Disclaimer: Snape belongs
to J K Rowling, no money is being made with this story.
Rating G
Restless
by Claudia
Severus Snape was lying in the high grass and deeply inhaled the tangy, earthen scent this morning's downpour hat set free. He had curled his fists around the sharp blades, and their moisture seeped through between his fingers. He could not see the white ripples the wind sent over the surface of the wide, seemingly endless green sea in which his black figure appeared like a piece of driftwood; anchored by the grip of his fingers. His gaze rested on the dappled sky, smiling when he could make out the odd figure or form in white against blue.
It was quiet safe the rustling and whispering of the wind in the ocean of grass, and sleep lurked on the edge of his consciousness, his spirit demanding that which he had been denying his body for so long. For the first time since his insomnia had started, Severus had felt the beginnings of a peaceful rest settle on him, rendering him carefree like a piece of driftwood. He could almost feel the motion of the waves. But now it was gone, the heavier his lids became, the more restless he grew to fend off that which lurked behind sleep.
Abruptly, the tall man sat, driftwood turned into a black pole sticking out of water, a landmark where there was no land. He stood, brushed off his robes and picked up the basket he had brought. For a change he had decided to get the plants and herbs he needed for his work himself, hoping that the crisp, clear air after the oppressing heat would balm his troubled mind and offer relief.
But it had not.
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