After All This Time

This isn’t an ode to Alan Rickman. This is an ode to my childhood.

Pen and paper seem too hollow,
Comrades to this defeat to my soul.
Yet, it is all I have
In response to this grievous blow.

Jibes by the hundred he took,
In corridors and classrooms alike.
Yet, somehow those barbs pierced,
Our hearts more than the ones intended to.

A palpable sense of hatred,
Grew with every turn of the page,
And with every flick of the wand.
And then came the final one,
That emptied salt cellars into our wounds.

Shook in the alleyway he stood,
As that horrible curse escaped his mouth.
Inviting the seethe of millions abound,
For he had slaughtered his mentor, terribly uncouth.

Cold blood to the boy,
He would still perpetuate.
Even as lawlessness and turbulence took rise,
The preponderance of the promise he made prevailed.

“Be allies.”
Reverberated in his ears.
As we now fast forward a few years.
“Anything!” He had claimed, tears glistening at the edge of his eyes.
And maybe no one worth realising will ever know,
Snivellus’s Patronus was a doe.

The images of a white beard flashed in his head,
As the walls of the dungeon threatened to close upon his throat.
The Love Potion he had chosen to eschew thus far,
Seemed to now pour out of his veins in qualities sublime.

He hoped that the boy would choose to believe what he saw.
He hoped that he would see the truth, and nothing but.
He hoped that he would hold this memory dearer,
Than all the vitriol he had ever inflicted on him.

Mustering the courage of an army put together.
“Look… At… Me,” He croaked.

And as green found black,
In that moment he knew,
That he had kept his word.
And that no one will ever be loved by the love,
He had for the auburn-haired maiden.

And as I read the papers today,
My insides croak,
Doing their best Dumbledore expression.
“After all this time, Severus?”
And I swear I see a jet black iris meet mine.

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