Summary: Severus Snape is a cynical man who hates children, especially Harry Potter. What will he do when he is assigned the task of healing a suicidal boy? Will he be able to overcome his prejudice? Or will he succumb to his hatred? Dark themes.

Rating: T for suicidal themes, angst, and possibly changed to M later.

Word count: 1433

A/N: I haven't written in so long and this was finished at 3 in the morning. Evil plot bunnies held me at gun point until I wrote it all down. Tell me what you think :)

"CRUCIO!" Voldemort screamed. His cold voice rebounded throughout the walls of the ministry.

Harry sharply twisted to the left to dodge the spell before allowing himself to smirk. In his mind, this was child's play. A basic maneuver. It's common knowledge that one cannot defend oneself from an Unforgivable. However, no matter how strong or potent a spell was, it was just a movement of a stick if the spell does not find its target.

The Dark Lord's eyes widened, as if incredulous that his curse had missed.

Standing in vicinity of the battles were several Aurors and Deatheaters. Both of whom have stopped fighting to watch the ultimate battle with slack jaws and wide eyes. This was it, after two years of intense training; they knew that everything depended on this battle.

Harry skillfully nimbly dodged another Unforgivable which was sent his way, it was a killing curse this time. His rigorous preparation for this day had paid off, and today was no different from any other day; he was being attacked, and almost mechanically, his body took over and guided him through practiced movements to dodge the attacks.

The Aurors had sharply inhaled and had held their breath when the flash of green light had barely missed the teenager.

Harry ignored them.

In front of him, Voldemort's eyes narrowed. Harry's eyes flashed and his scar burned as Voldmort's anger coursed through him. It was coming, and he could sense it. The end was near. He had been born and raised to fight for today. Taking a split second, he bitterly reflected on his seventeen years of life. After discovering the prophecy in his fifth year, Dumbledore had decided to personally train him in preparation for the final battle.

It didn't take Harry long to realize that his entire life was planned from the very beginning. His first eleven years were hell. His relatives showed no love—let alone compassion—towards him. When he found out Sirius was alive, it was like taking a breath of fresh air. He was truly happy when he thought he had a chance of living with Sirius. He'd never experienced love or a home before and now that Sirius was dead, he will never experience it. He did have Ron and Hermione….but they had each other now.

There was a painful pang in his heart when he thought of what he could have had. It appears as though he was not as stoic or emotionless as he believed it was, even with the training that he had endured.

I am alone. He fiercely told himself. But not for long. This is for you Sirius…I'm coming for you soon…He let that thought linger before snapping himself back to reality.

Voldemort was staring at him with cold and calculating eyes. He made no move, however, to attack. Harry knew that even the Dark Lord could not know what he was thinking. Dumbledore had made sure of that. His Occlumency skills surpassed perhaps even the most trained Aurors.

"Come join me Harry Potter." The Dark Lord spoke at last, reverting to parseltongue. His hiss was audible throughout the room; both Aurors and Deatheaters flinched alike.

Harry didn't even bother to reply. Unlike the onlookers around him, he detected a twinge of fear in Voldemort's voice. It was a desperate attempt. A last ditch effort to save himself.

Anger shot through his snakelike features when Voldemort realized he had no chance of saving himself.

"Fine. Then die!" Voldemort screamed without warning he drew his wand and cast a Killing curse at the boy.

In the brief second that it took Voldemort to raise his wand, Harry had already begun moving. His muscles tensed, and his instincts kicked in. He could hear Dumbledore's voice in his head. One. Avoid the spell.

His legs propelled him forwards and he made a graceful roll before springing to his feet again. Two. Do not stop moving. He quickly darted forward until he had a clear shot at his target.

Three. Do not hesitate to kill.

Harry's eyes fluttered closed for a mere second. He remembered his shock when he had first heard the third instruction. It was so unlike Dumbledore to issue an order instructing him to kill. Then again, this man had planned his birth and raised him like a pig to slaughter. His so called love was faked and he was no more cared for by the old wizard than a swordsman cared for his weapon.

His eyes shot open and he locked eyes with his arch nemesis. Icy eyes stared back at him, filled with a primal fear instead of anger this time.

"Avada Kedavra." He whispered. Although his voice was low, power surged through him. The expected green light shot from his wand and the entire room froze to watch as it hit its target dead center.

Voldemort's mouth was open in a silent scream and his red eyes blazed. He was dead before he even hit the floor.

There was a moment of absolute silence as everyone tried the absorved what just happened. Suddenly, the death of their master seemed to have aroused the Deatheaters. Crack. The room filled with resounding snaps as the remaining Deatheaters struggled to apparate to escape.

"STUPEFY!" The battle had started again as the Aurors began fighting to stop the Deatheaters from escaping. In the chaos that had formed, everyone forgot about the boy standing in the center of the room.

Harry did not notice the noise and the war surrounding him. He was staring at Voldemort's open dead eyes, almost waiting for him to rise up and start fighting again. For an instant he felt regret, this was the first time he had killed. Of course he had practiced the Killing curse in theory and on objects…but he had never taken a life before.

But he had. Anguish suddenly tore through him and he felt sick. He sank onto his knees and lowered his head. His mom, dad, Sirius all died to save him. It was his fault that they were dead. He did not know his parents, but Sirius was everything to him. And he had let him die. His struggle to avenge his Godfather gave him strength to suffer through the abuse that shaped him to be the fighting machine that he was today. He had put off his emotions and only concentrated on his sole task of revenge.

Now it was done. He hadn't expected to feel happy or proud; he had not felt either of those emotions for two years. And he didn't. He had no one to celebrate the victory with. In his eyes, this was just another planned incident in his life.

Suddenly the pain of being alone cut through him like a knife. Harry doubled over in sheer agony. Blood dripped from his mouth because he bit his lip so hard.

Sirius…I'm so sorry for everything. He thought. I'm so fucking sorry.

As fast as his pain had come, it disappeared. Now all he felt was numb. The comprehension of what has happened dawned on him. He was free. He had fulfilled the prophecy, and now he was useless. The ache inside his heart gave a twinge of longing and his lips curved up in a bitter smile.

I did it….He thought to himself, suddenly craving to see his Godfather again. I don't want to be alone anymore. I've done everything. I gave up everything. I don't care anymore. To his shock, his eyes burned and tears threatened to spill over.

"I don't care anymore," Harry whispered hoarsely to himself. One man snapped around at the sound of his voice. Oblivious, Harry raised his wand to his own chest and closed his eyes; a single tear ran down his face.

Severus Snape paused in his battle for a moment and then abruptly blasted his opponent aside when he saw what was happening.

"What the hell do you think you're doing Potter," Snape snarled, starting towards the boy.

He was too late. The boy did not give any indication that he heard him.

"Sectumsempra."

Bright red blood exploded from his chest, stomach and neck as he fell backwards. The pain was quite unlike the agony Harry had experienced earlier. It was a burn, a welcoming greeting from death. And if it meant it could see Sirius again, it was worth it. A body wracking cough tore through him and he tasted copper in his mouth.

Strong arms wrapped around his chest but he did not open his eyes.

Sirius…was the last thing he thought before he fell into unconsciousness.

A/N: Ahh...Thank you for reading~ I hope you enjoyed! First chapter is a bit short since it is only an introduction. If the story is to your liking then I will definitely continue and write more :)

However every author needs some feedback so click and review please! ^^