Purgatorio
Chapter One : Death After Life
Blood, memories, and forty years of tension seeped out of him. It was over. He had spent twenty years making all the wrong decisions and nearly another twenty paying for them in the only way he knew how. It had been hell, but he was done with it. He let go.
When he again became aware of his own existence, it was his neck that asserted itself. He knew on an academic level that bits of it were not properly connected; the angle was mortally wrong. Now, it felt only stiff. He reached for the wound and became preoccupied with the fact that he still had fingers. It all flooded back, then, the hook nose, the gangly knees, and the hair that she had once called romantic. His bony shoulders were pressed into a red checked table cloth, which was sprawled across a patch of grass. Bushes surrounded him. Glancing though them, he was overwhelmed with a green-gold light. The light would have been impossibly harsh, but it was filtered through the leafy canopy.
On the corner of the blanket, a beautiful red headed girl sat cross-legged. She appeared young, sixteen at most. She winked at him and his dead heart twitched.
"Lily?" he breathed.
He was breathing. That was significant, somehow.
"Hey, Sev," she said simply.
He sat up and looked at her. She was wearing a white tank top and faded denim shorts. He had forgotten the birthmark on her left shoulder, and the little twist in the end of her nose, but he drank them in now, remembering both, and much more.
"I did the best I could for him Lily, for you," he said, the words spilling out of him unexpectedly. "I did try to teach him, and I cast my best wards on him when I could, and then Dumbledore said he would have to die, but I did try my best to be sure it wasn't in vain at least… for you, Lily…" He noticed that his voice sounded younger, and though there were scars on his fingers that he had acquired from careless accidents by countless students, there was also a fluidity of motion that he hadn't possessed since the burning of his Mark. He also noticed as he spoke that he wasn't quite telling the truth. In truth, he could have been a better teacher to the boy, especially with the occlumency lessons; in truth, he could possibly have even found a way to give comfort that no one else could have given. He certainly had never tried.
"Severus," she said with a tenderly smile, "That is at the very least, half true. I am so proud of you. You have done well."
An uncomfortable warmth spread through him, reddening his sunken cheeks. "But its half untrue, as well? He is so much like his father… I am afraid I may have…"
She nodded. "I understand. Severus, if James were here, he would beg for your forgiveness. Can you give it to him?"
For a moment his voice sounded aged again, and tired. "Why should I?" he asked.
"James made horrible, permanent mistakes because he believed that he could protect me from you… he believed that he could own me. He was wrong. He died for it with remorse, and then by giving his life for me and for his son. Do you get it?" she smiled coaxingly.
"No, I don't 'get it', Lily. You're saying he felt remorse for what he did, and then he died for it, too. And for that, I should forgive him. Dying for you was what any man would have done if he had you for a wife. And I don't give a damn for his remorse." But he spoke without conviction, and he was watching her carefully, waiting for her reply.
She pressed her lips together in a way that always before meant she was angry with him in her own way. "James's regret was his first death, and it was by far the more painful of the two. But neither is meant to repair the past. Forgiveness can be granted, but it can never be earned. All our mistakes are permanent, Sev, and we all made them. Even the most powerful time turner won't allow us to change our past. All we can do is put ourselves on the right path for the future. We can't go back and keep from drinking the poison, but if we take the right antidote, we can still become well again."
"What if you can't find the antidote in time? What if there is no antidote?" Severus challenged. His fingers found the edge of the cloth and ripped a tuft of grass out of the ground.
She shook her head. "It's not a perfect analogy. Say that there is always an antidote, and you can always get to it in time. The only danger of the final death is in choosing not to take it. If you can't forgive James simply because he has changed for the good, you must forgive him for your own sake, so you can be healed. James had his remorse, you will have to have yours."
He took on a tougher tone, then, knowing her had found the chink in her argument. "Which is it, Lily, death or healing? It makes a difference."
She shook her head firmly. "You can't bully your way out of this, Severus. It's both. First the pain, then the healing."
He sighed. He didn't really like to argue with her, even though he had always been able to talk her down. She had always seen right through him; she had always known when he knew himself to be wrong, and was arguing just for the sake of being right, of winning over her, to impress upon her how powerful he was. He knew the time for that was past, and he found that he was ready for it. "Mea culpa," he said more tenderly, leading her back to her own train of thought. "So you say that forgiving James would be my first death?"
She sensed his change of heart and laughed then, a bell-like sound free of any disdain or self-awareness. "First death? My goodness, after sixteen years of service to Dumbledore and 6 years of teaching Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and my indomitable son, I think you've died enough. Call it the last of a thousand deaths.
He almost smiled, then. "Am I allowed to touch you?"
She nodded demurely. "You may, politely."
He drew her to him, then, and pressed his lips to her lightly freckled forehead, kissing her twice. "What if I just forgive him simply because you have asked me too?"
She cocked her head as if considering his words. "You will forgive him for my sake… but unreservedly?"
He nodded. "How can I hold it against him, if his great flaw was loving you? I forgive him."
She smiled warmly, calmly. The Lily he had known would have blushed and squirmed at his words, but this vision was delighted and unafraid. "Not entirely accurate, but close enough." She grinned at him until he was forced to smile back. "Let's stop talking now," she suggested. That was the Lily he had known.
They both lay back down on the rough, thin cloth. Severus could feel the rocky ground beneath them. He remembered this place. It was somewhere near Lily's home. They had been fourteen years old here, together, almost completely innocent, desiring nothing but time spent in each other's presence. He had truly believed then, without needing to put it into words, that every proceeding moment of his life would bring him into deeper intimacy with her. He had felt no need to hurry it along.
They lay now as they did then, at odd angles with each other, only the very corners of their foreheads touching. It was bliss now, as it had been bliss then. That single square inch of her skin communicated itself sensually to every cell of his body. To know that this had been the climax, that this was all they would ever have, touched an emotional nerve. He could feel her breathing peacefully beside him. He slowly sat up and leaned over her. He brushed a stray lock of her fiery hair away from her eyes. "You're happy," he said.
"Very, very happy," she answered.
"In fact, I couldn't make you unhappy if I tried, could I? Nor could anyone else. Am I right?"
"Yes, that's right." She paused to study his expression. "Aren't you glad of it?"
"Yes, Lily, very glad. But I feel sadness. Loss. Loneliness. Why?"
"Oh, Sev, it's… I may have misled you a bit. You see…" and quite suddenly the green-golden light was overpowering her image. In fact, there was more light and less Lily as she continued to speak. Her voice, too was fading. "… not actually… yet…" and there was less Lily still, until she was gone. The light became stronger and whiter, and he was suddenly sobbing; reaching out to where she had been. Then he was roaring, first with frustration, then finally with pain.
Not actually dead yet.
When his fingers reached his neck, they were covered in blood. Yes, disjointed angle, severed parts.
He was alive.
And it hurt like hell.