The Betrayer

November 1, 1981
Dear Love,

My assumptions were true. Dumbledore called me into his office today, and discussed your passing. He was venomous and pitiful; it seems that your…moving on hasn't influenced his thinking. He stood there using and abusing my affection towards you to construe a solution, but as I sat at his desk staring at the wrinkled, frightened Headmaster I was lost. I sought no clarity in his anguish, and I found no refuge in his guidance. I was, I am, more empty than ever before. I can't bring myself to mourn you. I can't bring myself to feel, to live, to breathe. I have lost my motivation. I can't seem to recall it now. What was it that motivated me? Was it the hope of you? The thought of you? Or the ignorance of thinking I had you?

As I sat and felt the anguish of my aching heart Dumbledore planned. He instructed me of a path I would soon be following. Like an apathetic soldier to a commander, I didn't thwart his instructions. I hadn't the ambition to fight him on his ludicrous venality. For though his commands are dangerous, and obviously flawed, I seek comfort in having actuation… to having purpose. This path will lead me to redemption. If I succeed I can amend my wrongs for failing you, for not protecting you. I know what you would say–you would talk me out of it, you would discuss alternatives, and in doing so you would painstakingly draw perfection to your kindness. But, my dear, you are not here to help me, to guide me... to hurt me. So I have made the decision to fight for you.

I promised Dumbledore that I would care for your son, and I will protect the last living part of you. I am going to make this right. I will make amends. I will do just by you, my love.

Always,
 Severus

Trembling with furious anguish, Severus stares at the letter in his hand. His commander dead, the world against him, and the boy off fighting the "good fight." He is nearing the end of his mission; his task is soon to be complete. The end of Voldemort nears, the boy who lives will live, and the world will keep ticking. He crumples the letter in his hand. There are hundreds of them all scattered on his desk. Some originate from his childhood, the last written but two hours ago. He stares at these letters. He hates them. He reaches for his wand wanting desperately to ignite the letters with just a mention of a spell. But he doesn't. Severus won't bring himself to destroy the clarity his letters bring him.

He often has moments like these where he wants to stop the writing, the fighting, the lying. Severus has instances where he pities himself, but they are only allotted a moment. He will not let the gluttonous mass of self–hatred vanquish him. That would be too easy. No. Severus deserves a fate worse than death. He is not selfish enough to end his suffering. He has to make amends; he has to do just by his love. He has to protect the boy.
Now determined, Severus searches for his most recent letter for inspiration and comfort.

May 2, 1998
Dear Love,

This will be my last letter to you. The Dark Lord is here and my mission has run its course. I am nearing the end of my duties to your son. Soon he will be safe and free from the corruption of this deplorable prophecy. I revel in the thought of ending this war, but I am terrified of the comeuppance. 'When the one survives,' my journey will have drawn its end. I will no longer have motivation. And that is more unnerving then betraying the Dark Lord himself. Without drive I have no reason. Give me a sign my love. I never asked for you to return my love. I never blamed you for finding it elsewhere. But please, my love, I ask for you to illuminate my prospective. Tell me what to do. Guide me. Help me.

Always,
Se…

Severus stares down at these words. They seem false and ineffectual. Always. A word falsified by the corruption of a sacred Headmaster. A word that has been etched on his every letter has now lost its beauty. Always used to be something Severus could rely upon. He would always have his love. He would always have Hogwarts. He would always have his potions. But he lost his love, Hogwarts is no longer a place that welcomes him, and his colleagues, his friends, found it so easy to believe his façade.

Society loves to hate. They need a scapegoat–a con–a villain against the hero – They need someone to combat, and that someone is Severus. He, early on, realized that Dumbledore was raising the boy up for slaughter. He recognized that Dumbledore used him as a pawn to justify the end to his means. Severus understood the corruption of this plan, but he knew that it was the only hope for the boy, for the wizarding world. Granted, Severus is no villain, no vigilante, no saint. He is simply a martyr. Severus pleaded to have been in his love's place on that fateful night. He implored to have died to save her– he would have died for his love. He is determined to die protecting her, or the last living part of her that is.

Severus feels the loneliness, the heartache, and the sadness constantly. It pains him to see the boy, the boy with her eyes, so he has to distance himself; he has to wear a mask that conceals all the pain. He will be the strict professor, he will pledge his name to the Dark Lord, and he will be hated in order to follow the path to save the boy.

Severus stares at his chamber. Small and dark, his room is a temporary hideout from the battle. It is a means to stay protected and prepare for his false identities. The room is covered in dark wood paneling, with a twin bed in the corner, and a solitary desk in the other. The only light, aside from the glow emitting from Severus' wand, is a single window. Severus sighs. Coddling his aching head he moves over to the window. Protected and encharmed, the window allows Severus a view of the burning castle- the battle is in full ardor.

He returns to his desk. "Dammit, Lillian. Answer me!" With a strong, sweeping blow Severus hits the letters off his desk, scattering them dramatically into the air. His head throbs violently. Severus grasps his head, dropping his wand to the ground; his mind can't stop from rethinking, questioning, and analyzing the plan. Now that it is all said and done, he is beginning to have doubts. Was it worth it to turn away from my home? To turn against my colleagues and friends? To capitulate myself for Dumbledore? Severus stops. He shakes his head, mentally ridding himself of the thoughts. Severus won't allow himself to falsify yet another decision in his life. He grabs a crinkled letter laying at his feet and meticulously smooth's it out. Picking up a quill, he adds to the letter:

This is why I gave it all up. This is why I am a martyr. It is for you my love. To save you. To protect you. I shall go to the battle. I will go and protect the boy the best way I know how– as the man the world hates. As the apprentice of the Dark lord, and the traitor of the Saint, for I am not the boy who lived, I am not the boy who was loved, and I am no longer the Half-Blood Prince. I am the betrayer.

Severus folds the letter into his cloak and retrieves his wand. He steps to the window. Breathing in the flames, the distant screams, and the cries of the villagers, he looks to the stars. "I am your martyr, my love." And with the flick of his wrist, Severus Disapparates.

He is a few miles from the school grounds. Not a student, teacher, or Death Eater in sight. Severus breathes. In moments he would do just by his love and–

"Where have you been?" demanded a Death Eater, with a mousy face Severus couldn't recall.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't be all antagonistic. I know you haven't been in the battle! I thoughts you were supposed to be 'The Lords finest', and yet I find you tucked away into the bushes? Hiding from the very school you crossed. Now who lost all his glory? You, of all wizards, deserve to march into the grounds with ya head helds high. You're the one who made this all possible!

"And who might you be?"

"Cadell, sir. Death Eater. I only confronted ya cuz the Lords been lookin for ya. He's in a bit of sorts now that the boy has joined the fight."

"The boy is here? Fighting?"

"Why so surprised? The Lord knew he would come, for his friends and school and all."

"Yes," Severus pardons his throat. "I find it incredulous that the boy is still so naïve as to think he still has a chance."

"Ay, and don't we know he has none. Well you better be offs. The Lord won't be pleased if you keep him waiting."
"Surely, continue with–"
"–fighting the good fight." And with that, Cadell runs off toward the Herbology House. Severus smiles. He isn't worried, he is rather pleased: Hogwarts students defending their school is not something to take lightly, the Death Eater hadn't the chance.

Severus ducks into the trees, making sure not to be spotted this time. "My love, this is it. This is the time for you to give me my answer. Tell me how to exist from this path." Severus sits down underneath a tall oak, the rich pines concealing him from sight; he pulls his hands behind his head, and drops his eyelids. The trees are familiar and warm. Severus focuses his vision and looks upon a memory.

"Sev, I'm anxious!" Lying under the same tall oak were a juvenile Lily and Severus.

"There is nothing to be afraid of, Lily. This is what we've been waiting for, this is our chance to truly experience magic."

"That's not what I was referring to." Lily's eyes swell as she turns away to stroke the grass.

"It will be okay." Severus reaches and pulls her shoulder to meet his. "I know we wanted to be in the same house, but surely that won't mean a thing– we will stay together."

"Of course, Sev." She smiles and Severus stretches his hand to catch a falling tear from her cheek. "We will stay the best of friends."

"Always!"

Severus awakes from the fog of his daze, and focus' his breathing. With a heavy heart and head Severus allows a few tears to fall from his face before he chokes them down. "No. No Lillian that wasn't an answer. You were the brightest witch of our age; I know you can do better than that." Severus stands, shifting his weight side to side he listens intently into the black– nothing. "Lily answer me!" His voice echoes, and is returned by a faint screaming. He hears screams. Severus' eyes dart back to the Herbology House. "No."

Without contemplation Severus runs to the screams. The air is dry and rough on his gasping lungs. He whispers curses of retaliation. The screams stop, but Severus doesn't. He runs hard, his cloak cutting violently through the crisp night air. He throws open the door, shattering glass everywhere. The house is dark and filled with steam– disheveled plants, and pottery dirt cloud Severus' vision.

"Who's there?" Whimpers an adolescent voice. Lying against a plant bench, in the corner of the room, was a second year. Too young to fight, Severus assumed he had come to the Herbology House looking for a sanctuary. Hidden from the boys' sight he approaches him. "Where is the Death Eater that attacked you?"

"Dead, or passed out, Laney hit him over the head with a pot."

"You hit him with a pot?"

"No, Laney did. She was behind him and he didn't notice her. We were battling, for a good whiles. But I'm not that good at magic. When he started advancing I blanked. She panicked and just knocked him."

"What a brave soul." Severus smirked. "Where is she?" The boy face drops. It is then that Severus realizes that the boy hadn't moved during their entire conversation. Not even to gesture. "Where is she? Can't you show me?"

"Well, you see, before we were battling Laney and I were hiding. So when we saw that Death Eater searching for–someone to battle… well, before he spotted us I decided we should prepare ourselves. I remembered hearing about this poison. Like a toxin, Professor Sprout had talked about. So Laney and I started rummaging through all the plants looking for it. I didn't warn Laney about how to handle it before we started searching–it's not my fault I was rushed and well–she found it."

"Aureus Vitis," Severus respired.

"A yellow flower. Just as I told her. Well, she picked it up, you see; she reached her hand out and grabbed the damn thing. She called out to me 'Wes! Wesley! Look I found it.' She was happy, sir. Proud even. It wasn't until I walked up to her that I realized that she had touched it. As soon as I saw her with it I swiped it from her hand and it fell. But it was too late. The flower's toxin disables you, paralyzes you. She started complaining about feeling queasy and all so I told her to sit under the plant benches. I told her not to move, cause Professor Sprout said that–"

"It feeds faster the more you stir–"

"And she stirred! I told her to stay put, but when she saw me losing to that dogsbody she got up and knocked him out. After she did that, she just fell. Not fainted. No. Her eyes, sir. She still acknowledged me. In the fear that the he'd wake up I carried her to the closet. The closet behind me." The boy moves his eyes, attempting to direct Severus. "I left her there to go lock the door. I had all intention of coming back to her, but on my way to the door I fell. Because when I swiped the plant from her hand I touched it. I'm poisoned myself. And now I can't feel and I am scared. I'm–" The boys voice cracks and tears leak from his clouded blue eyes.

Severus steps out of the shadow and crouches next the boy. "Wes, it's going to be –"

The boy looks up to meet Severus' face. "Snape? Professor Snape– Oh Christ. Oh Christ. I didn't know that it was you. Please don't hurt me. Please. I thought you were an Auror. Oh Christ, my mothers going to kill me when she finds out I died. Oh my Christ. Oh–" the boy sobs frantically, swallowing his pleas.

Severus steps back into the shadows. He forgot that he came to the battle as that man. That was the plan– to be the betrayer. As the betrayer he should have found his Lord and attended to his victory. Dumbledore told him that that would save the boy. The betrayer would have never run after the cries of students. No. The betrayer would never have listened to the story of a frightened child. The betrayer would leave the boy– the boy who has a poison that would soon reach his brain, then lungs, then his heart…"Now listen, Wes," Severus leaves the shadows and kneels in front of the boy. "We don't have a lot of time. You are going to have to trust me. This will not be easy for you. Knowing that you think that that I'm the–"

"Tosser who killed our Headmaster, and brought the apocalypse to the wizarding world."

"Yes. That I'm that man. Wes, You have to ignore all that you have against me and trust that I can help you." Severus reaches into his cloak and pulls out a vial. "Do you know what this is?

"A glass tube–"

"True, yes, but with what potion," Severus impatiently eggs the student on. "It has the texture of gelatin, the colour of a Moke, and the smell of a Dittany."

"I don't have the slightest of clue–"

Severus sighs. Potions has obviously been lacking since his departure. "It's an anti-venom serum. What do you know about the poison of an Aureus Vitis?"

"It paralyzes you and then eats away at your insides."

"Correct. Similar to the venom of what creature?"

"A serpent."

"Yes, but that born of Dark magic."

"What does this have to do with anything?"

"Well, one can never be too careful when being amongst the Dark Lord and his companion Nagini. Especially when you're a sleuth."

"You can't expect me to believe that you would betray the Dark Lord."

"No. I don't expect you to believe me. You have no reason to. But you do have to believe that this potion does what I say it does. Wes, It counters cursed toxin."

"But how did you get this potion? Professor Sprout warned of no spell to reverse such Dark magic."

Severus smiles lightly. It had been long since he had displayed his skill at botany. He had forgotten his love for it. He missed it. "I made it. I knew that I had to take precautions. I had to be prepared. I would not willingly be at the hand of The Dark Lord without protection. I have never been ignorant." Wes peers at the potion skeptically. "I want you to take it. There should be enough for you and your friend. I made enough potion to counter the venom of a serpent, and the venom of an Aureus Vitis is much less."

"But, why? Why would you help me? Don't you need to take it yourself?"

Severus stands and looks down at the incredulous second year. Severus had gotten his answer after all. He was never meant to have another path. He was never supposed to find motivation after the fall of the Dark Lord. He was always meant to fall with him. He is supposed to make his way back to his love.

"No. It is for you." He leans down to Wes and pours the serum into his mouth, before going to the back closet to find Laney. He stares at the girl: brunette, petite, and the face of a child. He forces the rest of the serum onto her tongue, and returns the empty vial into his cloak. Carrying the sleeping girl in his arms, he sets her down next to Wes. "The serum will take hours to counter the venom, and longer for her. To ensure your safety I shall lay enchantments before I depart." Severus walks to each corner of the Herbology House murmuring underneath his breath. Wes' eyes are no longer reddened with his tears, but still slightly swollen as he stares intently at Severus.

After a few moments, Severus gazes proudly about the room, "That should suffice." He turns toward the door, and is about to leave but is stopped by a small squeak.

Staring directly at Snape Wes asks, "What do I tell them? When they asked how we survived. They know I'm not good enough to put up those enchantments on my own, and Laney passed out thinking she was dying. What do I tell her when she awakes?"

"Tell them that you had help from a martyr." Severus smiles at Wes, and gestures to Laney, her head resting on Wes' shoulder.

"So after all this time–have you really always been fighting the good fight?"

Severus smirks at the child and turns out from the Herbology House. He knows he is meant to meet Voldemort. He knows his fate, but he isn't worried. He has found his impetus. He is exultant to have meaning and resolve again. He has made amends. He has protected the boy. He has saved the students. He has done just by his love.

THE END