AN/Disclaimer: Don't own, don't ask, don't sue. This is, I suppose, a companion of sorts to my story "To His Knees" but I decided to post it separately, as they really are different stories. The title is obviously from the famous Pink Floyd song. Thanks for stopping by and enjoy!
What have I done? It's too late for that
What have I become? Truth is nothing yet…
--Snow Patrol, "Chocolate"
Never in all his years at Hogwarts, as student and professor, had Severus Snape seen such massive chaos. Students, professors, members of the Order, Death Eaters, and the like were locked in a desperate mêlée in the ancient hallways, spells bouncing dangerously off the stone walls. The muted smell of blood and magic ran rampant; screams and curses rang in the stifling air like holiday bells.
But Snape had no time to watch the battle unfold; he was racing through the halls, dodging wizards and stray spells, wand clutched tightly in one hand but not used, looking for young Malfoy and his intended victim, Dumbledore. By sheer luck he caught a glimpse of Fenrir Greyback mounting the stairs to the Astronomy Tower. Pushing through students and Order members, Snape found a shimmering curtain blocking entrance to the tower; he plunged through quickly, the icy sensation leaving his exposed skin tingly.
He took in the scene wordlessly. Death Eaters, Malfoy, Dumbledore. He wondered distantly if Potter was in the room, hiding beneath his bloody Invisibility Cloak; it wouldn't be the first time. It was exactly as he expected it to be – Malfoy shrinking away from his duty, Dumbledore leaving himself open to be annihilated – but somehow it still shocked him. Dumbledore was slumped against the wall, weak but serene – almost cheerful.
"We've got a problem, Snape," Amycus, a rather lump-like Death Eater, told him. "The boy doesn't seem able—"
Snape ignored him, eyes fixed on Dumbledore, who was now pleading to die. Ironic, isn't it, he thought to himself, that I, a feared Death Eater and slave to the Dark Lord, have never killed another human. Tortured mercilessly, yes, maimed horribly, yes, made people insane, but never killed…and now I must kill the only person who's ever trusted me. He pushed Malfoy aside.
Trying to remind himself that this was what Dumbledore wanted, Snape lifted his wand. But the curse wouldn't work unless he meant it…
Hate. Fear. Anger. Guilt. Snape poured his emotions on Dumbledore. I hate Dumbledore for making me do this, for making me the enemy. He's a fool. He enjoys seeing me suffer. He used me. He's abandoning me.
"Avada Kedavra!" The words ripped from him and he watched the old wizard rise and fall like an overgrown puppet. An unending scream – Potter's he presumed – echoed painfully in his head.
A deep shudder tore through Snape; it felt as though his body, as well as his soul, was trying to tear itself apart. His mind had completely detached, rendering him incapable of rational thought. Snippets of conversation, erratic images, and an ethereal scream (was Potter still carrying on?) swirled through his splintered conscious. Panic washed over him in waves; what had he done?
But somewhere deep inside a tiny bubble of pleasure popped; some part of him was actually enjoying this. Snape's body began to act on its own, shepherding Malfoy out of the tower and trying to get far enough away from Hogwarts to Disapparate. He felt strangely calm, and his mind remained pleasantly isolated, carefully dispelling all thoughts of what had just occurred.
None of the battling wizards attempted to stop him, but Snape could hear desperate footsteps close behind him – Potter, again? Stray spells buzzed past him at alarming speeds; he evaded most but some made contact. He felt nothing, however, except a disheartening emptiness. As Snape turned his back on Hogwarts's great halls for the last time, the thick, crescendoing sound of pursuit filled the night…