at my point, the declaration of my yearning for that which I could never have. I often think of long ago and better days, when our blood ran hot and our hearts overflowed, when hope still lived to dash itself against the rocks. Then youthful folly laid her unforgiving path, and set my heart aside to lie forever wasting, untried and alone."

*****