Looking In
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For Matthew, and those who adore the secret life of Severus Snape.
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"Stupid cat," Harry grumbled as he walked through the dimly lit halls of the lower levels of Hogwarts, irritated that Filch's cat always seemed to be everywhere at once. The cat focused her red eyes on him momentarily and finally turned and left, uninterested.
Classes had all but finished for the day, and Harry was wandering aimlessly, trying to gather his thoughts. He pondered many things: his relationships with Hermione, Draco, Ron, and Dumbledore; what to do about Sirius; his schoolwork; and his parents. Memories collided and stirred up emotions, but Harry kept himself composed, taking idle steps through the dank corridors.
In the end, he found himself deep underground, surrounded by the faint sound of sobbing. Startled, he paused, listening more closely to determine the source.
Further down the hall. A room on the left. Harry proceeded with caution, taking care not to make a sound, not to let his robes rustle together or against the floor. He reached the doorway that was cracked open, a single candle lighting the interior of the room. He peered inside to what awaited.
Snape sat in his classroom, papers thrown about and his figure slouched on top of his desk. The solitary candle stood like a sentinel beside him, unwavering. He lifted his face from the haven of his hands and breathed a deep sigh. Trails of tears covered his cheeks and chin and the sides of his prominent nose.
What could Severus Snape weep for?
Snape rested his chin in his hand, turning his face away from the doorway and his hair, long and dark, fell to protect his profile. He ran his other hand through his hair and pinched the bridge of his nose, squinting as if with pain. With somber, deliberate movements, he gathered his papers together in a pile on the side of his desk and rested his palms on the cold surface of his workspace. As he stood, he let his head fall back, his eyes slipped shut, and he remained silent for a moment, thinking.
Harry noticed the man had begun to approach the door slowly so he moved to let the corner of the door's alcove conceal his presence. Quietly, the door clicked shut.
On the inside, Severus Snape leaned against the heavy wooden door, more tears escaping his long lashes.
Harry, knowing what had happened was done, retreated the way he had arrived. Up the stairs. Past moving paintings, past the trickle of students leaving their last classes, past windows letting the sound of steady rain against their panes seep through to ears that listened.
