Severus Snape Oneshots

In Each Drop You Should Find

~*Two years after the Second Wizarding War- May 2, 2000*~

It was raining outside. It was coming down- like muggles would call it- "cats and dogs".

It was a quiet spring rain that left an overwhelming mustiness in the air as the flowers were maneuvering their way through the dirt, remembering their place in the world as they began to sprout- gasping for air.

There was soft thunder, but no visible lightning as you sat on your front porch, a cup of tea burning into your hand as you held it by the circumference of the mug- instead of by it's handle.

"Just to *feel* something" you had murmured to yourself while making it.

It was hard to feel something in a world like this. You had no idea what to do with yourself after you graduated in 1999 (last year), instead of 1998- after that school year had been totally shot-to-shit thanks to the war.

The rain drops were falling a foot away in front of you as they slipped down the shingles above the outside doorstep. The drops kept coming down, one after the other- a somewhat sickening noise to hear repeatedly- an echo in the distance that you could barely hear. Everything seemed to be far away as you stared off into the distance- at your neighborhood street in a muggle suburb where the cars drove by every couple minutes. The dark grey clouds kept pouring down, the redness of your hand more evident from the hot tea, though you made no move to take a drink.

You slowly, albeit hesitantly, pulled yourself out of your trance somewhat and managed to look down into the mug of tea. Blinking tiredly, you watch as the steam rises from the cup.

But only, when you go to look up- suddenly you're not outside anymore.

You're in an office.

Your professor's office to be exact. There was nothing startling at the realization that your setting had changed abruptly, but rather a slow blink went by. The rain was softer in the distance- pattering on the window as you looked around, sitting in a familiar chair. When you look down again, there is no mug in your hands anymore. The only evidence that you ever held one was the redness on your palm.

This is a dream. I'm probably just hallucinating.

The thought, once again, hadn't been jarring. You blinked slowly, if anything, disappointed as though you had expected this to happen.

Why can't I feel anything?

You look up from your hand and see a man sitting in the brown armchair across from you, a newspaper held in front of his face. He wasn't here before?... Your hand closes, trying to seek some of the warmth and distribute it evenly.

The newspaper crinkled in the pale hand across from you, his black trouser leg crossed over the other. It was another moment of silence until the man quietly cleared his throat. It wasn't a call for attention, or that he hadn't noticed you were there..so much as though he expected you to be there.. He slowly folds the newspaper in half, revealing his face. He smooths out the edges of the paper and sets it in his lap, his hands resting atop of it.

Professor Severus Snape looks back at you, blinking once. His face was nonchalant as he inhaled in a soft breath of air, resting his elbow on the armrest. His propped up arm had allowed him to lean his temple against his index and middle finger, his head tilted as he blinked in silence. You blinked back.