by Lemonella
His jealous eyes watched them. The atmosphere that engulfed him was oppressive. Charred bodies…mutilated bodies…slick scarlet bodies. The stench of human flesh and blood scourged his nostrils, ripping through his nerves like sharp whips. Yet his olfactory sense had surrendered, along with his every other sense, and he felt nothing but thick, hot jealousy. A jealousy that boiled in his abdomen, erupted into his limbs, and coursed through every fibre of his being. He felt his wand shake like a thousand earthquakes in his hand.
Their side had won…the Light side had won. Harry had killed Voldemort (he could say the name now). But Harry had died…along with everyone else. His classmates, his friends, his family. They were all gone. He was lost in a perverted battlefield in the middle of a twisted Pyrrhic victory. But he felt nothing. Except for thick, hot jealousy.
He walked towards them, his wand still quivering dangerously. He watched the love of his life in the arms of the man he had loathed greater than Poseidon had loathed Odysseus.
"We won, Severus."
"Yes, love, we won."
The broken, weeping, oblivious couple tightened their embrace as he aimed his wand at the woman and spat out two words.
Hermione Granger turned limp in the arms of Severus Snape. Before Snape could react, Ron Weasley lined the tip of his wand with his own throbbing temple and repeated the two words.
