Disclaimer: Not mine.
He stares out of the window, a cold smile touching his lips. The grounds are deserted — not even the most foolish Gryffindors venture out on a day like today. A cold wind buffets him as he steps outside, causing his black cloak to billow out behind him as he walks down toward the lake.
The wind whips up now-brown leaves, forming a tiny maelstrom around him. On an impulse, he reaches up and snatches one from the air. It crackles satisfyingly as he crushes it in his hand, then lets the pieces fall to the ground.
It is bitingly cold, what with the constant wind. Down at the lake, a thin sheet of ice can be seen along the water's edge, although the center is still open and unfrozen. Its steely surface is made choppy by the relentless gusts.
He must look impressive, standing tall here on a boulder above the lake, wind whipping his cloak and hair out behind him. It thrums in his ears and through his blood, blocking out the fiery ache that still remains from this morning's Cruciatus.
He turns his gaze to the sky, a nondescript gray. Leaves are being whipped about high above him, carried away in a swirling cloud. He knows they will return to earth eventually, somewhere. He likes to think, though — it's not that he's given to fantasies, he's certainly not given to fantasies — but he does like to think that those old brown leaves are swept into that mass of gray and vanish, never to be seen again.
It's not that he believes in heaven. He's not sure if he's ever believed in heaven. It's just that sometimes, he wishes for nothing more than to be an old, dried-up leaf, blowing away in the cold November wind.
A/N: The challenge for this one was "Snape's favorite time of year." One of my friends wrote an insane piece about Snape dancing around his office singing Christmas carols . . . whatever fits your image of Snape, I suppose. . . . Anyway. I'm sorry for my absence; it is explained on my LiveJournal. Please review; I cannot impress upon you enough how much I love reviews. Except please don't just say "Very Interesting" or "that was interesting . . ." because it leaves me in doubt as to whether you mean you found it intellectually stimulating or very strange. Just be honest. Oh, and don't think you have to be all stuffy about it. I promise you, I'm not some person at a high level of society that you need to suck up to. Anyway. Review responses can be found on my LiveJournal ("homepage" link on my profile), usually within a week, sometimes much later, in which case I apologise profusely. Either way — please review.