Rutilus Animus.
The Golden Soul.
This is my first SS/HG fic, so I apologise in advance. I have also already planned this story, so it will not be abandoned half way through, I promise. However I am not entirely happy with the ending so any ideas would be welcome.
Unfortunately I do not own Harry Potter. No infringement intended.
Chapter 1. An introduction.
It's a difficult change to go through. One day everyone hates you, and thinks that your heart and soul are black as night. Except that it's worse than that, because some women find a cold man a challenge. To have truly no one care about you, bar your own mother, and then the next day, thanks to some bloody newspaper article, everybody thinks you are a hero.
Somebody saved him. Somebody saved Severus Snape. Proof, surely, that someone cared enough to save him? But of course, not enough to show their face.
People's lives had changed for the better since the end of the war. But sitting in his cold manor during the summer break, Severus Snape had never felt more alone. Passing the days until his return to Hogwarts by downing Firewhiskey, with only his house elf to check on him, he no longer succumbed to normal human desires. Thinner than ever, dark hair longer and greasier, skin paler and stubble rugged, he barley recognised himself when he looked in the grimy and cracked mirror.
***
Her lips tasted of honey. Laying in bed, gazing at her, that was the first thought that entered Harry Potter's mind that morning as he kissed his fiancée gently, his rough hands stroking her forehead and brushing her scarlet hair from her perfect face. Her eyes fluttered open, and Harry drank in every detail of her.
Harry's fingertips traced the line of Ginny's face, over her coral lips, across her jawline. His fingers traced her slender neck and she smiled. He kissed her again and his hands moved to the protruding bump of her stomach and came to rest there. He leant back against the sky blue pillows, with Ginny's soft fragrant hair tickling his chin as she rested her head on his chest. Feeling her husband-to-be breathing slowly she knew he was relaxed and happy.
With a great crash, the door to the blissful couple's bedroom slammed open. Two whirling dervishes of auburn hair and pale skin catapulted themselves onto the bed, and began to bounce on the feet of the famous Harry Potter. "So much for a Sunday lay in!" He grinned at Ginny, stealing a cheeky kiss before capturing one whirlwind under each arm and wrestling them down the hallway and stairs into the kitchen.
Ginny traced her lips where Harry had kissed them. She loved his touch, his smell, just being near him. She could not have imagined a happier life for herself. Her children had striking faces, smouldering eyes to match flaming hair, generous amounts of spunk and the amazingly pure spirit of their father. She couldn't wait for the next one to arrive.
***
The morning light was doing it's best to stream through the dark curtains, it really was. The light that had made it through skimmed dusty photos, an old oak mantle piece, broken empty bottles, and bounced off the embers in the fire grate. All in all the room was fairly dark.
Ron Weasley missed his brother. People thought he had it all- the perfect beautiful girlfriend he had known since school, the big house, the amazing job. They would have had kids too, but unfortunately for the perfectly suited couple Hermionie had been in a car accident which had caused her to have a miscarriage. She still refused to ride a goddamn broom. The quick witted witch herself had survived- but Ron's sanity had not.
He could not lose more people. He had lost a brother, a mentor (Remus), and so many other losses in the war. And now he had lost a child as well. Now his only reminders were the many photos littering the room. Numerous faces beamed at him- happy and oblivious in their photographic and simplistic words. But he was numb. Even alcohol did not help. Even Hermionie could not help, although God knew she had tried.
She sat with him every night and every day, seeing him through the dark times and the good. She loved and was devoted to him, he knew that. He could not lose her as well. Which is why, when she mentioned her applying to be a healer, he had screamed. He had banged his fists against her and wept that there was no way she could leave, he was so scared she would not come back.
Fear. Fear was why he beat her. She could not leave he would make her stay. He could not lose her as well.
He was not a well man. Hermionie knew that. Which was why every time she had a black eye she made excuses, she knew he was protecting her from the outside world. He was not a bad person. This she repeated. For every blow there was another repetition. A broken rib. He's just afraid. A black eye. It's because he loves me. Hand shaped bruises. I know he's a good person. A broken ankle. He's a good person. Please, let him be a good person.
Similar to Severus Snape, Hermionie Granger owned a mirror. One she could not bare to look into. She knew how she looked. Dry, unloved hair. Chapped and sore lips. Bruised skin. Eyes that reflected a sadness that ran so deep the mirror itself wanted to sob. Which is why the only mirror in the house faced the wall.
The once great Hermionie hated her reflection. This was not who she was. The now great Severus Snape hated his reflection. It was not who he was. Two cracked and unloved mirrors reflected two cracked and unloved people.
A/N: I hope you like. Will try to update soon reviews will be appreciated.