A n A c h i n g S o u l

(because Death lays its fingers upon us all)

He was a tenebrous intruder, blurry and unfocussed beyond the torrid tears that graced faces and pierced already fragile hearts. Death laid its fingers upon everyone, they were all its victims, and yet Severus found it hard to believe that anyone felt the pain the way he did. Just like these people, he wept and grieved and mourned with them, and yet he was also the reason behind their mourning.

Severus ducked down further behind the bush, somehow he doubted that these people would be inviting him to dinner or even having a civil conversation with him any time soon. The hedge was more than just a physical barrier; it was an emotional one as well. On the other side, tears represented masks. As much as these people mourned the loss of their friend, screamed and wailed and prayed that she would miraculously come back, they also were eager to join in the jubilation that marked the Dark Lord's death. Death was vicious, it spared no-one, you either died or felt like you had, and for most people, the only way to move forward was to take the first steps towards forgetting.

Severus would never forget.

He could hear music, it wafted across the assembled crowd like a soft ocean breeze, only this breeze was more of a violent wind, it pained and it ached and Severus felt like he might fall any minute, fall and never climb back up. He felt like he might be eternally stuck at the bottom of a pit. The music proved that the end was truly here, time and death could not be reversed, not for a fickle man or for a heartbroken one. Severus knew this, knew that he had chosen this path of treachery and desolation, but knowing the truth did not make it any easier to accept.

He waited with disgusting eagerness for the flood of searing memories, for the recollection of sunshine and flowers and hopscotch behind dreary grey sheds that always seemed somewhat brighter with her presence. He waited for proof that his emotions had finally caught up with the brutal physicality that death imposed.

But he felt nothing, and the funeral ground on, it rendered in his brain as hazily and shrouded as a shadow submerged in fog. It seemed so close, so real, yet so far, like a dream. He crept closer, ignoring the foreboding feeling that was churning inside him, that was making him feel slightly sick. The funeral was still in progress, Lupin was reading the eulogy. It was obvious that he was lost for words; Severus could hear him stuttering and hastily blowing his nose, over and over again, from here. As much as he hated Black, he should have been the one to make the speech.

"May those who caused this horrible injustice have their souls ache for what they have done …"

Severus knew that Lupin had no idea, knew that he was as blissfully innocent as the rest of the crowd gathered around the coffin, and yet, he could not help but feel as though it was a personal attack.

His soul did indeed ache.

fin,

-Cuba ...x