four drabbles
Severus/Sirius behind the
1: There are hands, there are prayers.
I stood in a church - an unbeliever, a magician - watching dark hair hiding a bowed head, his long fingers pressed together in supplication. The air was rich with incense instead of blood, and he prayed useless muggle prayers to a god that couldn't hear him.
When he left I followed him, and when he stood in his potions room, stirring and incanting, I wondered why I did. Little ghost that is not, I have eternity to ponder the workings of Snape's mind. The others hurt too much to watch, and so I'm drawn to him, like a fly to carrion.
2 : Sins Of The Dead
Sometimes I like to think it was me who died that day. That all that was left inside me was burnt clean with the killing curse - a walking corpse.
It's not true, and I can add Albus' death to my list of sins. A meaningless sacrifice, for the Dark Lord still doesn't trust me. Not with Bella whispering in his ear, casting her poisoned doubts before him.
Instead, I'm left with the ghost of Narcissa's vow - in the form of Draco - and the haunted feeling that no matter what I do, someone is always watching, judging, and finding me lacking.
3 : Parsimony
Red is the colour of my true love's heart. I know this because it's sitting there on the tray. Actually, there's something very prosaic about a heart splayed open; a raw muscle, some tubes. I poke at it with the tip of my wand, wondering if somehow, I could re-animate it; make it pulse alone on the polished silver of my mother's tea tray. Bile rises in my throat and I make it to the sink just in time.
The water is cold, metallic, rinsing out the taste of acid and disgust. I turn back to my work table and select a cauldron of glass, no bigger than my cupped hand, and incendio a flame beneath it. Hearts are powerful things, and I know just what to use it for.
4 : Old Wounds
Darkness gives shadows life, and raises old ghosts. Severus is tempted to light a candle, even though he knows it would merely throw the shadows into clearer focus. There's no sleep tonight, not with memories pressing in from all sides; clamouring. Finally, he gives into the inevitable and whispers the candles into flame.
One of the shadows looks like Sirius, and Severus jerks instinctively, half-raising his arms to shield his face before he remembers that Sirius, like so many others, is already dead. Sectumsempra dies on his tongue, and deep inside, there's a part of him that forgives Potter.
1: There are hands, there are prayers.
I stood in a church - an unbeliever, a magician - watching dark hair hiding a bowed head, his long fingers pressed together in supplication. The air was rich with incense instead of blood, and he prayed useless muggle prayers to a god that couldn't hear him.
When he left I followed him, and when he stood in his potions room, stirring and incanting, I wondered why I did. Little ghost that is not, I have eternity to ponder the workings of Snape's mind. The others hurt too much to watch, and so I'm drawn to him, like a fly to carrion.
2 : Sins Of The Dead
Sometimes I like to think it was me who died that day. That all that was left inside me was burnt clean with the killing curse - a walking corpse.
It's not true, and I can add Albus' death to my list of sins. A meaningless sacrifice, for the Dark Lord still doesn't trust me. Not with Bella whispering in his ear, casting her poisoned doubts before him.
Instead, I'm left with the ghost of Narcissa's vow - in the form of Draco - and the haunted feeling that no matter what I do, someone is always watching, judging, and finding me lacking.
3 : Parsimony
Red is the colour of my true love's heart. I know this because it's sitting there on the tray. Actually, there's something very prosaic about a heart splayed open; a raw muscle, some tubes. I poke at it with the tip of my wand, wondering if somehow, I could re-animate it; make it pulse alone on the polished silver of my mother's tea tray. Bile rises in my throat and I make it to the sink just in time.
The water is cold, metallic, rinsing out the taste of acid and disgust. I turn back to my work table and select a cauldron of glass, no bigger than my cupped hand, and incendio a flame beneath it. Hearts are powerful things, and I know just what to use it for.
4 : Old Wounds
Darkness gives shadows life, and raises old ghosts. Severus is tempted to light a candle, even though he knows it would merely throw the shadows into clearer focus. There's no sleep tonight, not with memories pressing in from all sides; clamouring. Finally, he gives into the inevitable and whispers the candles into flame.
One of the shadows looks like Sirius, and Severus jerks instinctively, half-raising his arms to shield his face before he remembers that Sirius, like so many others, is already dead. Sectumsempra dies on his tongue, and deep inside, there's a part of him that forgives Potter.