To my dear friends and faithful readers,
To be short, I'm sorry. I did not return when I had hoped, and for that I probably deserve a barrage for angry replies, or even a complete lack of reviews.
Anyways, this is my latest, a character sketch of the man I love... Severus Snape. And yes, in my HP world, Sev DID NOT DIE!!
DISCLAIMER: Anything you recognise is either owned by Ms JKR or the wonderful Edgar Allen Poe
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor...
So silent, still asleep.
A house, full of dark rooms, shrouded chairs...silence.
The only presence to be found, prays vigil in a darkened entrance room.
"Chink"
He stands at the window, graceful hands replacing the fine china teacup on its matching saucer, sight unseen. Black soulless eyes stare blankly ahead, not taking in the view, not that the images before him were new and exciting.
The cold winter outside did nothing to enhance the ramshackle hedges and condemned dwelling surrounding the dour mans ancestral home.
"Chink"
"Ahhh"
Another sip, another sigh.
Voldemorts' turncoat stands, like a burnt and blackened tree alone on a barren hill, unmoving from his spot against the smudged and frosty pane.His ebony orbs slowly glancing across of the front dive of his abode.
His ever-vigilant gaze slips over the raven-topped gate posts, as they have many times before, resting on the neighbouring property across the lane.
This abode is nothing truly special in Severus's eyes. A simple homestead, gardens and fields growing simple vegetables, not the exotic and magically potent photosynthetic organisms he used daily in his previous occupation.
"Crack"
"siss"
"Tinkle – chink"
In an odd, sudden, jerking movement, Dumbledore's former slave turns sharply, placing the tea items on the half-moon table at his side while smoothly and silently drawing his wand, and in an instant he has the seemingly innocent twig, but truly deadly weapon, pointed towards the fireplace and the source of the crackling disturbance.
"siss"
"Uh...aaah"
A deep calming breath is taken, and Eileens son tries somewhat to lower his anxiety and steady his shaking shoulders.
The man tells his occoulded mind, while softly rubbing ink-stained fingers over two neck-puncture scars, that no one would truly bother with him now, so many months after Tom Riddles defeat and his miraculous salvation.
But as ex-head of Slytherian's house begin to move back to his former position, a slight ruffling movement caught the former spy's eye, drawing his attention to a small black-blue Raven perched on top of the back of his favourite easy-boy near the peat-laden fire.
The spy finally let down his guard.
Was THIS the sign that he had been watching day and night for the last 4 months for? The sign, promised by a rather prim and proper witch, that once the wizarding world had calmed down from the results of the Great war, that she would come and claim him?
Snape strode over to the ebony fowl, placing a arm out, much like asking an upper-class lady for permission to escort, for the regal bird to secure itself on his sleave.
Standing back in the light through the curtain-bordered panes, Tobais's son noticed a feature much unique to this particular winged animal – a striking pair of hazel eyes. At this, the Potions Master raised his characteristic eyebrow.
It had to be her.
"mish, mish"
Severus scratched his head. Then finding inspiration the words flowed, like water down the Amazon, trippingly off his tongue.
"Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the nightly shore,
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the night's Plutonian shore!"
But the raven did not speak, instead flying off Snapes offered perch, landing silently in the doorway. With a shimmer, and another raised eyebrow to match, the majestic fowl was replaced with the curly haired, black Victorian-robed physic of the female who offered him his true salvation.
"SNAP"
"swish"
The girl... nay, now woman, transformed to her animalistic form, and took flight, straight through the open skylight.
"SNAP"
"swish"
Another transformation, another flash of feathers, as a second raven, just as regal as the former, but eyes as black as midnight, and a slightly scared and misshapen beak, joined the first in the slowly clearing late-winter sky.
"Tick"
...
...
"Tock"
And as sunlight light filled the room, the only movement to the found in the sitting room of the Prince ancestral home was the second by second motion of the hand on the mantles mahogany timepiece.
So let us come away,
Come away.
Come out where the sun is, playing in the now forgotten garden.
Come away.
...
Soundless,
Still asleep,
And silent...
Still
Thank you ladies and gents. PLEASE REMEMBER TO REVIEW!! I will always take your critiques!