Author's note: A very short, random one shot that popped into my head. Such a symbolic, weird, gag-me-with-a-spoon crap. So why am I posting this? I really don't know. I haven't really tried writing from this character's point of view before but thought it would be an interesting challenge and a short distraction from my epic fanfic 'FHNWFL'. Lol. I need a life.
By Any Other Name
There.
Against the dreary and grey landscape it had stood out like a bright ray of sunlight peeking through dark storm clouds. Against the wild and untamed grounds of Hogwarts, the small gleam of colour had caught his eye. The tiny speck of white in the large field of dull, drab shapes had caught his attention so completely that it drew him over from off the beaten path and across the brush covered grounds.
He had walked over to it and stood there staring at it for a moment before bending down and picking the snow white flower from the surrounding brush.
It was in full bloom.
He stared at it more closely. The small petals and delicate stem were perfect. It was every artists dream to find a flower that was so perfectly formed and at full bloom.
But he was no artist. He had never been in the fields searching for it- he was just the unwilling victim of entrancing beauty.
He twirled the delicate green stem about his fingers in a deliberate sort of way. Testing its strength. The flower bent and strained under his pale fingers but bounced back to its original form as soon as he had released his hold on it. These type of flowers were really quite unique… special. And much stronger than they appeared to look.
Impressed by the show of strength the flower had hidden under its delicate façade of beauty he lifted it to his face and smelled it.
These type of flowers always smelt the same to him -the faint alluring scent of something he couldn't quite describe. He closed his eyes, breathing in the delicate fragrance which oddly was calming and soothing.
In just a few months he would be gone from Hogwarts forever. Onto much greater things- He'd forget about the disgraceful life he had had at home, the embarrassing life he had had here at school and everything would be for the better.
And he certainly wouldn't need HER. He wouldn't even have to think about her, he wouldn't want to…
At least that was what he believed…or hoped.
She was with HIM now anyways. His eyes snapped open and his fingers tightened around the little flower, crushing it slightly in his taut grip. His cold dark eyes were now blazing with an icy fire.
Him.
Whenever he saw them walking together in the hall it was like his heart was being stabbed with thousands of red hot daggers, she wouldn't look at him of course- she had virtually looked right through him every time they passed one another in the hall for years, but HE would occasionally spare him the suspicious, fierce glare which meant nothing to him. Because the only thing he could see was her.
She was different from the rest of them, you couldn't lump her in with the rest of the faces in the crowd. It was impossible. She would always stand out.
Then the thought that had been plaguing him for years came boiling to the surface. He desperately tried to shove the frightening thought away- but it was already there.
If blood made no difference at all…would he still love her?
His mouth twisted into a sort of grimace as he tried to fight back the answer that had always been there as well.
She was exception. It wasn't her fault the way she was- in fact were he to be honest with himself he'd have to admit that around her everything changed. What had seemed right in the Slytherin common room and with his fellow housemates suddenly seemed so wrong- All his beliefs and ideas about power and blood melted into nothingness, and so great was her power over him- he didn't even care that he thought these treacherous beliefs.
He had cared for her…and-
He stared at the flower and let out his breath in a sharp hiss as the thought came swimming ubidden to mind.
Loved her.
He had. He assumed it was love because nothing else made him feel the same way. He had never loved before she came along, but with her…were he to be truly honest with himself- he had indeed loved her. That feeling- that swell of his heart whenever they used to talk to eachother, or laugh together, or simply sit there side by side in content silence- it had to be…love. What else could it have been?
But Slytherins don't allow themselves to be thrown headlong into a tumultuous sea of unknown feeling and emotions. And Death Eaters certainly didn't allow themselves to fall prey to love.
Besides, it didn't matter anymore. She hated him now. The memory of her shocked and furious face that terrible day still haunted him in his sleeping and waking hours.
It would probably haunt him for the rest of his life he supposed.
But perhaps it was for the best...
No.
HE had her now. And it was so wrong- so very very wrong. So unbelievably unfair that everything was what it was now.
The world was cruel and cold- as cold as the grounds he was standing on now- and there was only one light in it- one thing that seemed to make sense in all the madness, one thing that brightened his world- as bright as the small flower in his hand…
"Severus- what are you doing?"
He lifted his head to see Evan Rosier walking over to him, squinting curiously at the flower in his hand.
"Nothing." He replied calmly, his fingers closing around it automatically.
"What is that?"
He paused for a moment and then opened his hand to look down at the flower resting on his palm for a moment before tossing it carelessly to the dusty earth. The slightly wilted flower lay on the cold, autumn ground looking the frailest it had- and yet the most beautiful.
"Nothing." he said again. And with great effort he turned his back on the fallen lily and walked away from it...Rosier following him in his wake. "Just a silly flower."