. : : The Deeper View : : .

By Lily Adar



~A huge thanks to my Beta - Shem ... thanks for correcting those minor flaws in the story and for getting this fan fic up on lord and lady snape!~

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: Make what you want of this, it has been shortened, but I think it sparkles with the one chapter alone.



The End of the Affair


"And I'd give up forever to touch you
Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
Cause sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight

And I don't want the world to see me
Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive"




The Dark Lord was coming; the lines of his men and women who fought for him were marching up the hill. My heart froze as I stared at the ceilings, painted with gold and colours, the drawings of people that once lived, fading as their faces peeled away into nothingness. My eyes twinkled as beads of tears washed away the dirt from many days before. My hands covered in mud, my fists clenched around a cross.

My parents weren’t highly religious muggles, but they enforced in me the idea that when all else would fail, that I turn to prayer, and ask for forgiveness when I had sinned, and hope when I had lost all. To me this was losing everything. The distant cries of battle outside rung through my ears, rain was pouring down, I could see the droplets streaking down upon the window.

The door suddenly creaked open – my eyes clenched, hoping whoever had come to murder me would make it swift, and if I were extra lucky, they would take my profound stillness for a sign of death.

Heavy footsteps approached the rugs I lay on, the creaking sounds the wood made, gave away the position in which the new entrant stood. I clenched my eyes tighter, hoping my tears would dry and ensure all possible signs of emotion and feeling gone from my body. However, my warm cheeks gave away my true state, I was boiling, I had a fever, and maybe it was all those hours in the rain, maybe it was that I was inwardly dying – dying from the shock of what was actually happening around me.

I felt familiar fingers upon my skin, familiar, the joy of cold against my deprived flesh. Stroking, gentle stroking, my cheeks flushed, I could feel it, I knew whoever stood above me could see it – and now all I could do was pretend to be asleep, in another world, dreaming of better things in time … perhaps things that would never come.

Then I heard his voice. I prevented myself from hoisting myself up and wrapping my arms around him, seeking the familiar warmth of his robes, his naked skin, and every part of me ached to be with him. Somewhere in my mind I knew he could understand why I never leapt forwards. It was something I never did, something I learnt to block in his company.

“Miss Granger?” he uttered, as if forcing himself not to call me by my first name. I understood why now, he was afraid of feeling anything towards me, afraid of losing himself in the fickle emotion he feared so much.

I said nothing. I stirred. A fake stir.

“Sleep well…” he whispered.

I heard him sweep away, the long black ripples of his cloak. I swallowed hard. The door closed firmly. My eyes opened once more, and looking down upon my body, I saw a single red rose, resting between my thighs.

If only I would have been brave enough to open my eyes and tell him what was on my mind.

So much for a Gryffindor.







* * *








Slapping my face with his bare hand – I was surprised he wasn’t wearing his leather gloves. I flinched as my eyes fluttered open. "Can you hear me?" he asked.

“I hear you.” I whispered back – my words sounded filthy, unlike my own.

I probably was filthy; I had spent the afternoon in the garden while he watched me from the window. He had spent the day trying to reach the Headmaster, and sadly he wasn’t able to do so.

“Were you planning to stay here?” he chuckled.

He sometimes stared at me for hours and would say I reminded him of a doll – lying there on my back, as my eyes like glass, stared at the ceiling as though I were watching the clouds outside roll by. He did so again, but said nothing about my stillness.

I continued to stare at the ceiling – the patterns above hypnotizing me into a sleep. “You know the answer to that,” I murmured back.

He rose from the rugs I rested on, and as quick as a raven he glided to the door and turned to look at me one more time. "As you wish," he replied in his rigid tone. Then he left.

For the first time in hours I moved my head – I stared at him walking down the darkened hallway. I watched his cloak billowing behind him - his shiny, shoulder-length hair swaying to his movement like serpents.

He was truly magical in his own dark way.






* * *







I didn’t hear the world fall apart behind me. My thoughts were of him in the rain – in the grass with the others. I heard the drops fall into the puddles of mud. I lay there in the cellar, on the rugs – memories of happiness … they faded too away with the rain. The world around me faded so quick, I thought I was floating in a distant memory, except he was here with me – and really he was gone. Safe inside myself are all my thoughts of him - no one could take them away from me, no one.

They attacked us at the estate – we received fair warning, but we weren’t all that prepared. The battle reached us, even though they were said to have attacked a hundred meters away, they were wrong, it was before these glass windows, before this crumbling estate.

I clenched my fists and blood ran down my fingers – the rose he left between my thighs I had reached for and squeezed with all my might. I knew he put the rose there, he was a dramatic man – everything was done as though he read it in a romance novel.

He was out there. From all of times I hated him – now was the time we had set aside our differences. I knew he didn’t like the rain very much, the thought of it beating down upon his skin like drops from the heavens sent a knife through my heart. You see – he was gone, just like the rest of them. I could see his vacant stare into the grey skies in my mind. His hair matted and wet with the rain. I couldn't bear picturing it anymore.

I heard their shouts from outside – “None of them.” One voice said mournfully. “None of them…”

I closed my eyes for a while – I pictured him smiling, it brought more tears to my eyes. I was one of the only ones who truly ever had the pleasure of seeing him smile with mirth. The glint in his eyes told of his desires, while the sadness in his tone gave away the misery he had seen inflicted on his fellow human beings.

Our time together was short-lived, but it was worth it in the end. The greatest love stories were of those lovers who had such a small amount of time together – it wouldn’t fizzle away with the years of raising a family. The greatest love is the most painful and heartbreaking. The words you never hear uttered, the years you never see pass by. Those who have it for long periods - like the fall of the rain it came intense and suddenly dies down as the satisfaction and all the love to give were given.

I had come to the conclusion that love was cruel – it twisted loving hearts into bitter souls with no remorse. It’s a deep emotion. Love runs deeper than hatred – love can conquer the pain through years of hate. It is the greatest power; it is a will so strong it can push people to do the most insane things. I would rather have loved deeply for a short time, than never to have experienced it at all.







* * *









I made a promise to myself that I would see him just one more time – just one more time to have a piece of mind. I tried to compose myself as I let myself sit on the rugs. My dress was clinging to my body with sweat; I had never been so shaken in all my life. Rising, I walked in a drunken manner to the door. Taking a deep breath I walked down the narrow hallway and into the hall. It had taken me ten minutes to do so – I was staggering with pain – not a physical pain, but a pain that slowly ate away my heart – burning a mark into my already fragile soul.

I pushed the two front wooden doors open and tripped onto the concrete steps – now had come the physical pain. The tears had stopped as my urgency to see him grew. Hoisting myself up onto my elbows I managed to grab hold of one of the door handles, lifting myself into a standing position my eyes met the horrible scene before me.

There were bodies everywhere – most of them in black, and some of them wearing Ministry robes. My breathing had stopped suddenly, my heart stopped beating – I knew my pulse had faded. For one critical moment I felt as though I were dead. In the distance I saw two Healers rummaging through the lifeless bodies looking for someone with a pulse.

Taking care not to trip again I gradually walked down the stone steps and onto the dirt. The rain was now coming down softer, but still it was thick and it soaked my white garments, making them cling to my body. Feeling ashamed of my see-through clothing I folded my arms over my breasts.

As quickly as I could, I moved forward and began looking for him. I knew he was somewhere among the lot – somewhere lying, soaked to the skin – the glorious Potion’s Master reduced to a lifeless heap. I passed through the mud, and as I felt the dirt grind between my naked feet and numb toes, I noticed someone awfully familiar. Running over to him and almost slipping in the muck I cried out - “Professor Lupin?”

I received no reply – and to my complete horror I noticed a trickle of blood run down his jaw line from between his pale lips. “Oh my god, Professor!” I cried.

I was unable to stay and watch him lay there. Taking another deep breath and preparing myself for the worst, I began jogging through the rain, stepping over lifeless bodies and slipping on torn plants. Coming to a stop I noticed a heap of black robes in a clearing – as I approached closer my heart sank into the pit of my stomach. It was him. He was lying on his back as I stood before him and I saw his glassy eyed expression. His usual sallow face looked different, the skin colour was a ghostly white. Falling to my knees I took his frozen cold hand into my own and held it to my breast. “Severus?” I mumbled like a little child. “Please speak to me…”

I had no reply from him either – and it was then that I broke down and began to cry bitterly. The sound that came from between my lips was mournful. Edging closer to him I pulled him into an embrace. His head lolled to the side as his head rested on my lap. Swallowing my tears I heard the splashing sound of boots in puddles. Looking up with a sour expression I saw the two Healers run to me. Both of them were men in their forties, around the same age as Severus.

“Madam! Are you alright?” said one of the Healers as he came to my side.

I did not reply … I just kneeled there clinging onto my dead lover’s body.






* * *






They came the next day to my house. I stood at the doorway, half-leaning on the doorframe. I watched their eyes as they tried to explain to me what was wrong, but I already knew.

They handed me a letter – my initials were written at the front of the envelope – H.G. I thanked the gentlemen for taking the trouble to deliver the letter and I went inside after a while of staring at the concrete steps. I took the letter into my study and opened it with my nervous hands. I knew it was from him – he wouldn’t leave me with just nothing, not even a reminder of our time together.



Dear Hermione,

Since I am not one for ongoing love letters, which kill away all the feeling – I am going to write this to you in the most formal way that I can. You mean more to me than words can say, I’m sorry for pushing you away, it is hard for me to admit – but I was wrong. Still you persisted, and it brought me to understand that there is much more to you than meets the eye.

You most probably think that I don’t care – that I’m too ignorant or even arrogant to know you existed in the beginning. I treated you the way I treat all clever know-it-alls – with a disregard and as though you were an insufferable brat who didn’t deserve an ounce of my fairness. We have had our differences and disagreements in the past, but I had slowly grown closer to you as we had to remain together in such tight confines. The war has brought many people together – and from all the people in the world I didn’t think we would be one of those many.

I’m too much of a coward to tell you face to face, I’m too foolish to realize you cherished me beyond words. We kept it quiet, never uttering more than a sentence to one another. Now that I am no longer with you – I feel I can say that I loved you all along. I’m not afraid, and nor should you be.

I leave you with the knowledge that love isn’t what one says in words – it is the things you do for a person … but sometimes when the rain falls – perhaps the words would have meant more when said face to face.

I leave you now for those years you remain amongst the living – I know that I won’t make it. I know the rain shall bury me … Someday I’ll see you again, when the moon is shadowed, and the last breath you take, as your world as a sunset will go down.

Forget me and live,

S.S.

* * *

END


~lyrics by the Goo Goo Dolls. ~