for MISSREMEMBER
Title: Snowbanks
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Prompt: White Christmas
Word Count: 274
A/N: So sorry this is late. Hope you enjoy. :)
Harry Potter lay in the pure white snow, staring up at the murky sky, exhausted. A green glow faded with a strangely malevolent shimmer from the trampled field in front of him. Silence pressed in on him, in stark contrast to the shrieks and shouts of a half hour ago. They had lost two more in the battle tonight. Harry closed his eyes, leaning back against his hood on the snowbank, allowing himself a rare moment of rest. The events of the night, of all the nights just like this one, rushed unbidden through his mind in a reel of hiding, panicking, fighting, and flash after green flash. He shook his head and sat up to try to clear it, and found himself gazing into the eyes of the black-cloaked figure standing quietly in front of him. Severus Snape. Harry saw fatigue and grief, like with everyone he looked at nowdays. The base layer of guilt - still as strong as ever, though Harry and the rest had long since forgiven him for doing what he had been forced to. And something else, some sort of unreadable warmth, almost (though Harry never expected to be able to fully understand Severus’ inner workings). Snape reached a pale hand from beneath his cloak.
"It’s Christmas, Harry."
The dates had lost meaning some time ago, but Harry checked his memory and compared it to what he knew of the calendar. It was indeed Christmas. He looked down, remembering the innocence of holidays past. As they were all constantly reminded, things would never be the same again (such a weak phrase to represent the changing of a world).
Harry took Snape’s hand, pulled himself up out of the snow, and didn’t let go.
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Prompt: White Christmas
Word Count: 274
A/N: So sorry this is late. Hope you enjoy. :)
Harry Potter lay in the pure white snow, staring up at the murky sky, exhausted. A green glow faded with a strangely malevolent shimmer from the trampled field in front of him. Silence pressed in on him, in stark contrast to the shrieks and shouts of a half hour ago. They had lost two more in the battle tonight. Harry closed his eyes, leaning back against his hood on the snowbank, allowing himself a rare moment of rest. The events of the night, of all the nights just like this one, rushed unbidden through his mind in a reel of hiding, panicking, fighting, and flash after green flash. He shook his head and sat up to try to clear it, and found himself gazing into the eyes of the black-cloaked figure standing quietly in front of him. Severus Snape. Harry saw fatigue and grief, like with everyone he looked at nowdays. The base layer of guilt - still as strong as ever, though Harry and the rest had long since forgiven him for doing what he had been forced to. And something else, some sort of unreadable warmth, almost (though Harry never expected to be able to fully understand Severus’ inner workings). Snape reached a pale hand from beneath his cloak.
"It’s Christmas, Harry."
The dates had lost meaning some time ago, but Harry checked his memory and compared it to what he knew of the calendar. It was indeed Christmas. He looked down, remembering the innocence of holidays past. As they were all constantly reminded, things would never be the same again (such a weak phrase to represent the changing of a world).
Harry took Snape’s hand, pulled himself up out of the snow, and didn’t let go.