~*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.
"Do you know the first thought I had when I saw you enter my classroom?" The man asked.
It seems as though neither of you were going to address the elephant in the room and neither of you made any attempt or showed any desire to really do so.
It was a rhetorical question, so you remained silent.
Professor Snape sighs from both his nose and mouth, flickering his gaze back down the the newspaper in his lap. He slowly drops his arm and traces that hand over the quietly crinkling paper. His eyes narrowed in thought, his lips ready to form words as they curl. He presses his lips together again and looks at you with his brown eyes.
"I knew the trouble I was getting into. I saw your arrogance behind that sharp mouth of yours and those kind eyes. But most of all, even from the moment I tested you with my words, your resilience....hmm... astonished me." Snape pauses again, looking off to the side. "I found myself wondering just how far you were willing to test the limits of knowledge. I always appreciated that spark in you, despite your occasionally unbearable presence."
The fire to the side of us in his office remained crackling, a soft yellow glow reflecting into the dark room. His eyes were a soft chocolate brown as he looked into the flames with a moment of contemplation, like he was trying to place his words. This was not a rare look on him, but not common either. It seems as though he was genuinely trying to articulate something. The wind carried on in the background as the rain continued to patter on the window, almost a silent request to be let in.
"...I..... There was a question you once asked me that I never forgot. It struck me off guard- which was never an easy feat. It was something you said to me in your sixth year, I believe" He drawled out, squinting his eyes. "You asked me what the meaning of life was. At first I genuinely thought it to be such a ridiculous question in terms of it's randomness. We were making potions when that *look* in your eye appeared. It had occured to me, that I never gave you an answer..."
The ambience of the room continued, despite the long pause in which the man took a good moment to carry on. The professor looked at you as he readjusted his posture in his seat, looking at you in a way that held intent in the eyes that sat comfortably in his crow's-feet eyelids. You blink once, slowly looking around the familiar room as you slowly gathered yourself. Your shoulders pull back as you draw in a shaky, yet inaudible breath of air. You blink again and you hadn't even felt the tear that rolled down your cheek. Severus looks at the tear but doesn't say anything, an emotional look in his eyes as he looked away, clearing his throat.
"It seems as though this situation calls for irony as I answer questions about life when technically I am not living. However, that is just *it*- I never truly 'left'. The meaning of life is that there is no meaning. There is only doing or not doing and saying or not saying.
"I have spent several decades on this earth and I could never find an exact purpose for myself. Every night that I had gone to sleep, I remember that I am my potions. I am my classroom. I am what I teach and how I behave. I am the... oxygen..... that infiltrates the air- the.. magic that lives within each witch and wizard.. I am that I am. We don't start with a meaning or purpose. We make them."
Severus leans back in his chair as the both of you seem to be more lucid. He sighed more quickly as though his time was running out. He clasps his hands together in his lap as he speaks up again.
"But I am greater than those things. I am so much more and it is crucial that you understand this, Mx. Y/L/N. I am more than war and I am more than the death that I died. Same applies to any and all living or supposedly non-living organisms. I am not gone. Our moments, our purposes fall around us like rain- that very rain that falls in front of you right now as of this time." Professor Snape uncrosses his leg, looking intently at you.
"I am not gone. I am the rain that you watch. I am scattered into so many pieces of that rain, sprinkled across your life." Snape states, looking at you. His lips are pursed as he leans forward, looking at the floor for a tense moment, before back at you.
"I'm a memory, now. A story. But it's up to you how you let it play out. How you remember me, Y/n."
You look at your professor as a tear drops down your face. The fireplace crackles as a mediation for the silence. Your lips purse as they meet your professor's serious and passionate gaze.
"Think of that and of me each time you stand in the rain." He tenderly urges.
You look down as your hand begins to feel warm. The mug is back and so is the rain. Louder, this time. More clear. A tear lands into your tea with a careful *plop*, making the liquid ripple.
When you look up, the sky continues to pour down rain, in front of your face as you sit on the front steps once more. It continues for a long couple of minutes. There were people walking their dogs now though, continuing on with their lives as the cars came more rapidly. There was no change in the rain, but everything seemed clearer and lively as everything carried on around it. Despite it. Within it.