Disclaimer: The author of Harry Potter owns all the rights to all the characters and plots.
Claimer: I own the poem thingy!
This is in Snape's Point of View even though it never says so. In this he didn't die. I don't really disagree with J K Rowling about Severus' death but he was my favorite character and now I can't write about him without it being Alternate Universe. But anyways don't read the authors rambling read!
He wore,
Blood,
As he,
Paraded,
Down,
The streets,
His head,
High,
By I,
Knew,
To look,
Behind,
The fake smiles,
And.
Arrogance.
To kill,
A Dark,
Lord,
Takes a,
Lot,
But,
You would,
Know.
I know,
You,
Let me,
See,
Those eyes,
No!
The pain,
Filled,
Ones,
I will not,
Scoff,
Forget the,
Past.
Let us,
Walk,
…. Forward…
His eyes were never the same. The savior had killed their most feared enemy- my personal nemesis. He had been victorious and held up Voldemort's wand like a trophy, waving the thing in the air, something that had causes myself and others so much- pain. The bodies littered Hogwarts field but he didn't look, like I hadn't looked at Lily when she had died, it wasn't that he didn't care it was that he did. But even as he partied and became drunk for the same time, I knew better. He was hurting, his eyes didn't have defiance or cockiness that he once had, I supposed he lost it somewhere on the battlefield. I had half a mind to bring it back, no, that wouldn't do any good though.
His whole demeanor changed over the next year. The Order had a feast, Hogwarts had a feast and the Ministry had a feast and had had time to be with family. Granger would drop in occasionally to see if her friend was okay since it was just he, Dung and I. Weasley and his family went to Brazil, something I couldn't fathom, why would someone go to a place that humid and hot?
Potter became worse than I had first thought. His tolerance to alcohol increased and I often shared a drink with him. Others, I would go into the kitchen and see him cradling whiskey or crying, his whole body wracking with sobs. It wasn't that he killed Voldemort; but more that he had killed and left friends buried. Lupin, who had never really been a very big pain considering he was a Gryffindor died with his wife (my former student) Tonks.
I didn't help him; it wasn't part of neither it nor him. He was the kind to despise sympathy and think it was pity. He was one to turn compassion into anger and anger into love. One day he broke down in front of Molly as they came back home and she did the only thing that I would have done.
He went to St. Mungos under everyone's orders. People would visit him, I would try and invent an antidepressant just like the Muggles, but my heart wasn't in it. The pain he was in was normal, I didn't want to suppress it. A physiologist, a psychologist, a doctor, a healer all tried to help him, and saw him often. He just lay there day after day, didn't even respond to me when I tried to talk to him or snap him out of his trance.
After a while he wouldn't eat or go to the bathroom on his own. His face turned an ugly shade of white with blue bags from lack of sleep- or was it too much?
The night he died at age nineteen everyone cried, I had been surrounded by the hormonal woman and angered men. I myself was hard pressed to keep my emotion to myself as I looked at the broke man before me. I had the survival guilt I guess, I blamed myself for not saving him, for not making the potion in time and for not telling him that I cared.
Later that night I worked on the menace liquid, I sat for hours in front of mathematical formulas and guides on making new potions. Within that week I had it finished before sleeping like I never slept before. I had done it for that fallen savior, the son of my other enemy, but I felt no anger about my decision. Most say I'm different now, letting things go others say. I laugh and look in the mirror.
I look no better than Potter but I eat and I sleep and I have the staff to take care of me when I get old.
And after I die I will see Potter and say one thing to him.
Harry
Oh…And review please!