Feelings
Severus stared at the letter, sitting criss-cross on his bed. He didn’t know where Dahlia was, but he was embarrassed. He hated people seeing him when he was sick, or injured, or just vulnerable.
And what was even more embarrassing was that he couldn’t stop staring at her, how pretty she looked when she smiled, and how her gray eyes seemed to sparkle whenever she was happy. He couldn't stop looking at her hair, how curly and golden it was, how lovely she looked whenever he sees her.
It all started the summer before Albus was killed. 1995. The year before had been really, really hectic. The Dark Lord was absolutely furious over the fact that Harry Potter escaped alive yet again and he didn’t have the prophecy, so he tortured everyone. The closer you were to him, the more you got tortured. Severus was one of the Dark Lord’s favorites. The whole year, he struggled with his health. Dahlia, the Order’s Healer, spent nearly every hour with him, trying to nurse him back to health. Each time he got better, he would get set back.
So they grew closer. And closer. And closer.
Severus began to love her.
When Albus revealed to Severus that the boy was going to die, Severus had had just about it. He began to hate Albus. Severus watched his memories each day, wondering, wondering, if it was worth it. Because was it?
Of course it was, for Lily. But the more he watched his own memories, the more his love for Lily began to falter.
He suddenly noticed all of the small details.
That smile, when he was hoisted in the air after his O.W.L.S? Who smiles when their best friend is getting bullied in front of the whole school?
He hadn’t noticed it before. And when he did, it felt like a punch to the gut.
She never cared.
She never cared .
For the rest of that year, and even beyond that, those words plagued his mind.
She never cared.
He let her go. It wasn’t worth it, living his life in grief. Grieving for someone who wouldn’t grieve back.
He began to love Dahlia more and more. Her laugh, her smile, was all he lived for.
But when he told Albus, everything went wrong.
He wasn’t supposed to love someone else. Wasn’t supposed to love anyone else, it seemed.
Albus said that Severus needed to continue loving Lily so Harry would understand the love of a mother. That a mother’s love lasted even after the mom was gone.
Severus didn’t understand, didn’t want to. But Albus forced him. Said that he needed his doe patronus to stay.
Severus argued. Spat bitterly in his face. Nothing worked. Albus continued to sit there with that stupid calm expression on his face and ignored his complaints. And then the man threatened to blackmail him. If he didn’t force his emotions away, he would tell the world about his promise.
“For the greater good”, he always said.
What’s the greater good though, Severus wondered?
So Severus used Occlumency. It broke his heart and ripped it into tiny pieces, but he had to do it. He forced himself to leave Dahlia alone. He hid in his office after Albus was killed. He was lonely, aching, and yearning for someone else’s comfort.
Her comfort.
He shouldn’t have used Occlumency that whole year. After his emotions were shut away for so long, he struggled to feel. Or sometimes, emotions came crashing down like a tidal wave.
Dahlia stared at her reflection, standing straight in her bedroom. She knew Severus was still in his room, probably sleeping, and she was lonely.
And embarrassed. She couldn't stop staring at him, how handsome he looked when his lips curled up, and how his dark eyes, even the one that was blind, seemed to glimmer mischievously whenever he was pleased. She couldn't stop looking at his hair, how long and dark it is, and how lovely he looked whenever she saw him.
It all started the summer before Albus was killed. May 23rd, 1995. The year before had been chaotic. She saw Severus just about every day, trying to nurse him back to help because Voldemort started a new hobby of torturing people he actually liked. The whole year, Severus struggled with his health. Each time he got better, he would get set back.
So they grew closer. And closer. And closer.
Dahlia began to love him.
She would watch her memories each night in the Pensieve Albus gave her, watch his slight smile, his smooth voice, the way his face would light up so happily whenever she teased him.
Students said that he looked like an overgrown bat. An ugly git. A greasy-haired dungeon rat.
Severus said he hated his nose.
Dahlia quite liked it.
Severus would write to her almost every day when they were apart. They went to lunch together, or to the beach. Once, when she was ill, he sat by her side and rubbed her back until she fell asleep.
He cared.
He cared.
For the rest of the year, and even beyond that, those words sparked so much happiness in her mind.
He cared.
And she didn't even let him go, not even after he started to drift away. Right before Albus was killed, she watched him decline.
Like a wilting flower.
Each time she saw him, he looked sicker. More afriad. Gaunt. Tired. Too old.
She didn't let him go, not even after he killed Albus.
She'd seen that positive, sweet side of him that so few had, and she wasn't ready to give up on him.
But slowly, months of not talking to him broke her heart and ripped it into tiny pieces. She forced herself to stop thinking about him. She hid in her bedroom after Albus was killed.
Why had he done it?
She was lonely, aching, and yearning for someone else's comfort.
His comfort.
Sometimes, the emotions that had been shut away came crashing down like a tidal wave.
In the Shrieking Shack, his boggart changed.
No, not into the snake. Not into the Dark Lord, either.
His boggart was the fear of dying alone.
That’s what he was most afraid of. It’s what he’s still most afraid of. Because in that shack, he was alone, absolutely alone, choking on his own blood and crying his heart out. He needed someone to hold him and help him.
He wanted that someone to be Dahlia.
He was stupid, he told himself. Going insane.
Why would anyone look at him, much less her? She was everything he wasn’t- pretty, kind, funny.
He was ugly, hideous, cruel. Like the monster in Frankenstein .
He looked too old, too sad. She needed someone livelier, someone who could walk without falling, someone who didn’t need so much help.
He was too pale, too skinny. He could see his ribs. His hair was streaked with too much silver. He had too many wrinkles.
And his nose was horrendous.
His soul was too damaged for her. He had seen so much, seen too much. Done too much.
(At least he wasn’t too old, only two years older.)
So he was hopeful. And scared.
When she received the news of Severus's death, that became her biggest regret.
No, not the fact that she never got to beat Hippocrates on tests, or something else that was foolish.
She regretted never telling Severus her true emotions. How she loved him. Sure, they had dated. But she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.
And in an instant, that hope of being with Severus was crushed.
She had wanted someone to hold her and help her.
She wanted that someone to be Severus.
She was crazy, she told herself. Going insane.
If Severus had stopped talking to her, then it obviously meant that he didn't love her the way she loved him.
He was everything she wasn't- witty, ambitious, extremely intelligent.
She felt like a puppy with paws that were too big for her.
She was too childish. Not serious enough. He needed someone that would match his intelligence, someone who didn't need his help pronouncing big words.
She was too playful, she cracked too many jokes.
And her jokes were horrendous.
Yes, as a Healer, she wasn't stupid, but she admired his wisdom. He had wisdom of literature that she could never have.
(At least she wasn't too young, only two years younger.)
So she was hopeful. And scared.