Narrative: Severus Snape Who: Severus Snape What: A narrative Where: School grounds When: Recently Warnings/Rating: None to speak of.
The conversation with James, strange as it had been to have the Head Boy apologizing for anything, stuck with him long after it was over, particularly when it came to friendship. Perhaps he had had a friend once upon a time in Lily Evans, but Severus had destroyed that single-handedly with one anger-fueled remark in her direction. He could still remember that moment with pinpoint clarity, burned into his thoughts, his memories, into every moment that he dared to look at her. Severus had known when he said it how deeply those words would hurt, but he had no way of anticipating how long the wound would last. Even Lily had her limits as to what she could and would forgive, it seemed.
The school grounds were vacant, students not having yet arrived en masse for the beginning of term, though they would come shortly. It was a moment of quiet as he walked, kicking at the grass, towards the greenhouse, the gardens filled with plants that he knew like the back of his very own hand. One had to know them if one wanted to excel in potions, and it was the one topic that Severus was truly skilled at. Teachers had remarked that he had a talent for it, and even though he took pride in that, it didn't seem to count for much among some people.
But things were different now. Times had changed, but he had stood still, leaving him to look back on a legacy he had yet to live. Potions Master, it seemed. Headmaster, though for a short time. And then death.
He swallowed hard at that last thought, the finality that waited for him somewhere in the future, and he found it difficult to make sense of it all. He couldn't imagine living that life, being all of those thingsā¦ yet apparently, he was. Somehow.
Brow furrowed and black shoe scuffed at the ground, and Severus continued on, no more at peace than he had been a moment prior.