Addicted to You

XVI

Do I dare disturb the universe?

That's what Snape was thinking as he stood by the window, fingering a little box in his pocket. He had had a present for Hermione too but after she mentioned Ron, something had made him hold it back.

He couldn't do it. She shouldn't be unnecessarily troubled by his foolish fancies. She had given voice to his secret desires but how could he ever ask of her that? He had no right.

He was the destruction she never asked for. Their paths had accidentally crossed, their fates weren't supposed to be intertwined, they were after all, set out for different courses. Then why did his legs have to carry him to her house that fateful night? Why was it her, particularly, who had to save him, literally in every sense? Why did it have to be her?

Maybe the universe had its own way of working. It gave him another chance- to be brought back from the dead, to redeem himself and be set on a different path. That's why he was supposed to have enjoyed the pleasure of her company for a while- only for a short while- and then be thrust into the void again. Maybe she just came as a lesson- that there was still good left in this world. 

After a while he had realized that she was just kind, and was not there for any ulterior motives. After a while he had realized that she was trying, not to harden his walls but to soften them. He had realized that she wasn't just pretending to be a nice person but she was a nice, good person. He had learned that she was just as broken as him, and that in fixing him, she wanted to salvage what was left of her as well. But most importantly, after a while, because of her, he had realized that being broken wasn't a pitiful thing. It was okay to be broken.

There wasn't supposed to be anything otherwise- it wasn't supposed to be like this. If the universe has written down everything, why didn't it think to take his stupid heart into consideration? She was meant for someone else- not for someone like him. No, she shouldn't be made to stray from her path. There shouldn't be any  distraction, not from him. But what about him? What is to be done now?

What do I do? What can I do? Do I dare disturb the universe? 

He pulled aside the curtain just a few inches in order to peek outside; it was snowing. Everyone was probably engaged in glorious Christmas feasts by their hearths, the streets were deserted, so that the white powdery covering of the parish was mostly intact, untraversed by human feet. He hadn't bothered lighting a fire, had opened the fridge to see all the items there that he needed to make himself some dinner, found that he had lost his appetite and had simply settled for a glass of whiskey to keep himself warm. He sipped his drink and watched as the snow continued to fall, wrapping the neighborhood in layers of silvery blankets that continued to grow thicker and thicker.  

All our troubles, says someone wise, come upon us because we cannot be alone. And that is all very well. We must all be able to be alone, otherwise we are just victims. But when we are able to be alone, then we realize that the only thing to do is to find someone- another soul to be with. That people should all be stuck up apart, like so many telegraph-poles, is nonsense.

So with our dear old chap. He had his convulsion into a sort of telegraph-pole isolation, which was absolutely necessary for him. But then he began to bud with a new yearning for...-for what? For love?

Love! When a man has no particular ambition, his mind turns back perpetually, as a needle towards the pole. That tiresome word- Love.

He vigorously shook his head to clear his mind of such thoughts, as if repulsed by his own self. He was vulnerable, desperately clinging onto the last hope for companionship. He was afraid that if he let go, he would fall and break. It was weak, pitiful, pathetic. He needed to stay away- it was right, it was the healthy thing to do. Then why was there such a huge chasm between what he longed for and what was ethical?