100 DOORS
1. TIMOROUS
His vision faded away, and he fell into the deepest depths of his mind, seeing flashes of emerald green, hearing the voices of death, and his stomach twisting and turning, not sure when he was to hit the ground.
Hitting the ground was not what he had expected, for he did not hit the ground with force, he rather crumpled on the concrete delicately. If the purpose of this was to save him from injury, then it was useless, he thought; he was already dead.
He opened his eyes and slowly sat upward. The vision was not at all what he had expected: he sat on the black asphalt of the playground near his old home at Spinner's End. It was deserted, yet the breeze was still softly rustling the delightfully green trees and moving the swings. The air was warm, like a summer day. The houses that lined the street across from the playground looked exactly as they had when he was a child.
He wondered what the reason for this was. If it was to torture him, then it was no use; he had already endured enough torture in life, why should he be tortured after death, too?
He stood up slowly, walking toward the swings creaking in the summer breeze. He felt silly as he sat down on the swing he had taken up daily on the summer days in his childhood. He looked around once more, taking in the scene that hadn't changed since he was eleven.
Then he noticed a man sitting on the playground bench. He squinted. This was no ordinary man, no… Was it…? Albus Dumbledore? No ordinary person wore robes of deep blue, nor did they have a foot-long white beard.
He stood up and made his way toward the man. He cleared his throat.
"Albus…?" he said softly.
The man turned and stared at him. It was indeed Albus Dumbledore. His eyes widened, he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"Ah, Severus. I was wondering when you would arrive," Dumbledore said in a content voice, blue eyes twinkling as always. He smiled a crooked smile.
"I… but why are you here? And why- why am I here?" he stuttered. He looked around again frantically.
"Come, come with me, Severus. I believe we can figure this out together."
Severus Snape closely followed Dumbledore down the street, feeling like he would somehow lose sight of him and be left all alone. If he had not been a grown man, he would've clung to Dumbledore's arm like a small child.
Snape recognized this path. He knew these streets; he knew them well. He didn't want to keep walking. He stopped in the middle of the street.
"Severus?" Dumbledore said, realizing he had stopped walking.
"I'm sorry, Albus, I just can't walk here. Wherever we're going… I don't want to go. I… I just don't," he said, his voice wavering.
"I know, Severus, I know. Now come along," Dumbledore said calmly. He reached out for Snape's hand.
Snape shook his head and kept walking. He didn't want consolation. If he had been alone, he would have burst into deep sobs, but he couldn't.
Snape followed Dumbledore to his old home at Spinner's End, the place he no longer wanted anything to do with. It was the place that held so many bad memories from not only his childhood but his adult life, as well.
He stood at the door, resisting going in. Besides, he didn't have a key, and it was probably locked. He had placed anti-Alohomora charms on the door.
Dumbledore, seeming to read his mind, pulled a small key out of his robe pocket, just like Snape's old house key that he'd kept in a jar in his quarters at Hogwarts. Dumbledore handed Snape the key, urging him to put it in the lock. Snape unwillingly pushed in the tiny key, a familiar feeling in his hands. He turned the key halfway to the left, then to the right, remembering the stubborn lock. The door finally opened, and Dumbledore urged him in.