There's some illegal use of portkeys in this chapter. I know this isn't how they work, but it was too hard to make everyone touch them.
After a minute Harry's head rose from Draco's shoulder. His face held a slightly bemused look, coupled with an undercurrent of confusion.
"Draco?" Harry asked.
Draco was taken aback that Harry had collected himself so quickly; it was somewhat troubling.
"Yes?" he said.
"Draco," Harry was practically giggling, and Draco's frown deepened. "Did Snape just say that he loved them?" Now Harry did let himself go, and burst into frantic laughter.
Draco made his ick face. "Erm, yes, I believe he did," he said, and patted Harry on the back as he listened to him complain about how much Snape hated his godfathers and how silly it was that he would love them, and how the whole premise was hopelessly flawed.
"What is it with everyone lately?" Harry said, calming.
Draco nodded, "We've gotten so gay," he said with dismay.
Dumbledore chuckled, but was careful to maintain his grip on the rope. "It's just that time of year, my boy."
Harry gave Draco a look that said he's the craziest bastard I hope I'll ever know.
Draco nodded solemnly. "I, uh, guess that's it, sir," he said to Dumbledore. Harry rolled his eyes and Draco shrugged off his lameness.
Harry flopped down onto the floor and stared at the veil where the last of his hopes for a family life had disappeared minutes ago. He felt a bit like brooding, but it wasn't really a part of his nature and he wasn't sure what he should brood about. Perhaps that he'd not been able to hold on to Remus—that should be enough to angst him out for a good long while. Except, he had been uninformed about what was required to hold on to someone in the veil, and surely all those around him (perhaps excepting Draco, Ron, and Crabbe) had known and hadn't told him—so that one wasn't his fault. Perhaps he should angst about his future with Draco…but that was really too horny a place to go right now in his mind. Nope, as far as he was concerned there was no angst on the horizon there. What else was there to worry about? Dumbledore seemed to have the rope thing in hand, no pun intended, and Draco was doing the supportive boyfriend thing amazingly well, and to be honest he couldn't care enough about Snape to worry about him all that much. Harry sighed—he was depressed, there really should be something for him to get in a funk about.
Finally, somewhere in the back of his mind he registered the sound of sobbing. He turned about, eager to exercise his heroic urges and rescue or comfort whoever was in distress—only to be confronted by the scene of an amused but concerned Crabbe holding on to a sobbing Ron. Harry snorted.
"But I think he could have at least loooookeeeeed at meeeeee!" Ron wailed. There was all that stuff about 'good job' and and and…" The rest of Ron's complaint was incomprehensible.
"Shhh, Ron," Crabbe cooed. "It's all right. He didn't say goodbye because he knew that he'd be back. And really, he was in a hurry…I'm sure that he knew it would take a very long time to say what he wanted to say to you and he didn't want to risk the scene and ruin his attempt to rescue the others. You're really very important to him. He thanked you and everything! That has to be rare, doesn't it?" Crabbe soothed.
Ron snorked, sniffed, and wiped his nose. "Yeah, I guess so," he said with a somewhat brave face that immediately crumpled. "But he didn't even bother to look in our direction. And Crabbe," Ron whispered, "He said he loved them!"
"Yes," Crabbe struggled to allay this new fear. "But he's very awful to them all the time, almost as awful as he is to you—and if he loves them that much, then think of how much he must love you."
Ron shoved back from Crabbe's soothing arms, his ick face firmly in place. "I don't want him to love me!" he yelled, scandalized.
Crabbe sighed and threw his arms up in disgust. "Then what do you want Weasley? You're babbling and leaking like a baby, spit it out!"
"Yes do, my boy," Dumbledore said. "You're ruining my concentration, and if you make me lose Severus to the veil I'll make sure there will be less little redheaded children running around in the future."
Ron cocked an eyebrow as he tried to figure out the threat. When it dawned, he looked to Harry for protection. Harry waved a hand at him indifferently, a gesture that meant 'shut-up' as surely as it didn't say 'please'.
Ron sobbed and threw his arms back around Crabbe, who shifted anxiously. "Uh, Weasley?" he said. "Do you think we could stop hugging now?"
Ron pulled back and looked at him with utmost shock and surprise. "No!" he said. "Absolutely not! I'm distressed. I need comfort."
Crabbe nodded, resigned.
"Draco?" Harry said. "Why aren't you more distressed about your godpappy going through the veil?"
Draco smirked. "He'll be back," he said. "I'm sure he prepared thoroughly for this eventuality."
Harry gave Draco the bug-eyes, but let it rest.
"Headmaster?" Harry questioned. "How long has it been?"
Dumbledore cast a scathing glance. "How the hell should I know," he said. "I'm a wizard. I don't wear a watch."
The color drained from Harry's face and he began to fidget uncontrollably. Draco looked a little pale as well.
"What do you mean you don't know?" Ron wailed from the folds of Crabbe's robe.
"If I may," a voice piped up from the back of the room. "It's been 20 minutes."
"Thanks a lot Mortimer," Dumbledore snarked.
Mortimer McSneads, Unspeakable for twenty years, bowed and took his place in wizarding history.
"Headmaster!" Harry shrieked. "What are you waiting for? Pull them back! It's been too long!"
"Don't yell at me," Dumbledore sulked. Pouting, he tugged on the rope but came up short; he couldn't budge it. Sighing, he walked over to the boys. "You're all going to have to help me," he sighed.
Harry and Draco grabbed on, and Ron behind them; Crabbe played anchor.
"On the count of forty then," Dumbledore said.
Harry glanced back at the others and rolled his eyes. He mouthed the numbers 3…2…1, and all the boys heaved on the rope.
Dumbledore landed on his ass, and scowled at them from the floor. "Forty, is the tradition," he said.
The curtains of the veil twitched as the boys pulled and once again voices emerged.
"Pull your bloody weight, Snivellus. Do you want to make us lose?" one voice said.
"Of course I want us to bloody lose you brainless twit!" came Snape's unmistakable drawl.
"Moooonyyyy," the first voice whined. "Old Snives is going to make us lose, make him stop it."
"Honestly darling," Remus said. "We want to lose this time."
"What?" Sirius sounded scandalized.
"Yes," Remus said patiently. "We want to be pulled through these curtains, so that you can see Harry again. We talked about this...remember? Let's just throw this game, ok? Before those others come back. I don't like them luv, we should leave."
"They won't be happy about that, will they?" Sirius asked, his voice small. "I'm not sure that we should make them unhappy—they haven't been that bad to me and…"
"God damnit Black!" Snape shouted.
Harry heard a scuffle and some curses and then the rope went slack in their hands. Behind him he heard Ron wail, and a resounding smack as Draco took his turn dealing with him. There was another smack, probably Crabbe smacking Draco for his use of excessive force, and then a final thud—which was probably the collision of Ron and the floor as he tried to get out of the middle of the other two.
"Would you fucking stop it?" Harry shrieked. "Look!" he said.
All three boys leaned around the forms of Harry and Dumbledore and took in the sight on the floor in front of the veil.
All three men lay on the floor, dead. Time ground to a halt. The Unspeakables that had clustered at the back of the room inched forward until they formed a semi-circle around the five rope holders and the three men on the floor. Harry blinked, taking mental pictures of his godfathers and Snape embraced in death. Dumbledore was the first to spring into action. He yelled to two of the unspeakables to help him and he and they rushed over to the bodies, each touching one, and Dumbledore touched a portkey on his ring. They were gone.
The boys were left in the Department of Mysteries with Mortimer and the other Unspeakables. They all stood around staring at the veil, then the floor, and then each other.
A blonde Unspeakable in the back of the semi-circle huffed. "Ok," he said. "Can I just get a poll here of how many of us thought that was really gonna work? Show of hands…"
"Draco!" Ron shouted. Draco winced.
"Ron!" he shouted back.
Ron took no notice. "The potion! We've got to get back to Hogwarts so that you can administer the potion."
Draco laughed. "As if a teenager, a student, is the only one with the presence of mind to give them the potion? Honestly Weasley, anyone can do it—they don't need me."
"But," he said. "But Snape gave you the vial and the instructions…"
Draco shrugged. "He had to say something to me, I'm his godson. If he'd buggered off and not given me some sort of memento it woulda just been rude."
Crabbe nodded. "Too true," he said.
Harry sighed. He pulled a small box out of his pocket and took the top off it. "Group hug!" he announced.
The other three looked at him warily, but complied. When they were all touching, he tipped the portkey into his hand, and they too were headed back to Hogwarts.
Snape was already awake and spitting nails when they got to the hospital wing. "I didn't mean that Headmaster, I assure you," Snape said.
"But, my boy," Dumbledore chuckled. "I distinctly heard you say…"
"Psh tosh," Snape said. "Don't be ridiculous."
Dumbledore grinned a Cheshire smile, but gave up that line of questioning.
Remus was groaning and thrashing around the bed, and Snape shouted orders at Madam Pomfrey that she rushed to obey. Harry couldn't hear any of it; it was like he was under fifty feet of water staring up at the scene in front of him. He felt Remus' magic leaving his body; Harry could feel his own body begin to absorb it. It pulled a gut-wrenching sob from him and he gasped in physical pain at the implications. He had them here, on the right side of the veil, and he was still going to lose them. Because, truth be known—he felt a drain coming from the man in the bed beside Remus' as well, but he couldn't bring himself to look at him.
Draco glanced over and reached for Harry's hand, but the moment he touched it he jerked his own back in shock. Harry's hand was burning and sparking with magic. Draco took a step backwards; there were tiny shocks of magic crawling all over Harry's skin. Dumbledore noticed as well, and his face grew grave. He laid a hand on Severus' arm and pointed at Harry. Snape's lips went thin and white. Harry's whole body was also shaking, and he was heaving breaths through his mouth. Tears fell from his eyes but were quickly zapped by the errant magic and turned into crystals and gems and flower petals and any number of other things; they landed in a pile at Harry's feet.
"Poppy!" Snape shouted. "Another dose, give them another dose quickly, and get a sedative for Harry. Hurry!" he growled when she just stared at Harry in shock.
Harry glanced over at Snape and smiled a weak grin. He held up a hand to Madame Pomfrey and simply said, "No, it's too late." He glanced over at Draco and offered him a half-smile as well. I'm ok, he mouthed. Draco nodded, and took in a ragged breath.
Standing at the feet of his godfathers' beds, Harry lifted a hand and made the beds come together side by side. The men's hands touched and joined. Harry summoned the vial of potion from Madam Pomfrey's hand and poured another dose down each man's throat, shrugging his shoulders when Snape gave him a questioning look; he had to try. Both men lay quietly, their magic a leaky faucet that Harry soaked up like a sponge.
Harry summoned a chair and sat at the end of their beds, examining their faces—taking in their last moments. He felt them through their magic, and they were happy. He almost thought that he could hear them bickering like they used to, and he was glad that wherever they were going wasn't going to be all sunshine and butterflies—because really…how boring would that be? Their love flowed through him, and into him, and he communicated his love and well-being to them as much as he knew how. Then they were gone.
Harry had always been good at quiet grief, and he displayed it now. His eyes closed, and his brow furrowed, his hands came up to cover his face—but no sound passed his lips. Draco walked upto the back of the chair and risked laying a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry looked around and gave him a teary smile. He covered the hand on his shoulder with one of his own, and tilted his head to rest on them.