Love Costs
Money
It was a simple exchange – some galleons for a book – but he hoped it would be worth it. The book was rare; he was lucky to be getting it at this low of a cost. There was a small, niggling part of his brain that told him this was wrong, that he shouldn't by books on the Dark Arts, but he ignored it as he had for so many years.
They passed in the hallway. The burlap pouch slipped from his hands and in it slid a brown package. They were much more skilled at this (he slowed down and they didn't) but as long as he had the book he didn't care.
He had found it in the Restricted section of the library. Strong, ancient magic had prevented him from taking it himself, but he had memorized the author, title, and publishing information. There wasn't much of it, but he had managed.
Next came the difficult part: not getting killed by suspicious dealers. Everyone had a reason for what they did, and sometimes they weren't very good reasons. People without good reasons got Kedavra'd.
After gaining the trust of the dealers there wasn't much else he had to do. Take the instructions – a simple piece of parchment – and read, then burn. Follow said instructions. Not that difficult. Some people still managed to blunder, though. They disappeared. He didn't.
So now he had the book. What to do with it? There were so many possibilities. First thing, though, was a cloaking spell. No need for anyone to see him with such a thing; he would be expelled in a second.
Then to memorizing spells and potions.
He had proficient skill at both – a school career of loneliness and betrayal had fine tuned such expertise, among other things. What was the use of being alone if you weren't going to get something done? Exactly. No use. So he used his skills and gained the ones he didn't have. There was only one thing he didn't have. But he was never going to get it.
Life wasn't worth much anymore – why waste it on the good magic? He preferred to gloom about in the Darker side of things…where it didn't matter what you were or where you were from, as long as you had skill with a wand and a thirst for power. He would gladly provide both.
Love
There she was, with him again. There was a time – a better time – when she hated him and they never spoke but for a few shouted arguments. Such days were over.
Now they were dating and kissing and doing Merlin knows what else, and he just got to sit there and watch. Not to bask, no; that was the job of the best friends. Those nasty, disgusting traitors and liars that seemed to flock to the pair. They all got to sit in the glory of the couple, and then fall in love with each other because it was just so very beautiful that, really, how could you help it?
He could help it.
But then, of course, she just had to be her and ask him for his blessing. She had to interrupt his solace and loneliness and ask him to please, pretty please, be the Sevie I miss and come to the wedding.
He said no. And she didn't ask him again.
They ended up having a private wedding anyway – just the close family and the few best friends. And he never went, nor did he hear about it. Anyone who even mentioned her to him enjoyed a nice little trick from his handy dandy spell book. And if you asked him if he regretted not going he would say no. Because they were in love. And he still was too.
That was Snape, if you didn't catch that. Kind of random, I suppose.
My first fic for my HPFC challenge. So really my HPFCC. Yeah. I'll post updates on my profile, etc etc. No one ever actually looks on there, but I'll post anyway :P
Love you all, and happy 2009! :)
3
-Bub'les
