A Bridge to Nowhere
A/N: just a short little thing... um, yeah... just read.
We fell in love.
Albus was a meddling old fool. A romantic, meddling, old fool. He never lets it be when it's in his power to play matchmaker.
The oddest thing, is that it worked.
I needed someone to chase away the demons and nightmares, though I'd never admit it.
He needed someone to let him know he was loved, and not for what he was, but who he was.
We were mislead.
Albus, the omniscient, old fool that he was, should have known. He should have seen what would happen after everything was finished with. After the prophecy had been fulfilled.
But, then again, those closest to the Minister didn't even know. Not that there was much Dumbledore could do, being dead and all.
I blame myself, and he blames himself. We should have known, we should have figured it out before the day they came to our door.
We didn't, but we still managed to put up one hell of a fight.
We did them a favor.
They're just like Voldemort, just more subtle about it. Much, much more subtle.
The general populace thinks that we have become reclusive, that the war haunts us, even now.
They don't know the half of it. We're not reclusive, we're imprisoned.
They knew we'd see them for what they really were, and they knew we would have defeated them as well.
They couldn't have that.
So they imprisoned us here, in Azkaban, a cell apart.
They let us live able to see each other, but unable to touch. They let us live so that we're haunted by the war. They let us live so that we suffer with the knowledge that with our love, trust, and power we built a bridge to nowhere.
A/N: Um... yeah... Just tell me what you think. This is actually *cough*Snarry*cough*.