Chapter Text
Harry walks through the Forbidden Forest with his head held high. He does not walk in fear, or in indecision. He walks through the forest with confidence. With faith. He travels on foot, treading past gurgling streams and tall, imposing trees.
He walks through the Forbidden Forest just as he did, one hundred and five years ago, when he was ready to die. Waiting to die, having accepted death, without fear.
Harry is fearless, now. He has no lingering worries about what he’s going to do.
Ginny told him to find his happiness. And that’s what Harry’s looking for, now.
He knows that soon, he will find it.
He kneels down on the ground of the forest. He had buried the Resurrection Stone – the true Stone – in the snow here, two years ago, after speaking to Death. He lifts his concealment charm and digs through the dirt, finding the small, diamond-shaped stone with the symbol of the Hallows inscribed on it.
He calls for Death, and Death materializes by his side. “Are you ready, Harry?” Death rasps.
Harry nods.
“All right,” Death says. “I’ll take you to the afterlife.”
___
Harry is the Master of Death, and only the Master of Death has the power to resurrect someone. And the only person they can resurrect, by Fate’s will, is their soulmate.
But the price of resurrecting your soulmate, Death told him once, is your immortality.
That’s fine, Harry thinks. He doesn’t want to live forever, and continue this eternal life of loneliness.
He wants to grow old. And not just that – he wants to grow old with someone else.
He wants to age, and grow old with his soulmate.
He wants his soulmate back.
So he travels through time and space with Death, until he is in a realm of white, rose-pink, and orange colored clouds. The only change Harry notices on his body is that now, there’s a red thread wrapped around the tip of his right index finger, that trails off into the distance. Impulsively, Harry follows it, seeing where it’ll go.
“What is this place?” Harry asks Death, as he walks through the clouds, following the end of the red thread of fate.
“The Empty Space,” Death rasps. “The third level in the afterlife. It is where people wait for their soulmates. Usually, they wait here because their soulmates are still alive, or in Hell, and have not been redeemed yet.”
Harry hums under his breath, and continues following the red thread wrapped around his index finger, trailing off into the distance. The thread seems to be leading him somewhere, with the way it tugs at his finger, moving a little to the side.
Wait. What was it, that Death had said, about the red thread of fate?
In the afterlife, there is a red thread of fate, attached from the tip of a human’s index finger, that stretches to their soulmate.
Harry’s heart thunders in his chest.
Because – because this red thread – it was leading him to Tom.
He runs, following the red thread, until he stops in his tracks.
Because Tom’s standing in front of him, a few feet away. He’s wearing a long white robe, and the other end of the red thread is wrapped around his right index finger, stretching between them.
Tom’s face is flushed from crying, and his eyes are bloodshot. For the first time since May 7th, Harry can feel his emotions through the scar. He can feel Tom’s surprise, his joy at seeing Harry. His underlying anguish, and self-disgust.
For a moment, they only stare at each other. Harry doesn’t know what to say, now that he’s here. There’s so much on his mind, so much that he wants to say.
But it’s Tom, who breaks the silence. “You kept it,” Tom murmurs, his voice choked. “You kept the ring.”
Harry glances down to the ring on his left hand, the heart-shaped emerald and blue diamonds catching the light, glittering so brightly. “Yes, I did,” he whispers, looking up at Tom.
Tom doesn’t look at him, though. He looks down, near his feet, and Harry can feel an avalanche of emotions coursing through his scar. Shame. Hurt. Self-hatred. Anger.
And above all of them, guilt.
“Look at me, Tom,” Harry implores.
“N-no,” Tom stutters out, crossing his arms over his chest. “I – I don’t deserve to. I don’t deserve you .” He continues looking down stubbornly. “How?” he whispers roughly, “How – how can you even stand me? I can’t even stand myself.”
There’s so much shame coursing through Tom’s emotions that Harry reaches forward, threading their fingers together. The red thread of fate between their fingers intertwines.
“I don’t just tolerate you,” Harry says softly. “I love you. I love every part of you, Tom.”
Tom’s eyes widen. “No,” he breathes, “No. How – how can that be possible? How can that be true?” He steps away from Harry, turning around and burying his face in his hands. “After all I’ve done – after all the things I’ve taken from you?”
“It’s possible, because you’ve changed,” Harry says, laying a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “You are no longer Voldemort. Fate said it Herself – you are Tom, now. Entirely.”
Tom turns and looks at him. “But how does that forgive what I’ve done?” he blurts out, wiping a tear. “How does that erase the past?”
“It doesn’t erase it,” Harry says. “But that’s the beauty of change, I think. The past will remain, and it’ll be a testament of how much you’ve grown, Tom. Of how much love has changed you.”
The wind howls, and the red thread of fate between them lifts in the wind. Still, it does not break. It can never break.
“I want to take you back,” Harry breathes. “I want to resurrect you, and bring you back to the world of the Living. With me.”
Tom’s eyes widen with surprise, and maybe with hope. “But – but isn’t there a price, to such a resurrection?” he asks, wonderstruck.
“Yes. My immortality,” Harry nods. “I will have to give up my immortality. We will grow old together, Tom. And one day, we’ll die together, and live in the afterlife together, too.”
“No,” Tom says, shaking his head vigorously. “No. I – I can’t let you give up your immortality , of all things, just to bring me back with you. I’m not worth it, Harry.”
I’m not worth it. Harry’s heart aches, just to hear those words.
“Of course you’re worth it,” Harry says decisively. He clasps Tom’s hands. “I don’t value my immortality as much as you once did, Tom. Immortality is just a life of loneliness. I’ll – I’ll be glad, to age normally, and live out the rest of my years with you. With my soulmate.”
“No,” Tom refuses again, tears gathering in his eyes, “No. You’ve already lost so much because of me, Harry – how could I make you lose your immortality, too? I’d – I’d feel terrible,” he whispers, voice cracking.
“I don’t want to live forever,” Harry confesses. “I…I want…you. I want you, Tom.”
And it’s true. Harry wants his brown eyes, his curly hair, his laughter and his bright smile forever. He wants to sleep in Tom’s arms every night. He wants to feel safe; he wants to feel loved.
There’s tears in Tom’s eyes. “How?” he whispers again, brokenly. “How – how could you want me? How could you want to resurrect me, and spend the rest of your life with me, after everything?”
“Because of what you’ve shown me,” Harry says. “How you’ve shown me your love, through your loving sacrifice. And how you showed remorse, for the first time. You are a completely different man than Voldemort, Tom. Voldemort is dead.”
Tom’s expression softens. “Is he?” he asks softly.
“Yes,” Harry says with conviction. He reaches up and cups Tom’s face in his hand. “I killed him.”
Tom stutters out a laugh, and wipes his eyes. “How - how is Addy?” he asks, “And your relatives?”
Harry’s face falls. “They miss you,” he says.
“No, they don’t,” Tom says fiercely, “They - they miss who they thought I was. They miss me, under your vow. Merlin’s sake, if they learned who I truly was…” He shudders. “I want them to know. I - I want them to judge me, I want them to hate me-”
“They won’t hate you,” Harry murmurs, “Not after I tell them everything. Not after they learn of how much you’ve changed.”
“You’ll tell them who I really am?” Tom asks, astonished.
“They deserve to know,” Harry says softly. “Seeing as we’ll stay with them, from time to time.”
Tom gives him a rueful smile. “You - you really want to take me back with you?” Harry nods. “Then, swear me to another vow,” Tom pleads. “I - I don’t want my old instincts to come back, and-and I don’t want to hurt you ever again, even by accident-”
“Stop,” Harry whispers. “You’ll - you’ll never hurt me again, Tom. I know it. How could you, after giving me sacrificial protection?” Tom’s cheeks flush, and he looks down. “I won’t swear you to another vow,” Harry says. “I won’t limit you in any way. I trust you.”
Tom looks up, thunderstruck. “You - you mean it?”
“I mean it,” Harry confirms. “Without a vow, you’ll be free to do anything you want, but...but I’d be happy if you’ll stay with me,” he says breathlessly. “If we live together in Edenbridge and solve cases, and visit Addy from time to time. We could travel...we could do anything. But I think I’d just be happy if I was with you.”
“Of course I’ll stay with you,” Tom murmurs. “I - I want us to see Addy grow up together. I want to solve cases with you, and just be with you, for the rest of our lives. But – but I don’t deserve to be taken back to the world of the Living,” Tom says desperately. “I don’t deserve a second chance.”
“Yes,” Harry says gently. “I think that you do.”
And Tom’s eyes soften, a tear trickling down his cheek. Harry leans forward and wipes it away.
Harry intertwines the fingers of his right hand with Tom’s, so the red thread between them unites. He recalls the Latin word that Death has taught him, to bring Tom back to the world of the Living.
“Transeamus,” Harry says, a soft smile on his face as he holds his lover’s hand. “Let’s cross over.”