Bring Me To Life : A Continuation
by I Got Tired of Waiting

Part II : Dearly Departed
Breathe Into Me and Make Me Real

Hot slick heat.
Churning masses of fire and smoke.
Each breath burning his lungs.
Bands of steel tightening around his chest.
Tightening--tightening--can't breathe--

Harry woke up suffocating. Panicking, he clawed the bands of molten iron surrounding his throat and chest, making it impossible to breathe. Instead of encountering hot edges of metal, his hands met hard muscle wrapped tightly around him, tendons straining as they pulled Harry taut against Severus' chest.

"Severus, wake up," he wheezed as he desperately tried to break the stranglehold. "Severus! Wake UP!" he rasped loudly, the arms about him tightening even further. The heat from Severus' body was excruciating as more and more of him came into contact with it.

Heat? Hot? The radiating heat seared him. Something's wrong, he thought, trying to stay calm. There must be another way to escape. The grasping arms still held him captive so, as he continued to call Severus' name in a desperate bid to wake him, he squirmed and wriggled his sweaty body down the bed until he slipped out of his lover's burning hot arms.

Severus? he mind-called, hoping to reach him in his dreams but received no response. After lighting the room's lamps with a hurried spell, he knelt by Severus' side, touching and feeling all over his body, stunned at the fever radiating from every pore. Even his eyes are hot and dry, he thought, pulling the fragile lids back. Severus moaned and Harry had just a few seconds of hope, thinking that Severus might be waking, when his body convulsed, back arched off the bed at an impossible height. Severus shouted one "NO" before collapsing back onto the bed, his body limp and still.

Panicked beyond anything he'd ever known, Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair before tentatively stretching out his hand to see... Oh, thank the gods, he's still breathing, he thought as he saw the chest flutter, but other than that, there was no sign of life in his husband. Must get help, get Seth. He will know what to do.

He hurriedly hobbled to the fireplace, ignoring the sharp pain in his hips. Grabbing some Floo powder, he threw it gracelessly into the remaining embers of the fire as he called, "Setherus."

Answering the Floo compulsion, Seth's sleepy face appeared in the flames. "Harry! Whatever is the matter?"

"It's Severus. He's very sick. Has a high fever and convulsions. I need your help."

"I'm on my way," Seth replied calmly. Now fully awake, his head disappeared from the fire.

On his way. Good, Harry thought. Looking down, he realised his state of complete undress. Clothes. Clothes would be good. He hastily dressed in the handiest thing he could find: robes, black tee, and trousers from the day before when he'd finished packing. Standing by the bed, he dressed. As he was fastening the boots, someone urgently pounded the front door.

"Shit! I forgot to remove the Floo-lock on the fireplace." His breathless, "Stu-pid, stu-pid, stu-pid..." matched his ungainly steps as he half-ran, half-hopped through the suite. Throwing the door open, he stepped aside as Seth swept into the apartment, breathing hard from his run from the infirmary to their quarters. Dressing gown flapping, Seth strode smoothly through the living room into the bedroom beyond, leaving Harry behind to make his best pace back. He arrived just as Severus arched into another convulsion, worse than the one before.

With a mighty effort, Seth rolled Severus onto his side. Severus writhed with the unabating violent convulsions, his hands clawing the air and latching onto the thing nearest him--Seth's wand arm. Motioning Harry to stand next to him, they pried Severus' hands off Seth and onto Harry as Seth needed his hands free. While Harry steadied Severus, Seth drew his wand and said, "Finis Rictus." Immediately, Severus' body stopped mid-convulsion, falling limply back onto the bed, his open mouth taking in harsh, gulping breaths.

Still breathing deeply himself, Seth ran his hands over Severus' naked body. Feeling the unusual heat, he closed his eyes and with his hands splayed on Severus' chest, let his extra senses take in Severus' condition. 105 degrees and rising, he thought. Through bones and organs, brain and nervous systems, he ran his tests through every inch of the very sick man in front of him. Finally pulling them back into himself, he asked Harry, "How long has he been like this?"

"I don't know. It's now, what? 5:00 AM? Ron and Hermione left at 10:00 PM and we..." he flushed, "We retired sometime after midnight, I think. I woke up fifteen minutes ago. He was holding me so tightly he was choking me; I couldn't breathe. I'd been dreaming of fire, hot fire. When I woke up and finally shimmied away from him, he was like this, so hot. Then he had one convulsion, but nothing like this last one. And then I called you," he finished lamely.

Seth tilted his head in consideration and then asked, "And nothing else? Was he feeling poorly earlier?"

Shaking his head, Harry asked, "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know. Other than the obvious symptoms, I can't sense anything else amiss--just the fever and the fever-induced convulsions. I won't lie to you Harry, his fever is very, very high, dangerous to anyone, let alone a man of his age. Let's get him to the infirmary where I can examine him better and test him further."

At Harry's nod, Seth transfigured a stretcher while Harry grabbed the top sheet off the bed. They levitated him onto the stretcher and covered him with the thin cotton. Together, one on each side, they transported Severus to the infirmary through the silent, moonlit halls, meeting no one. Harry held Severus' limp hand firmly throughout the entire surreal journey.

Once they'd reached their destination, Agatha Weasley stepped out of the office and rushed over to help Seth transfer Severus to the bed in the back private room. Not much had changed since the days Harry and Severus had struggled against the spell here; if anything, it was smaller, more compact as its use shifted from healing those injured in battle, to those suffering Quidditch wounds or the odd hexing gone awry.

Finally settling him, Seth and Agatha began to run a series of tests using spells and their senses. They briefly discussed asking Harry to stand aside but, knowing their devotion to each other, they couldn't bring themselves to separate them, so they worked around him.

Harry sat by the bedside oblivious to the activity around him. Scared witless, he helplessly watched Severus fall sicker with each passing minute. That he himself wasn't bond-sick confounded him. He didn't feel Severus' fever, didn't feel the convulsions racking his body. He felt--separate. Alone. And he didn't like it.

Test after test, spell after spell, nothing improved Severus' condition. At best they'd halted the escalation of his fever, which had steadily soared from when Seth had examined him in their rooms. The fever-convulsions were stopped as soon as they started, each one weakening the man further as his body fought the furnace inside.

Around mid-morning, Ron and Hermione ran into the infirmary.

"Harry, what happened? We waited for you at breakfast and when you didn't show, we looked everywhere for you both until Remus found us and told us you were here. He's outside guarding the entrance to keep people out," she ended in a rush.

She gasped when she saw the dullness in Harry's eyes as he stood stretching and turned to look at her. "I don't know, Hermione. They don't know. He's burning up with fever and convulsing from it. Other than that, they can find nothing wrong with him." He paused and continued so quietly, Ron and Hermione had to lean in to hear him, "They won't say, but I think he's dying. He's... separate. He's never separate from me. And after last night when we..." his voice trailed off. "Damn it, if he's sick, I'm sick. If I'm sick, he's sick." With confused distress he cried, "Oh gods, what's wrong with him? With us?"

One on each side, Ron and Hermione closed in and held him tightly, pouring out all the love they had for him and Severus. He resisted a moment and then relaxed into their embrace, which offered a strong measure of comfort. They stayed that way for a long time. When he broke the contact, they both gave his dry eyes watery glances.

Seth strode into the room with a tray and exclaimed, "I am so glad to see you two. Maybe you can talk some sense into him; he's refused to eat anything."

Ron held up his hands in surrender, "Oh-no-you-don't. Far be it from me to tell Harry Potter what to do." He chuckled at Seth's irritation and added sagely, "When he's hungry he'll eat. I've never known him to miss anything he really wanted."

Hermione laughed at this and Harry gave him a mock glare before laughing with them. He felt like he hadn't laughed in years. Was it only last night we sat with aching bellies and jaws?

He was so tired, both in body and soul.

The tests continued through the rest of the morning and afternoon; spells flew as they tried cure after cure to reduce the raging fever, which still resisted their efforts. The convulsions finally stopped, though, and Harry was grateful Severus no longer endured them.

It was so strange experiencing this only through his own senses. He'd forgot just how lonely and empty one person could be. Not having Severus in his head making his usual snide comments or bestowing his loving caresses left him bereft. As he watched Seth try yet another spell, he wondered with a different perspective how his godson endured his own solitude with Lenore gone these past two years.

Ron and Hermione refused to leave him, and so the room was expanded to include more chairs and two extra beds in case anyone wanted to sleep. Every now and again, one or another would come over to touch Severus or offer Harry their support, which he gratefully accepted. He felt better with them around.

Shortly after sundown, a weary Remus and Arabella quietly joined them. With her customary calm, Arabella sat on the opposite side of the bed and, taking Severus' hand, gently brushed a silvered strand of hair away from his face where an errant breeze from the open window had stirred it.

She's so strong, Harry thought as she kissed Severus on the forehead, murmuring words to him no one else could hear. Remus stood by her side, his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side.

Harry folded inside with pain as he witnessed the love flowing freely between them and closed his eyes against seeing them. It was almost more than he could bear with Severus lying there so separate from him. When he felt the bed move slightly, he opened his eyes and watched them walk quietly back to Ron and Hermione, where they conversed in hushed tones.

They gave Harry his privacy and didn't disturb him further for a while.

Long after Ron and Hermione retired to one of the comfortable double beds in the room, and Remus and Arabella had returned to their own chambers, Severus woke up.

Eyes burning with the fever, they roamed aimlessly over the ceiling with its stark whiteness. Confused, he cast about and saw Harry perched on the side of his bed, one lax hand laid over his. He smiled at the soft snores coming from the tousled head drooping against the slumped chest. Since Harry had become an early riser late in life, Severus allowed himself this rare opportunity to just watch him sleep. When did he get so old? When did I get so old?

He watched for quite a while, relishing the deep emotions he had for this man, his husband. Each passing day had entwined their love, their faith in each other, tangling them ever closer until he realised that Harry was a true extension of himself; one would never survive the ending of the other. Now what brought that to mind? Am I near the end?

He moved his hand slightly and Harry jerked awake. Dark eyes enchanted green once again, but the words were never spoken.

You look like hell, love. Severus thought at him, his hand entwining with Harry's. Why am I here?

With sick relief at finally hearing Severus, Harry replied, You're ill. Can't you feel it?

No. No, not really. I feel rather light. I feel no pain. I am cold though. So cold. Have you any blankets?

You silly old man, we've those and fever spells on you; any more and you'll suffocate.

Oh, that's all right, then. I'm still cold, though. I've had the strangest dream. One of war. Most unpleasant. Has there been a battle?

Startled, Harry thought a moment before cautiously replying, No, only the war being waged right now is inside you. Do you know what might have made you so sick? Was it bad food, or poison, or anything like that?

I didn't know I was. Stupid boy! You still don't listen... never did. I've already told you that. Told the Headmaster your inattentiveness would get us into trouble some day. Got us into trouble it did, too. Poison? No, I don't think so. I've not worried about that in years.

Harry saw panic set in Severus' eyes. Harry, I can't move anymore. Why can't I move? Severus' hand twitched in his.

You are. See, your hand just moved.

Real panic. Why can't I feel it? Why can't I feel you anymore? Oh gods, Harry, make me feel you.

Harry bent down and placed a tender, lingering kiss on Severus' lips. Better? he asked.

No. Severus' eyes widened. Harry, what's happening? Why can't I... feel you? I don't feel... real anymore. Why don't I feel real? Severus was gasping, his breathing shallow, his wild, panicked eyes fixed on Harry's face.

At a loss, Harry looked over at Ron and Hermione, who were half-out of their bed. With a shake of his head and a wave of his left hand at them, he stayed their approach with a glance. Unhappy but resigned, they complied, sitting back in their bed. As he returned his hand to the bed, he felt a burning pain in his fingers. Studying the ring on his left hand, he saw it glow for a moment before it resumed its normal ornate appearance.

He flashed to their apparent defeat of Voldemort. He and Severus... sitting against the parapet... rings touching... minds and powers melding as they'd attacked the false Dark Lord. Years later... Severus holding him... mating the rings... his life's energy returning to his aching limbs after setting the wards.

Would it work again, would the rings make a difference? I should have thought of this before! Standing from his side of the bed, Harry turned and, perching on the edge facing the foot, he reached over Severus and placed his left palm over Severus' left hand, fitting them together. Fingers entwined, he touched the rings together.

A surge of power flowed out of him into Severus, the energy tingling through their hands. As the exchange deepened, he felt light-headed and euphoric. He glanced back at Severus, whose eyes were closed in the manner Harry was more accustomed seeing when he concentrated before casting a spell or brewing a complicated potion. Severus' eyes opened and locked, black to green, the panic ebbing from his face until all that remained was his normal calm.

The flow stopped abruptly. Harry hesitantly removed his hand from Severus' and, when nothing untoward happened, he rose and repositioned himself at his side, facing him. With a will of its own, his one hand dropped softly onto Severus' forehead, gently brushing the strands of hair off of his face. His other trailed across his chest to settle on the other side, providing a convenient prop. Severus weakly lifted a hand to this arm and laid it along the front of Harry's under the sleeve of his robes, his hot hand lightly stroking the warm skin it found near the inside of his elbow.

His skin stippling with Severus' light touch, Harry shivered as he always did when Severus paid attention to his more sensitive spots. Without thought, he leaned in and firmly kissed Severus, his tongue lending moisture to his heated mouth, his lips capturing Severus' bottom one as he pulled away. Severus sighed deeply on a low rumble.

Harry smiled at the gravelly sound; he loved reducing Severus to gasps and groans. Better now?

Much better. I can feel that... Very nice. And I'm warmer. Thank you. Was so cold... I'm so tired... Just want to sleep. His eyes slowly drooped closed.

Panic, now from Harry. Severus, you're not leaving me are you?

Softly, faintly, No, I am here.

You are here, Harry rejoined.

We are together, Severus finished. I will never leave you. I can't leave you. I promise. As his eyes closed, the arm-stroking stopped and his hand fell away from Harry's arm, leaving a disagreeable cooling spot on Harry's skin.

Severus? Severus! Severus' body grew lax. "Severus!" Harry cried softly. There was no reply, but their still-entwined hands gave Harry his first breath of hope. Severus will never leave me. He promised. And he is an honourable man.

After reassuring Ron and Hermione that everything was as well as could be and explaining what had just happened, he eventually fell into a light sleep still sitting on the bed, never realising that while he'd talked to Severus, they'd still been separate.

Near midnight, after conferring with Medi-folk from all over the world, Seth approached the bed. Shoulders slumping in defeat, he touched Harry's arm, and when he raised his head to blearily stare up at him, Seth almost lost his resolve when haunted green eyes locked with his. Taking a deep breath to steady him, he said with sorrow, "I am so sorry, Harry. There is nothing more we can do."

Harry held his gaze, reading his very soul it seemed and said softly, "I know Seth. Thank you for everything you've done. I know you did your best." He turned back to the unmoving figure on the bed.

Seth stared at him for a long moment, his heart heavy, for he dearly loved Severus and Harry; they'd been so much a part of his life, the bonds between their families unshakeable. He placed his hand comfortingly on Harry's shoulder. Harry's free hand covered his for a few moments and patted it before returning to the other hand on the bed.

Quietly slipping to the far corner of the room, Seth took a chair by his parents, who were both sitting on the side of their bed. His mother leaned over and kissed his cheek, his father took his hand, both silently reaffirming their love for him. He took small comfort in their affection and wished for the thousandth time that he'd been able to do something, feeling much as he had when Lenore had finally faded from him. He sat there for a few minutes and then, thinking of something he could do, he left the infirmary to tell Remus and Arabella in person. It would not be long now and he was certain they would want to be there.

Their five friends kept vigil with Harry. Eyes and faces wet with the tears they sporadically shed, they sadly watched Harry try to bring Severus back. Desperate futility marked his movements, the soft murmured words, the silent regard and attention he gave his husband almost more than they could bear. Severus never moved, never spoke, his body weakening with every passing moment. Every now and again, one of them would go to Harry and touch him, trying to tell him with unspoken gestures that they were there, that they wanted Severus back too.

Seth especially knew Harry's pain, his own loss still raw even after two years. And he knew, from long experience, the pointlessness of keeping someone when their time had come, even if it wasn't when one wanted.

Over the course of the following hours, Harry held Severus' hand, which was still entwined with his. He lovingly brushed the hair back off his high forehead still ablaze with fever and frequently trailed his fingertips across burning lips. He would cup the high cheekbones and lean in to kiss the stern brow, feather his lips with light kisses, and hold his own cool cheek next to Severus' hot one.

He could feel Severus and his hope slipping away from him, each hour making the part of him that Harry loved smaller and smaller until the last hour, there wasn't much of him left. Unable to stand it any longer and without thought of those around him, Harry quietly climbed into the bed next to Severus. Insinuating himself against his side, he laid his head on Severus' fevered shoulder, his arm wrapped tight around his burning waist. He measured the passage of time by the slowing beats of Severus' heart.

Harry was only marginally aware of Ron and Hermione sitting next to him, stroking his back, their hands touching him, giving him all the love they possessed. He barely felt Remus' hand on his head, caressing the silver strands away from his face. He only sensed Seth at the foot of the bed giving him support with his grieving eyes and his stalwart presence.

Just before dawn, Harry tried aligning the rings once more. Unlike his previous tries throughout the long night, he felt a tiny surge of power and Severus turned his head, his eyes opening and staring straight into Harry's. Dark eyes pleaded with green ones to understand.

I love you, softly entered his head.

Choking on unshed tears, Harry whispered, I know. I love you back.

Severus closed his eyes, at peace. Softly, so softly Harry had to lean in to hear him, he breathed, "Insolent brat," a small smile on his lips. And then he breathed no more.

The power of the rings was spent.

Harry's heart ripped asunder. No... No... This can't be? But it was. SEVERUS! The cry tore through his mind, finding no response. Severus, No! Come Back Right Now! There was still no answer and Harry fought the empty realisation that there never would be.

"NO! Severus! No. Come back." Shudders ran through his body as the message warped through it that the other half of his soul was truly gone. He clutched at Severus' body as if he would never let go. He shook off the hands trying to separate him from his Severus.

"Damn you, Severus! Don't leave me alone! You promised we'd always be together. Why? Oh gods, why?" he cried hitting the bed with his fist, head buried in Severus' still warm chest. The hands were trying to pull him away again and he resisted with every fibre of his being.

Ron and Hermione, hearing the final death rattle, had stood on either side of Harry and for one moment they could feel the deep, searing emptiness threatening to engulf their friend. Tears streaming down their faces, they gently tried to untangle Harry from Severus on the bed. Standing off to the side to give them some privacy, Seth stepped forward to help and after quite a fight, the three men got Harry standing up at the side of the bed.

Seth took one hard look at the hollow, wild-eyed man in front of him before instantly coming to the decision to sedate him. Walking to a nearby shelf, he pulled down a potion and, turning back to Remus and Ron, softly said, "Hold him firmly for a moment."

As they tightened their grip on Harry's arms and shoulders, Seth pulled his wand and incanted, "Sopophorus Unus." Harry's eyes glazed and he lightly sagged against their support.

"Let's get him to the other bed," he directed, pointing at the one in the far corner, surprised the spell had less effect than it should. "We could just levitate him, I suppose, but it will go better for him if he can make it there under his own power."

Gently they steered the now unresisting Harry to the other bed. They sat him on its edge, and Seth knelt in front of him, taking his hands.

"Harry, can you hear me?" He was answered by a small nod. "Harry, I'm so sorry, please let me help you forget for a little while." Again another nod. Thank Merlin, Seth thought, grateful he wouldn't have to fight Harry to take the potion.

"All right, Harry, I want you to drink this potion for me; it will help you." Harry shook his head.

This did not bode well. Trying a different, more dangerous tack, he said, "Harry, Severus has made a potion for you to stop the hurting. Please take it."

Harry lifted his head, and with anguished eyes, grabbed the potion out of Seth's hands, drinking the acrid liquid down in one gulp. "There. I hope he's satisfied," he said bitterly, sagging forward as the potion worked its magic.

Seth and Ron eased his limp body flat on the bed and covered him with a soft blanket. Ron stared at his dearest friend for a long moment. He leaned down and brushed the hair off his forehead exposing the faint remnants of the scar Harry had borne all these years. Leaning in a little further, he gently kissed him on the forehead. He straightened slowly, his back protesting the motion. Tears streaming from his eyes, he watched Hermione do the same and when she finished they turned to Seth and held each other tightly for a long, long time.

The next day they made all the arrangements with direction from Harry during the few lucid moments they allowed him. It wasn't that they wanted to keep him sedated, but each time he awoke from the potions, his eyes dull and lifeless, he would be clear for an hour or so before dissolving into his mind, a mind where Severus was still alive. It tore their hearts to see him wasting away before their eyes, talking like an old man to the thin air as if Severus was right there beside him. And each time he reached the point he could bear it no more, Seth inevitably administered another potion, even knowing each dose weakened Harry further.

TBC