Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. © JKR.
WAITING
"Why do you wait?" The words broke his sullen silence, pulled him from the reverie that threatened to swallow him whole. He pondered the innocent question a moment, probing it for a deeper meaning, before resigning himself to the answer.
"Because waiting is all I have left."
"Really?" Interest sparked in the questioners tone. "And why is that?"
He sighed gently, pushing raven hair out of his obsidian eyes. "Life is hard to interpret." His reply sounded hollow to his own ears, which did nothing to assuage the curiosity of the woman sitting next to him.
"Is she special?" She asked quietly, knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it for herself.
"More than she will ever know."
The woman nodded thoughtfully, then turned to the man, "Where is she now?" She asked her question hesitantly because there was only one place his woman could be. . .one place that would bar him entrance.
"Where angels fear to tread." His answer startled her, and she gave a small gasp of surprise. He merely smirked at her reaction, allowing himself a moment to swallow the pinprick of tears that little admission cost him.
"But. . .well, the way you look, I would have thought she was dead." The woman sighed romantically, "And do you wait for her to come home?"
"She is already home, though she doesn't know it. She is a stranger in her own body, a woman without present or future, a woman who live in the past as if were a tangible reality." He wondered why he was telling her this, but one thought repeated in his mind, maybe. . .just maybe. . .
"But isn't the past a tangible reality, because you have lived yesterday, who knows if you will live to see tomorrow. Some would say it would be better to live in the past and in certainty than to live in a world where everything hangs on the balance of now." It was his turn to be stunned. Quite an impressive answer, maybe there was hope. . .
"Well, what is the lucky lass' name?" The woman elbowed him softly, warily, as if she was afraid he might break with just the lightest amount of stress.
"You wouldn't know her."
"Never know. I might."
The man shook his head, "Alright then, but. . ."
"Yes?" She waited patiently, hoping to break him free of the dark depression that seemed to envelop him like a cloak of misery.
"Her name is Hermione."
"How odd. That's my name." She replied, her nose scrunching up as she pondered this. "And what would her last name be?"
"Granger."
"Well, that is truly amazing!" The woman breathed, grabbing the man's hand. "Would you believe that is my name?!"
"Is it really?!" A surge of hope shone in his eyes. But she slowly let go of his hand, her eyes returning to the dull complacency it was before their rather brief conversation. He smiled sadly, running a calloused hand over her face, pushing a lock of her chestnut hair away from her eyes, then he turned back to his previous position.
His thoughts turned to the darkness that hid her from him, the madness that had driven her to hide within this shell, that had forced her into this half life.
"Severus, visiting hours are almost over." The kind MediWitch broke through his musings and he nodded.
Rising swiftly, he sighed gently.
"Will we see you tomorrow?" The question was the usual, and he replied with a sharp nod. He would keep coming back, do whatever it took until she regained herself.
"Why do you wait?" Hermione's voice was soft and girlishly high, almost as if it was broken, something in it seemed almost sad, wistful.
He turned to her, a sad smile on his face. "Because waiting is all I have left."
_______________________________________________________________________
A/N: I don't know why I came up with this one. . .it just seemed. . . right to me. Ah well. . .please RR.
Love,
~Liz
WAITING
"Why do you wait?" The words broke his sullen silence, pulled him from the reverie that threatened to swallow him whole. He pondered the innocent question a moment, probing it for a deeper meaning, before resigning himself to the answer.
"Because waiting is all I have left."
"Really?" Interest sparked in the questioners tone. "And why is that?"
He sighed gently, pushing raven hair out of his obsidian eyes. "Life is hard to interpret." His reply sounded hollow to his own ears, which did nothing to assuage the curiosity of the woman sitting next to him.
"Is she special?" She asked quietly, knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it for herself.
"More than she will ever know."
The woman nodded thoughtfully, then turned to the man, "Where is she now?" She asked her question hesitantly because there was only one place his woman could be. . .one place that would bar him entrance.
"Where angels fear to tread." His answer startled her, and she gave a small gasp of surprise. He merely smirked at her reaction, allowing himself a moment to swallow the pinprick of tears that little admission cost him.
"But. . .well, the way you look, I would have thought she was dead." The woman sighed romantically, "And do you wait for her to come home?"
"She is already home, though she doesn't know it. She is a stranger in her own body, a woman without present or future, a woman who live in the past as if were a tangible reality." He wondered why he was telling her this, but one thought repeated in his mind, maybe. . .just maybe. . .
"But isn't the past a tangible reality, because you have lived yesterday, who knows if you will live to see tomorrow. Some would say it would be better to live in the past and in certainty than to live in a world where everything hangs on the balance of now." It was his turn to be stunned. Quite an impressive answer, maybe there was hope. . .
"Well, what is the lucky lass' name?" The woman elbowed him softly, warily, as if she was afraid he might break with just the lightest amount of stress.
"You wouldn't know her."
"Never know. I might."
The man shook his head, "Alright then, but. . ."
"Yes?" She waited patiently, hoping to break him free of the dark depression that seemed to envelop him like a cloak of misery.
"Her name is Hermione."
"How odd. That's my name." She replied, her nose scrunching up as she pondered this. "And what would her last name be?"
"Granger."
"Well, that is truly amazing!" The woman breathed, grabbing the man's hand. "Would you believe that is my name?!"
"Is it really?!" A surge of hope shone in his eyes. But she slowly let go of his hand, her eyes returning to the dull complacency it was before their rather brief conversation. He smiled sadly, running a calloused hand over her face, pushing a lock of her chestnut hair away from her eyes, then he turned back to his previous position.
His thoughts turned to the darkness that hid her from him, the madness that had driven her to hide within this shell, that had forced her into this half life.
"Severus, visiting hours are almost over." The kind MediWitch broke through his musings and he nodded.
Rising swiftly, he sighed gently.
"Will we see you tomorrow?" The question was the usual, and he replied with a sharp nod. He would keep coming back, do whatever it took until she regained herself.
"Why do you wait?" Hermione's voice was soft and girlishly high, almost as if it was broken, something in it seemed almost sad, wistful.
He turned to her, a sad smile on his face. "Because waiting is all I have left."
_______________________________________________________________________
A/N: I don't know why I came up with this one. . .it just seemed. . . right to me. Ah well. . .please RR.
Love,
~Liz