My River
It was a night, gloomier than others, where not many people would be found out strolling. The river, which was lazily waving, made a distinct spattering sound as a man with onyx lank hair gazed beyond it to the starry sky. His billowing black robes rustled in the cold breeze as he walked leisurely by the waters edge. His shoulders were firm and reserved, showing a man of aloof silence and solidity. He had a soul that could make even the most audacious person dissolve. When his eyes fixed upon you, all coherent thought was lost and he evoked nothing but stutters and silence from your gaping mouth. That's the way I felt when I was with him.
I hesitated as I approached him, quietly crackling the grass as I walked. His silky locks, which were tousled about by the breeze, gave him an almost boyish look. But his expression remained to be unseen, and I was becoming more captivated by his unruffled stance. He had stopped, and was watching the pale moon, reflecting his insipid face. His aquiline, hooked nose was outlined perfectly by the moonlight, and it showed his profile flawlessly. The thin line of his mouth showed his harshness, and when it was curled vaguely, the sneer was because of someone's lack of knowledge or insolence. That sneer was frequently directed toward me, more so when I tried to speak to him in a refined and courteous manner.
A rock seemed to find it humorous to wedge my foot, and I stumbled forward, only a few feet away from his tall, pompous stance. His inclined head to the side told me that he had heard the stagger, and my heart raced as fast as a hummingbird's wings. His detached gaze turned upon me and he stalked toward my quivering form. I blamed it on the bitter wind, but knew it was because of him.
"Are you following me?" he asked in a velvety, dangerous voice, so deep it vibrated my heart like an earthquake had just occurred.
My lip trembled as I strove to find a reply in my ostensibly vacant head. I felt faint and weak, and his intent gaze wasn't helping me recover from my distress. Why am I here? Was I following him? I brushed my blond curls from my face, which were disheveled and cluttered.
"I . . . I was taking a walk," I stuttered as I kicked myself inwardly for sounding so idiotic.
My voice sounded abnormally high, and his dark brow arched at my odd behavior. My fingernails were digging into my palms as I clenched my fists, and it left marks shaped like half moons.
"It is midnight," he said as he tilted his head to the side, his shoulder-length hair brushing the surface of his soft face.
I suddenly regained my composure and managed to come up with a sarcastic reply, "So it is."
His other eyebrow arched, and the glass of my poise was shattered. I felt my face burning up and my heart, which was beating faster than ever, appeared to have sprouted fins and swam away.
"And why are you strolling around at such a late hour?" he purred, his voice like a comforting quilt that enclosed my shivering body.
"I should be asking you the same question," I boldly said, my equanimity reclaimed once again.
"It is none of your concern," he snapped suddenly, my eyes widening at the abrupt, razor-sharp remark.
I advanced on him more, not able to prevent myself from doing so. I felt like a fish flopping into a bear cave, or a mouse scampering into a snake pit. . The latter seemed much more suitable since this man reminded me of a venomous viper. I blamed my abnormal courage on his unfathomable personality, causing me to study him more directly. I don't know what I was trying to figure out as I gazed deep into his black, bottomless pools. Perhaps I wanted an explanation as to why I am drawn toward him so easily, or why I was so fascinated by his malice. I wanted to know him, to understand him, to love him. And as I stared, I swore I saw a hint of glitter blaze up into his eyes. My heart rejoiced. Of all the fights that we have had, the disagreements, the insults, I knew he felt the same way. I prayed to the heavens that I wasn't reading him wrong.
By the gently waving river we stood, and I wrapped my arms around his tall frame on impulse. He didn't resist, holding me to him as his long arms encircled my waist. I knew him, he knew me. He is my inexplicable friend, my sinister love. He will always adjust and change, like a river surging rapidly during storms and then soothingly on silent nights. And tonight the river was dreamily flowing; content and reassured, just like him. Severus Snape is my river . . . and will forever flow through my heart.
It was a night, gloomier than others, where not many people would be found out strolling. The river, which was lazily waving, made a distinct spattering sound as a man with onyx lank hair gazed beyond it to the starry sky. His billowing black robes rustled in the cold breeze as he walked leisurely by the waters edge. His shoulders were firm and reserved, showing a man of aloof silence and solidity. He had a soul that could make even the most audacious person dissolve. When his eyes fixed upon you, all coherent thought was lost and he evoked nothing but stutters and silence from your gaping mouth. That's the way I felt when I was with him.
I hesitated as I approached him, quietly crackling the grass as I walked. His silky locks, which were tousled about by the breeze, gave him an almost boyish look. But his expression remained to be unseen, and I was becoming more captivated by his unruffled stance. He had stopped, and was watching the pale moon, reflecting his insipid face. His aquiline, hooked nose was outlined perfectly by the moonlight, and it showed his profile flawlessly. The thin line of his mouth showed his harshness, and when it was curled vaguely, the sneer was because of someone's lack of knowledge or insolence. That sneer was frequently directed toward me, more so when I tried to speak to him in a refined and courteous manner.
A rock seemed to find it humorous to wedge my foot, and I stumbled forward, only a few feet away from his tall, pompous stance. His inclined head to the side told me that he had heard the stagger, and my heart raced as fast as a hummingbird's wings. His detached gaze turned upon me and he stalked toward my quivering form. I blamed it on the bitter wind, but knew it was because of him.
"Are you following me?" he asked in a velvety, dangerous voice, so deep it vibrated my heart like an earthquake had just occurred.
My lip trembled as I strove to find a reply in my ostensibly vacant head. I felt faint and weak, and his intent gaze wasn't helping me recover from my distress. Why am I here? Was I following him? I brushed my blond curls from my face, which were disheveled and cluttered.
"I . . . I was taking a walk," I stuttered as I kicked myself inwardly for sounding so idiotic.
My voice sounded abnormally high, and his dark brow arched at my odd behavior. My fingernails were digging into my palms as I clenched my fists, and it left marks shaped like half moons.
"It is midnight," he said as he tilted his head to the side, his shoulder-length hair brushing the surface of his soft face.
I suddenly regained my composure and managed to come up with a sarcastic reply, "So it is."
His other eyebrow arched, and the glass of my poise was shattered. I felt my face burning up and my heart, which was beating faster than ever, appeared to have sprouted fins and swam away.
"And why are you strolling around at such a late hour?" he purred, his voice like a comforting quilt that enclosed my shivering body.
"I should be asking you the same question," I boldly said, my equanimity reclaimed once again.
"It is none of your concern," he snapped suddenly, my eyes widening at the abrupt, razor-sharp remark.
I advanced on him more, not able to prevent myself from doing so. I felt like a fish flopping into a bear cave, or a mouse scampering into a snake pit. . The latter seemed much more suitable since this man reminded me of a venomous viper. I blamed my abnormal courage on his unfathomable personality, causing me to study him more directly. I don't know what I was trying to figure out as I gazed deep into his black, bottomless pools. Perhaps I wanted an explanation as to why I am drawn toward him so easily, or why I was so fascinated by his malice. I wanted to know him, to understand him, to love him. And as I stared, I swore I saw a hint of glitter blaze up into his eyes. My heart rejoiced. Of all the fights that we have had, the disagreements, the insults, I knew he felt the same way. I prayed to the heavens that I wasn't reading him wrong.
By the gently waving river we stood, and I wrapped my arms around his tall frame on impulse. He didn't resist, holding me to him as his long arms encircled my waist. I knew him, he knew me. He is my inexplicable friend, my sinister love. He will always adjust and change, like a river surging rapidly during storms and then soothingly on silent nights. And tonight the river was dreamily flowing; content and reassured, just like him. Severus Snape is my river . . . and will forever flow through my heart.