Backuped up Statuses
Severus sat alone under a drooping pine tree on the far side of the lake. The dusk was overtaking the sky in red, and he stared into the fading day with his mouth half open. He had brewed Amortentia yesterday, and it was the worst possible news of his life. He kept seeing red in everything. In the sinking sun, in a quill across the room, the spectral brush of Gryffindor curtains. He was haunted by this news of her, possessed, by the scent of her shampoo. He remembered the imprint of her cheeks between his palms so vividly he knew the contours of her face with his eyes closed. He was terrified, struck, frozen in fear in the face of this monstrous force. Love was a magic untamed and inexpressible, impossible to harness and impossible to escape. Snape's bony fingers gripped his cheeks as if entrapping himself in a cage, peering through the bars of his fingers. He felt imprisoned by the pull of her eyes, his father's blood, his obsession with power. He had been stretched far into different directions, none of them quite being enough. Power was not enough. His inheritance was not enough. The life she wanted for him-- not enough. The red sun grazed the boy's pale cheekbones veiling him in the color of fire or of blood. He had heard the news that she was dating James Potter, and he didn't know what to say. He was angry at her, and he was angry at himself. He felt he had lost her, and he also felt this was some sort of jab at him-- choosing the worst person in the entire school to be with. A nail in the coffin of whatever they shared. And so, this, compiled on Severus's plans to lay claim on his family name and their cause, made the fragrance of his Amortentia the worst news he could receive.
Severus exited the classroom, hearing the rush of gossip slowly wash over him like an oncoming wave. His skinny fingers gripped his backpack strap until they were white as he descended the Grand Staircase. His nostrils flared. He was angry again, but not just at her, but at himself. When he had called her that -slur,- for the first several weeks, he couldn't stop thinking about it. He would dream of the moment over and over, the moment he had turned away from her. He remembered it, James Potter's voice in his head, facing the poison within him like a great black sun, and letting himself be consumed by it. As he went over it again and again, he never quite knew what came over him. All he felt was anger, the need to strike out, to attack anyone. When she came to his defense, he felt that anger turn towards her-- that she could defend someone so helpless as he. He didn't deserve it, pathetically hanging by his ankles about to have his trouser trousers* snatched off. And, he felt, she didn't deserve it either-- to have to continue to associate herself with this laughing stock, this strange, ugly boy, to defend her actions every time she went to meet that awful Slytherin. And so for a moment, he had slipped, everything came out. The fury. The darkness. He wanted everyone around him to just go away. Snape's robes billowed behind him as he made his way towards the place he had been spending most of his time lately: the pines of the Forbidden Forest. He ducked under the moist underhangings, a soft rain beginning to fall. His backpack fell with a thud, and he kicked a nearby log violently. It was half-rotten, and burst into bits. Damn it all. Damn everyone. Damn James Potter. Damn Tobias, and Silvius, and everyone. Severus himself sat on the ground, his face upturned towards the sky. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed. And most of all, damn the fact that he was in love with her. That he had always been in love with her. Damn her perfume, damn her furious, beautiful eyes. Damn her righteousness and her absolute goodness-- that she should have ever spent even a moment of her life with him.
Severus sat under the pines for a long time. The rest of the day passed in a blur. He had missed all his classes. But he didn't care, as the sky remained its dismal gray-- the color of sorrow, his mother used to say. It seemed that the heavens were always sad then. Snape's robes were dampened, and he stood up and ducked back under the brush of needles. As he made his way back to Hogwarts, he looked up at the great spires rising above the hills. He both loved this place, and hated it. Here, he grew into a version of himself he never thought possible. But he had lost a lot as well. He wanted to leave so desperately now, to take his degree and go. He wanted to begin a life-- one where his name had more weight to it. He wanted to escape the poverty he had grow up in.
When he looked in Lily's eyes earlier, he felt a great pang, not only because of his feelings for her, but because he was suddenly acutely aware that he was leaving something behind. It was more than this school, more than the classes and the homework-- he was leaving a version of himself behind. A past. A childhood. An innocence Somewhere there was a boy version of him exploring seas of grass with her. Who closed his eyes as she sped down highways, who savored her laughter and smiled for the first time. He looked at her, and he felt something so familiar, something sweet and painful at the same time, sinking into his ribs. He knew after they graduated, everything would change. There would be no going back. The future lay before him like some terrifying void, a large expanse of blackness he had to reach his hands through to navigate. He didn't know how he would do it. Severus's hands dug deep into his pockets as he passed one of the outdoor sitting areas. There it was again, the flash of red, like a ghost in his peripherals. He knew she was there, and he froze.