Dead. Severus Snape was dead. The fact that he was now in his afterlife was a sore disappointment. His life wasn't comfortable, and he was not looking forward to another one. What made it worse was the dead people who were waiting for him. Walking towards him were Albus Dumbledore, James Potter, Sirius Black, and Lily, all looking happy and proud and all those optimistic superlatives that made him want to strangle his students every day.
That thought cheered him up. No more students. God, he hated those cheerful little bastards. Being there all smiling and chatting and breathing too loudly. All he wanted was peace and quiet, and now that he was dead, it seemed like he would be getting none of that again. And people wondered why he hated everyone. He glared at the greeting party with as much venom as he could muster, which was a lot.
He practiced his glare throughout his life. It said: "there is a right side and a wrong side to be on when this glare is aimed somewhere. The wrong side is where this glare is aimed at. Run for your life. Just. Run." With that glare he could make eighteen year olds cry for their mothers, fifteen year olds soil themselves, and twelve year olds do both while running away in horror. . And now it was aimed at the group of loathsome people coming towards him. God, he hated people.
Albus Dumbledore, now younger, cheerful as ever with his eyes twinkling seemed to be leading the bunch of them. He was going to talk. The only thing Severus Snape hated more than people was people talking. No, this afterlife was starting on the wrong foot already. He was hoping for a four handed massage and a relaxing read on a tropical beach somewhere, but instead he gets these people. Again.
"Severus my boy! I am so proud of you. You have done well, far more than I asked of anyone else. We are now within reach of defeating Tom, and it is all because of your dedication. You should have been sorted to Gryffindor." Albus said merrily.
That did it.
Severus Snape, for the first time since he was a teenager, stopped restraining his emotions. And decided it would be a good time to stop restraining his words. He aimed his glare right at the old codger's face.
"Mister Dumbledore, you evil codger. I have lived my entire life since I was eleven years old, with the exclusion of three years, under your tender care. Let us sum up the wonders that has brought me. I died alone, hated by every single person in the world, choking to death on my own blood, when my so called friends either tried to murder me or sent me to my death. And I was still doing your dirty work even then. Not only am I dead, the Prince family is now extinct. All for your greater good. Well, looking back at my life, your greater good sucks. Your greater good is about making you the legendary savior while others pay the price for your arrogance. And one of those is me." Snape didn't bother shouting, just went on with a calm voice.
"I know it has been hard, Severus. I truly am sorry. No one else could do it, and we needed you." Albus Dumbledore looked slightly abashed as he replied.
"We? You mean the people who treated me like scum my entire life needed to use me. Voldemort at least tried to reward me, though I refused because you required me to. On the other hand, you never did. You just gave me more work. My reward? People will remember me as the man who killed you. You, the brave Gryffindor, greatest wizard of the twentieth century. Me, the Slytherin Spy, murderer. Not one person on the planet remembers me with anything other than hate. And you expect that your weak platitudes now will make up for that?" Severus Snape whispered in acidic tones.
"Severus... please. Harry will make sure that you are remembered a hero. You are dead now, no need to dwell on things. We have a very long time to make up for things now." Albus retorted warmly.
"Oh, and that will be great. My legacy will be written by a child who has a few memories of me to go on. Not by my family or friends which do not exist thanks to you. That makes everything all right. Your hypocrisy knows no bounds. I should have been sorted to Gryffindor... Do you even understand how insulting that is? The fact that you think my being Slytherin means I cannot be brave? I'm Slytherin through and through. The fact that I put aside all my goals for one single-minded ambition of making sure Harry Potter lives and Voldemort dies speaks volumes of how Slytherin I am. Not one Gryffindor could be so thorough. I did my job by any means necessary, up to and including the most ignoble death." Severus Snape expressed his words with as much menace as he could muster.
Dumbledore tried to say something. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Tried to think up a way to look on the good side of things and failed. The twinkling in his eyes stopped.
"You on the other hand, did not. You didn't bother taking one Death Eater with you. You kept your hands clean. Because you wanted, more than to win this war, to be the consummate, noble, heroic Albus Dumbledore. You didn't bother to recruit Draco Malfoy, or any Slytherin at all, because that would go against your sensibilities, and might not be comfortable for your fellow Gryffindors. No, you wanted a clear conscience more than you wanted victory. That is why you lie to yourself and say that what you do is for some amorphous greater good; you cannot stand looking to your actions and understanding that you caused damage by being honorable. That is why I know every one of your feeble apologies is worth less than the air carrying it. So, don't talk to me about how great the House of Gryffindor is, let alone how my actions would fit there. This is why I say Gryffindors are arrogant, unthinking, sanctimonious glory-hogs." Severus Snape said with seething finality.
He turned away from the Albus Dumbledore, and was secretly pleased that his robes still billowed menacingly when he did that. Then he caught the eyes of Sirius Black, childhood bully and overall a completely unpleasant person. He was smart enough to keep silent after the verbal lashing he heard. Severus Snape narrowed his eyes at him, giving Sirius the distinct feeling that a predator was zooming in on him.
"Sirius Black, on the other hand, is not clever enough to apply what I just said to himself. No, it was not enough that he tried to murder me and then told everyone it was just a prank. You probably don't understand that what you did was wrong even now. No, right up until the day you died, you stuck by your conviction from the Hogwarts Express that since I wanted to be a Slytherin that meant I was pure evil. But that wasn't enough, you tried to turn students against me, because it is not enough that you hate me, everyone else needed to hate me too. Why not make my life harder when you have the chance? You can live vicariously through your godson and continue bullying me and calling it a prank. After all, Dumbledore wouldn't allow me to harm Harry. My saving his life couldn't have been because I was actually a human being." The mocking sarcasm in the spy's voice was unmistakable.
"Listen Snape, you were a git, and I wasn't perfect. I get it, you were a good person and I didn't see it. I'm sorry for misjudging you, and for the things I did. But you gave as good as you got!" Sirius said defensively, with a tone of petulant anger.
"Oh please. I gave as good as I got when I was one against four. I guess I owe the fact that I was such an excellent dueler to the fact that you never left me alone. So, thank you, apology accepted. God, your arrogance knows no bounds. How about you give me back what should have been a partially happy childhood, though as you can guess by the fact that my parents aren't here that it wouldn't have been a proper happy childhood anyways, and allow me some respect in my life instead of your feeble words? Oh wait, it is a bit too late for that now. Oh, I needled you a bit at headquarters. Just a little taste of what I went through from everyone since I was eleven years old. You wanted to murder me for that, you hypocrite. You wanted to murder me for existing. So, no, your apology is not accepted." Snape venomous voiced his thoughts on the matter.
"Do you want me to remember why I hate you so much? Seriously, let bygones be bygones. I've been dead for two years, why are you such a bitter git?" Sirius replied, now seriously annoyed.
"Oh, because you ever needed a reason to hate me. Wait, you didn't. You may have had two years to cool off, but I've had my entire life being one downward spiral since I was eleven years old with many thanks to you. Pardon me for not being a bigger man. You are right, I am wrong. Everything is just fine. Allow me to give you a lesson in English: forgiving is a verb, which implies an action. Being a Slytherin, my actions have meaning behind them. You want me to forgive you, then you need to somehow make me mean it. How self-righteous do you have to be to not even consider my perspective when you want a clean slate? How about when I have a chance to enjoy my life enough to get a sense of proportion I'll feel generous enough to endow you with my undeserved forgiveness. That may take a while since there is no chance of it happening ever." The deceased spy said with abundant contempt.
Sirius snarled and walked away. Severus smirked at that, finally getting the one thing he ever wanted from Black, physical distance between them. He wouldn't have minded bloodying him up a bit, but death had made him slightly more magnanimous. He turned to James Potter.
"And before you thank me for protecting your son, or for fighting the good fight, I don't want to hear one word from you Potter. You weren't satisfied with bullying me until I had nowhere to turn to except the Death Eaters. No, it was necessary to ruin other people to make yourself feel better. Being a Slytherin made me evil. It didn't matter that my best friend was muggle-born, or that I was a half-blood, I had to be a Death Eater at age eleven, and therefore deserved whatever punishment you could dish out. I'll give you credit, you were never stupid enough to give me a fair fight." Severus sneered at the man, with Slytherin condescension.
James didn't lower his eyes, didn't bother talking back. Finally, the newly dead thought to himself, someone who bothered listening. This was actually quite fun. He was nearly regretting what he was going to say to the man. Nearly. He hadn't taken the time off to dance on the man's grave, so this was well earned in his book.
"People say that you grew out of being a narrow-minded swine at some point. I don't believe it for a second. People don't change who they are, they change how they react. The fact that I did in the war what I did was because that is who I always was. I gave as good as I got, that says everything. I was fair. You were not. You are every bit the arrogant pureblood that Death Eaters are. Trust me, I know them better than anyone else alive or dead." Snape noted in emotionless monotone.
At least James didn't cower or twitch uncomfortably. The recently dead man grudgingly respected that. As opposed to Sirius and Albus, the man didn't try to shy away from his words. Perhaps he had grown to be less like the human waste he had known in his life. Quickly deciding that he wanted proper discomfort, he decided perhaps another tactic was in order.
"But worst of all, your lack of ability to protect your wife and son. No, you didn't bother giving her that invisibility cloak. You didn't sacrifice yourself to protect them. No, she was sensible enough to see what was necessary, but you didn't think, you charged in true Gryffindor fashion. You on the other hand were too busy charging to your death, thinking of how to fight, not why you fight. Your goal wasn't to protect them, it was to go in and try and hurt someone. Couldn't be a coward and saving your family. You had to be so good that they had to die for your arrogance. Your family was less important than your honor." The word 'honor' came out as the lowest form of insult imaginable from the dour man's lips.
James finally had a look of defiance in him. Severus was pleased at that. Finally, the arrogant brat he had known shone through. Lily on the other hand looked like she expected a happy reunion. Part of him even wanted to give it to her. But he hadn't spoken to her since she was sixteen. She was still James's girl. And... he didn't feel anything at the sight of her. Whatever he felt back then was as dead as him. Still, to be fair, he wanted to let her speak first. After an awkward and extremely uncomfortable silence of course. It wouldn't do for someone other than him to have fun, after all.
"Sev, I just wanted to thank you. For being a friend even when I was dead. For protecting Harry. For everything." Lily finally managed to say.
Pacing around in silence, Severus Snape contemplated this. A quick reevaluation of his life, now that he could afford to think about things other than surviving long enough to complete his mission did not make him happy. Well, no surprise there. Thanks. That was what she had to say to him. Thank you. Well, that makes everything all right then. She was there with her husband and her son was alive, and she expected him to be happy with his lot after those few words. Severus Snape mentally berated himself for expecting anything could come of this. He was great at berating, and his reprimand for indulging in optimism was particularly harsh.
"Lily, I called you a mudblood. This is the second time I have ever used the word. Did you know why I said it? Did you even think about it when you were alive? All you did was just agree with everyone else instead of having your own opinion. I studied the Dark Arts. So what? Every single DADA professor did. Dumbledore did. I had evil friends, well, my friends didn't bully you despite your being muggle-born, so what does that make the Marauders? A name which should tell you more than it did by the way. No, now that you are dead, you want to be friends again. Well, tough." Severus Snape spat out the words like a machine gun, in a well honed rhythm.
He walked around Lily, who James put his arm around possessively. His well practiced ability to loom over others working well to break down her pride. Snape gave a deep chuckle, and moved back around until he was facing her again. Intimidation is an art, and he was Pablo Picasso.
"I saw that you were having trouble not smiling at James's antics. That is when I finally understood, you didn't see me as an equal, you saw me as something to be pitied. I was the poor bullied boy that you generously allowed to hang out with you. Like all popular and pretty girls, all you needed was one excuse to cut me loose. I was a teacher for long enough to know the absolute truth: popular people will eventually cut the unpopular ones out of their lives, and will rationalize it later. I needed to remember the good times in order to allow me to complete my mission, but death is liberating." The hateful words kept streaming out of his mouth.
It was time. Time to go in for the metaphorical kill. Years of using words as weapons were culminating with words aimed directly at the heart of each target. Nothing hurts worse than the truth people avoid, and he had enough ammunition to eviscerate his prey. Albus, Sirius and James were not going to think of anything else for a while, but now it was time to finish the job. With any luck, they would be as cowed as first years by the end.
"I see you for what you were. A shallow, conceited, temperamental bitch, who truly cared only for friends who could help her. When you wanted someone to introduce you to magic, I was your friend forever. You actually promised that. When I was unpopular and you were getting good grades, then it was funny when people bullied me. That is why I called you a mudblood. To grab on to at least one shred of dignity, that was publicly stripped away. I may have used harsh words. I may have not been nice. I thought I didn't deserve your love, but it really is the other way around, isn't it? Over twenty two years after you last spoke to me... you. are. not. worthy. And we both know that. You and James were truly meant for one another." He was proud of how much of an insult he made that last sentence, finishing his tirade.
He turned away from his greeting party, and looked for the nearest tropical beach. The afterlife had some nice amenities, it seemed, as a sign appeared pointing him to a replica of Costa Rica. He saw a small shop on the entrance, got some lotion, a book, and set a reservation for a few Japanese masseuses. He couldn't handle another English speaker for the next year or so without resorting to violence. God, he hated people talking.
And really, it was about time for him to get a bit of a tan.