Three-Drabble Arc Giftfic: Hope
Happy birthday, McKay! You've done so much for our ship, and I am incredibly grateful for your organizing the Snupin Santa thing -- it got me back into writing fic, and it has most certainly been *far* too long.
Since my grattitude and happy birthday wishes are simply inexpressible, I leave you with a small token of my appreciation: a little three-drabble arc I managed to whip up just in time. Hope you enjoy.
Title: Hope
Author: SinicalSarchasm
Words: 300
Rating: Sadly, G or at most PG for angsty manlove. No smut. :<
Summary: One New Year's eve, Severus reflects on losses, choices, and hope.
Author's Notes: Giftfic for McKay. Happy birthday. X-Posted in lupin_snape.
Severus Snape was not a man to hope.
Hope implies possibility; possibility implies choice. And between Albus and Voldemort, a man had very, very little choice.
So why in the name of all things holy Severus had taken it up with a poor, broken werewolf who was everything Severus wanted and everything he knew he couldn’t keep? Why love a man who is certain to loathe you in a matter of months?
Maybe because, when given so little choice, a man has to take what he can get.
Maybe because, for once in his life, Severus had dared to hope.
Even after the whole sordid affair, Severus knew that, with a few choice words, he could have Remus back.
Remus had learned from Sirius. Remus would believe him.
A fool might mistake the thought for hope. Severus knew it was salt in the wound.
What if he were caught? Remus is no Occlumens. The noise sounded in Severus’ own head, but the voice was Albus’. Your sacrifice mustn’t be in vain.
For a man who had talked so much about choices, and love, it was funny how little of these Albus had left Severus. Funny, and a little bit sad.
Midnight fast approaches. Huddled quiet outside, surrounded by too many wards and hiding from a world he is trying to save, Severus watches the moon rise and remembers.
He takes out the two glasses he and Remus had used to get smashed last New Years Eve and carefully decants a ninteenth-century vintage champagne. He drinks, for both of them, hoping that, some faraway year, he might not need to.
It is a waste of fine wine, and Severus feels like sneering at the tepid sentimentality.
But, one night out of the year, even the most wretched are allowed to hope.
Since my grattitude and happy birthday wishes are simply inexpressible, I leave you with a small token of my appreciation: a little three-drabble arc I managed to whip up just in time. Hope you enjoy.
Title: Hope
Author: SinicalSarchasm
Words: 300
Rating: Sadly, G or at most PG for angsty manlove. No smut. :<
Summary: One New Year's eve, Severus reflects on losses, choices, and hope.
Author's Notes: Giftfic for McKay. Happy birthday. X-Posted in lupin_snape.
Severus Snape was not a man to hope.
Hope implies possibility; possibility implies choice. And between Albus and Voldemort, a man had very, very little choice.
So why in the name of all things holy Severus had taken it up with a poor, broken werewolf who was everything Severus wanted and everything he knew he couldn’t keep? Why love a man who is certain to loathe you in a matter of months?
Maybe because, when given so little choice, a man has to take what he can get.
Maybe because, for once in his life, Severus had dared to hope.
Even after the whole sordid affair, Severus knew that, with a few choice words, he could have Remus back.
Remus had learned from Sirius. Remus would believe him.
A fool might mistake the thought for hope. Severus knew it was salt in the wound.
What if he were caught? Remus is no Occlumens. The noise sounded in Severus’ own head, but the voice was Albus’. Your sacrifice mustn’t be in vain.
For a man who had talked so much about choices, and love, it was funny how little of these Albus had left Severus. Funny, and a little bit sad.
Midnight fast approaches. Huddled quiet outside, surrounded by too many wards and hiding from a world he is trying to save, Severus watches the moon rise and remembers.
He takes out the two glasses he and Remus had used to get smashed last New Years Eve and carefully decants a ninteenth-century vintage champagne. He drinks, for both of them, hoping that, some faraway year, he might not need to.
It is a waste of fine wine, and Severus feels like sneering at the tepid sentimentality.
But, one night out of the year, even the most wretched are allowed to hope.