Author's Notes:
I wrote this story some time ago, in between HBP and DH. I know it's very short, I suppose it's really more of a drabble, but I've seen shorter fics posted here. It's mostly canon compliant, although I think I may have misjudged the relationship between Severus and Dumbledore just a little bit. Still, there isn't anything that blatently goes against canon.
Story is archived at the FictionAlley forums.
Unforeseen
He was four, crying in a corner as his father shouted at his cowering mother.
He was seven, and his father was beating him in a drunken rage.
He was eleven, being laughed at as he tried, and failed miserably, to ride a broom for the first time.
He was thirteen, alone in his room, shooting down flies to pass the time.
He was sixteen, being suspended in midair by Potter, his shabby underwear sticking out for the whole school to see.
He was eighteen, having the Dark Mark branded onto his forearm.
He was twenty-two, looking at the ruins of a house in Godric's Hollow, hating himself for his part in what had happened there.
He was thirty-seven, and the only man he had ever loved, and who had loved him in return, was begging him to do the unthinkable.
And then there was the Potter boy, accusing him, calling him a coward when he knew he was anything but.
And now it was just him and the Death Eaters. He was alone in the darkness, and he couldn't stop playing that scene over in his head:
"Kill me then. Kill me like you killed him, you coward-"
A single tear slid down his cheek.