Severus Snape finds himself alive after the war, saved by none other than the insufferable know-it-all. But did he even want to be saved?
Hermione on the other hand finds herself unconsciously, albeit dangerously drawn to the broken man. She vows to...
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The diary of the Half-Blood Prince
Entry II: Foggy mornings, blurry window panes and a pair of groggy eyes. I sit here inside my cold, dark room, with a hint of light travelling inside through the little gap under the door. There's no light outside but there's one inside, however faint it may be. I close my eyes for a few seconds, or more- I seem to have lost track of time and space. The rhythmic beats of my heart find their way through my auditory senses. It almost feels like a different world- I can feel my breathing get slower; a world of weary calm where you could feel the rush of red under your skin. The darkness, the shadow- it's the coat that doesn't keep you warm. And it's mine. It comes and it goes. I no longer hide from it. Running is pointless, pretending it is not there is more painful than accepting its presence. I am this. It's okay, but it is not. My skin is torn, my bones are more surface for it to spread. I have it. I learn to tackle it; a silent surrender. I listen and I wait until it has done with me. Tick-tock. The clock inside the room continues to tread upon the time alloted to sleep. But sleep evades me, like life. I hear the ticking go on. The orb of the night coyly shows his face from behind the veil of darkness. The moonlight stays fixated on me but it seems like my shadow fears the spotlight. As the silver threads of the moon slip, a crumb of night is perched on my empty bed and serenity runs through my veins. This is how, at night I devour my share of darkness till the sky turns blue from black. I find solace in its curse, muse in its murk. While every story is asleep, I write a tale in dark. There is a momentary lapse to the screaming silence inside the room. It could be the tinge of red above the horizon- the creatures that fly seem to have their wake up call. I open my eyes and find no shadows on the wall that was dark erstwhile. I stare at the rays of light now entering through the window and notice the dust fall ever so gently on everything. Including me. One more time, I close my eyes. If you listen up close- close enough to listen to your own breathing, you would hear a gentle humming in the silence. The contours of the melody of silence hang around me like the tunes of a forgotten song. There is peace in that void. And there is infinite chaos.
