Chapter Text
Harry opened his eyes on a white space, naked and surrounded by vapor. The place he was in looked half-formed, like a dream that hadn't been finished, and even as he stared around him, the vapor began taking shape into a massive room full of benches, with a high-domed windowed ceiling. He took a soundless step forward, ignorant of his nakedness, as he took in the vaguely familiar space.
A sound interrupted his perusal of this strange world he had woken up in, and he no longer felt that he was alone here. He shuddered as a cry rent the air, something wailing like a babe but with a malevolence underneath. He was suddenly much less alright with his naked body. No sooner had he thought of it than a set of robes appeared beside him.
Wrinkling his nose at the choice, he pulled on the closed robes and looked for the source of the noise. He found it in a small, struggling bundle beneath a nearby bench. It looked like a disfigured baby with raw red flesh as it continued to cry and wail softly, as if it had been muted. He shuddered again and found himself drawing closer even as everything in him told him to keep his distance. He ducked down, going to his knee, and looked curiously at the small creature that seemed not to recognize that it wasn't alone.
“I wouldn't bother.”
Harry felt his breath hitch at the intrusion of that voice on this strange world and his head shot around hopefully. A small distance away stood the infamous new Headmaster of Hogwarts. His face was as stoic as ever, but Harry was sure he saw wariness in those dark eyes. Harry rose slowly from where he knelt, trying to remember how to breathe.
“Snape,” he managed breathlessly once he got his lungs working again.
Snape opened his mouth to respond, no doubt with something scathing, but seemed to freeze as Harry lurched into a run towards him. Harry felt tears sting his eyes as he ran the short distance. He launched himself into the tall, stiff form of his former professor and was caught against the man's chest. He entangled his limbs around Snape even as strong arms held to him tightly. A dry sob tore out of Harry's throat at how real Snape felt.
“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” Harry sobbed, burying his face in the neck he had watched be torn open by a monster at the command of a monster.
“This is… unexpected,” Snape murmured, even as he shifted his arms to hold Harry more securely.
Harry sobbed a laugh. “You have no idea what it was like. No idea how much it hurt to spend ten months unable to stop thinking about my enemy as something other than my enemy, to hate myself for my endlessly circling thoughts, only to find out too late that it was alright, I was allowed to need you - want you.”
Snape's body stiffened in his hold. “I- I don't-”
“I know,” Harry mumbled, still burying his face in the man's throat. “It wasn't about me, or even Dumbledore, it was about my mum. Everything was for her. I don't care. I don't need you to need me back.”
Snape sighed and loosened the arm around Harry's shoulders. “Potter, look at me.”
Harry winced at the words, but managed to reluctantly pull back enough to meet black eyes - for once not looking down on him as Snape's arms held him high enough against him that they were of equal height. He couldn't help the sting in his eyes as he recalled the last time he had seen those eyes up close, and he swallowed another sob as he waited for Snape to speak, to put him down and put distance between them. Snape seemed to struggle for a minute as he stared back with a furrowed brow.
“You're an idiot,” Snape finally said.
Harry gasped as long fingers burrowed harshly in his hair and dragged him forward. He whimpered when their lips met, and struggled to remember how to breathe as a slick tongue invaded his mouth with a desperation he could taste. It took a moment for his brain to catch up, then another for him to shove aside his thousand questions.
He shifted his hands from around slim shoulders and buried them in lank, slightly greasy hair. He thanked Merlin for the hours he'd spent with Ginny, trying to figure out why snogging her didn't feel as good as he thought it should. His suspicions about the reason were confirmed as he kissed Snape back just as desperately. Their lips and tongues pressed and danced, sliding together bruisingly as Snape continued to show Harry just how big of an idiot he was.
Harry whimpered with disappointment, mewling lightly, when Snape suddenly broke the kiss, panting in the space between them.
Snape cleared his throat. “This- this isn't how this is supposed to go. I'm supposed to be explaining things for you.”
“What does it matter?” Harry asked. “We're dead, who cares why things happened the way they did.”
Snape pulled back as Harry tried to close the distance, and the man's lips pursed as he met Harry's frustrated gaze with an apology in his black eyes. “You're not.”
“Not?” Harry repeated as he felt his heart stutter in his chest.
“Not,” Snape confirmed.
Harry let his legs fall from around the man's waist and Snape let him go, setting him back on his feet. Harry realized he was once again not breathing and he drew a shuddering breath. Snape continued to stare at him with apology and concern.
“What do you mean ‘not’? I died. I let him kill me like Dumbledore wanted. I didn't raise my wand, I didn't defend myself at all. I-I didn't see the point.”
“Oh, Harry,” Snape breathed, pulling the younger wizard into his chest and petting his hair. “I'm sorry you had to do that. But… that is precisely why you are not dead. You didn't fight the Elder Wand, you didn't duel him, and thus you remain the wand's master. And the master of the Elder Wand cannot be harmed by it.”
Harry gasped. “That's why- why he used Nagini, why he didn't-”
“Yes,” Snape murmured. “However, more than this, you are the first and only person to unite the three Hallows. You're the Master of Death.”
“What the bloody hell does that mean?” Harry squeaked.
“The legends are unclear,” Snape said vaguely. Harry frowned at the non-answer, but decided he didn't want to spend what time they had arguing like they used to.
“The Horcrux?” he asked carefully.
“The wand cannot harm you. That does not mean it cannot harm what resided in you,” Snape said softly.
Harry became aware again suddenly of the wailing child-like thing still lying beneath the bench. He shuddered. “What happens now?”
“It's up to you,” Snape said with a sigh. “You can choose to go on, to succumb to death. Or you can return.”
Harry closed his eyes, shaking his head. He couldn't. He didn't want to. But he knew he didn't really have a choice. “He has the Elder Wand.”
“He does,” Snape confirmed.
And that was the reality. If Harry succumbed to death, he gave up ownership of the wand, leaving that most powerful branch in the hands of a psychotic dark lord. If he didn't go back, there would be no one to defeat Voldemort, no one who could stand against him and succeed… not before he brought Wizarding Britain to its knees.
“I don't want to…” Harry started.
“It's your choice,” Snape repeated.
“...but I will if you do as well,” Harry finished, pulling back to look up into burning black eyes.
Snape smiled sadly and cupped Harry's face in his hands. “That's not how it works.”
Harry shook his head in denial. How could he go back after glimpsing what he might have had? How could he go back without Snape? He loved his friends, but if he went back alone he would spend his life knowing what he had given up, feeling that part of him was missing.
“Not without you,” he said with conviction.
“Harry-”
“Is that your wish, Master?” a cold, rattling voice spoke in the vast room.
Snape stiffened almost to a statue before pushing Harry behind him as he backed towards a pillar. The voice gave a rasping, rumbling laugh that echoed in the mostly empty room. Harry tucked himself close to Snape's back, not truly frightened but reveling in the show of protectiveness, the feel of possessiveness that seemed to wrap around him.
“Oh, a clever choice, Master. A man who would defend you from Death itself,” the voice spoke from behind him.
He and Snape turned to find the pillar gone and in its place was… something else, something almost human. The unnaturally tall, pale white being was dressed in shadows that masqueraded as a robe and cloak, and held in its hand a lily that was as pure white as untouched snow. Snape pulled Harry back against him.
“You swore,” Snape said.
“And I keep my promises,” the being answered, its voice amused even as the face remained impassive. “My Master is free to return, and to remain there until he decides otherwise.”
“And my wish?” Harry asked cautiously of the being. He felt decidedly uneasy asking anything of a God, especially something that went against the natural order.
“Comes with a price, as you suspect, Master,” Death answered.
Harry bit down on the urge to answer that he would do anything. “What price?”
“One soul for another. You deliver unto me a soul, and I shall give you what you want.”
Harry closed his eyes. A life for a life. It made sense, and even more than that it was what he had to go back for in the first place.
“Just one?” Harry breathed. “Just him?”
“For the soul you intend?” Death hummed curiously. “I will give you back one other… if they make that choice for themselves.”
Harry nodded. He'd actually thought perhaps Voldemort's soul would be worth less, not more. He hadn't even been sure which ‘him’ he was asking about - the soul he wanted back, or the soul he was sending on. Death had given perhaps the most generous offer in answer, and Harry could only hope that the soul of someone else he loved chose to return.
“Deal,” Harry said firmly.
Death's face finally shifted, a smile growing on his face. “So be it.”
Harry closed his eyes as white light exploded around them. The feel of protective arms around him vanished to be replaced by hard earth beneath his prone form. He held his breath as he listened to the sounds of the Death Eaters, of Voldemort. He was back in the Forbidden Forest, and he had a soul to send to the beyond.
So be it.