And the Rains Came Down
Disclaimer: Snape's not mine, sadly. However, Gedia is. Yay for alter egos.
Author's Note: A little Gedia/Snape interlude, or something to that effect. After Voldemort's fall, Snape is left with emptiness and a world of regret. But comfort can come when you least expect it.
* * *
Voldemort was dead. Or, at least, as dead as he could be. Snape was even uncertain about the fact, even though the Mark on his arm had faded considerably since the night of the Dark Lord's fall.
The scattered Death Eaters were being systematically hunted down, tried by a scowling jury, and thrown into Azkaban to rot and go mad. He, of course, was immune, thanks to Dumbledore. But still, he sometimes wondered if they would still come after him, still send him to that hellhole to be robbed of what good memories he had left. That thought nearly petrified him at times.
Snape wandered the empty streets of Hogsmeade. It was long past dark, and nearly everyone had gone home. Businesses had closed for the night, save for The Leaky Cauldron and The Three Broomsticks. But he wasn't here to shop.
He had come to escape from the raucous students at Hogwarts that he was cursed to teach. The whole lot was a bunch of dunderheads that he despised. But it was his sentence, his penance for the atrocities committed while a servant to Voldemort. He would gladly teach the idiotic children for a hundred years than spend one minute in Azkaban.
But still, even he needed a respite from their unceasing chatter. Nowadays, he could not even retreat to his dungeon room without being bothered by a teacher. It seemed they were all trying too hard to be his friend, to welcome back the lost sheep.
Well, he was sick of it. He didn't need their sympathy or their friendship. He just needed himself. After all, that was the only person he could trust. He retreated from the rest of the world, shutting himself off so that he was alone with his dark memories.
As if to match his bleak mood, the cloudy skies suddenly broke loose in a curtain of rain. "Bloody hell," he growled, wishing he had reacted sooner and cast a rain-repelling charm. But he was already being steadily soaked to the bone. He clutched his dripping cloak around himself, continuing his determined walk.
As he passed The Leaky Cauldron, he noticed a slim figure exiting, but thought nothing of it. Just another drunk finally managing to make it out the door. He didn't notice that the figure was not staggering, but walking quite normally.
Before he'd made it another block, he heard a familiar voice call out his name. He turned, peering through the rain in the direction of the voice. There, standing in the torrential rains, was a person he hadn't seen in years. Her black hair streamed wetly down her shoulders, but her eyes were sparkling just like they had when they were students, like sapphires in the night.
He stared at her. He had been sure that he had lost her to Azkaban, or to death. But here she was, mere feet away from him.
They stood there in the rain, neither moving nor speaking, as if afraid they were both phantoms or hallucinations brought on by too many butterbeers. He wanted to touch her so badly, to be sure it really was her. He wanted to stare into her blue eyes, run his hand through her damp curls, to hold her so that he would never lose her again.
Lightening flashed, illuminating her features for a brief moment. Her mascara was smudged beneath her eyes, though from the rain or from some other cause he couldn't be sure. A hesitant smile graced her trembling mouth.
"Ged..." he whispered, but the sound was drowned out by a clap of thunder. "Gedia?" he said, this time louder.
In the darkness, he saw her smile grow more confident, more sure. "Severus?" She took a step towards him, her eyes hopeful.
He forced himself to move, though it was hard unrooting himself from the spot. They slowly crossed the distance between them until they were a foot away from each other. Their eyes traveled over each other, still unbelieving, mistrusting. "Gedia," he whispered again, his cracking voice begging her to be real.
She looked up into his eyes. "You've changed."
He managed a small, forced smile. "We all have."
"Indeed." The word was hardly audible, practically swept away in the torrent. They fell into silence as a hundred unasked questions rose to their lips before being pushed away again. To speak would be to ruin this, to perhaps make it all unreal.
Slowly, she reached up a hand to touch his cheek in a hesitant caress. He closed his eyes, almost shuddering with her touch. "You're real," she whispered.
He opened his obsidian eyes to stare into her blue ones. A slight smile turned up the corners of his thin lips. "I am."
"Thank Merlin..."
He mirrored her motion and touched her face with a gentle hand. She pressed her cheek into his palm, chilled flesh warming with each other's touch. Her hand now gripped his cloak, her fist holding the fabric tightly, possessively, pulling the two closer to each other. He cupped her face in his, his thumbs swiping gently beneath her azure eyes to wipe away the streaming makeup.
She blinked rapidly, and two twin drops of moisture rolled down over his thumbs. He tilted his head to regard her. "You're crying."
"No I'm not," she denied.
He bent his head to kiss her forehead. "I can still tell when you are lying, Gedia."
A soft sigh escaped her lips. "Perhaps you haven't changed as much as I thought."
"In some ways, no... but in others..." his voice trailed off. It was unnecessary to finish the statement. They had both been Death Eaters. Change had been inevitable.
"Don't speak of it... please, Severus." Her voice trembled slightly and she looked up at him. Their faces were mere inches apart.
"Very well." His hot breath sent shivers down her spine as he pressed his lips to the tip of her nose, kissing away a drop of rain. But the saltiness that spread over his tongue told him that it was not the rain after all. His hand tangled in her curls as his eyes searched hers for some clue of her emotions. But she hid them as well as he did himself. "Gedia..."
She pressed a finger to his lips. "Don't speak." Wrapping her arms around his neck, she slowly pressed her lips to his. He responded after only a moment's hesitation, wrapping his other arm around her waist to draw her closer, crushing her body against his.
His damp locks of hair fell down against her cheek, clinging wetly to her skin. Her hands came up to run through his hair, grasping handfuls of it as their mouths engaged in a heated dance of long-overdue passion.
Rain steamed down over the two, but they were too lost in each other to notice any longer. Nothing else mattered, not the storm or Voldemort, or the Mark they had both been branded with. Only each other.
* * *
Severus slowly woke, a rare smile adorning his features as he reached out for the girl who should be lying next to him. But there was no one there.
With a sinking heart, he realized where he was. He was still in one of the countless rooms of Malfoy Manor. Voldemort had not fallen, and the encounter had been as unreal as he had feared. As if he would ever see the girl again, or as if she would touch him in such a way.
He should have known it was but a dream.
Closing his eyes, he surrendered once again to sleep, praying that the beautiful blue-eyed girl would not haunt his dreams again.
And outside, the rains came down.
END
Disclaimer: Snape's not mine, sadly. However, Gedia is. Yay for alter egos.
Author's Note: A little Gedia/Snape interlude, or something to that effect. After Voldemort's fall, Snape is left with emptiness and a world of regret. But comfort can come when you least expect it.
* * *
Voldemort was dead. Or, at least, as dead as he could be. Snape was even uncertain about the fact, even though the Mark on his arm had faded considerably since the night of the Dark Lord's fall.
The scattered Death Eaters were being systematically hunted down, tried by a scowling jury, and thrown into Azkaban to rot and go mad. He, of course, was immune, thanks to Dumbledore. But still, he sometimes wondered if they would still come after him, still send him to that hellhole to be robbed of what good memories he had left. That thought nearly petrified him at times.
Snape wandered the empty streets of Hogsmeade. It was long past dark, and nearly everyone had gone home. Businesses had closed for the night, save for The Leaky Cauldron and The Three Broomsticks. But he wasn't here to shop.
He had come to escape from the raucous students at Hogwarts that he was cursed to teach. The whole lot was a bunch of dunderheads that he despised. But it was his sentence, his penance for the atrocities committed while a servant to Voldemort. He would gladly teach the idiotic children for a hundred years than spend one minute in Azkaban.
But still, even he needed a respite from their unceasing chatter. Nowadays, he could not even retreat to his dungeon room without being bothered by a teacher. It seemed they were all trying too hard to be his friend, to welcome back the lost sheep.
Well, he was sick of it. He didn't need their sympathy or their friendship. He just needed himself. After all, that was the only person he could trust. He retreated from the rest of the world, shutting himself off so that he was alone with his dark memories.
As if to match his bleak mood, the cloudy skies suddenly broke loose in a curtain of rain. "Bloody hell," he growled, wishing he had reacted sooner and cast a rain-repelling charm. But he was already being steadily soaked to the bone. He clutched his dripping cloak around himself, continuing his determined walk.
As he passed The Leaky Cauldron, he noticed a slim figure exiting, but thought nothing of it. Just another drunk finally managing to make it out the door. He didn't notice that the figure was not staggering, but walking quite normally.
Before he'd made it another block, he heard a familiar voice call out his name. He turned, peering through the rain in the direction of the voice. There, standing in the torrential rains, was a person he hadn't seen in years. Her black hair streamed wetly down her shoulders, but her eyes were sparkling just like they had when they were students, like sapphires in the night.
He stared at her. He had been sure that he had lost her to Azkaban, or to death. But here she was, mere feet away from him.
They stood there in the rain, neither moving nor speaking, as if afraid they were both phantoms or hallucinations brought on by too many butterbeers. He wanted to touch her so badly, to be sure it really was her. He wanted to stare into her blue eyes, run his hand through her damp curls, to hold her so that he would never lose her again.
Lightening flashed, illuminating her features for a brief moment. Her mascara was smudged beneath her eyes, though from the rain or from some other cause he couldn't be sure. A hesitant smile graced her trembling mouth.
"Ged..." he whispered, but the sound was drowned out by a clap of thunder. "Gedia?" he said, this time louder.
In the darkness, he saw her smile grow more confident, more sure. "Severus?" She took a step towards him, her eyes hopeful.
He forced himself to move, though it was hard unrooting himself from the spot. They slowly crossed the distance between them until they were a foot away from each other. Their eyes traveled over each other, still unbelieving, mistrusting. "Gedia," he whispered again, his cracking voice begging her to be real.
She looked up into his eyes. "You've changed."
He managed a small, forced smile. "We all have."
"Indeed." The word was hardly audible, practically swept away in the torrent. They fell into silence as a hundred unasked questions rose to their lips before being pushed away again. To speak would be to ruin this, to perhaps make it all unreal.
Slowly, she reached up a hand to touch his cheek in a hesitant caress. He closed his eyes, almost shuddering with her touch. "You're real," she whispered.
He opened his obsidian eyes to stare into her blue ones. A slight smile turned up the corners of his thin lips. "I am."
"Thank Merlin..."
He mirrored her motion and touched her face with a gentle hand. She pressed her cheek into his palm, chilled flesh warming with each other's touch. Her hand now gripped his cloak, her fist holding the fabric tightly, possessively, pulling the two closer to each other. He cupped her face in his, his thumbs swiping gently beneath her azure eyes to wipe away the streaming makeup.
She blinked rapidly, and two twin drops of moisture rolled down over his thumbs. He tilted his head to regard her. "You're crying."
"No I'm not," she denied.
He bent his head to kiss her forehead. "I can still tell when you are lying, Gedia."
A soft sigh escaped her lips. "Perhaps you haven't changed as much as I thought."
"In some ways, no... but in others..." his voice trailed off. It was unnecessary to finish the statement. They had both been Death Eaters. Change had been inevitable.
"Don't speak of it... please, Severus." Her voice trembled slightly and she looked up at him. Their faces were mere inches apart.
"Very well." His hot breath sent shivers down her spine as he pressed his lips to the tip of her nose, kissing away a drop of rain. But the saltiness that spread over his tongue told him that it was not the rain after all. His hand tangled in her curls as his eyes searched hers for some clue of her emotions. But she hid them as well as he did himself. "Gedia..."
She pressed a finger to his lips. "Don't speak." Wrapping her arms around his neck, she slowly pressed her lips to his. He responded after only a moment's hesitation, wrapping his other arm around her waist to draw her closer, crushing her body against his.
His damp locks of hair fell down against her cheek, clinging wetly to her skin. Her hands came up to run through his hair, grasping handfuls of it as their mouths engaged in a heated dance of long-overdue passion.
Rain steamed down over the two, but they were too lost in each other to notice any longer. Nothing else mattered, not the storm or Voldemort, or the Mark they had both been branded with. Only each other.
* * *
Severus slowly woke, a rare smile adorning his features as he reached out for the girl who should be lying next to him. But there was no one there.
With a sinking heart, he realized where he was. He was still in one of the countless rooms of Malfoy Manor. Voldemort had not fallen, and the encounter had been as unreal as he had feared. As if he would ever see the girl again, or as if she would touch him in such a way.
He should have known it was but a dream.
Closing his eyes, he surrendered once again to sleep, praying that the beautiful blue-eyed girl would not haunt his dreams again.
And outside, the rains came down.
END