Let Him Shatter
By: Gothic Lolita 009, aka Hayley Macrae
Rating: K+
Summary: Written for Professor Flitwick's Prompt of the Day Sept 7th: "Don't send a boy to do a man's job." Snape's thoughts before everything goes to the proverbial pit.
Disclaimer: All HP characters, settings, and the like belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. It is being used with no intent to copyright any material herein.
Leaving everything behind, Severus Snape ascended the stairs. He knew they were already here; their dark presence seemed to creep into the castle like a poison. That, and the Dark Mark one of them had conjured certainly had announced it rather loudly. The Astronomy Tower came into view, as well as the gang of Death Eaters half-circled around their intended quarry like so many snakes.
He knew why the Dark Lord had chosen Draco for this. Too bad the boy couldn't live up to his fierce name. The Dark Lord had also never thought the boy could do this man's job. He had his wand drawn, indecision on his face even while Greyback and Lestrange goaded him onward toward the action which was to be Snape's special honor.
Right, thought the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor briefly, an honor. An honor to destroy life, after fighting for so long to preserve it. And the life of one who he had considered friend and confidant. Or at the very least, he supposed, he tolerated.
For years he spied, lied, bled and fought. He had not been made Head of Slytherin for no moot reason. Dumbledore, for all his secrecy and manipulation, knew where to place those who could be of best use to him. This would be Snape's last, great act. The ultimate betrayal of everything he cleaved to.
Drawing his wand, Snape surveyed the scene before him, hardly noticing as Greyback, the Carrows, even Bellatrix fell back. Snape's eyes lingered on the young Malfoy. He looked at Snape with a mixture of fear and worry.
'A cowering snake,' thought the former Potions Master, 'is a dead one, Draco. You should have steeled your heart for this task a long time ago. Like when you were chosen for it.'
"Severus."
The voice was quiet, but Snape heard his name and turned. Dumbledore looked old and tired, his gentle blue eyes which often pierced the soul almost seeming to glitter with unshed tears.
"Severus...please."
In that moment, Snape could have and perhaps even should have cast his wand aside and told Dumbledore where to get off. Even now, every injustice committed against him flashed though his mind in a whirl. It gave him the power to do the deed which would seal his betrayal forever.
'Let him shatter,' thought Snape bitterly, 'let the bastard who cannot trust me die.'
The anger, bitterness and resentment Snape had harbored for so long contorted his face into a look of rage and loathing. There was nothing for it; now or never.
"Avada Kedvara," cried Snape, and then Dumbledore tumbled off the battlements.
'Yes,' thought Snape bitterly, 'yes, old man. Shatter. Just as the Fates have shattered my own hapless and dark existence.'
Grabbing Malfoy's arm, the boy and the man led the way toward safety outside the gates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizadry.