The clock chimed once in the dark room, breaking the heavy silence. A tall figure was crouched over a book, seaming unable to sit up any longer in the leather armchair it was sitting in, giving in to exhaustion.
Severus Snape heaved a sigh, closing the respectably thick pink-covered book. The usual queasiness and satisfaction he usually felt after having finished reading a masterpiece replaced by a strange feeling close to confusion. Severus stretched his long legs, throwing his head back, the book lying on his lap. He glared at it reproachfully, as if it were alive and quite aware of all the trouble it had caused. Printed on its cover was the close-up picture of a young girl's face. Her emerald eyes were slightly blood-shot and reminded Severus of a long-lost friend. The title ´The perfume' was embossed over the words ´The story of a murderer'.
Severus tilted his head to the front, sinking into depression.
Yes, like the book's main character Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, he had been rejected by society. Yes, he had once tried to flee those people before trying to step back among them. Yes, he had once wished he could be above them all, to teach them all... He sighed again.
He had, however, stood up for himself than Grenouille, managing to create his own imposing, impressive, antisocial persona. But what use had it been? Today he felt lonelier than ever, useless, unloved.
He closed his eyes and started day-dreaming.
Would his life be any better if he'd got to wake up in a warm bed with someone there to smile kindly to him and wish him ´good morning'? To have a hug once in a while? To wrap his arm around someone's thigh while sitting comfortably on the couch, reading a good book? Of course it would. But some people weren't meant to be happy, and Severus had learnt that a long time ago...
What was the use fighting everyday for a life he hadn't asked for anyway? He felt like an alien lost in a world he didn't understand. He had nothing to lose anyway, solitude being his sole companion. He had nobody to live for, his thrice damned father having never cared for him and the only friend he ever had was long dead.
What about Albus and Minerva? asked a small voice shyly in his head. What about them? They'll be grieving a few days before they forget him totally. Or not.
What-do-I-care? he repeated angrily to himself. The world had never had any compassion for him, why should he have any compassion for the world now? Sooner or later, he'd have to do it; he had come to the Point of no Return. No point putting it off for later.
He heaved himself from his armchair, dropping his book in process. He didn't stoop to pick it up, but headed straight towards a large ebony cupboard. He flung it open, the door slamming on the wall beside, and started to search for a small vial hidden among all the headache drafts. Finally, he found the fragile recipient filled to the rim with an inky black fluid. Severus carefully took it out and before he could have any afterthought, brought the vial to his lips and up-turned it in one quick movement to swallow its content in one gulp.
The substance's effects were immediate: Severus' hands stiffened and made him losen his grip on the vial, which shattered on the floor. He gasped and brought his hands shackingly to his throat. His eyes widened and his face lost the little color it had left. He fell to his knees, trembling uncontrollably. Dark blood started oozing out of his mouth, making him choke. He felt cold. His sight was a blur, the room spinning around him, his gaze unfocused. Lying on his side, he had the sensation he was falling very slowly into nothingness.

The world had gone black.

A few feet away, ´The perfume laid innocently on the floor.



Minerva McGonagal mixed up moodily some sugar to her oatmeal, sending bits of grayish glop flying around her bowl, but she didn't seam to notice. She was forced out of her thoughts and back to the present by a pleasant voice punctuated by mischief.
´Minerva, do stop these avenging attempts on your breakfast, I dare say it has been punished more than enough for whatever sin it it has committed'.
´Oh Albus, I just can't stand it any longer! Severus nearly never shows up for breakfast, when he's a head of House, for heaven's sake!'She pushed her bowl away from her so hard, it was sent off of the table and landed on a table below, making the students scream.
´Sorry for that, Thomson', she called down over the roars of laughter coming from the other tables. Dumbledore's lips twitched. It was quite rare to witness Minerva losing control.
´How in the world will he ever socialize?!'she retorted after acknowledging this ghost of a grin on the headmaster's face.
´You know, Minerva, I'm not even sure he really wants to', he replied sadly. Minerva glared at him, too shocked to speak.

Minerva sat in an age-worned arm-chair, looking over a few essays, feeling too bad-tempered to grade them properly. It was quarter past nine before she heard students running down the corridor, whooping. She stamped to the door and violently opened it, shocking two first years that happened to be right in front of it.
´Mr Barrows, Mrs Lyne, would you care to explain the reason for all this tantrum?' she barked at them.
´Professor Snape's absent, professor, didn't you know?'
´What do you mean?'
'We've been waiting for ten minutes, but he didn't show up, so we-'
Pushing them aside, she ran down to the dungeons, worried sick. Never, in nearly eighteen years of teaching, had Severus missed a class, even if he turned out to be gravely ill, or after a night spent being tortured by Voldmort and his followers.
She knocked on the door, calling him, but got no answer. Losing patience, she drew her wand up from her sleeve and blasted the door open. The he was, spread on the floor, his face a deadly white, blood trickling down from his bottom lip.
Panicked, Minerva ran to him and bent down on her knees besides him. She checked his pulse, and-relieved she could find one-noticed how feeble it was. His hands were ice cold. She had no time to lose.
She stumbled to the fire-place, lit a fire and threw a green powder she had taken from a tin box on the mantelpiece at it. She called both Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, before rushing back to Severus. She felt the need to stay at his side, feeling this was a moment when he'll need her most. She'll be ready to comfort him the moment he'll regain consciousness.

Tears she had been trying to hold back started running down her cheeks while she gazed at that pale face, so serene, so still.
She let out a sob.