What if Severus and Hermione were personified as seasons?
What will Severus be?
And Hermione...
This is a one-shot, featuring our favourite pairing of SSHG, with Severus as the dreaded depressed and drool Winter. Hermione is the charming ever-loving Summer. Harry with his unpredictable torrents of anger, soothing showers of sympathy and understanding and whirlwinds of heroism, is Rain. Ron with the characteristic mop of red hair, that sunny yellow personality and the orange jumpers of familial affection is Autumn. Ginny, is untamed and soaring , be on a broom or in her belief for Harry. She is undeniably Sky.
Tell me who do you think Spring could be...
Love to hear your comments.
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This story is about two people- Winter and Summer . One dejected and alone. The other hopeful and welcoming.
North Wind is shunned. His cold and chill keep people at bay. The more he tries, the more arid he seems to be. His heart is frozen and rigid. He can survive the harshest of conditions but never will crack. He has resilience against nature. The primordial Earth himself. But resilience also against the fragrance of spring.
Summer Breeze is joyful and abounding. She is warm and understanding. And though she never can withstand the changing conditions and flows as if bare and wild, she has a beautiful soul which she carries wherever she flows. She infuses life and compassion. For everyone and anyone. She'll welcome Spring and play with Rain and leave a spicy, flowery scent in her wake.
Winter with his rigidity and pale milky, pallor seems to have sapped all emotion, all joy, all that makes life worth living.
Summer sees him from afar. She sees the whiteness at the break of dawn, the pearly glow of the fabled Moon and a shimmering star-studded crown in those pointed icy tips. And seeing all this, pales her colours in comparison, for it is the glassy lake that reflects all her colours and joy. Beneath his icy exterior, bubbles a spectrum of colours, all wondrous and joyful. Though he appeared unapproachable, there simmered within him a yearning for acceptance. The cold harsh snow gave a rainbow of colours which made for her a glorious evening dress of pink and peach, purple and indigo, without which she would be ghostly and dead.
And moved with such austerity and simplicity she left the garden of Spring, bid adieu to her dearest friend- Rain. Though Sky called and Autumn pleaded, she didn't turn back. She saw the frost dripping from the Prickly Pine, Slippery Spruce and Dreary Deodar and marvelled at those thorns which did not let the cold settle on the trees and instead made them glisten like dew in the morning sun. Though lost from her familiar abode and traipsing in hidden land, she selected an arid and bare glacier to rest by.
Winter, till then in a deep sleep, awoke when the sky turned pink with streaks of scarlet and orange and birds twittered cheerfully. Never had he listened such music and never seen such a sight! For the edges of the glacier were no longer ragged and pointy but sparkling like smooth glass. The air was light with warmth and though there could be no night for there was no day, he saw magic like crystal, swirling around him. And he cried at the beauty of it all!
No one ever asked if he wanted to wish the sun, greet the Rain or smell the flowers. They thought he was heartless. How he wished it were true! For he had a heart which beat and thumped but without the warmth of acceptance was frozen. He trained his ice sleets like soldiers of war: to be rigid and together. If they fought or separated, it would wreak havoc on children's playgrounds, flooding then with teeth-chattering cold water. But keeping them all restrained made him pale, old and unlikeable. No one talked to him or sent a happy word.
Until today!
He felt around him lovely flowers, rubbing their eyes as if woken from a blissful dream; tender leaves curling and yawning and the sky stretching with red-rimmed eyes. Like golden sand in an hourglass, the world became gay and ripened with sweet smiles.
Summer and Winter struck a friendship and from this comradery, a melody was born. She was the Song that gave life to all beings, made them lively and strong, sincere and hardworking and charming and compassionate. And when Winter grew his sparkling thorns and bore into beings and sprang forth tears, Summer caressed them into dew drops that gingerly hung from grass at mornings.
The pale prim snow,
Ne'er captured thy beauty.
Summer aglow,
Fancied, left its duty.
The chilling frost,
Like biting raw intellect.
The summer breeze lost,
Cold glaciers to select.
The arid Tundra weeping,
Like Melting land.
Fragrance latent sleeping,
Ripened golden sand.
The Summer Wind mated,
Music, Life reborn.
Caressed sated,
Dew from tears at morn.
I live for reviews.
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