Snape's Tears
He had his mother's eyes. It was the first thing he noticed when he'd lain eyes on the boy all those years ago. He was so young then - only a child really, who was already as bold as brass and too clever for his own good, perhaps even more than his father had been. He even looked just like he did when he was his age, perhaps even too much like him...
Damn him. Damn that Potter. Why had his life been so charmed? What did he ever do to deserve it? Why did he get to be the one who walked away with the girl and future he'd been promised practically his whole life? Why was he the one who stole her from him and had the kid that should've been his all along? Why did they end up together and he alone if he had loved her after all this time? If he would love her always?
But he supposed love just worked in mysterious ways that way; it was blind when it was so obvious to see, and too painful to bear when you couldn't even feel it anymore, and too bitter to try again when you'd gotten your heart broken one too many times.
And if life were perfect, there'd be no use for love potions or hexes or charms. But he'd never do that to her - spell her like that. And it wasn't because he couldn't - casting the spell was easy... and potions were always his specialty - it was because he wouldn't; because loving her so much to set her free was the hard part, it always was...
He could feel the pressure of the boy's hand on his throat, attempting to slow the amount of blood he was losing from his wounds. But he knew even before that slimy snake had pounced on him that he was a dead man - he'd known for awhile now that if the Dark Lord didn't realize his betrayal sooner, then some other cruel demise would be waiting for him later.
He could feel the tears in his eyes, which fell without even having to blink them away and not from his wounds - the pain, as he was learning, was always temporary before consciousness left him - so much as because he needed them to. Because the boy deserved to know the truth, he needed to know the truth. And, if not for his sake, then for hers. Because he owed her that much after all that they did and didn't say to each other.
"Take them, take them." He wept, sounding just as pathetic and vunerable as he felt.
Panic struck the boy's eyes - her eyes - as he slowly came to grips with just how little time he had to get the answers he'd so desperately wanted all these years.
"Get me a vial," he cried at Granger and Weasley, who silently stood in the background, not even caring if he snapped at them. "- a glass - anything!"
He was anxious now - anxious for answers, for truths, for every last tear he could catch. And never before had I seen her eyes so wide, so scared. Because hers were usually the ones he looked for when he felt as frightened as the boy looked now. But their usual calmness and sincerity were nowher to be found amid the bright green they were.
He sealed the vial Granger had given him and the tears inside, unwilling to risk all the answers he'd desired for so long the chance of escaping, and gripped it in his bloodied hands, which made Snape wonder when the last time they saw a decent scrubbing was.
He'd been at this for so long... wasn't he tired yet? Wasn't he tired of the running and the tagging, and the hiding and the seeking, and the jumping and the ducking? Snape was tired. Tired of playing somebody else's game by somebody else's rules and breaking them for somebody else's purpose. But above all else, he was tired of risking everyone and everything he ever cared about for somebody else's greater good - not that there was anyone he loved left to lose, once he lost her, life just didn't seem worth living without her in it.
And it infuriated him that Dumbledore was so easily able to pursuade him into joining his cause by using her child and the physical similarities that they shared against him. He hated giving someone the power to do that, but even more that he still loved her enough after all this time to still be used in that way. But he would never love another the way he did her, which was something he just couldn't seem to ever feel sorry for - that he spent the only and wasted heart he would ever have on her, that he chose her to be the one he spent it on.
But he was sorry he'd never won back her forgiveness, not even after all this time and it was something he knew he would always regret. But he looked not at, but in to her somber eyes now (because there was no looking at her eyes - no matter who was wearing them. Not when the depth of their stare pulled you right in whenever you looked long enough), and saw something those eyes had never looked at him with before; fear.
All he wanted was to tell him that it was okay, that, after tonight, there would be nothing left to fear. Not so long as the lights still danced in the eyes that were never his. But he was no longer him, and not even her. He was slipping away to quickly to tell the difference anymore. But, before his last breath could leave his body, he had to ensure that the scared little boy knew something that he had probably been told before and quite possibly even all his life: "You have your mother's eyes."
They softed a little around the edges, and the light returning to them was the last thing Snape saw through the darkness thickening in his own.
He died with his eyes open. But he was glad to have, for he otherwise would have missed the shape of the doe emerging from amidst the silver cloud of mist wafting about, which was quite unlike the rain clouds you found in the sky. The animal came galloping up, slowing its pace as it drew nearer to the lifeless body of Severus Snape.
He extended a trembling hand to her, to which she responded by gently nuzzling her muzzle against his palm, which was cool and clammy but gradually seemed to grow warmer as the silver mist curled around his fingers. Almost instantly he felt the strength he had lost return to his body, and from the hollow shell of his corpse, he staggered to his feet and even smiled a little like he never had before - or at least, not for a long time, for his smile had never been the same without her.
But with her now, it broke as free upon his lips as a patronus from the wielder's wand; for the charm was hers - he was sure of it. He was sure of it because there was no mistaking it for another's. Not when he still loved her after all this time, not when he would love her always.
So into the mist he walked, alongside the one piece of herself she had given him and had never quite taken back, where they disappeared like the ghosts they were and had always been, leaving the tears of Severus Snape to forever fall behind him.
First Harry Potter fic. Never read the books but I'm a fan of the movies and have always been fascinated with the pitiful and heartbreaking story of Severus Snape so thus this litte drabble of mine. Reviews are always welcome and appreciated:)
-birdywings
