The Horcrux of Severus Snape – Chapter 7

Kiss and Tell


Since last Saturday afternoon, I find myself skilfully trying to avoid Potter. Whenever I bump into him in the hallways of the castle he merely babbles on endlessly about pointless topics. To think, just yesterday, he stopped me in the corridor and asked, "Err, oh hey Severus, off to class? Oh wait, you don't teach anymore right? Ha...ha… So… read any good books lately?" I glared at him for a few minutes and then stormed off.

Honestly.

This twit is the bloody saviour of the Wizarding world?

Still, I must admit the effect I have on him these days quite… pleases me. When he was merely a boy I could sense his fear and disgust whenever I said anything to him. Now, the fear remains, but of a different sort. And the disgust has been replaced with… I don't know what it has been replaced with, but whatever it is, it's causing the brat to stumble over his every word.

In hind sight, perhaps it was too soon to admit my fondness towards him. But when you've been through what I've been through you never take things for granted. When you're staring death in the face, yours or that of your peers, you never think twice. You do whatever it takes to survive. That's all life is to me. Surviving. And even though the war is over, I still feel like my death lingers behind every door I open next.

When Potter is around however, I feel… safe. For some reason, I've come to associate Potter with hope. If that scrawny 18 year old teenager could defeat the Dark Lord and not only survive, but remain as he always was - a blithering babbling idiot, then perhaps there is hope for us all. Perhaps, somewhere deep down, Severus Snape still exists. Not the puppet whose strings were pulled by two masters, not the fool who dove head first in love with a woman who'd never love him back, not the lonely boy shielding himself from his father, not the greasy, evil Potions Master. But I am too scarred. Every tear Fawkes cries confirms this. I am too far gone, and I was stupid enough to think I could achieve happiness, just for one brief moment… with Potter.

Fool.

It's nearly midnight but I am unable to fall asleep, so I decide to take a stroll around the castle grounds. For the first time in many days, I walk, and walk, not knowing my destination. Upon reaching the Quidditch Pitch I immediately notice a broom zooming around the pitch in circles. At first I assume it to be a student, but the stranger's stature is too big to be that of one. I raise my wand, a curse waiting upon my lips. The broom lingers in mid-air and the stranger stares down at me.

"Severus? That you?"

Oh, bloody hell.

I lower my wand as Potter slowly descends, his feet landing smoothly upon the ground. He's wearing an old Gryffindor team jersey with a pair of slacks. He's obviously been flying for a while because the sweat on his face has caused his fringe to stick to his forehead.

"Watcha doing here?" Potter asks, frantically trying to flatten his hair.

"I could ask you the same question," I mutter.

"Ah, couldn't sleep. The usual," Potter explains.

"Nightmares?"

"No, just… too much thinking."

"That's new."

"Shut up, Severus," Potter mutters as he slumps down on the ground, legs outstretched. He beckons at me to sit down next to him.

"Language, Potter," I smirk as I settle down beside him, carefully adjusting my robes.

"Was just trying to get ready for tomorrow's Quidditch lesson. Been a while since I've been on a broom. I can barely keep up with James and Albus these days," Potter laughs, and as the moonlight illuminates his face, I see age catching up with him. He doesn't look old, but he doesn't look like a child any longer.

I nod in response.

"Ginny sends her regards by the way," Potter adds.

"Ah, so how is Ms. Weasley these days?" I ask, half-heartedly.

"Oh, she's good, I dropped Lily off at her place yesterday. Ginny's getting married soon, you know," Potter says, his face bearing no trace of expression.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. It's cool though, I'm happy that she's happy. She could use the help, you know. Handling the kids all the time isn't so easy," Potter continues.

I nod again.

"So I'm curious, Severus. Of everyone here, you're the only one who hasn't asked me why me and Ginny didn't work out…," Potter eyes me.

"Why should I?" I question.

"Oh, I don't know… I mean, nah, forget I said anything…," Potter mumbles.

"I am curious though. I just don't like to pry," I say.

"Ah, right. Why waste your time with mundane affairs right… Ha…ha…" Potter nervously ruffles his hair. Normally, I wouldn't press such a topic further, but Potter seems to want to talk about said topic, so I look at him, urging him to continue.

"Well, I guess, things didn't work out because I wasn't the same person she fell in love with. The war changed me," he says and then looks at me.

Ah, the war. I shift uncomfortably.

"I just, after everything, I tried so hard to get things back to how it was before. With us, I mean. I forced it too much. And it didn't work. And I was never there enough for her, I kept drowning myself in work at the Auror's office, trying to forget everything that happened. But I couldn't," Potter mumbles.

"It never goes away does it, Severus?" Potter asks, the moonlight bouncing off his glasses.

"What, Potter?"

"The pain?"

I turn away from him.

"No, it doesn't, Potter. It never goes away," I say.

For a moment, we say nothing. All we can hear is the hooting of owls from the Owlery. Crickets. Damp grass. Wind.

"But you know, Severus. The strangest thing of all?" Potter breaks the silence.

"What might that be?" I turn to him slightly.

"After I left the Auror's office, something kept forcing me back to Hogwarts. Kept pushing me to come back here. And it worked. It was pretty weird at first, being back here and all. But then I started talking to you, and things were different, you know? And it felt better. Like a weight was lifted. You understood, and I never had to say anything," Potter continues.

I am unsure what to say at this point. It almost feels like Potter is pulling words out of my mouth.

I nod. I turn to him. I want to say something, but I'm not sure what.

"We're survivors, Severus. That's all we are. And we make the best of it," Potter speaks with such confidence in his voice, I can almost sense his magical signature pulsing through my veins. I am suddenly aware of how close he is next to me, and how thoroughly unbothered I am of this.

"Exactly," is all I manage to say before I lean in and place my lips upon his, clumsily, hopelessly grasping for more. Potter isn't even startled, it's like he's been expecting this, waiting for me to make the first move. He pushes me backwards and claims my lips, biting gently, his tongue manoeuvring skilfully around my mouth.

When we finally break apart, we're gasping, panting for air. Potter's face is red once more, and I dread to think that mine might be the same shade as well.

Potter smiles sheepishly at me. I realise his entire body is pressed against me. That warm feeling in my chest is back again.

But this time it is too much. It overwhelms me.

I nudge him away gently and struggle to get up in the most dignified way I can.

"What… Severus? Where you…" Potter mumbles, confusedly.

"I apologise," I say and then rush back to the castle as fast as I can, not pausing to look back.