Written For: QL, R4, Harpies, Seeker (Captain)
Prompt: Mizpah Hotel, Tonopah, Nevada: Write about a whispered confession. (must have a main character as a ghost).
Word Count: 1204
Warnings: mild language
you crossed a bridge (that I can't follow)
He'd tried to leave a few times, but he wasn't strong enough. The literature didn't mention that newly turned ghosts couldn't just leave the place where they'd died. Severus couldn't believe that he was, in essence, shackled to the Shrieking Shack until he was strong enough to make his way across to Hogwarts.
Could fate truly be so cruel to him?
Time passed weirdly as a ghost, too. Severus quickly lost track of the days—or was it weeks or months? There was an odd sense of nothing, while still being something, and he wondered what was actually tying him to the world.
What was keeping him there, when he hadn't particularly wanted to be there the last few years of his life?
He had no idea, but he did know that, until he figured it out, he was stuck.
All he'd wanted was peace, but this… this wasn't what he'd had in mind.
…
Severus stared at the door. He could hear footsteps. It was the first time he'd heard anything beyond the sounds of the wind, and it confused him. Why would someone be coming here?
Unless they'd allowed another werewolf into the school, there was no use for the old, broken-down building.
He hid, because he'd never been one to approach a situation without as much of the information as he could get, and he listened as the footsteps got louder and louder.
They seemed to echo through him, and he wondered if it was a symptom of being a ghost, or if it was just because he hadn't heard anything so loud in… however long he'd been there.
The door swung open, banging slightly against the wall, and Severus stared as Harry Potter—slightly older, still looking mildly underfed—stepped into the house's main room.
He seemed to be staring at the specific spot on the ground that still held traces of Severus' dried blood. There were, oddly enough, flowers in his hand.
Potter crossed the floor slowly and then dropped to one knee. He lay the flowers on the floor, and then knelt back, running a hand through his hair.
"I'm sorry, sir," he whispered. "I wish I could have saved you."
Severus couldn't have spoken even had he thought of words to say, and by the time he thought he should reveal himself, Potter was gone, the softening footsteps echoing through Severus' being.
…
Time passed by again. Severus stopped trying to count. It just was. He tried to leave the shack a few more times, but whatever was holding him there was stronger than his will to leave, and he was pulled back to the main room whenever he got as far as the tunnel.
He'd investigated the flowers once Potter had gone, and he was surprised to find that they were mostly potion ingredients. Potter surely wouldn't have been that thoughtful on his own—Miss Granger's hand was in it, he was sure.
He still spent much time wondering about them, even when they shrivelled up and died, the leaves falling to the floor and turning murky brown.
Severus didn't really have much else to think about, he told himself.
He wasn't touched, wasn't grateful for the sentiment, didn't care about what Potter had made of himself.
He didn't.
He was just bored. That was all.
…
Footsteps.
Severus narrowed his eyes, even as he floated through the wall into the second room, away from prying eyes. The gait of the footsteps sounded similar, and he waited, watching.
He was unsurprised to see it was Potter at the door once more, though he was surprised by the sight of him. He'd… grown. It was strange to see Harry Potter as an adult, and yet, here he was.
His hair was longer—still messy, but less of a bird's nest than it had once been—and he'd filled out. His jaw was more angular than it had been, and he'd never looked less like James Potter.
He didn't really look like Lily either.
This Harry Potter was a man of his own making—not that of his parents.
He held flowers in his hands again, and he laid them in the same spot, clearing the debris of the old flowers away with a wave of his hand. Severus could feel the power coming from him.
Potter sighed. "I wish I'd found a way to save you," he whispered, the confession the same as the first time he'd visited.
Severus knew that he should probably just let Potter leave, but as Potter stood, Severus found himself floating towards the door. Potter was almost out when Severus cleared his throat.
The reaction was instant, and Severus would have been impressed if he could ever bring himself to say such a thing about a Potter. The wand was in his hand, and the shield around Potter's entire body sparked light blue, almost like electricity.
"Holy shit," Potter breathed out, staring at Severus. "You… you came back. I didn't… I wouldn't have expected it."
"I didn't exactly choose this, Potter," Severus sneered, rolling his eyes.
Potter's brow furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly, the same way Severus had seen him do in class, when a problem was particularly confusing.
"I thought that you had to choose to be a ghost?" he asked, looking thoughtful. "Or… or something is tying you here? Something you have to do or say before you can move on?"
Severus nodded stiffly—or as stiffly as a ghost could.
"Do you know what… what's keeping you here?" Potter asked.
Severus was about to say no, but he found that he couldn't. Because he did know. He suspected he'd known since the very moment he'd found himself back in the Shrieking Shack.
"You. You're holding me here."
Potter blinked. "Me? I didn't even know you were a ghost! How are you going to blame—"
"Potter," Severus interrupted, rolling his eyes once more. "I… I spent the last seven years of my life with your protection at the very forefront of my mind—and ten years before that preparing for it. I suppose… I suppose that I would never have been able to settle into the afterlife until I knew that you were… okay. Happy. Safe."
"I—oh."
Severus snorted. "Eloquent."
"I mean. I am? Safe. Alive. Happy even, most of the time," Potter said, shrugging. "You can… go on? To whatever is next?"
"Oh, thank you for the permission," Severus muttered.
"I just… I don't want to be the reason you're stuck here," Potter muttered, shaking his head. "If anyone deserves peace after the… well, everything, it's you."
Severus stared at him for a long moment and then he nodded. "Thank you. For… admitting that."
"You're a hero, sir," Potter replied. "And… I wish I had been able to save you."
"You've said," Severus said. He felt warm. Tingly. It was a little… strange.
"You're… you're hazy," Potter said, squinting slightly. "It's like you're… fading."
Severus could feel the pull now, and he smiled. Truly smiled, for probably the first time since he was a young boy and still held a shred of innocence and hope in him. "Live well, Harry Potter."
"Goodbye, sir," Harry replied.
He was the last thing Severus saw, before everything turned white.
