I Am Weary, Let Me Rest

Long, thin fingers touched the glass of a wooden picture frame. Stony black eyes softened for a single instant, beholding the smiling dark haired witch in the old black and white photograph... He could hear her smooth voice, softly singing him to sleep. Her hand held his head against her chest so that he could hear the soothing beating of her heart. His small body was curled up on her lap; resting in the contours of her form...Thin lips twitched slightly as he set the picture frame face down on the bedside table, and turned to the door that lead to his office. As he turned, he caught sight of his own visage in an old mirror.

Kiss me mother

Kiss your darlin',

The reflection he met was that of an aging man, once pale skin now sallow, lines etched at the corners of his obsidian eyes, lips, and hooked nose. Streaks of grey marked his greasy, jet hair. Severus Snape was no longer young, and he felt it in moments like these. He looked away, and proceeded to his office, his normally erect shoulders sagging a little, his footfall slower and heavier. Long days, months, and years had taken their toll.

Lay my head upon your breast,

Throw your loving arms around me,

Severus closed his eyes as he slumped back into a high-backed leather chair, letting a deep breath out through his large nostrils. A pile of essays sat upon his desk, having waited over four days to be graded. Indifferently, he scanned them over, marking each with vermillion ink.

I am weary let me rest.

He finished the last parchment and set his quill aside. Professor Snape let his head fall into his hands, fingers pressed against his skull. He was worn out; tired of teaching, tired of fighting, tired of lying, and tired of life. Sometimes he was just an inch away from freedom; deep in a dreamless sleep; holding a vial of noxious potion in his hand.

Seems the light is swiftly fading,

Brighter scenes they do now show,

I am standing by the river,

Angels wait to take me home.

One slip could end it all; a crash of glass, six simple syllables and a flash of green light, a simple heartbeat away from oblivion. Was it wrong to await Death with anticipation? He lifted his head, and pushed his slick black hair out of his face, a pained expression upon it.

Kiss me mother kiss your darlin',

See the pain upon my brow,

While I'll soon be with the angels,

Fate has doomed my future now.

Hope seemed fleeting in the dark days that were now reality. No light shone brightly for the wizarding world, to give them the faith they needed. Fear reeked in every corner, hitting witches and wizard alike as some sort of plague. Even Hogwarts didn't feel safe any longer.

Through the years you've always loved me,

And my life you've tried to save,

But now I shall slumber sweetly,

In a deep and lonely grave.

The shadows had started to play with Severus's fatigue. The lamp on his desk flickered, and caused ethereal specters to swirl around him. The chill air of the dungeon brought him an involuntarily shiver, and he pulled the folds of his black wool cloak tighter around his being.

Kiss me mother kiss your darlin',

Lay my head upon your breast,

Throw your loving arms around me,

I am weary let me rest.

After he retreated to his living quarters, the professor prepared himself for bed. As he settled in, it seemed a knot loosened in him, releasing a week's worth of tension. Slowly the lines on his face smoothed out as a thick blanket of slumber came to rest upon his weary body and mind.

I am weary let me rest.