Glass
Hello everyone! Welcome to the first collaboration story written by His Lil Half Blood Princess and SeverusSnape19 (me—and yes, I am still on hiatus, writing away, you'll be pleased to hear. And...no, I have not moved to Mexico, I have no idea why this site is showing that!).
We've been planning this for a while; and finally the unreliable one (me) managed to post something! We're writing blind; neither of us knows what the other has written until we post it to add a little adventure to the whole thing! We hope you enjoy it!
The idea centres around how Severus Snape is made from glass—and with enough pressure, the glass beings to crack. And surely, when enough cracks are formed, the glass will shatter altogether.
April 19th 1967
He was soaring among the clouds, laughing delightedly as his fingers skimmed the white, soft shapes beneath him. He swooped down, following the path of the horizon, wanting to fly as high as the birds, to see how far he could go. He looked down and saw rivers and trees, so small beneath him.
He was so high up, and it made him so happy! The sunlight was warm on his skin and the wind was slight, brushing soft fingers across his cheek.
But then the sky started to darken. He looked behind him, and saw the birds disappearing, hurrying away as fast as they could. He looked down at the ground and saw the trees burning and the rivers turning to black sludge.
And he was losing height—and suddenly, he could not stay up! He tried, but instead he was plummeting toward the ground.
A voice rang out, loud and terrible, filled with anger, "Where is the little brat?"
He had hit the ground and was on his feet, running, running as fast as he could. He jumped over the scorched ground, looking around, seeing his precious world falling apart, into ruin.
He kept running, hoping to put distance between him and the monster that chased him. The monster of his nightmares—with terrible eyes and a terrible voice, so huge and gigantic that he could not hope to defeat it, the monster that caused such pain.
Fingers, such large fingers, clenched around his shoulder and threw him to the ground. He landed on his back, but when he tried to turn over and scamper away, he was pulled up and slapped across his face. The big hand made his cheek scream and he moaned. He could smell that familiar scent—he was not sure what it was, it was only ever there in the evening, when the monster was angry...
The monster punched him in the stomach, laughing when he doubled over. How he wished he had a weapon to defeat the creature, as he had seen in the books at his school. He could throw the monster down and make him bleed, he could kill him, and free his world from such hurt!
He was thrown back onto the ground—he felt the impact on his back, as a foot smashed down onto his face. He cried out, tears burning his eyes—he would not let them fall, heroes did not cry.
He was a hero. She had told him that—he was a brave and fearless hero and nothing could hurt him!
"Leave him alone!" He heard her voice and smiled. He raised his head. The Queen would save him. He looked at her flowing black hair and her sparkling black robes and knew that he would be saved. She always stopped the monster, she always found a way to make the pain go away.
He loved the Queen very much.
The monster did not love the Queen. He bellowed at her, reaching out that large hand and wrenching the crown from her black hair. He sat up, needing to help her, but he was too small. He was not a hero, yet.
He watched the monster take a swing with his giant fist, pounding it into the Queen's chest. She cried out—he jumped up, charging at the monster, hoping to knock him over—but the monster simply laughed at him and hit him again and again until he fell to the floor.
And then she was there, grabbing his arm, trying to pull him away from the monster. He could see red tears on her face—he wanted to touch her face, to tell her it was all right—he wanted to be a hero—
The monster reached out and shoved her, away from him, away from the monster. She seemed to pause and stare at him for a moment, before falling backward.
And he leapt to his feet, watching her as she toppled off the side of the cliff.
He cried out to her, reaching out a hand, hoping to catch her, but he was too late.
And he watched her fall and land. She was still.
His Queen was still. Her eyes were open, still staring at him.
But she did not blink. And he knew that she was dead.
He looked around and saw his world, his own world, the place that he had created, where he had flown high in the sky and sat by thundering waterfalls begin to burn and disappear.
Until there was only darkness.
Darkness and the red eyes of the monster.