Tying up loose ends by Jyllian
Summary: Response to When Fandoms Collide crossover-challenge. HP x Ghost Whisperer. After Harry dies in the Final Battle, he has to tie up a few loose ends before he can go into the light. Melinda and her son, Aiden, helps him cross over. Will Harry learn to let go of his friends? What part does Severus has to play Harry's journey to move on?
Categories: Healer Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Hermione, Ron
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Crossover, Drama, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural, Tragedy
Media Type: None
Tags: Alternate Universe, Crossover
Takes Place: 8 - Post Hogwarts (young adult Harry), 8 - Pre Epilogue (adult Harry)
Warnings: Character Death
Prompts: When Fandoms Collide
Challenges: When Fandoms Collide
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: No Word count: 2241 Read: 1379 Published: 09 Jan 2012 Updated: 03 Feb 2012
Story Notes:

Happy Birthday Severus! I specially posted this on his birthday, significant, no? *Blows out Candles*

This has been an idea of mine from long ago, so I thought to post it here, in response to a fanfic challenge. 

For those who have no idea of what ghost whisperer is, just know that Melinda, a Muggle, has a special gift from young - the ability to see ghosts. Her son, Aiden, inherited the gift as well, but he has more 'powers' than his mother.

Chapter 1 by Jyllian
May 2nd

The killing curse hit Harry squarely in the chest as he felt a strong, sharp attack of pain directly in his heart.

Who said death doesn't hurt?

Harry wanted to make sure that before he collapsed, Voldemort fell before he did. After all, if he was going to die, he wanted to be sure to drag that snake-faced mutant son of a bitch down with him. He also tried to tell Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the rest of the DA that it was all alright. He started out on a mission to end the war and he had succeeded in doing just that. He had no more regrets, really.

But Harry could not do any of the things he wanted to, nor could he say any of the things he tried to say, for the Boy-who-lived fell the moment the curse hit. Even after that, Harry found no peace. All he felt was pain. Endless, excruciating pain.

It was like his soul and body were being pulled in opposite directions, as if someone was tearing a piece of paper into two. The whole experience was a lot worse than the Cruciatus Curse.

After what seems to be like much, much, later, Harry felt a sudden end to the soul-splitting pain. He even felt lighter, somehow, as if he had abandoned a huge load. This came to surprise him. What had happened exactly?

"Harry..."

The teenager blinked a few times to clear his fuzzy vision. His two best friends were standing at one end of the Great Hall, both pale and seemed to be in shock. Even as Hermione whispered his name, she sounded frail. The truth was always unbearable.

"Ron, Hermione!"

Harry took a couple of steps forward when his friends started towards him in a run. Harry thought that they were simply amazed to see him survive the Killing Curse the second time, but he was wrong.

"NO....!" Ron screamed, breaking the stunned silence hovering in the Hall.

People around him started collapsing onto the ground in grief, overcome with emotion. While some tried to hold back tears, others were outright wailing for the death of their loved ones. The war was over and there was nothing else to keep them from showing their weakness. There was nothing else to fight for, or against. The professors of Hogwarts as well as the Aurors sprung into action almost immediately, trying to prevent Death Eaters, or what was left of them, from escaping the castle. They were the only ones still holding up, still standing upright. Others were too consumed by their emotions.

Harry barely noticed the frenzy around him. He could see Hermione's cheeks already streaked with tears as she made her way forward. Ron was simply defiant. His face betrayed no grief. He did not accept the fact plain in his face. He did not want to. Harry took this in with confusion.

"Guy, it's alright, I'm fine, see? I'm alive!"

Harry spread his arms out as if to prove his point and tried to gather his friends into a hug, but to his horror, his two best friends ran right through him. Not pass him, but through him, as if they hadn't seen him, as if he was...dead.

Harry stood stunned, looking down at his body, taking a good look for the first time. He was¡­translucent.

The teenager spun around and a sense of dread ran down his neck. He froze at what he saw before him. Ron and Hermione were kneeling on either sides of him. While the former grabbed his best friend's shoulders roughly and tried to shake him awake, the latter cried silently and clutched Harry's arm, detecting any signs of life.

On the cold marble floor of the Great Hall lay the Boy-who-lived, his emerald green eyes open and slanted to the right, as if he was just looking for someone. There was no rising or falling of his chest, no pulse or heartbeat either. Harry didn't know what to make of himself. He wouldn't say that he was at peace, and yet, he couldn't say that he looked the same as those of Voldemort's victims. Cedric Diggory, for one, had a look of surprise in his eyes as well as fierce loyalty. The other wizards, witches or Muggles Harry had witnessed in his visions that have died in the hands of Voldemort or his Death Eaters mostly had the look of pure terror frozen on their faces after the Killing Curse was performed.

Just then, Ginny came up beside her brother and gently stopped him from shaking Harry so hard. Ron resisted a while, but let his sister take his hands into hers after some time. He wouldn't say he found comfort there, but at last, Ron was able to grief. His sobs soon turned into cries and then into wailing. Mrs. Weasley, at some point of time, had come up beside them and wrapped her arms around her two children protectively. She couldn't bear to look at the teenager who sacrificed his life for the greater good - the boy she had came to be so fond of and treated as one of her own flesh and blood.

As Harry became more aware of all of his friends coming up from all over the Great Hall to form a circle around the Chosen One, Harry was able to absorb the truth fully.

He was dead, just like Fred Weasley, Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin, Tonks and many more before him. A mixture of emotions stirred up inside him, but none of which he wanted to face or contemplate about now.

Ron and Hermione will be fine, given time to heal. Harry was sure of it. The trio started out the journey, aware of death at every sharp turn of fate. They were there for Harry throughout the journey.

Harry stood up, turned away from his friends and willed himself to vanish.
_______________________________________________________________________

Harry was lonely.

He found that if he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could go anywhere in the world. It was like disapparating, only without the danger of being splinched or the rules that go with Apparition. He had to get away from the grieving place, where there was so much sadness, it became unbearable. He ended the war to bring hope, peace, laughter and love to people but so far, the results were far from what he wanted.

There was no fixed destination in his mind when he left Hogwarts, so he ended up at an empty playground in a Muggle neighbourhood. To his surprise, he was able to sit on one of the swings and make it move slightly. If any Muggle were to look toward the playground, they would have thought it was haunted, which, Harry considered, was kind of true. He's dead now, isn't he?

Harry had lots to think about. He was also puzzled. Weren't the dead supposed to go somewhere after they're, well, dead? So far, Harry didn¡¯t have inkling where to go or what to do next. He was somewhere between life and afterlife, he supposed. But how was he to proceed to whatever that was beyond death? He had absolutely no idea.

There were other emotions hanging onto Harry's mind besides that, of course. He felt lonely because he had hoped to see someone...some ghost or whatever he is right now to at least give him someone to talk to, but there was no one around or, well, no one dead. At least Voldemort wasn't hanging around. Harry had enough of him for a lifetime.

Then there was guilt. Harry felt guilty for causing so much agony. While he thought that Ron and Hermione would be alright, he was not happy about letting them lament over his death. He was also a little angry. He had done his part in ¡®saving the world¡¯ Harry thought sarcastically, why did he have to die along the process? It was just so unfair, knowing that after this, everyone would be able to lead normal lives without trepidation or anxiety over the next victim of the Dark Lord.

Ron and Hermione would get married and have their own children, who will attend Hogwarts just like their parents did. Neville would pursue his passion for plants while starting a family. All of his friends would continue down the road of life, while Harry had apparently used up his life energy.

Then, Harry thought about the other side of the war. Most Death Eaters would be captured by now, although some would have escaped. If he was alive, Harry thought bitterly, he would have become an Auror and assisted the Ministry in the hunting down of Voldemort's last supporters.

His thoughts turned to the Malfoys at the reminder of Death Eaters. Narcissa did help him in the Forbidden Forest and Harry did save her son's life.

Twice.

Harry wondered if the family was going to be hunted down by the Ministry and if Draco's parents would go to Azkaban for the Dark Mark on their arms.

Wanting to take his mind off things, Harry took a deep breath and thought hard about the Malfoy family. When he blinked again, he found himself in a rather shabby cottage. Obviously, this was some kind of hideout for the family of three.

Harry spotted his schoolmate immediately, after six years of sharing the same classroom with the boy, he could not have missed him, but there was a difference in this boy. Draco had lost his usual high and mighty stature as he sat on a three-sitter dark grey sofa with drooped shoulders, hunched back and tightly clutched hands on his lap.

Harry took a look around him. He was in the living room, smaller than the size of Gryffindor's common room. There was nothing homey about the safe house. Empty portraits hung on the walls to cover up whatever damage that could not be repaired behind them. A rusty chandelier had cobwebs hanging from it and barely provided sufficient light to the room. A dusty fireplace across the living room screamed ancient and on the verge of collapsing.

Narcissa Malfoy paced the other end of the room, frequently darting furtive glances at her son, afraid that something unexpected would happen and take her son away from her.

Then, the fireplace roared green flames, causing all three in the cottage, two alive and one dead, to jump. Draco got out of his seat, with his mother closely behind.

"Lucius! Where¡­?" Narcissa asked her husband.

She was thrown off guard by the other figure leaning on Lucius Malfoy heavily. Narcissa snapped her mouth close while her son did just the opposite. Lucius maintained eye contact with both of them, willing them to understand. It took a few more minutes for the family to gather themselves.
Draco took in a deep breath and was able to move his hanging jaw finally. "Is...Is he...you know...is he...?"

The man supported by the Malfoy senior groaned, but made no move to lift his head. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, dangerously close to death, but hanging onto a thin thread of life.

Harry only stared. He, like Narcissa and Draco, knew who it was even if the wizard's face could not be seen. Only one person in the whole of the United Kingdom could have such disgustingly greasy hair and still kept it long and untrimmed, all the while looking menacingly evil even if he was hidden behind the curtains of his hair.

The dying man was Severus Snape.

"I'll get the necessary potions from his place, I trust you've neutralised the worst of his poison, Lucius?" Narcissa asked, though it was more of an expectation than a question.

Her husband nodded curtly in reply. Questions could be answered later. Their friend's life was at stake here and they had to get him out of the precarious situation, fast. Draco got over the initial shock as well and moved beside his professor and took the other arm, sharing some of his father's burden as they made their way to the nearest bedroom carefully. Harry followed them numbly as a thousand thoughts seemed to rush through his mind, filling it with questions he himself couldn't answer.

Snape loved his mother. He was her best friend and knew her longer than anyone else, even his father. So why did he betray her?

Snape was trying to protect him all along at Hogwarts, looking out for any dangers lurking at dark corners of the school. But why did he treat Harry like dirt?

Snape had loved his mother. But he never told Harry. He could have. It would have changed things between them.

This was the same Snape who made his life at Hogwarts the worst possible.

But this Severus Snape had also loved his mother, and he probably still does.

Harry had to push these thoughts away after watching the man's memory in Dumbledore's pensive while the war was ongoing, but now that he could afford to think about the friendship between Snape and his mother, Harry was not sure what to feel.

One thing Harry was sure of, though, was that Snape was one of the bravest men he'd ever known.

To be continued...
End Notes:
Thanks for supporting the story! But have patience, because updates take time.


This story archived at http://www.potionsandsnitches.org/fanfiction/viewstory.php?sid=2739