His Heavenly Hand.
Halloween 1981
Death. Destruction. Poison. Severus Snape was by now well accustomed to his dubious talent in life; destroying others. Everyone else in the castle was celebrating the end of the reign of terror. He ought to be celebrating too! No longer would he be answering to the whims of a megalomaniac. Of course, he knew the Aurors would want to speak to him sometime soon. As his 'compatriots' were rounded up, they were bound to sell each other out like rats.
He decided he didn't care what they did. The two empty bottles of Firewhisky proved that. Lily was dead. He had no reason to go on. All the things he had done. Would she ever forgive him? He had pretty much killed her. He had sent her and her stupid husband to their graves. He had essentially murdered hundreds of Muggles with his exceptional poisons, created for the Dark Lord. He was an evil monster. He dropped the almost empty bottle of liquor into the fire, enjoying the momentary destructive burst of flame. Yes, destructive, that was all he was.
He stumbled into his private office, tears drying on his sallow face. All this, he had done for nothing. All had come to nothing. He threw jars and vials to the floor, the tools of his skill lying in shatters on the stony floor; like the pieces of his shredded soul. He sat at his desk, shaking, before knocking the empty cauldron to the floor. His tools which had destroyed so many lives. His hands which had caused so much pain. Muggles, muggleborns, Lily! Lovely, wonderful Lily. And one other.
Marlena! How could he have forgotten her innocent trusting face just before he had taken her trust, and everything else she had to give? He was the most evil creature imaginable. What had he been thinking? He chided himself, picking up his Athame and fiddling with the handle. The same knife he had used every day since he was 11 years old. Marlena may not have been as beautiful or as lively or as good as Lily, but she was an innocent, and a decent person, if a little naїve. And he had taken that naїvety and destroyed one of the things that made her so lovely; her innocence.
He had known before that something made him keep her hanging around. It was that beguiling innocent look in her large dark eyes. She was just a child damn it! And she was family! The one thing he had never had much of. That was worse than what he did to Lily. There he could plead that he was driven mad with love, a jealous spurned wizard often did mad things. But little Lena had never meant that much to him, had never hurt anyone.
He deserved to be punished, he knew. He would never get forgiveness, because he didn't deserve any. And as he pulled the bright, keen blade of the Athame across his skin, he knew the women he had wronged would be vindicated at last.
His eyes parted to blinding white, and he knew something was wrong. He was meant to be dead, but white was the last thing he expected in the afterlife. Surely it ought to be dark, and cold and icy. Or perhaps red and fiery, depending which group of philosophers and clerics actually had their facts right.
"Oh so you've decided to rejoin us, have you? Silly boy!" chided a familiar voice. Surely no creator would be so cruel as to subject him to an eternity of Poppy Pomfrey? But no, he could hear her bustling about, felt her tucking in his blanket so it pinched him. Definitely alive then. And with a hangover that would cripple a troll. How much had he drunk last night? And what the hell had happened to him?
"If I might have a word with the boy in private, Poppy, now he has awoken?" the headmaster's voice intruded, forcing Severus to truly open his eyes once more. Albus Dumbledore. Now THAT would be a cruel eternity.
"Five minutes Albus, then I want to check him over again and give him his potions. What possessed him, I shall never know..." she hurried off muttering to herself.
"You gave us all quite a scare there, Severus my boy. Even Mr Filch was concerned when he came upon you in such a state in your office. Would you kindly tell me what possessed you to take such drastic action?" Albus asked in his softest, most concerned tone.
And then it returned to him. Drinking to forget, which only increased the pain. Remorse turning to self-loathing. Losing the desire to continue to breathe. The knife, so sure in his hands. He turned his shamed face to his wrists, bound in soft white bandages. How could he have done this? He had made a promise to Albus, to Lily. To protect her son. But he could not forget the things he had done, they tormented him.
"I was weak, Headmaster. Forgive me." Severus choked softly.
"There there my boy. We all make mistakes. Let us forget all about this awful incident. Please remember in future, my door is always open to you my child." Albus replied, patting his too-thin shoulders gently and leaving the man to his thoughts.
Forget all about the awful incident. If only he could. Forget hurting the one person he had ever loved. No he could never do that. But to forget harming an innocent; the one person he could truly have had a chance with? Forget trying to avenge his wrongdoing and failing miserably?
He lifted the goblet of icy water on his bedside cabinet. Clean, shiny, just enough for this task. He took a long look at his oddly caricatured reflection, raised his wand and whispered with careful concentration.
"Obliviate."