A Memory Piece in honor of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2
Written by Nagone
Summary: Remember me.
Rated: T for character death
Author's Note: After I saw the scene where Snape's death occurred, I felt compelled to leave my own mark in Harry Potter history. Here is it.
In honor of Severus Snape (9 January, 1960 – 2 May, 1998)
Bottle up my tears, but do not weep for me for I have loved and lost my most precious things.
Bottle up my memory, my fleeting mind, and carry it till you reach the place where only you and I can be. Bottle up my memories, so that you may see the man I once was.
Dip into the pensive and see my life, the love I gave so openly. I remember the burning fire of your mother's hair as it dipped with every current in the wind as she stood strong against her sister's biting, ignorant tongue. I remember the soft pink of her lips as she smiled at the bird I sent her way as I crawled from the hollow of my secret place, my place of solace. See her as I saw her, a girl of youth and beauty. See me as she saw me, a boy that was a friend.
Watch me as I am tortured, only to have her travel to my side, her hair a crown of flames about her figure. Watch as your father, arrogant as his one and only son, tosses my books aside and askew. Watch as I am cared for by your mother. Watch as I scribe as the Half-Blood Prince and leave my mark. Watch as your mother falls for him, a man too much like you.
Watch as they love.
Watch as I love.
Watch as they grow and fall for each other and produce the world's unknown savior.
Watch as I hate.
Travel in time to the day fate cursed me, the day that I sent a doe in her honor to save you from death. Travel to the day that I wept over her still body, her hair on fire about her ashen face. Travel to the day I made a deal with a devilish man with bright blue eyes and half-moon spectacles. Travel to the moment where we make a deal to trade off safety for safety, desire for desire, sin for sin. Travel to the day I killed your keeper in what you assumed was cold blood. Travel to the day that plans were set in motion to protect you, a babe sent to a muggle neighborhood to live in suburbia until the dark day came that you would take flight amoung the stars and escape to the beginning of the end. Travel to the day were I called you every dirty name in the book. Travel to the day where the hate for your father exploded as you saw me as the man that hated your father, and not as the man that was trying to keep you from joining him far too early in your wretched little life.
Travel to the day that I am murdered in cold, raging blood. Travel to now, when the Dak Lord lords over me, snakish smile and sharp, yellow teeth hissing at my dying body riddled with fang marks. Watch as he takes the Elder Wand's power from me. Watch as he makes one of many mistakes. Travel to now, to the present, when I command you to capture my tears, to toss them into the place where you can see me as dearest Lily saw me. Trust me and run. Do not shake me or try to staunch my wound. If I could heal, I would've.
Head my command and capture my tears in that dusty bottle. Cork it with your thumb and do not drop it until you reach his safe place.
Tell Granger to stop sniffling and Weasley to fix his gangly look with a potion, if there is such a miracle in a bottle to exist. All you can do is save us.
Bottle up my tears and go. Run Potter.
Run to your fate.