Severus finds himself rather amused at the fact that for once he is the one laughing and Potter is the one lying quietly on his back.
It is a wonderful, wonderful feeling, and for a second he even lets himself forget.
Even Lily is inconsequential at a time like this.
And of course the guilt hits him immediately, and he feels terrible. Lily is never inconsequential, how dare he think otherwise even momentarily.
And with guilt comes memory, and with memory comes grief, and it hits him anew. It is shocking, crippling grief that makes him gasp for breath as he remembers, Lily is gone, Lily is dead, Lily is never coming back.
He attempts to regain control by shifting his attention back to Potter's prone form. His messy hair has been flattened and smoothed to perfection, Severus notes, a feat the man himself had never been able to perform in life. The unconquerable hair has finally been conquered in death, and that makes Severus chuckle inwardly.
It is amusing, he thinks. This man, who always thought life was a great, cosmic joke – the joke is upon him now. He lies cold and dead in his coffin now, the joke is upon him, and that amuses Severus.
He does not lower his head in respect before he leaves the body's side; rather, he holds his head higher than he usually does, and walks away calmly with a sneer on his face and disdain for the dead.
He does not go to see Lily's body.
