snape/lily; the life span of a flower (or maybe a bat)
the life span of a flower (or maybe a bat)
..........|harry potter; snape/lily; pg; His life has been measured by three things. He wonders what happens when all three of those things are gone.
Life isn't measured by days, years, months.
It's not measured by breaths, either, or cups of coffee like he faintly remembers some old Muggle song saying.
Not his life, at least.
His life has been measured by three things.
He wonders what happens when all three of those things are gone.
.
Number One:
He props himself up on the grass and stares up. He doesn't know what he's looking for (doesn't know if he would see it anyway), but he looks towards the sky and prays for a shooting star, even if it is the middle of the day.
Adjusting his gaze, he then looks down at her.
She smiles and blushes and the tiny freckles littering her nose and cheeks scrunch up, momentarily disappearing.
He loves her smiles, blushes, freckles. He thinks that must be what gauges his breaths: the freckles on her face. If he really concentrates, he can count one, two, three... more dots scattering her skin than stars in the sky, sand on the beach.
He thinks he'll live forever, with her.
It's all too bad when puberty hits and his voice is suddenly higher and her clothes are suddenly too small and his hair oils up and her freckles disappear.
(This time, not momentarily, and suddenly he feels like sand in an hourglass.)
.
Number Two:
He waits on the steps of the Astronomy Tower and hopes she didn't get lost.
Ten minutes later when she comes scurrying in, hair frizzled, robes out of place, throwing apologies left and right like hexes to someone of his kind.
But never to him. She just apologizes to him, and smiles.
He nods her off and smiles himself (one thing that gets more and more frequent when she's around) while she takes a worn potions book out of her shoulder bag.
She opens up the book and turns to page 364 (he marks that number in his head, he thinks it particularly delightful in this situation). Underlining a passage with his finger, he explains it to her and displays mixing the two ingredients with his empty hands.
She stares blankly for a minute before the light bulb flashes and her entire face lights up at the sudden rush of understanding. She apologizes again for not getting it the first time, but he silences her with a kiss.
Horrified at what he'd just done and about to pull away, he relaxes when he realizes she's kissing him back.
He thinks this is what life must be measured by, her kiss.
Like the freckles, though, that goes away as well. She gasps against his lips and pulls back, embarrassed, rushes through her 'thank you' and gathers everything in her bag, scurrying out the door. Though fate is cruel, he can't keep from smiling as her kiss still lingers on his mouth.
It never happens again.
.
Number Three:
He exhales and moves through the crowd of people. Hogsmaede isn't usually this crowded, but it is the weekend before Christmas.
After two years out of Hogwarts he hadn't accomplished much. He went to Hogwarts again for a teaching job, but never actually asked anyone.
He'd rather not thing of that night.
He hadn't spoken to her since they muttered goodbyes from across the Great Hall, wearing nicer robes than usual and heavier hearts than expected. He didn't want to say goodbye. He thinks maybe she did.
Things had never been the same since fifth year, and he didn't try to make them be. Maybe unrequited love is more noble than the rest, but frankly he doesn't care because noble or not, it hurts like hell.
He turns into Flourish and Blotts when he sees it. Down the nonfiction row, he could swear he saw a flash of red hair. But he'd know that hair anywhere.
Three minutes and two breaths later he sees her, smiling brilliantly down at a brand new baby boy, a black haired, gasses-clad wizard standing behind her, smiling just as wide.
Blocking the two boys out of the picture, he thinks this could be what his life is laid out by. Her smiles. The bright flash of teeth and her amber-hued glow as she beams. It reminds him of a star, but it's more beautiful than a star.
Even if it's not meant for him.
.
Three things. His life was measured by three things, all of which have disappeared. Forever. Gone. Just like her.
There's nothing to count his life, he thinks.
But he knows it's unnecessary.
After all, why have something to count what isn't there?
..........|harry potter; snape/lily; pg; His life has been measured by three things. He wonders what happens when all three of those things are gone.
Life isn't measured by days, years, months.
It's not measured by breaths, either, or cups of coffee like he faintly remembers some old Muggle song saying.
Not his life, at least.
His life has been measured by three things.
He wonders what happens when all three of those things are gone.
.
Number One:
He props himself up on the grass and stares up. He doesn't know what he's looking for (doesn't know if he would see it anyway), but he looks towards the sky and prays for a shooting star, even if it is the middle of the day.
Adjusting his gaze, he then looks down at her.
She smiles and blushes and the tiny freckles littering her nose and cheeks scrunch up, momentarily disappearing.
He loves her smiles, blushes, freckles. He thinks that must be what gauges his breaths: the freckles on her face. If he really concentrates, he can count one, two, three... more dots scattering her skin than stars in the sky, sand on the beach.
He thinks he'll live forever, with her.
It's all too bad when puberty hits and his voice is suddenly higher and her clothes are suddenly too small and his hair oils up and her freckles disappear.
(This time, not momentarily, and suddenly he feels like sand in an hourglass.)
.
Number Two:
He waits on the steps of the Astronomy Tower and hopes she didn't get lost.
Ten minutes later when she comes scurrying in, hair frizzled, robes out of place, throwing apologies left and right like hexes to someone of his kind.
But never to him. She just apologizes to him, and smiles.
He nods her off and smiles himself (one thing that gets more and more frequent when she's around) while she takes a worn potions book out of her shoulder bag.
She opens up the book and turns to page 364 (he marks that number in his head, he thinks it particularly delightful in this situation). Underlining a passage with his finger, he explains it to her and displays mixing the two ingredients with his empty hands.
She stares blankly for a minute before the light bulb flashes and her entire face lights up at the sudden rush of understanding. She apologizes again for not getting it the first time, but he silences her with a kiss.
Horrified at what he'd just done and about to pull away, he relaxes when he realizes she's kissing him back.
He thinks this is what life must be measured by, her kiss.
Like the freckles, though, that goes away as well. She gasps against his lips and pulls back, embarrassed, rushes through her 'thank you' and gathers everything in her bag, scurrying out the door. Though fate is cruel, he can't keep from smiling as her kiss still lingers on his mouth.
It never happens again.
.
Number Three:
He exhales and moves through the crowd of people. Hogsmaede isn't usually this crowded, but it is the weekend before Christmas.
After two years out of Hogwarts he hadn't accomplished much. He went to Hogwarts again for a teaching job, but never actually asked anyone.
He'd rather not thing of that night.
He hadn't spoken to her since they muttered goodbyes from across the Great Hall, wearing nicer robes than usual and heavier hearts than expected. He didn't want to say goodbye. He thinks maybe she did.
Things had never been the same since fifth year, and he didn't try to make them be. Maybe unrequited love is more noble than the rest, but frankly he doesn't care because noble or not, it hurts like hell.
He turns into Flourish and Blotts when he sees it. Down the nonfiction row, he could swear he saw a flash of red hair. But he'd know that hair anywhere.
Three minutes and two breaths later he sees her, smiling brilliantly down at a brand new baby boy, a black haired, gasses-clad wizard standing behind her, smiling just as wide.
Blocking the two boys out of the picture, he thinks this could be what his life is laid out by. Her smiles. The bright flash of teeth and her amber-hued glow as she beams. It reminds him of a star, but it's more beautiful than a star.
Even if it's not meant for him.
.
Three things. His life was measured by three things, all of which have disappeared. Forever. Gone. Just like her.
There's nothing to count his life, he thinks.
But he knows it's unnecessary.
After all, why have something to count what isn't there?