Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or anything affiliated with it. Or maybe I do … you'll have to check with my lawyer.

A/N: I randomly decided to write this oneshot while listening to the song "My Skin" by Natalie Merchant. I love this song so much for Snape, that I'm making a video about him to it as well. Every time the song ended, so did my will to keep writing. I sound so deep….I promise you I'm really not! Anyhow, I don't think it's my best work or anything, but it was a spur of the moment idea and I needed to get it off my chest. Thanks for reading!


His hands. His hands clasped behind his back. So tightly that his knuckles glowed white against the setting sun and so tightly that the very tips of his fingers turned blue with creeping intensity. So tightly, that his hardened heart rivalled against the rigid intertwining of his hands regarding the warmth that they would not let in. One year ago, today, marked the one year anniversary of his death. The deaths of thousands of others, but this one hit him with such a force, such a blast of cold air, and such an awakening. Such an awakening, in fact, that when it had happened, the world spun and spun into oblivion. It spun so fast, he recalled, until it he was positive his ears would explode and that he would dissolve into millions of pieces. And then it slowed. The rapid oscillations became so intense that the world slowed down and froze in time. It locked the moment in his memory forever, and he could not move. But at the time, he never knew why.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Golden Boy, and the Vanquisher of the Dark Lord, was standing so still that one could assume that he was just one of the many stone angels scattered about the cemetery. A few feet from him, a small, nondescript tombstone stood erect, almost challenging Harry at who could remain the most motionless. He had never been here before. After Severus Snape died, after the pain and shock, and after the funeral, he had made his peace that his silently hidden protector was indeed gone from his life. Not that it should have mattered… he never knew how much Severus cared until he was gone. And now that he was, Severus would never know how much Harry cared either. But one year later found Harry at a cemetery, staring at his tombstone. It was not a large, impressive monument honouring his bravery and perseverance. It was small, with overgrown weeds tackling its base, with no flowers gracing it, and with hardly any inscriptions upon its rough surface. Just the two etched and dull S shapes stood out starkly against it dark background. Harry didn't need these, however. He knew that he would have found it on his own. And he knew that Severus' tombstone was exactly how he would have wanted it to be.


So, that was it. It's not much, but hopefully its meaning is larger than its word count :P. Reviews are very much appreciated!