Hey! This is just a short thing I thought of. Quite sad, really. (Interpret that however you wish.) Um it is also a bit disjointed so fell free not to continue reading it if you get bored, but it is quite short so it shouldn't take too long...
Disclaimer: I don't really own Snape, however much I want to...
Dying Embers
It was just another day. The sun was setting in the sky that autumn evening, unexpectedly late for the time of year. All around, the waves were crashing against the rocks. On these very rocks sat a man. He was not an old man, though he had wisdom far beyond his years and experiences that one would not even wish on their enemies.
He sat silently, wondering how he had allowed it to go this far. He could still hear them. The plea in Albus' voice. The comments that were made about him. Calling him disloyal. Weak. A coward. Others had always been insignificant to him. There were very few whose opinion he actually cared for. It was something he had taught himself. It was better not to care. His heart had been broken one too many times. He could not stand it. But he would. He had little choice in the matter.
He still remembered the day. How could he forget? It had been so easy for Albus. All he had to do was die. If only he, Severus, was that lucky. But no. Albus had a plan. Albus always had a plan. Severus couldn't die yet. He was the bait. He only wished now that Potter hurry with whatever it was he had to do.
He had run from the castle after the incident but instead of going to HIM immediately, like a good little death eater, he had come here first. To the sea. He would come here sometimes, with the Evans'. It had always been a place of refuge for him, in the past, from his father, and in recent years, from the world in general.
And the phoenix had come to him then. It had sat beside him and sang to him. And he could not hold it in any longer. The tears flowed from his eyes, but as they fell into the sea, they became nothing more that insignificant droplets of water. He wished the sea could carry away all his pain, but alas.
And now as he sat, he was imagining how it must be for the phoenix. It would live its life of luxury, but just as it settled into life, it would burst into flames. It just would, and there was nothing it could to to stop it. And then it would proceed to be reborn from the ashes it left behind, to resume the life it left previously as if nothing had changed, to wake up as if from a dream. There would be no end. The cycle would continue and the phoenix would only live.
And for the first time, he was grateful. Grateful that he was not a phoenix. He knew that there had not been that fire in him for some time now, not since he had left school at least. All that remained were dying embers. And he was grateful that he would not emerge from the ashes, but rather one day, there would be darkness.
Well, that was depressing... not quite sure why I wrote that... Ah well.