"You're the Truth, Not I" - Snarry (sorta), PG
Author: shakethebones / conclusivelead.
Fandom: Harry Potter.
Genre: Drabble - Angst/Drama/Romance
Rating: PG.
Word Count: 493.
Spoilers: Well, I think by now just about everyone has read the books, so…. And if you haven’t finished the series by now and you're a fanfic reader, well…you had the rest ruined for you long before you started reading this.
Challenge/Inspiration: x_puppetstrings at Livejournal requested. What Snuffles wants, Snuffles gets. Sorry it’s so angsty, Momo. D:
Suggested Listening: Air (G-String) - Bach. For some reason, this song reminds me of Snape.
Summary: “Severus can’t feel his fingers.” A dying Severus Snape looks into Harry’s eyes. Introspective; vague; open to interpretation.
Note: Oh geez. And this was SUPPOSED to be a smutty little Snarry fic. D: Epic fail.
YOU’RE THE TRUTH, NOT I.
A Harry Potter fanfic
Severus can’t feel his fingers.
For some reason, this thought - that his fingers are numb but somehow not cold - is the thought that prevails above all others. He moves them, but doesn’t feel them. They are clenched tightly around a handful of fabric, and he is distantly aware that the fingernails of his other hand are digging into his palms.
The floor is hard against his back, and there is a nail that has come loose from the floorboards. It digs into his spine in a way that should have been painful, but manages to only be vaguely discomforting.
A face floats in front of his. Hair as dark as jet - for a moment, all Severus sees is James and his first instinct is to reach up and force his fist into the man’s face. But the fog surrounding his vision slowly begins to clear and he sees that it is Harry who is kneeling above him, not James.
Oh, wait. That’s right.
James is dead.
A million things rush through his mind - James Potter is dead, Lily is dead, Sirius Black is dead, Albus is dead, Harry Potter is staring at him, horrified, and that damned nail is threatening to tear through his robes and into his skin.
Severus can’t feel his fingers.
A small sound that is something like a gasp and more like a sob manages to recapture his attention. Oh, he’d almost forgotten - Harry. Severus’ eyes focus and unfocus and then focus again until he is looking up into wide, shocked green eyes that send a strange sort of thrill through him, a thrill that rushes up his spine and then down again, through his ribs toward a place that very well could be his heart.
Harry’s eyes are large for a boy’s. Large and wide and fringed by thick black lashes - they are Lily’s eyes, on the different face of a different person. But…somehow this analogy is wrong. This IS Lily’s face, but James’ face too - and also Harry’s.
Harry IS Lily. Harry IS James. Harry Potter is a lot of things, Severus realizes suddenly, just as his cloudy vision begins to darken and the venom that is pulsing through his veins begins to make more than just his fingers numb.
More than just a carbon copy of his father (which Severus knows he really isn’t) and more than just a boy with his mother’s eyes and irrefutable kind spirit (which Severus knows he has). Harry Potter is a strange composite of all the things he’d ever refused to acknowledge in James and all of the things he’d loved in Lily.
Severus can’t feel his fingers.
His numb, numb fingers twist in the fabric of Harry’s robes and the very last intensity he feels he has inside his cold, hurting body is alight in his eyes.
“Look…at…me…”
And finally - FINALLY - Harry really, truly does.
Severus can’t feel anything.
END