14th January 2019 marks 3 years since Alan Rickman's passing due to cancer.
We lost one of The Greatest English actors ever known, an amazing person whom I deeply adore. I'm still not okay.
Let me just say that I love this man, he inspires me every single day and I can't imagine my life without his presence. It's been 3 years but it feels like the news of his death went viral just seconds ago. I never thought an actors passing would affect me so much, but then again, I never expected we'd loose him that soon. Back in 2016 he was a huge part of my life both as his characters and as a person and that lasted through the years and probably will remain for many more.
Mr. Rickman you truly were and are an inspiration, Rest In Peace.
"i will rember you. Always." A year ago, the world lost a great actor, a true friend and a kind and lovely human being. Today I feel like almost paralyzed. Sadly, I discovered this fabulous actor after his death. Since then, I watched every one of his films that I could, and I loved each one. This is proof that even after his death, he can gain new fans and people that will keep his memory forever. There's not a day where I don't think of him. What a great man. Also, I made this drawing not for his death anniversary. It's for his birthday in february. Today is a sad day, but when I think of him, I want to remember him like this: happy and smiling. I want to remember his films, his laughter and his kindness, not the hours I spent grieving. Let's all remember the good things today. Let's not be sad. Let us celebrate this amazing man. Always. #alwaysforalan #alanrickman #alan #drawing #always #doodle #sketch #alanrickmandrawing #art #love #harrypotter
And a face, familiar, hovering over him but saying nothing. Eyes... green eyes that he knows better than he knows his own. Suddenly everything shifts and he's looking at a different face, a face he hasn't seen in many years, but it looks the same as it did the last time he saw it, and those green eyes are watching him. They are wide and stunned, flickering with a jumble of emotions that he can't begin to identify or even number.
Soon enough he finds himself lost in the green of those eyes, his field of vision edged in darkness that slowly closes in, and they are the last thing he sees.
Until he opens his eyes again.
The first thing he realizes is that he must be dead. The vivid memory surfaces of the snake, of its fangs piercing him, choking and rasping on his own blood, yet it's somehow muting, growing fainter and less connected to him the longer he muses on it. He died, of that much he's certain.
And yet, somehow, he still exists. At least, he thinks he does. The fact that he is thinking at all, that he can feel that he is lying on his back on a firm but textured surface tells him that, in one state or another, he is still a physical, cognizant being. He can see, he thinks, but at the moment all there is to look at is an endless field of stark whiteness that stretches overhead like an endless ceiling.
Yet as he gazes up he gets the distinct impression of a profound boundlessness, so maybe it's actually a sky.
Either way, he deduces that since he is still capable of sensation he must have a body. So he sits up, surprised to find that nothing appears to hurt. He can still remember dying, but there is no pain. A hand raises, pausing momentarily before his face as he flexes the fingers experimentally. He gingerly probes at his throat with the pads of his fingers, but there is no wound, no blood. Not even a scar to show what brought him to this place, wherever it is.
Shaky at first, he stands, realizes that he has been lying on grass. As he casts his eyes around, the empty bright space around him begins to gradually change. Features blossom into being as he watches, a little awestruck, until the blank white space metamorphoses into a small circular clearing. Bushes and trees ring the clearing, dappled sunlight casting shadows as it passes through the treetops overhead. He knows this place, he realizes. He hasn’t been here in years, but he could never forget it.
Memories bubble immediately to the surface and he closes his eyes, remembering an afternoon just like this so long ago. He sat in this very clearing, talking excitedly about the future, drinking up the appropriately enthusiastic reactions of his conversation partner. Her green eyes had been wide and sparkling, fair skin flushed as he told her what they had to look forward to.
His eyes open again and he exhales shakily. He hasn’t thought about that afternoon in a long time. Even though it’s been so long ago, he still feels the ache, the longing and the grief. Over the years it’s dulled, but the pain has never really gone. His quiet nostalgia is suddenly interrupted by a distant sound, a rhythmic metallic clinking that catches him off guard and causes every fiber of his being to tense. He’s not as alone here as he thought. The sound is coming from the other side of the bushes that surround his clearing. For the first time, he realizes that he’s completely naked and he glances around, somewhat embarrassed, hoping the unseen interloper doesn’t happen upon him. No sooner has this thought occurred to him than he spies a welcome relief: a bundle of clothing neatly folded on the ground where he should have seen it. But it hadn’t been there before, he’s quite sure of that…
Regardless, he pulls on the pants and long sleeved shirt. They’re of simple make, but the material feels nice and the fit is perfect; and they’re a far sight better than going around starkers. Now dressed, he makes his way through the brush, heading toward the source of the sound. Just on the other side of the clearing he finds another open grassy space, larger than the one he awoke in. An old, slightly warped metal slide sits off to one side, adjacent to a wood framed sandbox that is mostly dirt and weeds. There’s a jungle-gym, rusty and disused. But the sound he heard is coming from the swing-set directly ahead of him.
Like the other playground equipment, it has an air of neglect and abandonment about it. One of the swings is dangling by a single chain, the other side broken halfway up with part of it coiled in the overgrown grass beneath it. But one of the other swings is occupied and for just a moment he can’t breathe.
It’s a girl, probably nine or ten, with dark red hair hanging loose. Her back is to him as she swings, and as she crests he can see her bare feet kicking out in front of her. Even though he is dead, his heart is hammering so hard in his chest that he still can barely draw a breath as she completes one more pass and then jumps as the swing reaches its zenith. Her slight body soars through the air, long red hair flying wildly around her head as she hangs in space as though suspended by a wire, gently descending a moment later.
He finds his feet carrying him forward before he can stop them, and by the time he regains control over his legs he’s standing stock still with barely a kilometer between them. He hasn’t made a sound, but she seems to sense he’s there anyway because she turns to face him. Her face is fair skinned and heart shaped, a splash of freckles across her nose and the high points of her cheeks. They stand there for a moment or two, just staring at each other. Then a huge grin breaks out on her face and she pelts toward him with the kind of unstoppable furor only a child can have.
He backs up a step, curious and unsettled, but before he can make up his mind whether or not to move out of the way she launches herself at him. Despite her slight weight, her momentum sends him staggering back a step or two further, a grunt escaping him from the impact as her slender arms wrap around his waist. She’s just under chest high to him, squeezing her arms as far around him as she can reach. “You’re here!” she exclaims happily, loosing her grip enough to crane her head back and look into his face. He gasps, feeling a sudden spike of intense revulsion.
Almond-shaped hazel eyes are eagerly roving his face, taking everything in. Eyes he hasn’t seen in decades, eyes that were always narrowed at him, glittering with malicious delight while their owner cursed, insulted or baited him. But they never looked at him the way they do now, set in the face of this red-haired girl who otherwise reminds him so much of her…
She is alight with joy, like her tiny body can barely contain it. Finally she releases him and reaches out, grabbing his hand with both of hers and tugging him insistently towards the swings. “Come on, Uncle Sev!” she cheers, her feet skidding ineffectually in the dirt and grass as he stands unmoving, still in some degree of shock and incomprehension.
“Jas!”
His heart skips a beat before promptly settling itself somewhere behind his tonsils as the girl turns to face the speaker. Lily Evans is every bit as beautiful now as she was the last time he saw her. She walks toward them from the vaguely blurred and bleak emptiness that seems to lie just on the other side of the swing-set. She’s smiling at them as she approaches, her head titled gently to one side, hands in the pockets of her jeans. “Don’t pester him, sweetheart,” she patiently rebukes, though the smile takes most of the authority out of the would-be reprimand.
“I just want to swing with Uncle Sev, Mummy!” insists the girl, apparently named Jas. Lily chuckles, fondly brushing an unruly strand of hair back behind the child’s ear. “I know, darling,” she replies. “Why don’t you swing some more while I talk with Uncle Sev? We’ll join in in a moment.”
This proposition seems to appease Jas, because she nods and makes a beeline for the swings, jumping up to stand in the seat and gripping the chains in her hands as she uses her whole body to rock forward.
Lily watches her for a moment, turning back to him. “Hello, Sev,” she says with a smile, her breathtaking green eyes crinkling at the corners. He has spent years thinking of all the hundreds of things he would say to her if he could only have the chance. Countless confessions, apologies, and entreaties all fight for dominance in his overwrought brain, and his chest is tight and he can’t breathe or speak or swallow or think.
He’s in agony but he’s happier than he’s ever been while he was alive. After what seems like an eternity of him fighting to respond he manages to exhale out a single word. “Lily…” Her smile widens and she steps into him and circles her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. For a beat his body doesn’t know how to react, but then he finds the will to bring up his arms, wrapping them around her waist and pressing his face into the crown of her head, his eyes screwing shut as he feels them burn and threaten tears.
Her hair still smells like vanilla.
She pulls away first, looking up at him while her hands rub bracingly up and down his upper arms. “Thank you so much for protecting Harry, Severus,” she says, tears sparkling in her own eyes. “You were so brave and… I can’t thank you enough.” The corners of his mouth quirk, and he feels like he ought to say something but his lips won’t form words.
“Mummy!” Jas calls from the swings. “Mummy, watch!” And they both turn to see as she jumps again from the swing, rolling in the grass as she lands, laughing. “Very good, darling!” Lily calls back. “Just be careful!”
When she turns back to face him Severus looks at her, his brow furrowed. “I don’t understand…” he says, and he doesn’t need to finish because she knows what he means. With another smile, she glances back at her daughter again.
“It surprised me, too,” she tells him. “After I died, I woke up somewhere else. I thought at first that I was alone, but when I opened my eyes there she was, watching me, just waiting for me to wake up.” His head tilts as he wordlessly implores her for more information. She looks back at him a moment, smiling wider. “When I died, I was pregnant,” she goes on. “We’d only found out for sure a week or so before. James and I had talked about it and we both agreed.”
Here she pauses and turns again to face him. “I wanted to find you. James wanted to reconcile. And we both hoped that you would consent to be the baby’s godfather.” His jaw clenches and he raises his chin by a fraction, looking away to the child still happily entertaining herself on the swings where he and her mother played as children.
The notion of being a godfather to one of James Potter’s children doesn’t seem to sit right, but he listens as Lily continues. “I never got the chance to ask you, but I’ve been telling her about all of you ever since she appeared that day.”
“I still… don’t quite understand,” he admits. “You’ve been dead (and he has to pry the still-painful word from between his teeth) for nearly twenty years. Shouldn’t she be a teenager?” Lily chuckles. “I don’t think time works that way here,” she says. “She’s always been just that way. I suppose, since she was never born, she can be whatever age she wants.”
She turns to look at him again, green eyes catching his gaze and holding it fast. “Her name is Jasmine.” A smile quirks his lips. The name suits her, he thinks, turning toward the swings as Jasmine lays herself on her stomach in the seat and pretends to swim, laughing as it moves back and forth. Named after a flower, like her mother, but indicative of a wilder spirit. “She’s been so excited to meet you,” Lily prompts him gently. “You were always the one she wanted to know more about. I tried teaching her your full name, but she never really got the hang of it. So she’s always called you Uncle Sev…”
Her voice trails off and he can feel her watching him. Jas runs up to them again, cutting a giddy circle around them before diving in between, seizing her mother’s fingers in one small hand and Severus’s in her other, breathless with laughter.
“Mummy, is Uncle Sev coming with us?” she asks, her hazel eyes wide and exuberant as they dart back and forth between him and Lily. Lily chuckles warmly, nodding toward Severus with that same smile he remembers from so long, a lifetime ago. “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?” Jas now turns the full brunt of her avid attention to him. “Oh please, Uncle Sev. There’s so much I wanna show you! Won’t you come with us?”
The initial shock of seeing James Potter’s eyes is wearing off, and he is amused to realize that he’s almost smiling back at her. “Go where?” His question seems to befuddle the child for a moment, her brows drawing together in deep contemplation. “I’m not really sure,” she admits, looking enquiringly to Lily, who gives a one shouldered shrug, as if it’s really not important.
“I suppose it’s… on,” she says after a moment, gesturing vaguely to the unfathomable white expanse beyond the swingset.
Severus follows her gesture, trying to discern what may lay out there, but there’s nothing to see. But he can feel somewhere that out there is everything. Absently he squeezes Jas’s fingers in his hand, making up his mind without consciously making it up. “Well shall we then?” he asks, his lips curling into a lopsided smile at the look of utter delight on the little girl’s face. She relinquished her hold on her mother to grasp his wrist with both hands, pulling him with all her strength. “Let’s go, Uncle Sev!” He lets her struggle for a moment or two before allowing her to lead him. Severus feels fingers catching his free hand and looks over to see Lily walking alongside, smiling at him.
“Welcome home, Sev.”
The three of them walk hand in hand past the swingset, past the grass and the trees, stepping into the beyond and further on.
I started working on this last year after Alan Rickman passed away, decided I wanted to try and finish it in time to post on the one year anniversary of his death.
I like to think that when Severus Snape died, something like this happened. (I'm not 100% happy with the ending, but it'll do for now)
February 21, 1946 - January 14, 2016
69 years.
One year since Alan Sidney Patrick Rickman passed away caused by cancer.
I personally consider this day as one of the worst days in my entire life, it’s the one of the things that always bring tears with them, I felt, and still feel like part of me has been removed, taken away with him. One of my biggest dreams/goals was meeting him, it was my aim for 2014/15/16, obviously didn’t happen. Wish it had, even one sentence from him would made my life brighter. I never thought I’d love one person that hard, I never expected that person to be Mr. Rickman, 55 years older British actor I shouldn’t even know or care about, but I did and I do. He as Himself, Severus Snape, Hans Gruber and lot more appears in my life everyday over 2 years in row and much further, when reading a book, tumblr post, tweet or fan fiction there’s nearly always something that reminds me of him, that’s always him. I know no one will read it but I just want to say, thank you Mr. Rickman for everything you’ve done in your life, everyway you affected life of others - including mine, thank you for your personality and talent of making me smile every time I think about you. Thank you for being you Alan.
It’s been a year, bloody year and I still care, I still cry and still can’t get over him not being here anymore, this wasn’t supposed to ever happen, this day is just too much.
if you really readed this thing i wrote with wet eyes after 40 mins of crying i’d appreciate reblog
