Chapter17: Alive

                                    

                                          
Ten minutes later Harry was back in his room. He had finished feeding Hedwig and let himself fall on his bed. Resting his head on his arms, he closed his eyes. Even if he couldn't see anything, he knew that Death was watching him. "I wonder what Sirius is going to do now. He may deny it, but he is a Black even if he tries to escape it... and tomorrow we are going to Hogwarts," Harry said after a few minutes of silence. "I honestly have no idea what to expect..."
"You could always choose, not to go," Death said.
"I know." Harry sighed and they kept silent for a moment. He smiled, when felt the phantom touch of feathers on his skin. "I have been wondering for a while now... Did our connection change you too?" Harry asked after a moment and opened his eyes. Death was sitting next to him on the bed, leaning against the headboard. He hummed and seemed to think about it for a moment.
"It did. I expected it to happen, but it's," he paused for a moment, "...different than I thought."
"Different, in what way?" Harry asked.
"Oh, I can feel things. I always have-" Death answered Harry's unspoken question -"Or else I would've never created the hallows." He carded through Harry's hair with his fingers. It appeared to have become a habit for them both. "I have existed for a long time, longer than you can imagine..." Death paused and continued to comb through Harry's unruly hair, searching for the right way to explain it.
Harry sat up when Death didn't start to talk again. The hand slid from Harry's head and Death stared at him. An overwhelming mix of emotions pulsed through the bond.
"You feel alive," Harry observed. Death seemed stunned for a moment and then threw his head back and started to laugh. Harry watched, drawn in by the strange sound until it died down to a silent chuckle.
"For the lack of a better word...let's call it alive," Death said in his raspy voice and grinned at Harry, who grinned back. Shared amusement still flooded the bond when Harry focused on it, but there was also gratefulness. A possessive edge going hand in hand with an unspoken want. Harry had a hard time telling what his own feelings were in the whole mix. There was fondness and shared fascination. But all of this was overshadowed by another feeling. So subtle and at the same time everywhere. Harry's eyes widened. Death still grinned. It was there without a doubt flowing back and forth through their connection.
Love.
Death was in love with him.
Harry exhaled. He hadn't realized that he'd held his breath for the last few moments. He stared at the being in front of him. There were these gigantic wings, this never-ending creature being everywhere and nowhere, but at the same time only here in front of Harry. Here for Harry, because he wanted it. Like a warped mirror image of Harry himself, Death sat there, casually grinning as he did so often.
How was he able to miss that emotion... Death was in love with him. With him. But was he in love with Death?
With wide eyes, Harry looked at the being. He knew, that he would rather die than leaving the being out of his sight. Possessiveness and obsessiveness were what connected them both. If it was love that Harry felt, he couldn't say at that point.
But what did it matter? What had really changed between them? Nothing. Just because he only now realized what had been there all along... and what weight held time for two beings like them? What was the point in questioning things, which didn't need to be changed?
Hesitatingly, Harry reached out. Death tilted his head, simply observing when Harry's palm drew over his cheek. Exploring, feeling the cool skin.
Shakily Harry inhaled. The bond thrummed between them, warm and vibrant.