Disclaimer: The characters and the world around them comes from J. Rowling's pen. I earn nothing concrete from this.
Summary: Severus is trying to reach in time to prevent something that will kill him. That Halloween night, it became clear to him that very few things in life counted. When she was in danger, he did not dwell to whom she was married to or what their past was. Only 'what could be' mattered and the magnitude of the loss if it was ripped away.
a/n: I was trying to fit a love story in a short ficlet under 1000 words. All the feelingds, errors, forgiveness and love. This is what became of it. There were other pairings but for several reasons I chose these two.
My Love, My Life
He ran until his lungs were at the point of collapsing but still he continued further. He ran through the dark forest like all the monsters from hell were right behind him. Branches slashed his face but he was numb to outside pain. Flames burnt inside him and he feared that they would burst him like a mere soap bubble.
He stumbled on roots and fell hard on the ground. The only sound came from his wheezing breath and the rush of his blood.
He saw droplets of red splashed on the moss near him and he pushed himself up. No rest for him, not tonight.
The forest echoed silence. A suiting sound for darkness.
He felt his time run out and he was still too far. It was like cupping water in his hands. There just wasn't enough left and it kept stealing away. Time was stealing his life.
His own voice mocked him in his head. He had been a fool and that had cost lives.
How could he?
Hadn't he done enough?
Wasn't there one too many lost ones already?
He forced his feet forward. Always and ever tonight.
His fault, his knowledge, his secret, his duty, his fault. His fault, his information about The Dark Lord, his secret that he carried on his skin, his duty to another Lord. He had failed to stay on the line.
Tears that he had thought to run out years ago were suddenly forming little rivers along his cheeks.
He had no right.
Where was his wand?
His left arm was burning and he knew...
The last of all failures was his to know. The loss that could not be overcome.
He stopped in the middle of the trees.
There, in front of him, was the edge of the forest. Moonlight was colouring the trees in silver. Houses came right after the trees. So close and he was too late.
So close and still so far. One lifetime ago would've been better.
He leaned on a tree and looked anxiously forward though he already knew.
Lives lost. Memories gone. Love crushed and heaven was no more.
His breath halted and numbly he looked on with unseeing eyes as the shadows rouse to the sky. Something was eating him alive. He was ready to die.
But oblivion was not for him. Oh no, not for him.
He had once thought... taught himself that pure, unaltered hard truth was what he wanted. Denied of peace, he bitterly hit the tree, breaking one of his fingers but he didn't care. The pain didn't reach him. Sorrow pushed him to the ground as if a heavy boulder was sitting on his shoulders and a wail forced itself out.
It was terrible in its solitude, like the man making it.
He was lost for forever. The last - and first of his sins.
His arm burned and he cursed it. If only he would be half the man with only one arm, if so, he would gladly cut the offending piece of dirt off.
He screamed of hate. He sang of loss. He mourned the dead.
"Lily," the sob as if a whisper was the only thing he said that night.
He sat there, shrouded in darkness, alone. For he was Severus Snape, the servant of evil. Evil which, in return, had claimed his soul long ago and the echo of it couldn't replace the real thing.