Pride can stand a thousand trials,
The strong will never fall.
But watching stars without you, my soul cries.
Heaving heart, it's full of pain.
Oh, oh, the aching.
cause I'm kissing you. oh.
I'm kissing you, oh.
Touch me deep, pure and true.
Give to me forever.
cause I'm kissing you. oh.
I'm kissing you.
Where are you now?
Where are you now?
cause I'm kissing you.
I'm kissing you. oh.
--'Kissing You' By Des're
We all thought that the strong would never fall. We were all of us so young in so many ways, even Dumbledore did not predict this, or perhaps he thought it was best not to tell us. How naïve we were to think that goodness inheritably won over evil, that the light of our love would blind Voldermort's evil. I no longer fear to say the name since Harry's death. Our naivety cost us dear. How many of us truly considered the possibility of burying The-Boy-Who-Lived, already claimed by the bastard earth before his eighteenth birthday. The war is not yet over and yet---how can we win without him? The very prophets are against us now. Every day the darkness grows stronger, buoyed by the ever-increasing number of witches and wizards that join them every day--whether in fear or gladness, I do not know. There are precious few of the Order left now, and even less with their minds intact. It seems Voldermort doesn't see death as fitting for us. No, what awaits us is much worse than that; an empty life, devoid of happiness or fear or pain. Devoid of the very thing that makes us human: our souls.
And yet you still go to him, my love, knowing that each time the danger of him inflicting this terrible fate upon you increases. For one that values his intelligence so highly, you treat your sanity with almost total disregard. The pain of the Cruciatus has left you almost crippled, and I haven't seen you eat or sleep properly in months. There seems little left of the acerbic wit of the man I love. And you do all this for the freedom of children who used to openly despise you, Snape, the 'greasy git' of the Potions classroom!
That's what I love about you, my darling. I have never known one as selfless as you, not even Harry when he stared death in the face. At least he was returning to the parents that meant so much to him. I wish sometimes, sometimes when I feel weak, that we could just run away together. Run away from this war, run away from the bloodshed and the pain. I cannot bear to bury another of my friends, but my very soul cries to be standing here, watching the stars without you, waiting for a return that's against all odds. I know you would never come with me, though, not while there's still a possibility of you being 'useful'. And even if you would leave Hogwarts, who am I to assume you would want to be with me? I have no claims on your affection, no claims on you except a fragile friendship.
I close my eyes, and your hand cups my cheek. I let out a long breath as your thumb traces the outline of my jaw, and over my moist lips. My hands go to your hair, entangling my fingers in the greasy strands and pulling you closer to me. Your lips touch mine, and I'm kissing you, pressing myself against the warmness of your body. Touch me love. Give yourself to me, forever. I open my eyes to the glittering stars, even as in my heart I'm still kissing you. My heart heaves, full of pain.
Where are you now? Where are you now?