Kill Me Softly
--A companion piece to Neglecting Reality
"No place indeed should murder sanctuarize; Revenge should have no bounds." --William Shakespeare
Dammit. Sod it all! What the bloody hell was I thinking?
"What was it like, sir?" asked Draco Malfoy curiously, trying to keep pace with his mentor. "I wouldn't have to ask," he added as a scathing afterthought, "but you completed my task for me, you see. Even when I assured you I could do it myself. I would've too, if you'd have just given me more time." Liar. Filthy, rotten liar. There was no time.
Regardless of how hard the fact was to admit, Severus Snape had just murdered Albus Dumbledore. He had raised his wand, pointed it directly at the old man, and chanted the killing curse; he had apparently not been in his right mind.
"Sir," started Draco again, imprudently, "did you hear my question?"
"Keep quiet." A callous command, perhaps, but Snape didn't care. They had to arrive at the gate of Hogwarts' grounds quickly before anyone caught up to them.
"But," began the blonde once more, crossly and insistently, "sir, I—"
"Silence." You should have listened the first time. "We'll reach the gates soon, Mr. Malfoy. We can apparate from there. I trust you can apparate?"
A nod. Good. The Dark Lord wouldn't be pleased if I splinched the both of us… especially if the cause was emotional distress.
The gate was cool and unyielding; Severus envied it.
Snape wrenched the handle toward him and as the decrepit structure creaked open, the pair slipped outside, physically relaxing as the weight of the school's many wards left their shoulders, and wordlessly apparating.
They arrived directly in the middle of a dark, moonlight clearing momentarily after leaving Hogwarts. Mysterious, black-cloaked figures were gathered evenly around its edge, whispering in hushed voices as Severus glanced anxiously about.
Snape was panicky. He rarely displayed any emotion akin to this, but, then again, today wasn't exactly normal. The demoralizing, plummeting feeling in his gut didn't help. It notified him of all the outlandish, highly exaggerated stories Draco would tell the Dark Lord, outlining the cold-heartedness Snape displayed when he stole the equally outlandish assignment of killing Dumbledore.
It would be prudent to convince everyone otherwise. This would be difficult: he was still tremendously upset in relation to Dumbledore's death, but it took a clear, unemotional mind to perform Occlumens. It took an even clearer mentality to perform it against the most talented Legilimens in the Wizarding world.
Take deep breaths. That's what he needed to do.
He tried it.
He almost choked.
He was inexpressibly thankful he didn't; just then, another black-clad figure emerged from the crowd. Everyone bowed down, including himself.
The Dark Lord was taller than most of the deatheaters. This was ironically due to the verity that most of the deatheaters were hunched into timorous balls of fright where Voldemort was concerned. This made Snape's train of thought stop immediately at Pettigrew, who was presently teetering along, far behind Voldemort himself. The posture of the former-Marauder was horrendous, and Snape didn't need to second-guess why.
"Ah, Draco and," the Dark Lord paused, "what a enjoyable surprise, Severus." For you or me? "I didn't expect you to be here. I anticipated you to be with the old coot up in his precious castle. Or…"
"He's dead, Master." It was Draco, looking quite anxious.
The crowd of deatheaters gleefully whispered at this news, deciding if it was feasible or not.
"He's dead," repeated Voldemort disbelievingly. Bellatrix was right. "Rise, Draco. Your mission went as planned, then? And I see Severus was fastidious enough to escort you back." Yes! That's it! The mission went flawlessly; you murdered Dumbledore, I brought you here. Say 'yes'…
"No." Damn. "Actually, Master, I was about to murder the old man when Professor Snape… erm… took over."
"What are you saying, Draco?" questioned The Dark Lord charily, dangerously.
"I am saying, Master, that he," Draco gestured toward Severus, "murdered Dumbledore." Damn!
Voldemort turned to face Severus, now trying his very best to become inconspicuous.
"This is true?" he asked precariously.
"Yes, Master," confirmed Snape, willing his voice to steady. He was ready for the torture to come. However, the terrible wizard whirled to Draco, instead.
"I have to admit: I am disappointed… severely disappointed," said The Dark Lord as he stepped ever closer to the confused young man. "I had really hoped it to be you, not Severus, who ended Dumbledore's life."
"I-I couldn't…Snape stepped in before—" Draco, now terrified, was stepping back, away from the threatening figure.
"If," interrupted Voldemort, "you had really wanted to succeed, you would not have given Severus time to intervene; but rather, concisely completed the assignment I so mercifully gave you!" The deatheaters in the crowd were starting to decline from the clearing, and retreat back into the wood. "Or is it that you did not want to conclude the mission?" Voldemort stopped advancing on Malfoy, waiting angrily for an answer.
"Oh! No, no, Master," said Draco hurriedly, "Of course I wanted to conclude it! I mean, I was a bit hesitant at the beginning, but I–"
"Is that so?" said the Dark Lord harshly. "Since you are reasonably new in the ranks, I think it necessary for you to know that I don't tolerate hesitant individuals."
Instantaneously, the dark wizard's wand was out and pointing perilously near to Draco's heart.
"Avada Kedavra." A blinding green light tore through the darkness of the night and a thump sounded as Draco Malfoy's lifeless body hit the ground.
Frightened murmers swept the crowd, even a few gasps. There were no screams, however; deatheaters were used to this sort of behavior from the Dark Lord.
"He was feeble," said Voldemort in response to the perplexed gazes of his deatheaters. "Don't you see, loyal followers? If he cannot succeed in casting a simple unforgivable now, what hope has he?"
Regardless, Snape, being rattled already from one death, had rigorous difficulty watching another while keeping an impassive face.
"Now," said Voldemort, turning, "What I fail to understand, Severus, is why you intervened when I had given specific orders for Draco to do it alone. You knew about them long before anyone else. Stand." Snape stood. "It is not that I am ungrateful—Dumbledore is finally out of our way! However, I had given precise instructions as how to carry out the task…"
"My apologies, Lord," said Snape, bending over slightly. In truth, he was scared out of his wits, but he wasn't about to let it show.
"Look at me, Severus." He did. In seconds, he could clearly see the memories of the past year replaying in his mind. And, like he had been trained so diligently to do, he blocked them.
Severus was very glad that something was going as planned, finally. Even in his wary state, he was able to, with Occlumens, shield important memories from The Dark Lord, while tossing in unimportant and sometimes phony ones.
He made sure to show off memories of Slughorn's Christmas party, taking care to omit his chat with Draco, various Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, giving Potter a detention during the most important Quidditch game of the season…
The Dark Lord seemed to approve, Severus could see it in his red, snake-like eyes, but then…
One of the followers in the crowd coughed. It was barely audible, but still noticeable. In his drained, distressed condition, Snape flinched.
And in his start, a lack of indispensable concentration was lost—Snape let a memory slither through his so carefully concocted blockade.
Snape was in Dumbledore's office, watching himself sitting in a chair opposite the Headmaster. There was a nasty silence until…
"He wants you dead."
"Who? Tom?" replied Dumbledore, amused. "That's no surprise."
"No, no," reiterated Snape, waving an impatient hand, "he wants you dead soon. Very soon."
Dumbledore looked indifferent.
"Albus, you can't be so unconcerned about your own death! Especially when he's ordered Draco to kill you."
And the memory stopped. There was stillness. Severus knew the Dark Lord had seen all that was needed; he knew what was coming. Damn.
"Well, well, well," said Voldemort hazardously. "One of my most dependable servants, my spy, no less. Do you have anything to say that you are convinced will clear your name?"
"No," said Snape, wittingly cutting off 'My Lord'. Voldemort nodded, but didn't speak.
He's taking this quite well. Perhaps he won't –
"Crucio."
Severus Snape felt pain. He felt an agonizingly horrible, throbbing, torturous pain; and it wouldn't go away. The excruciating harm made it so that, when he fell to ground with a thud, he didn't notice; and when tears of defeat trailed down his cheeks, he didn't sense a thing—except for the terrible uncontrollable hurting that engulfed him.
And once the curse had completed, Severus stood clumsily.
"You are a fool, do you know that?" said Snape with as much elegance as he could muster, though still a bit shakily. "Y-you are an unconst-itu-tional, sup-ercilious, un-idealistic fool," he bit out the last word with power and after taking a deep, uneven breath, continued. "You're naïve, too, if you're act-ually falling for the d-dense show these morons put on around you.
These followers you call 'loyal' are not devoted! They're scared! You cannot reform government with fear; it takes cooperation… agreement. Y-you ha-ave neither. The-e light side will prev-ail, only be-cause they have the one th-ing you d-don't: union," Severus finished, quite proud that he was able to get it off of his chest.
Voldemort laughed. "A noble sentiment, Severus, but in the end, what does it matter? I have supremacy, the main ingredient in victory. Though, if it makes you feel better, by all means, keep yourself convinced that your little collection of students and mudbloods will destroy me.
I must know, however, what convinced you to take sides; what did dear old Dumbledore offer you?"
"A choice," said Snape indomitably, smirking rebelliously as he looked up to meet the Dark Lord's eyes. "And I am not your servant."
"Avada Kedavra."
A/N: Please Review!