It was a rainy evening and I was in a somber mood again. I had been drinking firewhiskey all evening and could not help how jealousy coiled tight in my gut. I knew that I was by no means handsome, but I thought even I could deserve nice things. A change for once.
Sitting in front of the fireplace I pondered. I thought of the mistakes of my past. A friendship gone awry. Loss of a friend, a mother, a father. The loss of a friend, at my own expense. My soul shattered. Crumbled and blown away one night on the Astronomy Tower. Short lived affairs of delusion. Finding love. Losing it. Wanting someone twenty years my junior, who would never want me back. The taste of that is bitter than firewhiskey. Yet, it burns my guts just the same. I royally messed it up this time, haven’t I? Think Severus. Hold back. Don’t presume to know things. You certainly do not know him. Not like that. Not yet. Maybe you never will. Get used to it.
As the rain kept flooding the streets of Cokeworth, I walked towards the window. Stared a bit outside. Always an onlooker. Life made me an outcast and I have always, always looked in from the outside. The invisible barrier, glass, wall, whatever you want to call it, separated me. I should have tried harder. Tried harder to be less socially inept, more approachable, more likeable, and obviously less sullen. On this fateful night, all I have for company is my long list of regrets.
Maybe I shouldn’t even have survived that blasted snake. We were both supposed to die. Yet he survived and so did I. Severus Snape, the bat of the dungeons, is no longer teaching potions but selling them in his apothecary. Thanks to that blasted brat. The line between love and hate is blurrier than usual tonight. And I can’t help but keep wondering if he’ll show up tonight. Probably not after he’s seen me wallow in self pity. Hero or not, he is still a man of thirty and has his whole life in front of him. Why on earth should he waste it with someone like me?
These thoughts, they have a distinct aftertaste. They fill my mouth like ash, like sand, and make it hard to swallow. Make it even harder to bury these emotions and intrusive thoughts down like I usually can, than the old firewhiskey. I strut back to the lone armchair in front of the fireplace and slowly sink into my seat. Another night of self-pity, eh? Maybe that blasted werewolf should have gotten me when I was a wee lad in Scotland. Mayb— suddenly the fireplace turns green and roars. Harry Potter steps through. His white healer’s robes look like he’s been dragged through mud. Hair a bigger mess than usual, glasses almost askew on his face, his five o’clock makes him look older than he is. Brows furrowing he asks, “Severus what are you doing here so late? I thought you were going to come back to mine tonight?”
His eyes look greener than grass on a lovely day in June in the low light of the fireplace. I keep staring. I find it quite hard to come up with an answer. He comes up and grabs my hands to pull me up, and for once I neither resist nor regret. He kisses my temple and pries away the glass of firewhiskey from my hands. Harry smells like rain, like fire, like summer, like, like… My mind reels when I am in his arms. Of course he’s noticed that I am a little tipsy if not drunk. He looks me in the eye and tells me, “Seriously Severus, just because we had a small disagreement, you don’t have to run away from me. We moved in together six months ago and I thought we were making progress. What made you upset tonight? You know that I love you, right?” As the rain came to a stop, I answered him, truthfully, “You know there are many things I regret, yeah? You know that Potter? Me and my never ending never-should-haves?” His plump lips thinning, he nods and asks “Am I one of them? Is that what you’re implying? I just told you that I loved you this morning and all you did was to run away to Spinner’s End, and you haven’t even been here in years.” He looks furious, and he has every right. I am a coward. He grabs my arms as I sway in place and whisper “Sometimes I think you never should have met me Potter. Never should have loved me. I am not a man who does things in halves. I certainly do not engage in romantic relationships of this sort. So, when I tell you that I love you, I am not sure if there is a turning point for me. Because I felt like I was not worthy of this, of any of it. But I do. I mean, that is, I love you as well. And this is not some silly dalliance for me. I do care for you. You silly man, I always have. Always will. Always.” By the end of my tiring tirade, I looked down at the scuffed toes of my shoes. I do not have the courage to meet his eyes, to see a flicker of uncertainty in there.
Harry then does something unexpected and just whispers “Right?” and pecks the tip of my ugly, beak-like nose. As I stare at him in shock, he grabs a pinch of floo powder and says “Well, the rain has stopped, but I am flooing us home tonight so we can get a good night’s rest. Your head will need that pepper-up in the morning.” Home. I never should have made my mistakes, but I will never not be grateful, even in my undignified drunken state, that I get to call him my home.