All is Full of Love
Students were racing up and down Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Steam from the engine was hanging tenderly about their shoulders like a tattered shawl. Snape felt as separate from the scene as if hed been made of smoke himself. He made his way up the platform with dragging footsteps, jostled and elbowed by the excitable students, his stomach weighed down with a feeling of leaden gloom - he was going back to the muggle world. He was used to loneliness, but loneliness in hostile surroundings was another thing entirely. He seemed to feel the air getting thinner, warmer, more stifling, the further he walked from the Hogwarts Express.
He felt as though he was a different species from the other students on the platform, as though he was caught up in a herd of stampeding buffalo and, for one bitter, weary moment, he longed to be one of them. It was a moment of weakness, he knew, because he usually cherished his separateness from these giggling imbeciles. He hated them as