How many times must Severus stumble over the same rake before he understands that his life is nothing but a relentless cascade of desperate attempts to keep from sinking? Yet self-pity does not save him; so he stumbles once more, leaving a swollen knot of regret pulsing on his forehead.

Night drapes the Forbidden Forest and the Black Lake in its silken shroud. Under a sky speckled with stars like scattered fireflies, Prince crouches at the water's edge, his frozen fingers nervously twisting the edges of his robes as he tries to reclaim the warmth he has squandered over years of reckless decisions.

His troubled gaze remains fixed on the lake's surface, where his reflection⎯ a dark, distorted mirror⎯ wavers with the movement of the water. A blurred canvas, stripped of clear edges⎯much like his future, lost in a twilight of endless uncertainty. The words, “I'm making a terrible mistake,” escape him in a hushed whisper, barely more than a breath. The night conspires to muffle his torment; these are the mistakes that haunt him.

Pale lips tremble from the biting frost that penetrates to the very bones, leaving a viscous emptiness in its wake. Perhaps⎯ why perhaps?⎯ he is ensnared in a web of selfishness, his gaze fixed solely on his own suffering. Why does he persistently overlook you, despite your relentless efforts to reveal that he is a cherished part of your existence?

The seductive charm of becoming a Death Devour⎯it is an inescapable plunge into an abyss from which there is no return. The once enticing promises now weave a treacherous path, leading him deeper into shadows, where the light of redemption fades to nothingness.

A sudden sound snaps him out of his muddled thoughts: the hesitant crunch of frost-laden grass, a soft sigh, and that familiar, confusing smile⎯it can only be you. He turns and catches sight of you approaching, swathed in woollen robes that seem to swallow your frame. Your smile nowadays stirs a deep sense of guilt in him.

“Hey,” his usually indifferent voice now wavers, “darling.”