Disclaimer: I don't own anybody, apart from the muggle narrator, who has no real importance. The song lyrics are from Tim Burtons 'The Corpse Bride.'

NB: Please review. It's nearly Christmas!

Veiled

I tried to save him, honest I did. I did nothing but try in the three months before that night.

Nobody had ever meant as much to him as Lucius did, and he'd rather believe his own lies than believe that the pale man on the cold slab in front of him was the person he'd loved for fifteen years. Everyone tried to convince him that Lucius was dead, he attended the funeral, he was even the one to identify the body for Christ's sake! But he refused to believe.

It was like someone had dropped a veil over his face to filter out anything he didn't want to see, like when you watch a horror film with your hands over your face, gazing through chinks in your fingers, ready to snap them shut at the scary parts. He carried on with his life in blind, ignorant bliss.

When I went to see him on that night he was rushing round the kitchen, humming along with a song on the radio. He invited me in and welcomed me distractedly before hurrying off to tend to a pan of pasta. My stomach lurched when I saw the table, set for two, as if waiting expectantly for the arrival of Banquo's ghost. He returned to the dining room and began lighting candles.

"I'd offer you a drink but Lucius should be here soon. He had to cancel last week, couldn't get a babysitter. I'm cooking him a meal…" He rambled on aimlessly, seemingly unaware of what he was saying. At sixteen, Draco had no need for a babysitter, and even if he did Lucius had been dead for three months.

"Severus?"

"Yeah?" His smile stayed plastered to his face, but his eyes begged me not to say anything, not to wake him from his fantasy world where he'd spend the evening with his lover and fall asleep to the sound of his heart beat. I smiled shakily.

"Have a good evening." His smile became more convincing and he chatted to me idly before bidding me farewell. As I walked slowly back to my car, I turned around and saw him through the window, talking animatedly to thin air. That was the last time I saw Severus Snape.

Alive, anyway.

Bdbdbdbdbdb

And I fell my heart is aching

Though it doesn't beat it's breaking

And the pain that I feel

Try and tell me it's not real

And I know I may be dead

But it seems that I still have a tear to shed

I look down at Severus and am overwhelmed with grief. I laugh emptily at the thought that the dead can mourn the living, if I dare to call Severus' condition 'living'.

I lie down beside him and feel his heart beating, longing for mine to imitate its steady thud. He shivers and pulls the covers up to his chin, although his skin feels like it's burning to me.

I sit back up and watch a tear fall silently down his pale cheek. I try to wipe it away but it freezes at my touch. He rolls onto his back and opens his eyes sleepily.

"Lucius?" His voice is quiet and he looks confused. I smile down at him.

"Hey, babe. How are you?"

"Why are you so cold?" My smile wavers and I rearrange my robes to hide the stab wound in my side.

"It doesn't matter. Just go back to sleep." He turns back onto his side and closes his eyes.

"Where have you been?" He mutters thickly, vainly fighting off sleep. "I've been waiting for ages. They told me you were dead…"

"Ssh. Ignore them. You just have to wait a little while longer." He goes to sleep and I gaze at him for a moment before tenderly touching his face, savouring the warmth for the last time.

Bdbdbdbdbdbd

When I was called to Severus' house at eleven the next morning I cried before I was even told what had happened.

Nobody knew that Severus was so depressed, and certainly not suicidal, but if he could lie so effectively to himself why would we?

Dobby found him, hanging in his bedroom by the chandelier. It took me half an hour to summon the courage to walk into the room, despite having been a police officer for fifteen years and seen far worse than that. Everyone agreed that it was suicide. There was nothing to suggest otherwise.

The only strange parts were the blue-black patches on his skin, where his flesh was chilled throughout, and the frozen tear on his cheek. Nobody could explain it, we still can't, but I doubt it was of any importance.

I stood by the window and looked down on the street as they took the body away. I thought I saw two faded people, one dark-haired the other fair, walking hand in hand away from the house, but when I looked again they were gone, leaving the people on the street to pull their coats tighter around themselves and exclaim bitterly of the cold.