A balmy summer breeze swept through the tall poplar trees surrounding the small graveyard. Two figures, on large and one small, stood amongst the numerous headstones.
The larger figure was a man; wearing a pair of Muggle jeans, a navy blue jumper and red sneakers. His black robes and equally black hair were occasionally tousled by the same breeze, which stirred the trees. His bright green eyes were wide and observant though there was no danger in this quiet cemetery.
He held onto the hand of the much smaller figure, his son. The child was dressed in beige trousers and a yellow t-shirt. He scuffed his tiny running shoes in the grass at his feet. The boy had the same jade-coloured eyes as his father- as his grandmother- and jet-coloured hair but the boy's locks were straight and neat while the older man's was naturally unkempt.
Harry's grip on his youngest son's hand tightened as he caught sight of what he'd been searching for. He stepped forward slowly, almost reverently, bringing his child along as he did so.
"Come along, Albus," the wizard said softly and his son followed obediently.
Harry stopped in front of a short, white marble gravestone. The stone was largely unadorned but for a name carved into the marble followed by two dates and a small design etched underneath them, in the form of a doe, the deceased's Patronus.
SEVERUS SNAPE
"Daddy?" Albus spoke up and shook his father's hand as it closed over his, "Daddy? Who's that? Who's buried there?"
The two-year old peered up at his father with wide, inquiring eyes.
Harry, without looking at his youngest son, spoke, his voice gentle, yet with a strange edge to it.
"A good man… He's a good man."
Author's Note:
This is my first Harry Potter fanfic so please, be kind. I had the idea for it after hearing about the death of Alan Rickman.
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