Dreams of Dust

He'd had no illusions of what life would be like, drawn razor-thin between two worlds, but hope was a resilient thing. Snape plucked mistletoe some well-meaning student had wedged above the classroom door and frowned. He'd cultivated his solitude over the years, hard-won amidst Hufflepuff goodwill and boisterous Gryffindor camaraderie. His life allowed for nothing else, relationships were leverage he could ill afford. But there were times, rarer as the years wore on, when he allowed himself a momentary reflection on the might-have-beens.

But only a moment. He tucked the sprig away with his regrets and went back to work.

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All of the fanfiction on this website, both old and new,
is dedicated to the memory of Kielle and to all my friends from TiC.
I am a leaf on the wind. Watch how I soar.

Everything you will find in this archive is Copyright to Martha McMahon Bechtel and
may not be reproduced in whole or part in any format without that express permission of
the author. Those works of fiction that include characters and settings that fall under
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