Memory of the Sacrificed

Memory of the Sacrificed

A low sultry sound of piano music floated through the open French doors. Severus Snape briefly wondered where it was coming from, for he neither had a piano nor did he place any spells around his home to produce such music.

Soon enough, a low feminine voice rested in his ear. ‘Rain clouds come to play, again. Has no one told you she’s not breathing? Hello? I am your mind, giving you someone to talk to, hello.’

The piano continued the sad music; the voice continued to form beautiful sounds but the words were unintelligible.

‘Don’t try to fix me, I’m not broken, hello. I am the light, living for you so you can hide. Don’t cry.’ Quite suddenly a low cello visited the piano, the sadness in the song becoming nearly unbearable. But Severus didn’t care.

‘Suddenly I know I’m not sleeping, hello. I’m still here, all that’s left of yesterday.’ The cello faded out into nothing, but the piano and a soft humming continued. Severus stood and filled his glass with more butterbeer. He was sorry it was the only substance he had handy.

The slow, steady rhythm of the woman’s voice was lulling yet so curious at the same time.

The voice was familiar, but the fear of finding out kept him from going to the backyard to find out where the music was coming from. He was quite content to just sit in his leather chair and drink, watching the Persian silk curtains flutter in the light summer breeze. In fact, the mix of such calming piano music and the smell of lilacs and lilies nearly put him to sleep.

‘I am the light, living for you so you can hide. Don’t cry.’ Severus started, spilling some of his drink on his trousers. Suddenly the voice was put to a face, a dark-haired beauty appeared in his eyes. Her pale face twisted in pain, a baby grand piano in the background.

“No,” Severus muttered, nearly missing the side table next to his chair with the glass.

‘Has anyone told you she’s not breathing?’

“Yes,” Severus said quietly, his eyes permanently fixed on the sheer curtains. He played with the idea that he could see a young girl with gleaming black hair sitting at that equally black piano in his yard. The side of her face just visible as she sang out her sultry, sad song and her hands flitting across the keys.

‘Don’t try to fix me, I’m not broken.’

Severus took a deep breath and stood, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of his wet trousers clinging to his thigh.

‘Suddenly I know I’m not sleeping, I’m still here, all that’s left of yesterday.’ He took a few steps towards the white curtains, which fluttered again in the breeze, brushing his hands with their cool silk.

“Kyra?” he whispered her name as if the city of Rome would tumble if it could hear. The figure that flickered with the curtains did not reply, simply seemingly bending over the piano and pounding on the keys a bit harder.

‘Hello, I am the light, living for you so you can hide.’ Severus flinched, his eyes wide and he let his hand wander to take a gentle hold of the flapping silk. He held it in his hands for a few moments, letting the angry piano fade into the soft, melancholy lullaby.

‘Suddenly I know I’m not sleeping, hello, I’m still here.’ Severus pulled the silk back towards him, opening the view of his backyard. The birds that were cluttered around his fountain flapped off in a flurry of color. The garden that flourished under his hand let its scent wander into the room, surrounding him with roses and carnations. ‘If I smile and don’t believe, soon I know I’ll wake from this dream.’

He let his gaze wander; there was nothing there. The hills rolled from beyond his property and there was no woman with a piano and cello. But the piano continued to play as if there was nothing wrong, and he thought he saw the flash of a white summer dress behind his cherry tree.

His gut twisted and he let the silk fall from his hands. His eyes lowered and he turned, but paused as the voice filled his head with heavy seduction.

‘Has no one told you she’s not breathing? I am your mind giving you someone to talk to.’

Severus had turned the moment the voice invaded his senses, grasping the Persian curtain and pulling it back with such force it rippled with his strength. But the source of the voice was nowhere to be seen. The girl flashed before his eyes, the sad smile and the dark silky hair.

‘Hello, I am your mind giving you someone to talk to. Don’t cry.’