I do not own Severus Snape, he belongs to J. K. Rowling. I’m merely borrowing him. Mackenzie Riddle-Snape and Isabene Dumbledore do belong to me.

The song I Miss You belongs to Incubus.

I Miss You

By Ibonekoen

Severus Snape smiled brightly as he carried his young bridge over the threshold into their new apartment. She laughed, her arms around his neck, her veil still fastened to her hair with ivory pins.

“You know, you’re wrinkling my dress,” she teased.

“We’ll have it dry cleaned,” he assured her.

“I could’ve walked in on my own,” she insisted, still smiling.

“And break a time-honored tradition?” He sounded mock-offended at the thought.

He kicked the door closed behind him, then kissed her passionately. “I love you, Mackenzie Snape,” he whispered.

“Mmm, I love you more, Severus Snape,” she mumbled between kisses. “Are you going to carry me to the bedroom now?”

He grinned. “That was the general idea. Unless you can think of a better one.”

She smiled, cupping his face in the palm of her hand. “Lay on, my love.”

Later that night, Severus lay awake, watching Mackenzie sleep. He marveled over how someone so beautiful as she could be attracted to him. She’d been one of the most popular kids during their time at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry; he had been one of the least. She’d been best friends with the headmaster’s daughter; he’d crossed swords--or rather wands--with Isabene Dumbledore many a time while at school. How they had come together was still a mystery to him.

After all, he’d loved her from afar, almost from the first moment he’d seen her. Because of her friendship with a group of kids that called themselves the Marauders, Severus had never had the nerve to approach her. He had been the favorite target of the self-appointed leaders of the group, James Potter and Sirius Black, as well as Black’s girlfriend, Isabene. While Mackenzie had never been an active participant in their cruel teasing, she’d never tried to stop them. . .until their fifth year.

It had been after Defense Against the Dark Arts, Severus’ favorite class. It had been time for lunch, and many of the students were out on the grounds, enjoying the early summer weather. The Marauders--Potter, Black, Dumbledore, Mackenzie, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew--had been gathered under their usual oak tree along the outskirts of the courtyard. Severus had paid them no attention.

Until Potter and Black had thought it would be amusing to torture Severus. Potter had hit him with a curse, causing him to drop his armful of books, then Black had set about taunting him about his greasy hair. He’d refused to let them goad him; he’d danced to this tune with them many times before.

Apparently he’d been wrong to assume this would be like previous times. Much to his surprise, Mackenzie had risen to her feet and strode over to the boys, a determined look on her face.

“Leave him alone,” she’d ordered.

Needless to say, Severus hadn’t been the only one surprised. Potter and Black had slowly turned to face her, disbelief in their eyes.

“Eh? What’d you say?” Black had asked, frowning.

Mackenzie had crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. “You know perfectly well what I said, Sirius.”

“Why should we?” Potter had asked defiantly.

“Because if you don’t, I’ll make sure you don’t have any children,” Mackenzie had said, calmly pulling her wand out of her robes and pointing it in the direction of Potter’s groin.

The tiniest of smirks had appeared on Severus’ lips. Then he’d quickly killed it. After all, she’d never stood up for him before. . .why start now?

Potter had cringed and a grimace had flickered across Black’s face.

“C’mon,” Black had muttered to Potter. “We’ll get him later.”

“Sorry about those two,” Mackenzie had said once Black and Potter walked away. She bent down to help Severus pick up his fallen books, only to have him snub her.

“I don’t need your help,” he’d informed her coolly.

She’d become incensed. “Excuse me, but you could at least say thank you!” she’d snapped, throwing his copy of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection at him. “In case you didn’t notice, I stopped Sirius and James from harassing you.”

Severus had glared at her. “I didn’t need your help.”

Her eyes had flashed. “Well then, see if I ever help you again.”

As she’d spun away from him, the fleeting thought that she was quite beautiful when she was angry had made its way to the surface of his mind. He’d scowled, shoving that observation into the back of his mind, where it belonged. After all, she was one of the Marauders. She was way out of his league.

And then, even as he’d stared longingly after her, she’d suddenly stopped. Then she had abruptly turned on her heel and marched back over to him. It had taken a moment to register that she had actually walked back to him, that it wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.

“Decided you’d like to pick up where your friends left off?” he’d asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Actually, I intended to ask you if you’d like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend.”

He’d been so startled that his books tumbled out of his grasp again, to the amusement of his surrounding classmates. He’d blinked, wondering if he’d misheard. “I’m sorry, I could have sworn I heard you ask me if I’d like to go to Hogsmeade with you,” he’d said.

She’d rolled her eyes. “You are a quick one,” she’d muttered. “Yes, Severus, that’s what I said.”

“As in spend the whole day together?” he’d said.

“That was the general idea,” she’d responded sarcastically.

“As in a date?”

She’d heaved an irritated sigh. “Yes, Severus! As in a date. Are you interested?”

He’d stared at her in disbelief. She, the object of his dreams, was asking him on a date? Oh God in Heaven, don’t let this be a dream, he pleaded.

After a few moments of silence, she’d impatiently placed one hand on her hip and tilted her head to one side. “Well? A simple yes or no will suffice.”

“Y-yes,” he’d stammered. “But why me?”

“Duh,” she’d said, a smile drawing the corners of her mouth upward. “I like you.”

He’d watched in stunned silence as she’d winked at him, then sauntered back over to her friends.

In the midst of dreaming about his first date with Mackenzie, Severus suddenly awoke. He stared into the darkness, trying to discern what had disturbed his sleep. Hearing nothing, he shrugged it off and turned onto his side, reaching his hand out to touch his slumbering wife.

He suddenly frowned as he encountered empty space. Turning over onto his back again, he fumbled for the bedside lamp, wincing as his eyes tried to adjust to the sudden brightness of the room. He rolled back onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow. His forehead creased with puzzlement as he saw his wife no longer lay in bed.

The his head whipped toward the foot of his bed as he heard a thump. He frowned as he saw Mackenzie standing before their dresser, her hands curled around the edges.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t wake up,” she muttered, raising her head to stare at the large mirror built onto the top of the dresser.

Sever met her reflection’s eyes, a grim look on his face. “Are you going somewhere?” He nodded toward the open trunk on the floor beside her.

She glanced down at it, then closed her eyes. “Yes,” she responded.. “I’m moving in with Isabene, at least until I can find another home.”

“Another. . .this is your home, Mackenzie,” he protested.

She shook her head. “Severus, we knew this would happen eventually. We knew one of us would get fed up and walk away.” She snorted. “All we seem to do lately is fight. It’s bad enough that the other professors have to witness it in the staff room. . .but we never should argued in the corridor where students could see. That was the last straw.”

She turned away from the mirror, looking at him with sorrowful eyes. “It’s been weeks, Sev, since you touched me. God, I can’t even remember the last time we made love. The passion, it’s just. . .not there anymore.”

“But. . .you can’t just leave,” he said, stunned. “The second semester had just begun, your-”

“Dumbledore has found a substitute for the remainder of the school year,” Mackenzie interrupted. “With any luck, he’ll be able to find someone to take on the position for next year.”

He sat up, suddenly angry. “I can’t believe you’re just going to walk out,” he growled, rising to his feet. “Sneak away in the dead of the night. How were you going to tell me? A letter?”

She flinched, casting a guilty look in the direction of her side of the bed. Following her gaze, Severus felt his anger rise as he saw the envelope pinned to her pillow, his name scrawled across the front in her delicate script.

“I thought you many things, Mackenzie,” he said in a low, cold voice. “But never a coward.”

“Severus, you have to understand,” she pleaded. “This is for the best!”

“Is it?” he asked coldly. “Well, run away then. Don’t even try to work this out with me.”

“Oh, you bastard,” she said, her eyes ablaze. “What the hell do you think I’ve been trying to do for the last two bloody months?! I tried to get you to talk to me. Oh, how I tried! We have fought about everything--your parents, my parents, my friends, your friends. Yet we keep skipping over the main issue--Fyril.”

He stiffened at the mention of their son. Some years previous, they’d been forced to send their son away to be raised by Muggles in order to protect him from Mackenzie’s father, the evil wizard Voldemort. Dumbledore had been the one to suggest the idea of sending Fyril away. Severus had agreed that it was the best course of action. Mackenzie had insisted they could protect their son.

“Mackenzie, sending Fyril away was our only option,” he tried to explain in a rational tone.

She snorted, tossing her head in anger. “We could have protected him from my father.”

He sneered. “Like James and Lily Potter protected their son?”

Mackenzie’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in anger. “At least they had the guts to try,” she hissed. “Rather than taking the coward’s way out and sending Harry away, they made a stand.”

“And lost their lives!” Severus growled. “What good was their stand against the Dark Lord? They’re dead, their son being raised by Muggles.” He shook his head. “Do you honestly think either of us could have stopped your father from taking Fyril? If he had succeeded, he could very well have turned our son against us. No, Fyril is better off being raised as a Muggle.”

Mackenzie shook her head, chuckling sardonically. “You see? This is what I’m talking about.” She gestured with her hand, waving it in the air. “We can’t even agree on what was best for our son.”

“You agreed that it was the right thing to do, Mackenzie!” he insisted.

“I only agreed to it because both of us were too stubborn to back down!” she cried. “Someone had to relent and I chose to cave in. And I’ve regretted it ever since.”

She sighed, then closed the lid of her trunk. “I’m sorry, Sev.”

“But what about Hogwarts? Your love of teaching?” Severus asked.

“I’ve applied for a postion at Beauxbatons,” she responded.

“France?” he said in disbelief. “You’re moving to France?”

“Well, I haven’t gotten the job yet, so I don’t really know,” she snapped.

“Can’t we at least talk this over?” he asked as she secured the locks on her trunk.

She sighed as she drew out her wand. “Sev, we’ve been trying to talk this over for the last two months. All we do is argue. Neither of us has been listening to what the other says.” She smiled sadly. “Sometimes you just have to let go, Sev. This is one of those times.”

His shoulders slumped in defeat and he slowly nodded. “I guess. . .this is goodbye then.”

She nodded and then gave him a bittersweet kiss. He closed his eyes, imprinting to his memory as many details as he could--the feel of her lips, the cinnamony smell of her hair, the softness of her skin. When he reopened his eyes. . .she had vanished.

His eyes flicked to the dresser, where a photograph of him and Mackenzie on their wedding day sat. He watched with sadness as she gave his photographic self a kiss and then walked out of the picture.

He felt tears springing to his eyes, but he willed them away. He would not cry. He would be strong. He knew, in the deepest part of his heart, that he would see her again. They would find a way to peacefully resolve their problems.

Repeating this to himself, he crawled back into bed, turning on his side so that he faced the spot where Mackenzie had lay. He ran a hand across her pillow, then pulled it close to him. Her cinnamony scent clung to the pillow and he hugged it to him, pressing his face against it.

But I need you know that I care and I miss you