"The Six Roses You Left"

By: Myriad Dewdrop

Disclaimer: I do not own the Potter Universe, but I do own this plot.

A/N: This is Snape speaking, enjoy. Let me know if you think this should continue past one chapter and be made into a story instead of a sad one pager.

"Sometimes we find ourselves unknowingly curled around an idea.

This idea keeps us alive throughout our darkest of times.

This idea is called love.

An idea that is more than just an idea – it is a contract.

I cannot truly live without your presence.

But I can die to save you."

Those words always seemed to be her philosophy. And I can say that I deeply hate her for it. They killed her, or at least – I think they did. After she intercepted the curse that Potter sent at me, whom had not realized my non-betrayal, she disappeared. To this day Potter still tells me that what he sent that night was no recognizable spell, only a focused wave of energy. Figures that he would get a talent for using wandless magic just then.

It has been a month since the final battle and I don't know how or where to begin searching for you. The Ministry is, but I doubt that they will ever find you. My beloved…. how you'd beam if you heard me call you that. You always smiled…. so warmly…. you were the only one to do so. I could never quite figure out why you cared so deeply for me. You seemed to understand me in ways that others could not, and you seemed to value my laughter more than anything in the world. When I would snap at you, and growl in a sarcastic rage, you stayed. You were never cruel to me in return. But, why?

I have often pondered that and have never come up with a satisfactory reason. I miss you. I loved you so dearly, and now just thinking of you rips my soul apart. My heart cries out for you but you will not come. I have lost my faithful friend. The only one who ever gave a damn enough to protect me. The only one that held me as I shook from the past and all the pain, all the hate. I will never forgive myself for letting you go on believing those words you spoke. You were so convinced that sacrificing yourself for me would allow me to live. Perhaps a little longer, yes…. But I die more each dawn waking without you near than I would have that night. I suppose it is because I too believe those words…. only you beat me to them.

Sweet Beloved, I kiss the six roses that you gave to me, for they are all that I have left of you now. I smashed the tea set you gave me upon returning to my rooms that fateful night…. The pieces are still on the floor in the corner. I will repair it only if you are found alive. As you can guess I've already stopped my habit of taking tea daily, as I am not a foolish man. I do not hope. You once tried to teach me how, but even you could not breathe that ability to life within me. Now I am glad that you failed, as I would rather be able to face the truth of your death than face countless years in denial and in therapy. Still I follow the Ministry's search reports every day in the paper. Perhaps you did not fail so badly in that lesson after all.

I walk now, in the moonlight, across the windy grounds – it is quiet now, without your whispered laughter in my ear. You would not believe it of me, but I have cried every night you've been gone. I am crying now, in fact. I am crying so hard and freely that it clouds my view and I fall onto the soft wet sand by the lake. I pick myself up and gaze around as if expecting that tree over there to taunt me, but nothing is said. I look more closely to my right and to my astonishment I see a crumpled heap lying along the bank. I am curious, so with a flick of the wand and a mutter of 'Lumos' I make my way to the heap in question. The light shines upon the ground until it hits it, until it hits you.

You are pale and sopping wet but still I grab at you, like a child grabs at candy, and I cuddle you in my arms. You are still breathing, your raspy faint breath tickles my face and I know that I must get you inside. I keep you close to me as I reenter Hogwarts. I bring you to Poppy and she gives me some potions and performs a drying spell. Then I bring you back to my chambers and begin to make you well. You scared me, beloved. I thought you dead. But it is these thoughts that I shake off as I feed you the potions. Your color is returning to your face and your eyes flutter. I nuzzle you quietly with my nose, thinking of what to say. I am still in shock that you returned to me, my faithful friend, so I say nothing for the moment – I only smile. And as promised I repair the tea set and then I begin to make tea. I make it for both of us, and the tearing of my soul is repaired.