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16 March 2006 @ 11:37 pm
HPFanFic: Snow, White [SS/Aberforth. SS/Albus]  
Title: Snow, White.

Author: cs_whitewolf

Beta: aurora_enkeli

Rating(s): PG/13-Rated.

Pairing(s): SS/Aberforth Dumbledore; Mentions of SS/Albus Dumbledore.

Warning(s): Character Death and what looks like an EmotionallyUnhinged!Severus.

Word Count: 1,333 words.

Challenge: Written for quasi_hayley's 'Snape Rareslash Ficathon' for maverickmila. I hope you like the attempt- Severus/Aberforth would never have been a pairing I’d consider writing (ever) if it weren’t for your prompt!


 - - -


There is a certain silence the falling of snow necessitates as it descends in a gentle hush upon the earth; smothering the colour from everything it touches with callous flakes that nevertheless continue to appear so breathtakingly beautiful it almost hurts.

It is amidst this snow-falling stillness that he stands, alone- tall and darkly clad, a mar against the pureness of the snow-white about him as he stares unseeingly at the sepulchre before him, reaching out with a jolted hesitancy; wishing to touch but not quite daring to. He is almost unaware of the slow-melting flakes that settle upon his outstretched hand; pale fingers in twitching stillness- reaching, grasping at the flake-flurried air before him, a grimace of pain- guilt-ridden and damning- scrunches at his face whilst slivers of liquid grief run rivulets down his cold-flushed cheeks.

It has been months; many of them- too many of them perhaps, spent in agonising longing as they were. Where his nights were filled with the green rush of instant death, his waking hours no less haunted as he replays over and over those final minutes, of a dying man’s last pleading breath. Too long has it taken him to find the slinking courage within himself, to force himself to set foot upon Hogwarts ground again, almost six whole months later, in order to pay his respects to the only man he’s ever truly loved; because Albus Dumbledore was the only man who ever looked upon him as being someone worthy of receiving the same unconditional love in return.

He makes no move to stem his tears as the weight of mourning grief forces him to his knees; black smudge upon the pureness of snow, he cries, snivels at the name and dates and the epitaph carved so elegantly upon the grave before him- his fingers finally daring to touch at the marbled surface, lingering softly for a moment only before pulling away just as swiftly as a phantom flurry of snowflakes hiss around him, the dense quiet broken by the sudden baying of an animal.

With a start he raises his head, to see- up ahead- as someone approaches, the thud of his heartbeat loud now in his ears as he sees and- recognises…? He dreams, he thinks, he must be- he knows, for he cannot truly be seeing what his eyes believe they are seeing as someone becomes something he knows cannot be real, but there- through the swirl of snow, he steps- a man, age-withered and dressed in drab grey, with waist-long beard and half-moon spectacles that remind him with such desperate longing of the man whose grave he weeps so piteously beside.

He stares, mouth agape at the likeness between the man he mourns and the one that approaches, the screaming child of self-preservation silenced as he sits in stunned confoundedness, face flushed chill-red as the brother approaches, his appearance writhing and wreathing before him as he desperately tries to blink away the film of tears across his eyes, clenching them closed as the crunching of booted feet approach him through the freshly-falling snow.

He dares look up, and lo-behold he cries out with desperate yearning as he no longer sees that which stands before him, but that which he once remembers- of a face that no longer exists in living, breathing reality but survives in the memory of age-wrinkled skin, of the quirked slide of mouth in amusement and displeasure (the kiss of affection), the twinkle in the eye that has always infuriated him, but now which plays so damningly upon his hope.

“Albus?” He whispers in faintness, staring up in worshipful longing at the man that stands before him, tall and thin and everything Albus is not but that he cannot see because a part of him refuses to acknowledge the grumpy-look of angry-surprise that crosses old Aberforth’s face, the shock-grey hair from crown to beard so unlike Albus’ own but which he will not comprehend regardless of how loudly he hears the denial screamed within himself- that the dead they cannot rise, no matter how much love and regret wished it were so.

“Albus?” He speaks again, more desperation in his voice as he reaches up imploringly at the man that stands before him and sees the curve of lips into a smile- the twist of mouth into the grimace of a smirk, malicious glint in sea-blue eyes as Aberforth catches hold of one outstretched hand, reaching out with his other to slide around his brother’s killer’s neck.

“Severus,” Aberforth purrs, the sound of his name is as heaven to the younger man’s ears; the lick of warning in a tone he does not hear. The hands that grasp him- hand and neck- urge him up upon shaky legs, catching him and cradling him in a grip too tight and controlled to be the caress he imagines it to be as he makes to touch- the fleeting brush of fingers against flesh-warmed skin, the way his eyes roam- wide and dilated, seeing Aberforth but knowing Albus, as with whimpered tug he pushes forward, the touching of his cold lips to an unmoving mouth- he presses harder, needing- the flick of tongue urging against the seal of an unwanted kiss.

“Severus,” Aberforth calls, pushing Severus away before urging him forward and into an embrace; an inescapable hold against his chest as he wraps long arms around the emasculated form of the man that shakes like the last lonely leaf in an autumn blizzard. He holds close the man who took the life of his brother and knows that he must avenge the death, for he knows of the love that was between them and cannot understand that it did to stay this young man’s hand when such devotion was tested.

Above all, however, Aberforth knows that he will take the life of this man in payment for the murder of Albus Dumbledore; his hands roaming up and down Severus’ back as the young man clings to him, muttering and murmuring apologies and platitudes and declarations of love that Aberforth dares not believe as he slips from the sleeve of one robe a dagger- all sharp glinting edge as he presses the tip so very lightly against the small of Severus’ back, the gleam of magic-polished silver shining in the snow-glaring whiteness of the world about them as with the steeling of his resolve he thrusts, deep- feeling the poisoning tendrils of magic seeping through from blade to body to swiftly kill what the blade may not.

Severus convulses against him, a wrenching cry against his neck as he falls away, leaning back into the hold of Aberforth’s arms as he tries to speak; slack jawed and dribbling blood, he chokes, calls the name of his brother in whispered accusation- his darkened eyes even less unseeing than they were before.

“Aberforth,” The name touches at his ears like a curse, his body jerking not quite so involuntarily; the bubble of blood foaming his mouth as he tries to deny it, begs silently for the return of his lover with a final keening cry that seeks to sap at the last of his strength only to have his voice silenced by the mouth that closes over his own, demanding the kiss it once refused- tasting at the blood it helped to draw and feeling the last beating seconds of his life.

He lowers the slackened man to the softly blanketed ground, stepping back and swiping his hand across his mouth as he looks upon Severus- his body lying face down with hair as black as soot and his skin as white as snow and the snow staining red with the blood that escapes so swiftly from him.

With hooded eyes, Aberforth watches the seeping-soak of snow- white to red- as he swallows against the bitter tang of blood coating his tongue, his gaze never leaving Severus Snape’s bloodied corpse as he nods his head in slight acknowledgement; it almost tastes like revenge.

- - -


- - -
mood: nervousnervous
music: Boadicea § Enya
scarlettmoonscarlettmoon on March 16th, 2006 05:34 pm (UTC)
Ohhh.. I don't have anything coherent to say right now, except that I adore the white, red and black imagery.

Campaspecs_whitewolf on March 17th, 2006 11:01 am (UTC)
Thank you! Being incoherant isn't too bad a thing, providing you enjoyed the story of course :) Thanks for reading!

CS WhiteWolf
rexluscus on March 16th, 2006 06:16 pm (UTC)
Oh, holy shit. I am a MESS now. I didn't think he was really going to do it and then...he did it. That was so painful I felt like I was the one getting stabbed. Wow, what an impressive, wrenching little story. It broke my heart when Snape thought Aberforth was Albus, and then when Aberforth used Snape's devestation to murder him...wahhhh! My god.

Well done!
Campaspecs_whitewolf on March 17th, 2006 11:11 am (UTC)
Well, if I've reduced at least one reader to a gibbering mess, then my work here is done. Heh, but seriously- eee to receiving such a response! I am so very relieved this has fic has been taken so positively, especially with the pairings involved! And as for all the angsty drama in it- I'm afraid, my dear, it could never have ended any other way- why not?- because then it would qualify as a 'happy' ending, and I couldn't have that :D

Thanks for reading!
CS WhiteWolf
firmitas, utilitas, venustasshaychana on March 16th, 2006 07:11 pm (UTC)
yikes! and wow! so very angsty and dark. i really like the dense description you used in this piece, the slow, deliberate pacing that magnified every tiny movement into significance in the loving detail you drew and the formal tone of the omniscient narrator. also, brilliant plot device to get the two characters to meet.
Campaspecs_whitewolf on March 17th, 2006 11:13 am (UTC)
Thank you very much! Such praise for this piece; I am very pleased to have you say such lovely things about the way I've written 'Snow, White', I did try very hard to keep it flowing smoothly with the tone I was trying to create, it's great to know I've pulled it off so very well.

Thanks, Shay!
CS WhiteWolf
Tittititti on March 17th, 2006 11:25 am (UTC)
Wow, just wow. Love the use of colours, especially the red blood on the white snow. Very powerful.
Campaspecs_whitewolf on March 18th, 2006 12:11 am (UTC)
:) Thank you! I'm so pleased that you've enjoyed reading it, and that you liked the mentioned colours- I had worried it would all seem too 'drab', but am glad that's not the case.

CS WhiteWolf
the_senjou on March 19th, 2006 03:37 am (UTC)
weird in that this surprised the heck out of me, but VERY VERY COOL :)
Campaspecs_whitewolf on March 19th, 2006 04:01 am (UTC)
Heh, I know what you mean as well. This was an experience to write, so I'm rather glad you thought it was 'cool', the scary thing about it however is that I think after this ficathon I may be up to reading more 'Snapeldore' (as I believe it is called). The thought is a scary one.

Thank you for reading, Senjy!
CS WhiteWolf
the_senjou on March 19th, 2006 04:34 am (UTC)
yay!! I love snapeldore!!
Campaspecs_whitewolf on March 19th, 2006 10:11 am (UTC)
Yes, I'm very well aware you do- but for me? This is very traumatizing, Senjy! O_o... I can't seem to stop seeking out and reading any Snapeldore that crosses my path. I am very distressed right now. That is all.
Beth H: HP Snape (red scharlach)bethbethbeth on March 19th, 2006 07:30 am (UTC)
Very chilling...and very powerful. Wonderful final imagery - and perfectly placed. Thank you for this.
Campaspecs_whitewolf on March 19th, 2006 10:13 am (UTC)
My pleasure :) I thank you for reading this, and liking it- playing with the words for this piece was rather enjoyable.

CS WhiteWolf
rainclowdcarpe_slytherin on April 17th, 2006 03:55 am (UTC)
So I'm really farking slow...
... but I finally got around to reading this. And GUH! There's nothing quite so brutal and desolate and sense-shocking as blood red splashed onto a monochrome background. Excellent imagery.

This was a great emotional ride. At first I wanted to beat the crap out of Aberforth, the jealous, fucked-up twit. Then it hit me that if poor Severus was so messed up from grief and guilt that he actually showed up at Hogwarts, he was bound to be caught sooner or later anyway. A fairly quick death at the hands of someone who at least cared (if in a sick and twisted way) was a lot better than what could have happened if someone else had found him. After that I was left with that aching feeling of resolving grief and a desperate wish for Snape's sake that there might be an afterlife after all. This is a really impressive story.

Campaspecs_whitewolf on April 17th, 2006 11:50 am (UTC)
Re: So I'm really farking slow...
Reading what you have to say on my story more than makes up for the wait of receiving the review! Thank you very, very much Carpy! :D

I love your overall interpretation of Snow, White- the way you find the 'good' in the angst and make it seem that even though Aberforth wasn't kind in his actions, they were a whole lot more merciful than they could have been, especially if it were someone else to have found Severus lurking at the grave of his lost love.

It pleases me greatly to know that you liked reading this!
Much Love,
cocoasnapecocoasnape on July 24th, 2006 02:10 am (UTC)
Wow. That was so heartbreaking. The whole time i'm screaming at the screen hoping that severus will hear me and run...but even though he's caught up in seeing Albus, he knows. You convey that very well - the fact that he knows something's wrong, that it can't be him, from the smirk, from the displeasure in his eyes, and yet it doesn't matter because he needs to see Albus. hence him taking the risk and coming here....b/c he doesn't care anymore.

Without albus actually being in the story, you manage to brilliantly illustrate the force of Severus's love for this man. Excellent job

I REALLY REALLY do hope you write more of this pairing. AD/SS needs a loyal author base and you did the pairing exquisite justice

Campaspe: Alancs_whitewolf on July 24th, 2006 10:55 am (UTC)
I thank you most graciously for your comments! This was my first delving into the pairing/idea of AD/SS and I do admit that it's got me rather hooked- there is just so much you can do with these two characters, especially angst wise. I'm so pleased you managed to grasp the concept of Snape's desperation in this piece, it is rather heartbreaking yes and I do hope to write more of this pairing eventually.

Thank you once again,
CS WhiteWolf