The very air I breathe is ancient; full of memory, and long forgotten warmth. The scattered and forlorn trees stand like stone pillars of a grand cathedral, with a high ceiling of withering branches. The pressing silence feels as if it is weighing me down into the carpet of fallen leaves.
I cross the graveyard like ghost, scanning each tombstone as if I am afraid to find what I seek. In all honesty I am not entirely sure why I decided to come. Perhaps I need proof that she is truly gone. I realize that I have never truly accepted it.
My feet carry me through the lines of tombs as I search for her name. It is becoming hard to read the names in the gathering darkness, but finally I find it. I stand in her presence for the first time in almost twenty years. It strikes me like a bolt of lightning to my chest that she is gone. Dead. Lost to me forever.
Slowly, I kneel down beside her white gravestone. The white lilies I brought lay forgotten in my lap. I trail my fingertips over the smooth surface of her grave. The grooves that form the letters of her name press into my skin. Lily Potter. I remember the way her red hair shone in the sunlight, how she would laugh and roll her eyes at my petty sarcasm, the way her green eyes would glow whenever she got excited or angry...
Like a never-ending slideshow, my mind spins through the stolen moments that were robbed from me by the cruel and bitter reality of life.
My heart is shattering beyond any hope of repair. I pound the unyielding stone with my fists. The flat white stone stares mockingly up at me as I beat at its surface. And then I stop and lay my head down on her tombstone.
But I do not cry. No, Severus Snape never cries. Right now, it is hard enough to breathe.
After a few minutes, or it could have been hours, I see out of the corner of my eye a glow of silver…
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