AN: This is in response to Caroline's challenge on Annamia's profile. [User ID 1410908]
I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER. Or his greasy teacher, or his mother, or the ghost that was willing to share her U-bend with him.
I DO NOT OWN THE BEATLES. I've barely even heard like a dozen of their songs.
Words: 824
The Week of Mourning
Severus Snape was having a bad day. He always had a bad week at the end of January. Today, however, was particularly bad. But then, it always was. Because today was her birthday.
He had decided long ago to mourn the friendship that he had lost on the day that he should have celebrated it the most, in some way to spite them both. But then she had died, and so it became a mourning of a lost friendship, a lost chance, and most importantly a lost woman. The fact that she had taken his heart with her was not something he chose to dwell on often, it generally lead to extended stays in pubs and an extensive drinking tab.
Somehow over the years, it had become a week of morning, instead of just a day, but he never could recall when that had begun. The first day he truly mourned her loss was in his sixth year, the first birthday he did not spend with her since they had begun Hogwarts together. That next year she had spent the day with him. And that had shattered him like nothing else could, or at least he had believed that at the time.
He never went out drinking during this week; it was truly the worst time for him to have an unlimited access to alcohol. And he never went to the staff room either. The other teachers tended to try and cheer him up. He didn't want cheering during this time. This week was the week he dedicated to being excessively moody and horribly unhappy with life, and he did not want others to try and keep him from his deserved misery
Classes were finally over for the day and so he hurried to the large back cupboard where he kept a bottle of firewhiskey and a large box specifically for this day. Once he was certain that none of the students were in the dungeon corridors, he stormed his way up to the second floor, shrunken whiskey and box in his breast pocket.
He quietly spoke homenum revelio, and once sure that there were no other living occupants, entered the bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he turned and conjured himself an armchair and a small side table and large glass.
"Hello, Professor. How are you?" Myrtle asked shrilly.
He glared at her, out of habit really, and tersely replied, "Miserable."
She giggled before smiling, "I'm so glad. Wonderful, isn't it?" she floated around him sniffling.
Snape always spent this day with her. She was really the only suitable company when one wanted to be miserable, and she never minded that he was rude and sharp at her.
He unshrunk the firewhiskey and poured himself a glass, drank half of it, and then unshrunk the box. He wound it up, and then opened it. It was a phonograph, and there was a vinyl already in it, ready to be played. He set the needle, and the Beatles played.
She had always loved the Beatles. And so, he had loved them to. He never listened to them at any other time of the year. Thanks to magic, not only did the phonograph not need a horn t be heard, but vinyls could have as many as 30 songs, and you could choose what songs were on it.
Most of the songs were long songs. Some of them were her favorites, and others were heartbreaking. He would listen to the whole vinyl while drinking his firewhiskey.
Even to this day, he could remember the first time they saw a unicorn. It had been during their first Care of Magical Creatures class, an elective he had taken at her request, and she had been so thrilled to see it. It was a large beast, and pure white with a shimmering, spiraling ivory horn. It had not come out of the forest, but with so much daylight reflecting from its coat, everyone was able to see it. She had been pure like that. Even when she died, she had been like a unicorn in her kindness, her loving and forgiving nature. She had had an innocence about her that would have let her touch them if she had been alone.
Whenever he thought about her, he thought about that unicorn. About her smiles, full of hope and light, and all the things that were good in the world.
He threw back another drink. His bottle was half gone, and he couldn't remember which song this was, only that it made him think of her. They all made him think of her.
Moaning Myrtle giggled again, "You're going to have a very bad headache in the morning. It'll be terribly painful." She smiled wistfully at that thought.
Snape poured another glass and listened, despairingly, at the songs that told of love, and loss. He nursed his firewhiskey, and listened, to the breaking of his heart, all over again.
AN: Well, there it is. I tried to keep it cannon. About the phonograph and the vinyl. This is magic, so what I say can work. Because it's magic. That and I needed something non-electronic/modern-ish to play music. If you want a list of the songs on Snape's vinyl, I almost sort of wanted to come up with one, so just let me know, and I'll send you a link when I've got them.
Review and tell me what you think. This is my submisson for Spring Break. Because it was already half done, and I have too much homework to do anything else for the break. I guess you could say this is my birthday present to me, that I am sharing with you. Because my birthday is next week, and this is about Lily's birthday.
