Disclaimers: No, I do not own Severus Snape and Lord Voldemort. J.K. Rowling owns them, unfortunately.
Warnings: It has a slashy tone to it, I admit it. Don't like, don't read.
This is my very first attempt. Please be gentle.
Finis Terra
I, Severus … T- …
"I have always admired how acknowledging your indignity made you seem so … sublime."
I, Severus Tobias Snape …
"What is it that keeps you coming back to me time after time?"
… will not abandon,
"I came back because I made a vow."
… nor disclaim,
"Because your way is the only way."
… nor deny,
"Because you promised me nothing in return and kept your word."
… nor fail my master. In light times as in dark, in life as in death, until the latter claims me, or He Himself releases me from my pact.
"Because when I set foot on the first step to your door, I knew I was coming home."
"I killed Lily Evans."
"Potter. Her name was Potter."
The fire crackled mirthlessly, dutifully. It was for the frightful magnetism of life itself that dark souls felt they needed to surround themselves with light. Still, all attempts of reunion remained futile. There were parts missing in this mangled soul that simply could not be replaced, nor satisfied, nor even heal to give clean scars.
"The world was open to you. You were a brilliant mind, an exceptional potions master, an enfant prodige." The younger man swallowed and shook his head briefly, tiredly.
"I was no one. Unsightly, lanky, insignificant. I was nothing without you."
"And you still are, are you not?" A piece of parchment would hardly have fit in between them. When a hot object meets a cold, the latter should grow warmer. But the laws of nature did not apply to them. They were a protest against the law, against nature, against god.
"But there is none." The apparentness escaped his lips, just like that. He was shivering.
"We all choose our own gods. Choose wisely."
"Allow me entrance. Only once." A trembling intake of breath. He simply could not give up this last refuge, the sanctuary of sanity that was his mind.
"I … cannot." I will not. I must not. Sometimes it is the choice of words rather than the words themselves that give away the masks we pretend to wear for faces.
"Our thoughts define who we are. You need to prove to me that you are real."
"If I was not then my thoughts would be yours and it would not matter. If I was a figment of your imagination, why would I be struggling?"
"What a trivial question to ask. Because I would want you to." Honesty renders people silent. Speak nothing but the truth and no one will ever oppose you again.
"Know this; I want your heart, and I shall have it. And if I have to wrench it out of your chest."
"So this is what victory tastes like." Death's earthly incarnation inhaled deeply, his angular form a perfect silhouette against the smouldering remainders of the world.
"Of burnt flesh and decay, my lord?" He, not quite the innocent bystander, let his gaze wander across what had once been green grasses and soft hills. His lungs hurt from trying to breathe what had once been clean air. Ash flakes painted his black hair white, a vision of a future that was forbidden.
"Of finality and rebirth. You and I, we shall rebuild this world from ashes and debris. We will shape all things to our liking."
"You told me to choose my own god, once."
"Oh, I remember that well, Severus. But you see – there is none left now … but me."
There was no more sound but the soft sizzling of burning embers and the foul breath that had once been known as the borealis. Agreements like these were made silently.
"I said I was going to take it …"
Yes, he struggled. As much as a fly would, trapped in a cobweb. Only to whet the spider's appetite. Dark eyes closed, two tiny reflections of the battlefield gone.
"… and if you had to wrench it out of my chest."