All That Glitters...

Prelude

Another Sleepless Night

It was half past ten in the morning, and Melanie was in the kitchen cooking breakfast. He came downstairs humming a merry tune, sneaked up behind her and stole her a kiss. It was amazing how, after almost fourteen years, he still loved her like the first time; even more unbelievable was how she managed to love him. Never, not for one day, had he regretted his choice, or felt sorry for what he had left behind... he had her, everything else paled in comparison, even magic. Who would have believed, Severus Snape in love with a muggle? He had never mustered up the courage to tell her about the wizarding world, afraid that it would be too much for her to handle, that she would push him away, and so he had been contented to just live his life as a muggle... no, not contented, he was truly happy, just as long as she was with him... Melanie... his wife. He held her in his arms and smiled.

"Have I told you I love you?"

"Not today, no", she answered, mockingly, and he held her closer until she was out of breath.

His life was perfect, it was a dream... and then blackness fell all around him, and it seemed to engulf him in it, and there was just infinite sadness. He was alone in his bedchambers in Hogwarts, alone as he had been for so long, his dream-life never really having been any more than that. A dream. A memory. A distant echo of what it could have been. And he was tired, so tired, of waking up... all he had ever wanted was to be with her, he had wanted that even when he'd thought she'd never look at him twice, he'd have settled for anything that resembled friendship, anything from her, a smile, a glimpse, a... he had to let it go, he simply had to. He hadn't seen her in twelve years, it was time to let go and understand that his share of happiness in life was long over. To sum up, it was time to take yet another Potion for Dreamless Sleep. There had been a time when he would have cried out to the Heavens, begged the dream to come back, for the memory of her to be with him for just a little longer, but that had been a long time ago. He could no longer even gather the strength to remember, to have her for but a moment and then wake up once more, so he simply did his best to forget, forget that he'd once been happy, forget that he once had her, forget... everything. Except he couldn't. There was no merciful oblivion for Severus Snape, no blissful sleep, only clouded memories mixed with hopes. Or the alternative. The Potion for Dreamless Sleep, that he made so strong for himself that it was only a step away from the Draught of the Living Death, that provided him not with rest, but with nothingness, that made nights even emptier than days. Sometimes he wished he would make a mistake, make it strong enough for him to never wake up again, but he was too good for mistakes, and too focused for suicide. He would go on living, while he was needed, maybe even after that.

Slowly, as if it pained him, Potions Master Severus Snape rose from his bed, glancing at one of his few prized possessions, his clepsydra, just long enough to realize it was nearly four o'clock in the morning. He opened his cupboard to discover he was out of the potion, which was no wonder, considering he had been taking it nearly every night before he went to bed for two weeks now. The memories were always more vivid this time of the year, the anniversary of his proposal. He should have remembered to fill his Dreamless Sleep stock, but he had been distracted by the beginning of the school year preparations, and it was too late to do it now, he would just have to make do without it.

He slammed the cupboard door shut so strongly it flew right back open again, but he didn't bother to close it this time. Returning to bed, Snape knew he was fighting a lost battle. It was fairly easy to go through the days, but the nights were a different matter entirely - he was simply overcome, by memories, by grief... He gave a quick, harsh laugh at himself. Not one of his students would have guessed it: the slimy, oily, sneering, unpleasant, unfair Professor Severus Snape actually had a heart.

Trying to keep away the inexorable sea of emotions, he couldn't close his eyes - he just lay there, staring unblinkingly at the cold stone ceiling. His chamber wasn't warm or cosy in the slightest: apart from the cupboard, his entire furniture was composed by a single black iron bed, a three-door closet and a small bedside table; these things sufficed for Severus Snape, for he was not one for pleasantries.

His mind was going around in circles, tonight was being one of the worst so far, and he hated feeling sorry for himself, he wasn't even worthy of pity. And still, relentless, the memories kept coming back at him until he could finally no longer keep them at bay, until he was forced to let them flow freely, and they swallowed him whole.

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Ok, this is my first fic, please let me know what you think of it (don't be too harsh, ok?) ;)

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Ooops, nearly forgot the disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters (except Melanie) and am not making a profit out of this. Every-wonderful-thing else belongs to J. K. Rowling.