Snape watched the sun come up with indifference. It no longer mattered if the sun came up anymore. It didn't matter if there was another dawn to begin the day. The moment those treacherous words had left his mouth, all light ceased to exist. The moment Dumbledore had fallen, so had darkness. Snape had run out of options.
There had always been options before. Should he serve the Dark Lord or Dumbledore? Should he spend the rest of his life killing to stay alive or accept a lemon drop? There had always been a choice between good and evil.
That was something that James Potter and his son never understood-- there were always two sides to things, especially in Snape's life. All James saw was slouched, greasy Severus calling Lily a mudblood. He never looked close enough to see that Severus winced when he said, his eyes trying to conceal an apology. All Harry saw was a spiteful, greasy man looking down his long, hooked nose at him. He never saw it from Severus's view. Severus needed this. Finally, he was strong enough to rain on James' parade. He had survived against all odds. But James had not. James had had the indecency to die just when Snape could finally say "I'm better than you." Harry was just the next best person to tell.
Because the thing was, Severus had always been weak. He had always been sniveling, licking his wounds while throwing hateful words that never got him anywhere but upside down, his filthy knickers showing. And finally, for once, he was strong. He was okay. He had survived his treachery of Voldemort harmed but functioning. He had done something James could not.
Yet, it had worried him. He had spent nights awake, staring as the ugly mark burned into his arm slowly began to surface again for the first time in thirteen years. Who was he supposed to be loyal to this time? Harry had solved that dilemma for him years ago, but there was no hoping for miracles this time. Whoever he chose, there would be no forgiveness from the other. No more second chances.
And on that tower, he had hated both of them. He had hated the Dark Lord for ordering him to kill Dumbledore, and he hated Dumbledore for asking him to commit the same crime with a bloody lemon drop as an offering. Snape had accepted the lemon drop, shoving it deep in his pocket. And he had killed Dumbledore.
As he stood on the hill of that gloomy graveyard, the sting of the slashes on his back fading to a dull ache, Snape watched as his shadow changed shape in the light. He had finally remembered that there could be no darkness without light. He slowly bowed his head mournfully and dug deep into his pocket until he found what he was looking for.
Snape took one last look at the red of the new dawn before turning his back on the light, popping the dirty lemon drop into his mouth.