I (think) I wrote this a year ago. Sorry about the spelling.
Morning;
Narcissa had discovered Skeeter and her bottle of port by accident.
Lucius, Draco and her were planning on leaving the country until the public's collective memory had forgotten the unfortunate events of the last few years. Lucius often compared the wizarding public to a school of goldfish, who fixated completely on the latest scandal and then forgot it completely when the next juicy tit-bit came along. He thought that ten years, or possibly twenty years, should be enough to erase any unfortunate associations that the wizarding public might make between the previous administration and the Malfoys.
Narcissa occasionally thought that the goldfish analogy was an apt description of Lucius. He swam around in the glass bowl of his ego, devouring the latest bits of scandal and falling to learn from his political miscalculations. Narcissa had decided that she was going to have to deal with Lucius after Draco had been married to an appropriately obedient girl of good family. Narcissa did not forget.
Skeeter made an oddly pathetic sight with her hair in ruins and her glasses askew. She was sitting in a rumpled pile at the foot of the main steps leading up to the great hall. Narcissa had always thought of her as rather common. Like Severus she had managed to bury a working class accent behind layers of sarcasm and cynicism. Like Severus she had made her self useful to the right people and had been awarded appropriately. Like Severus she never failed to give the impression that she was the smartest in the room and that she was amazed that they had all made it to adulthood without accidentally stepping in front of the night-bus.
However Skeeter lacked the qualities that had endeared Severus to Narcissa. Severus had believed in justice fiercely. He had always been outraged and disgusted by the inhumanity of others, his cynicism had been a front. Skeeter, in contrast, had always been completely apathetic. Her cynicism was not a mask that she wore to hide her disappointment, it was entirely unfeigned. If anything she was always rather coldly amused at having been proved right.
Skeeter noticed her and smiled up at Narcissa. The light of the setting sun reflected of her glasses and her smile looked like it had been painted on by a modern painter who delighted in the misery and horror of human existence rather than the beauty and joy of being alive. The sort of painter that Lucius adored because he thought that it showed his urbanity and superior detachment from the human condition. Narcissa thought that this was another example of Lucius stupidity.
Narcissa sat down next to Skeeter and squinted into the fading sun. Skeeter looked at her curiously and continued to smile her faintly amused, modern-painting-by-an-detached-asshole, smile.
Narcissa sniffed and squinted into the sun so she didn't have to look at Skeeter. "Are you planning on leaving the country?" she asked politely.
"Why bother?" asked Skeeter. "It's the same everywhere".
Narcissa said nothing.
"He died, a horrible thankless death after performing a horrible thankless job for years" said Skeeter suddenly. "He was never loved, he was never cherished, he was never even thanked. He was a good man, who gave everything and received nothing. A talented man, who was wasted in a pointless war between a narcissistic asshole and the Dark Lord".
Narcissa nodded, she didn't have to ask who they were talking about. "Don't you think that he went to a better place? " she asked.
Skeeter laughed. Narcissa realised that it had a hint of hysteria to it. "After 42 years on the planet, you still believe that some benevolent being is watching over us, that someone is waiting to accept us all into his heart and to wipe away our tears? If there is something, it's indifferent, or actively malevolent and Snape is no better off in the after life than he was here".
"Do you believe there is something?" probed Narcissa.
"No" said Skeeter "No, there is nothing but us and we only have ourselves to blame", she drained the rest of the bottle.
"And ourselves to congratulate" said Narcissa. "If there is only us then we have created a lot of beauty. We have a lot to be proud of".
Skeeter laughed again. "You are hilarious princess, we have nothing to be proud of. Truth and humility and justice and mercy and love are lies we tell ourselves. 'Do unto others as you would do unto yourself', 'love thy neighbour', it is all variations on the same cowardly pact, 'don't hurt me , and I'll promise not to hurt you'".
"What about people like Snape?"
"Snape was one of the people taken in by the lies, he sacrificed himself for something that is less than a soap bubble, he sacrificed himself for figments of our collective imagination".
"Then the guilable ones have something to be proud of".
Skeeter was suddenly enraged. "No they don't. They have nothing. They die for nothing but their own stupidity. There is no reward waiting for them and there is no forgiveness. They die for nothing and they become nothing".
"Perhaps what they did has it's own reward?"
"You think Snape derived some sort of pleasure out of being eaten by a giant snake?"
"I think he derived some pleasure in working to make the world a better place".
"It's not a better place, it's the same place. This is all just a brief interlude before the next shit storm hits. Besides, if it is better, he didn't live to see it".
"You don't think he would be pleased that he helped save his friends?"
"What friends? The idiots in the Order, his self-centered students, you and your family of morons".
"And you".
"We weren't friends".
Narcissa turned and looked at Skeeter. "You are right to say that it was a stupid war. But do not demean his sacrifice. And do not waste it".
Skeeter snorted and gestured aimlessly with her bottle, "'his sacrifice', please, 'his suicide' ".
"Sacrifice" insisted Narcissa.
"Tomato, tamato" sighed Skeeter.