Shadows are a part of everyday life. They are the bit of places that light cannot reach. Everyone knows they are there and are comfortable with their presence, not really noticing it most of the time. Children are often scared of the obscure threat they produce, but are comforted when their parents show them that a bit of light and warmth scares them right away.

The man lurking in the corner was a shadow. The light that once touched him was gone and he was but a remnant of the presence he used to be. He retreated into the safety of the darkness and half truths. Only one person knew his true nature and his trustworthiness, and that person had sworn never to reveal the best of the shadow-man.

Now he sat observing, part of the meeting being held but not included as one of them. He had long been their enemy and he had hated them. He stayed only because of the light that once shone upon him. For the source of that light he would do anything. He would sacrifice the faith of those who trusted him just to save them, he would treat someone he loathed with civility, he would go into the clutches of evil, and he would give his life. Just for that light. For her.

She had burned like the sun, giving him warmth and sustenance, the will to survive. He only cared for life because of her. Now that she was gone, he had no reason to live, except to protect the legacy she had left: a child, not his own. A child she had loved and protected, giving her life to save. It was not for the child who so resembled his father, but for the mother whose eyes he had inherited.

Those eyes, they burned his very soul the first time he looked into them in a face not hers. It was an unpleasant shock to see a reflection of the one he'd enslaved his heart to. It did not endear the child to him, he was too like his father, and he was too painful a reminder.

Those clustered around the table, minus one in the last few months, were suddenly looking at him. "Pardon?"

"Your contact with the death eaters is going well?" Asked Mad Eye.

"Ah, yes. Quite." He receded once more into the brooding silence he had adopted some years ago. Some twenty one years ago. When he'd chased away the light and had begun to be this shadow. It had cemented when it was extinguished. Following the meeting, he was pulled aside by Dumbledore.

"Severus, are you quite all right?"

"Yes."

He knew his answer was not really accepted, but could give no other. To admit why he was as he was would be to admit his greatest weakness. "Ah. I am afraid I have much to ask of you in the times to come. I can only hope it is not too much. Will I ever ask too much?"

"I think, headmaster, there is very little you can ask that will prompt me to deter from the set course. Ask as you will."

"Thank you Severus. I may never understand why you do all of this. You could withdraw from the conflict all together."

"I hardly think that is possible."

"Perhaps not. And yet, why?"

Severus looked for a moment at the pondering old professor. He could not hold the gaze for long, for he was afraid that Dumbledore would uncover the thing he had kept hidden so well. "Duty, I suppose. Making up."

"You've more than done that."

"Then I don't know. Stop prying." He strode brusquely away, unwilling to be quizzed about his reasons and purposes. He had dwelled in secrets for so long, nothing else could matter.

"He wants, or rather needs, me dead." Dumbledore mused some weeks later, just a few before school was to begin again. Potter had been safely deposited with the Weasleys and Severus sat in the headmaster's office.

"Yes."

"I am afraid of how he will try to do it."

"Afraid."

"Yes. Not of death of course, to the well ordered mind, you know, death is but the next great adventure and I am rather fond of a good adventure. No, I am afraid that he will somehow hurt my students. They are the future of this world, our world, and must be protected as such. You must help me make sure no one is harmed. Mentally or physically. Will you do that?"

"Yes, I will protect the students."

"At any cost."

"What cost are you suspecting?"

"My death is not so significant to that of a young student. Therefore they are more important."

"Very well."

"I believe he means to have Draco kill me."

"Yes."

"You cannot let him."

"Kill you?"

"Yes. That is more than such a young soul should have to bear."

"Very well, what do you want me to do?"

"You must kill me."

"Would you like me to do it now or would you like a moment to compose an epitaph."

"You know, you really are given enough credit for your humor." Severus sneered in response. Later that week he walked through the rain, just thinking. She had loved to do this. She would pull him out of doors to just walk in the warm rains. Not after what he did though. He remembered the last time they walked together.

"I don't like those friends of yours Sev. They worry me."

"Don't worry so much Lily. It's not a big deal, they're just my housemates. You're my friend." She had given him a bright smile, a beam of the light she radiated.

Killing Dumbledore tore his soul and broke his heart. He nearly faltered, but kept running, dragging Draco along behind him. He ran until he could no more, turned on the spot and went to the thing he must now call master and lord. No one would accept him back now, not even the end of the war and the unveiling of the truth would completely redeem him.

Returning as headmaster seemed dishonorable, the position belonged to Dumbledore. But the school, the building itself, accepted him as leader, opening its doors for him. His time was still preoccupied with the missing Potter and his two friends. He followed their progress and their condition. He knew when they visited Godric's Hollow and her grave.

He could not resist, he too went to the churchyard. Lily Evans Potter, 1960 – 1981. It wasn't fair. Why did he live on, he was the shadow that was not needed and did not want to be there? With her gone it was even worse. It killed him every day. He wanted so badly to be with her. Collapsing on his knees before her house, he saw for the first time the pain and sorrow his eager words had inevitably created.

His patronus was a soft, silvery doe. She was graceful and beautiful in a way words could not describe. The doe was the embodiment of how he thought of Lily. Perfect, beautiful, with soft intelligent eyes, graceful, forgiving, and loving. Using her, he guided Lily's son through a snowy forest to the sword. He cemented the victory needed.

Torture was not defined by the idea of hurt and scars. It was not the blood that stained the floor or the searing, raw, pain that ripped through him. Watching the thing he hated most in the world, the murderer of his dear Lily, extinguisher of his light, walk away was not even torture. No, torture was the blinding sense of failure. How could the boy succeed without him? Would everything be alright? He could not bear the thought of letting her down, even like this.

Lily. He could see her coming, her eyes… no. It was her son, crawling over to where he lay bleeding on the floor. "Take… it." Was all he could choke out. He forced himself to remember some of the things he would rather not, so that her son could know the truth. Then his mission would be completed and perhaps everything would be all right.

One last time, it was all he needed now, as life seeped away from him. A last look at the color of true torture. "Look… at… me." Those green orbs, burning into his soul, hovering above him. For a moment, he saw her again. Looked into her eyes, and felt that old contentment. Falling into death was like falling into hope. She was where he was going.

A light, bell like laugh, a friendly touch. "Hello Sev."

No longer a shadow, now bathed in her light.