***
The small graveyard looked unkept and sad. Chipped and
crumbling tombstones sprayed rudely with bright paint wept in sorrow.
Some of the stones only bore a name or date. Others had
been worn down with time, their once loved owners long forgotten.
And towards the far end of this sad and lonely place stood
another grave, the newest of them all. The headstone, though only several
years old, was similar to the others that resided near it.
Although the name and inscription were still readable,
the stone was cracked in a few places and pink letters marred its face.
However, unlike its untended companions, the grass ground it was freshly
cut and a small bundle of bright flowers lay beside it.
But most importantly, this little grave had a visitor,
an old man with long silver hair and pain-dulled blue eyes. The old man
gave a quick glance around to make sure no one else was present and took
out his wand. A sharp flick of his wrist and the damage done to the tombstone
was gone.
The old man sat for a while, talking softly to the stone.
Suddenly, he stiffened. He turned his head around and saw a young man
in his early twenties watching him. The young man smiled sheepishly at
being caught and settled down next to him.
"I thought I'd find you here Headmaster," the young man
said. Albus Dumbledore said nothing. "Minerva said that she'll come with
you next time," the young man added when he got no response. Dumbledore
smiled sadly.
"And how often do you visit him Harry?" Harry's smile
faded and he added his own flowers to those Dumbledore brought. "About
once a month," he admitted guiltily. "I know it should be more often but…"
Dumbledore held up a hand to silence him.
"It's quite all right Harry." A light breeze played with
their hair as sat in silence. Harry soon began to feel twitchy, there
was something he needed to say to Dumbledore; something he had wanted
to say for a long time. "I'm sorry he died to save me," he finally blurted
out.
Dumbledore nodded. "I know you are Harry. But it was either
you or him and he wasn't about to let you die." He scrubbed absently at
his eyes. "You know," he said finally, "Out of all of us, I always thought
he would make it." Dumbledore slowly started tracing the lettering on
the stone. "One time," he continued softly, "After Minerva found out that
her cousin was dead, she said to me, 'Albus, be thankful you haven't lost
any of your family to that monster.'" Dumbledore shook his head sadly.
"But I have. He," he indicated to the stone, "He was like a son to me.
And losing him is one of the worst things that has ever happened to me."
He looked at Harry, deep sorrow and regret shinning in his eyes. "And
I never told him," Dumbledore's voice cracked in pain as he broke eye
contact to look back at the grave marker, "I never told him I loved him."
Tears began to slowly roll down his pale cheeks. Gently, Harry reached
out and put a comforting hand on the old wizard's shoulder.
"He knew sir," Harry said softly. "You didn't have to
say so. He knew."
The two of them lapsed into a somber silence, each remembering
their dead.
Finally Dumbledore sighed and rose to his feet. "Come
Harry," he said, "We must get back to Hogwarts. You start teaching tomorrow,
remember." Harry nodded as he got up and Dumbledore offered him a weak
smile. "You'll make a fine Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"Thank you sir," Harry said. Dumbledore turned and placed
his hand on the headstone.
"I'll be back next week Severus," he whispered. Then,
in a blink of an eye, they were gone and the little graveyard sank back
into silence.
~END~
I wrote this story after reading one about what would
have happened if James and Lily never died. Snape had died in the story
and I struck me that no one seemed to care. And so, this story was born.
I hope you liked it.
~Jazz
*Special thanks to by new beta reader Honeychurch.
Thank you so much!*
