SOMETHING MORE POWERFUL THAN WORDS
In the midst of the black night, a grave and silent, nearly peaceful graveyard, where a handsome pale boy, with striking emerald green eyes lays a single blood red rose on a graveyard slightly apart from the others. He whispers no prayers, sings no requiem, sheds no tears, he simply lays down the rose with an unreadable expression on his handsome face.
Another boy, also pale and handsome, but with light gray eyes approaches, and simply stands on the other side of the grave. After a while, he bends down and lays a snow white lily over the rose, their smooth light green stem crossing over the thorny dark one. They don't acknowledge each other; don't utter a single word, yet what passes between them in that quiet companionship they share is a thousand times stronger than what words could express.
Finally, the first boy, slightly taller than his companion lifts his eyes from the engraved name and murmurs a quote, his emerald eyes locked with the light gray ones of his companion:
"Love and hate are two side of the same coin. You can't experience one without getting to know the other."
His voice, silken and velvet, but with an undeniable hint of cruelty had murmured those words so quietly, that if it wasn't for the deathly quiet atmosphere reigning over the graveyard, no one would have heard. And it was those words, or perhaps the sound of that vice, that broke the last of his companions self control; quiet tears rolled down his pale cheeks, shinning in the dim moonlight. And he, in turn, replied, in a hoarse voice, so different from the first boy's, his lips parted in a beautiful yet sad smile:
"I loved him. I loved him even when I wished his soul to hell. Even after he betrayed us all."
The other never replied, just stood there, taking no notice of the other boy, a pained expression on his face. They just stood there, for minutes or hours, the bond between them never breaking. But they knew that this bond wasn't about friendship or family, as they had none. It was about pain.
After a while, with the rising sun, both boys leant down and picked up their flowers, perhaps to eliminate all evidence of their visit, of their mutual weakness. They gently caressed the name in the process, their eyes shinning. Then they rose, with a flawless grace so unnatural and unbecoming for their age, and walked away, shoulder to shoulder, two figures against the vast horizon, leaving the simple grave slightly apart from the other, engraved with two words and a quote, by the same man:
"Severus Snape"
"Life is not black and white, no matter that those around us wish it to be. In the process of pretending, they chose the safety of blindness, but only those that have been forced by the light to see all the tragedy and loss have the excuse to turn from the cold light and blindness, to embrace that hateful creature, who sees past the golden locks and sweet smiles, who sees how far into the abyss of dark decadence you had fallen, and how much blood and filth you had decorate yourselve with, and who wanted you nevertheless, not like your creators, the light, who shunned you. Only they have the excuse to give him what they had meant to give the light, because it was the only fucking way left to live. No matter what those in the light believe, the dark always overpowers it, because with the dark, there are no shadows; it is the utter absence of light. But in light, they are eternally shadows."