A/N: I haven't slept for 33hours for I had to work the nightshift. For 9terribly hours I had to wait until I could read the End of the book. I cried my heart out when I figured who the person dying was. This is the result of it.

I am extremely sorry but cannot consider not writing such dreadful spoilers for 'the Order of the Phoenix'. If you haven't read the book and want to do it without knowing, please leave now. All the others feel free to enjoy this heart skipping, terribly sad, sad ride…

The Bitter End…

…Or Beyond the Veil

Snape

The day when that Potter guy had hung him legs up into the tree and his friends were barking mad with laughter, he was ready to kill the lot of them.

Not even he loathed everything James did but he was outrageous jealous about all the girls liking it. Well, that wasn't perfectly true. Not all of them.

Lilly Evans, the beautiful girl with the dark, red hair and the brilliant green eyes didn't seem to like at all what Potter did to him back then. She'd almost got in a big row with James about resisting on putting him back to the ground. She'd even pointed her wand towards him, ready to disarm James if he would have sent another jinx over in his direction.

That filthy Mud blood! Who did she think she was? He'd never be in favour to ask her for help.

Now, her annoying, little bastard was in his office and Dumbledore had insisted of training him in Occlumency.

As he would ever learn! The dark Lord would easily find a way into his mind and manipulate him as he wished for.

How dare the filthy little brat had taken a look into his memories he'd put in swirling, silver dust onto the large plate?

Hate spilled like a fountain over him and washed the little respect he had for the Headmaster away in an instant. He hated everything about the boy. Her mother's green eyes, his father mouth and nose and the untidy hair.

His father used to rumple up his hair so it wouldn't look to tidy. The boy didn't need to do so. It was a mess even without help.

Whenever he saw him, he saw James and he remembered something he tried to forget for some long years.

He needed him out. OUT and never again would he invite him back in or it was likely he would do something Dumbledore would make him regret…

~~~~~~~~   

Sirius

The day when he fled from Azkaban was the moment he swore to himself; he'd never allow anybody to imprison him again.

Here he was though. Not allowed to leave, alone in a house bringing the worst of memories back, which he'd thought he had forgotten a long time ago.

His mother called him really ugly names from inside her picture as soon as the curtain would reveal her. He wished he could take the damn painting of the wall. Throwing her out and her bloody House-elf as well.

The Order of the Phoenix not wanted any help from the still worn out looking man with the long, black hair and the gleaming eyes. Imprisoned again, useless.

His heart leapt furiously in his chest whenever he thought about his Godson.

Voldemort was after him, trying to kill him once more. And what did he do?

Nothing but stay in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place as Dumbledore had told him. Leaving others to take care for his family. What was left of them and the only one he really cared for since he left home with sixteen.

When Snape showed up, his first impulse was to hit him straight in the face. His anger rose to almost unbearable heights before he heard the news.

Harry's believing him in Voldemort's hands, coming after him to free the man he saw as uncle and father the same time. Setting out to the Ministry of Magic with just a few friends, running straight into the Eye of the Storm.

Nothing now could hold him back anymore. No demands from Dumbledore, no danger, no threat of maybe being caught and send back to Azkaban, no Death Eater nor Voldemort himself.

What, if the dark Lord was faster and found Harry before he did?

What, if he'd come to late?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry

The day the Dementors attacked him at Privet Drive was the moment he realised that the One-who-must-not-be-named was truly regaining his powers.

Ever since then he'd been treated like a fragile, easily cracking ball of glass. People were watching his every step, telling him countless times to remain calm and do what they wanted him to do. He was tired of it.

Tired of being treated like he knew nothing, like he'd not been through the lot he had to face in the last four years. Like he would not know about the evil power behind the dark Lord, nobody except a few even dared to call by his proper name.

But he knew.

He felt his anger, his happiness, his pure evilness ever more clearly then before. He saw what he saw, did what he did and worst of all, he had manipulated him without even noticing.

Seeing Ron's Dad been bitten by these enormous poisonous fangs, actually tasting his blood in his mouth was the first sign.

Having the same dream over and over again and being allowed further through more and more doors must have been the second. But wasn't there another sign before that?

His scar hurting so badly actually making him sick to his stomach? Wasn't that not the biggest sign ever?

He let Sirius and his friends know and again he was told to calm down and not to interfere with Phoenix-Order matters.

He tried. He did the best he could, Exams taking his mind of it a bit lately.

Then the dreadful day came that would change his entire life forever. Was it a dream or reality? He couldn't tell in that terribly moment he was Voldemort again, seeing what he saw.

*"Lord Voldemort is waiting…"

Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was bloodstained and gaunt, twisted in pain, yet rigid with defiance…

"You'll have to kill me," whispered Sirius.

"Undoubtedly I shall in the end," said the cold voice. "But you will fetch it for me first, Black…you think you have felt pain thus far? Think again… we have hours ahead of us and nobody to hear you scream…"*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Pain…

…Or beyond the veil

The old, dirty mirror broke into a hundred little pieces when it hit the bottom of his trunk with full impact.

He did not see him.

He did not hear him.

He did not come back but kept him waiting for the first time in his life.

He would never come again. Ever.

He raced to Harry's aid, avoiding all safety rules he should have known. Voldemort had not taken him hostage but he'd made Harry think that.

Harry had seen the look of mingled fear and surprise on his face when he was hit square on his chest, awkwardly fallen backwards.

Harry had heard the soft whispers from distant voices talking to him before he fell through the slit in the curtain, the veil taking the man and closing in behind him.

He had felt Lupin taking and holding him in strong arms to keep him from going after him. He could not move so he yelled instead.

"Sirius! Sirius."

"He is gone." A slightly shivering voice told him carefully.

 He couldn't recall later what had happened after this moment of terrifying truth.

Later…

…When the pain still seemed unlikely to ever go away again.

…When his mind still refused to talk or even think about him gone.

…When tears ran freely every time he just dared to think for the split of a second about what had happened.

…When he realised that he was all alone now, without family.

There were so many more things to say, he wanted to know and talk to Sirius about but he couldn't. He was dead.

Harry sat very still in the huge, soft armchair up in Dumbledore's dormitory. His eyes moved slowly around, overlooking all the things he had broken in deepest felt anger and sadness. It did him no good; he still felt the same burning pain rushing through his every vein. He let his head fall back against the back of the cushions, his eyes closing in agonise.

Harry did not care about the Headmaster in the moment or what he was doing. All he wanted to do was not being disturbed but at the same time, he was scared of being alone.

He heard footsteps approaching from the distance, moving closer to where he sat but he didn't care.

He never cared less if he'd die right now or stay alive.

He thought, he felt somebody standing beside him but never even opened his eyes for a second.

A small sigh reached his ears before a large hand was placed on his right shoulder, squeezing him slightly.

A cold voice, sounding as being forced to say the following words, found its way into Harry head.

"I… I am sorry Potter. Never meant for him to go this way and so early in the.. arrgh, game."

Harry had recognised the voice at once.

'Game? He thinks that is a game?' Harry thought tired. His eyes started to burn and seemed to exist only in form of salty drops of pain. He didn't want to see him cry so he put his hands in front of his face as though he could shield himself as well from the loss.

Snapes's fingers were still holding his shoulder in a strong grip.

A thought crossed his mind and bothered so much, he had to ask a question between silent little cries.

"Did it… hurt him?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat and blew his nose loudly. Harry thought he would answer him but instead, he heard the steely voice of the Potions teacher again. Only this time it sounded more… sympathetic. Or something close to it.

"We don't really know, Boy. All we know that a myth tells about your friends and relatives waiting for you on the other side of the veil."

"Alas, that is true," Dumbledore agreed with Snape: "but only when you are not afraid to go there."

Harry looked with watery eyes through his fingers, finding Prof. Snape on his knees in front of him. He could not believe what he saw.

A light smile crept over his hard feature, making him look almost friendly for once.

"And you do can believe my word, Potter, there was never anything Sirius Black feared less than departing for the other side."

Harry nodded slightly.

"He is waiting there for you, Harry." Dumbledore said in a low, soothing voice.

Severus nodded a couple of times.

"They say if you listen closely, you can hear their voices welcoming their loved ones when you are close to the veil."

"I heard them." Harry said in a broken and tearful voice.

Severus nodded again, squeezing his shoulder again before he stood up rather quickly as if he'd caught himself by doing something wrong, talking with Harry the way he had.

It was much later when Harry thought about his Mum and Dad and that maybe it was they, too, talking in hushed voices and welcoming his Godfather amongst them. At least, he wasn't alone now…

The End

Another note: I am German and had no beta for this. So all the mistakes are mine. As well in not portraying the characters as well as J.K. Rowling does. This is my first attempt in writing Harry Potter. Let me know what to improve…