Dedicated to one of the biggest inspirations I've come across. Sam.
The night is odd. If a day was music, this night would be the unnatural cadence.
Open up your nerves. take off those gloves you're wearing, weary traveller. Get out of the comfort of the fire and step outside.
The air is bitter. The wind bites at your exposed flesh. This is when you think you've walked and touched a portkey without knowing. You, realise the air is not bitter, it is you.
The temperature couldn't have changed so drastically.
Stay there for a minute, and then remove your shoes. Your feet will touch the pavement below and for a spit second they will burn. You're not going to be sure it's blindingly hot, or blindingly cold. A second passes and your feet decide they're cold.
Hold onto that whispering sense of battling with the cold. With nature, run back into the confines of that in, put on your shoes, sit back at that fire and read for fuck's sake.
The moon for all I know could have held the noseless face of Voldemort and I really wouldn't have noticed. Or cared.
"Sev," she breathed, the dark all around her.
I'm not sure she said my name, because it could have easily been Lumos. For the minute that voice spoke, with hardship taller than her small years, the boundaries around the dark were pushed and here became bright here and more brilliant than before.
It was so cold (are you still holding onto this feeling?) that her breath appeared as fine smoke. her hair rippled in time to some preordained song that had already been sung before.
It made me thankful for cold nights like this, and happy there was such a thing as breath. I could see her exhaling fine smoke. For a split second, I half expected a wand out. I saw, easily when her heart raced. all of her smoke I saw as cinders that in the harsh breeze, I ate.
"Sev,"
I turned. The other side of the sky was just darkness. I looked back at the harsh reds that covered my side of the sky. It was almost as if the sky was fighting with itself.
So, the sky was being allegorical, now. The idea that something so pure and as original as nature would have such as thinking as conflict under a container was laughable, but there it was.
And I wasn't such a freak of nature after all.
How can you be heart broken without your heart being cleanly cut in two in the first place?
"Sev," she breathed and the smoke that came through her mouth fogged my vision. The smoke became deeper and then left.
And there I was, inflicted with conflict on the sky harbouring for battle.
Severus Snape pushed his head out of the pensieve with a force he now felt in his arms. But this time was different and the time with Lily had ended too soon. He seemed to have forgotten the fight, and that was the best part.
And soon, ever quicker, Severus Snape was going to see Voldemort.
He packed his now Opal sized crystal into his usual place, on a wedding band.
And for the first time in his life, Severus Snape put on Lily's ring, looking at his now occupied left hand.
"Stay with me," he said, hoarsely if Severus Snape was a man to do so.
He walked to the Shrieking Shack, rubbing the band with the grace he hoped his beloved walked to her death in.
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