Disclaimer: Some things belong to J.K Rowling. I am not making money off of those things.
A/N: I'm still not sure whether this will be a one shot or not, so if you want to read more of it, let me know!
Glistening, melting ice covered the world around me. The night was beautiful, but cold. I could see every star in the sky, and I wanted almost nothing more desperately than to get lost in them right now. I slipped my jacket off and sat down on a stone bench. The cold stung my skin, and I knew if he were here he would reprimand me for risking getting sick. He wasn't here, though, so he couldn't say it, and the sting of the cold was the only thing making me feel alive right now. It had been a long hard year. It was the first year, in almost ten years, that I would spend without him.
My therapist said that visiting his grave and saying goodbye could help me find closure, so here I was, staring out over this graveyard. I knew exactly where to find his stone. I had watched from a distance as they had buried an empty casket for him and topped it off with a stone that read simply "Severus Snape". He hadn't wanted to be buried. He had wanted to be burned, but when they had gone back for his body after the war was over, there was nothing left of him. There was nothing of him here, either. Just a stupid rock with his name on it, and a rock couldn't bring me closure right now. I had spent the last six months agonizing over everything I should have told him. Every part of me that I had kept secret from him, and all the things I would never have the chance to tell him. I felt as though he had robbed me of it. Like he had stolen a part of me that I didn't know how to live without, and had ran off with it. I had only recently began to feel as though there might be something left of me without him. That didn't make me feel better, either, though. It only made me angry, because it still didn't feel as though he were dead. It felt as though he had simply walked out, leaving me with the fragments of what should have been. Yes. That was it. I was fragmented and angry. He was just here. I had seen him the same day they had told he he had died. He had been standing right in front of me, explaining how he planned to survive all the the reckless tasks that old git had left for him. With that hooked nose, and messy hair, and all of his snide, arrogant comments. He was just here, driving me crazy, irritating me, and harassing his students. And making me smile. And promising me that I would be safe, no matter what. He had been invicible in my eyes. He still was. His house looked the same way he did the last time he sat down on the sofa to read one of his books. And they thought an empty box and a rock with his name on it would bring me closure?
I clenched my fists furiously, and stood back up. I would not go to his 'grave'. I would not say goodbye when I still woke up thinking he would be there. When it felt like he had just disappeared. The cold air stung my lungs as warm tears ran down my cheeks. He had meant more to me than could be represented by an empty box and a rock. No, goodbye was not the word I was looking for. It wasn't what I wanted.
What I wanted was revenge.