Author's Note: WARNING - HBP spoilers! If you have not yet read the 6th Harry Potter book and intend to then I advise you not to read any further. For those of you who have read the 6th book, my story takes place just after the "Flight of the Prince". As is a reoccurring theme in J.K. Rowling's books, I do not believe all is as it seems and I cannot believe that Dumbledore could be so wrong in placing his trust in Snape. While I know Dumbledore isn't flawless, he just seems to be too sure about Snape's loyalty that I am just not willing to take things as they seem to be. This is a one-shot so I will not be adding on to it. Please read and review. If you hate it, tell me why or I'm doomed to write another story just as dreadful. If you love it, tell me so and why so that I can write something different but equally as good or better!
Disclaimer: This should come as no surprise to you but I am not J.K. Rowling. All characters as well as the setting are her creation. The plot is mine.
Snape's Reminiscence
The little house at the end of Spinner's End road didn't even look inhabitable from the outside. The brick exterior was weathered and worn, many of the windows were fractured and the short stairway up to the main entrance looked frighteningly unstable.
The inside of the hovel was equally as charming. Upon entering the house one would first come across the sitting room in which there were but three pieces of furniture: a battered, old table stood in the center of the room surrounded by a dull, gray sofa and an armchair that was in dire need of reupholstering. A candle-filled ceiling lamp, placed just above the table, produced only enough light to reveal the layer of dust settling on the furniture below. The surrounding walls of the room, which should have been adorned with happy family photos or brilliant works of art, were completely obscured by shelves upon shelves of thick, shabby books. If someone were to guess at the kind of person who lived here, he would say that the inhabitant loved to read and probably died ten years ago.
It was therefore most unusual that the one person currently inside the house was a teenage boy. Even more startling for some was that, seconds before, the boy had been nowhere near the threshold.
Wand in hand and fury etched in every inch of his face, Draco Malfoy impatiently paced the floor of the tiny sitting room. His blond hair was disheveled and his face was bruised and cut from battle. Every few seconds he would glance around the room as though expecting someone to come bursting through one of the walls.
A sudden flash of green light made Malfoy jump and to cover for his brief act of fear, he immediately assumed an offensive position with his wand held high. Within minutes the bright light dissipated and a greasy, somber man stood in its place.
Consumed by rage, Malfoy let out a wild yell of anger and lunged at the man. In an instant, the man raised his own wand and a stream of white sparks flew out of it and sent Malfoy hurling towards the back of the room. Malfoy crashed into the bookcase on the back wall causing numerous books to cascade to the floor.
Ignoring the dull pain in his bottom from the hard landing, Malfoy rushed to his feet and raised his wand once more.
"Why did you kill him Snape? The Dark Lord assigned that job to me and you took away my moment of glory! How am I going to redeem my father's failure now?" Malfoy shouted.
Severus Snape let out a long, weary sigh. It had been a long day and the last thing he wanted to do was face another teenage boy having a tantrum.
"Go home, Malfoy," he said firmly.
"NO! Not until you explain why you killed him when you knew that it was supposed to be me! Killing Dumbledore was a task given to me from the Dark Lord himself! I would have praised and rewarded and you ruined it!" Malfoy spat.
Snape lowered his wand slightly and collapsed into his armchair, sending a cloud of dust into the air.
"You couldn't have killed him, Malfoy. You've never killed anybody; your soul is too pure. Don't you remember that promise I made to your mother? The Unbreakable Vow? She said that if you could not fulfill the task then I was to do it for you. I kept my promise, Malfoy. I did what you could not," Snape said.
Malfoy didn't move. His body ached from the fight at Hogwarts but he held his wand steady out in front of him. "That's a lie! I was just about to finish him off when you came in! So what if I wanted to linger in my moment of triumph a little bit? The old man wasn't going to go anywhere! He didn't have his wand to protect him! All I had to do was say those two little words and—."
"You never would have gotten that far and you know it!" Snape's voice was no longer calm. Malfoy had always been his favorite student but at the moment his patience was wearing thin. "Go home, Malfoy," he said again.
"And do what? Tell my mum that I couldn't do it? That I had Dumbledore lying defenseless in front of me and I couldn't kill him?" Malfoy fought hard to keep his voice from trembling. He couldn't bear the thought of facing his mother now. Even worse was the thought of facing Lord Voldemort. A cold shiver raced down his spine as he tried to forget about his next meeting with the Dark Lord.
Snape's eyes softened but his voice remained emotionless, "Just go home, Malfoy. Use floo powder, use your new apparation ability, walk if it suits you best; just leave. Your mother will be happy that your alive, trust me."
Somewhat reassured by his old favorite mentor, Malfoy lowered his wand and his gaze fell to the floor. Filled now with apprehension instead of anger, Malfoy looked back at Snape whose emotionless expression had turned into an encouraging smile. Malfoy tried to return the smile but somehow couldn't find the muscles to achieve it. He quickly gave up and instead concentrated on the large house in which he lived. A few more seconds elapsed and then Malfoy was gone.
Happy now to have his home all to himself, Snape sank deeper into the comfort of his sagging armchair.
"Yes, it's been a long day," Snape mused.
After killing Dumbledore, he was undoubtedly viewed by Lord Voldemort's opponents as the most treacherous wizard in the world. His reputation would not have been as badly damaged if that Potter boy had not witnessed it, he was sure.
Snape could just imagine Potter explaining the whole scene to the Order of the Phoenix now. He'd first describe in great detail about how Dumbledore begged and pleaded with Snape to spare his life and stay on the side of good. Potter would then go on about how Snape cruelly uttered those fatal words and then laughed maniacally as Dumbledore's life was ripped from him. After his horrible tale of woe, Potter would start wailing like a baby and the other members of the Order would instantly seek to cheer him up.
Snape curled his lip at the thought and tried to erase it from his mind. Yes, he was definitely the most hated wizard as far as the side of "good" was considered. Even Wormtail couldn't compare. If only they knew the truth.
Snape waved his wand lazily and the broken bookshelf that Malfoy had crashed into instantly mended itself. One by one the scattered books flew back into their places on the shelves. Dozens of titles, many of which involved Potions, gleamed back at him.
Snape smirked. No one knew more about Potions than he, the Half-Blood Prince. It was because of this that he was able to recognize the poison symptoms in the dying headmaster. He knew that there was no cure to the fatal brew that Dumbledore consumed. He was also aware that that particular poison caused the drinker unbearable pain. That was why, when Dumbledore pleaded with Snape to end his torment, Snape could do nothing but oblige.
But did cheeky little Potter pick up on any of that? No. He only saw what he wanted to see: his least favorite teacher doing the most unforgivable evil. Well, even the great Harry Potter has flaws, now doesn't he?
Snape chuckled to himself at this thought and then his face grew serious again.
He would now be Lord Voldemort's most esteemed servant but the Malfoy's were perhaps worse off. Still, Snape had kept his promise to Narcissa. He did what Draco Malfoy could not do. He also saved him. He saved him from tainting his soul with murder. He was still an innocent.
As dawn peaked through the holes in the boarded up windows, Snape remained in his chair in deep thought.
He had done a brave, risky, and noble deed that day and everyone except the Dark Lord himself would despise him for it.