AN: I hate my life. HBP nearly killed me.
Trust
By Nine Tailed Vixen
If we do not have trust what in the world do we have?
Harry looked at Snape. He looked into the cold relentless eyes. But Harry saw something in them he did not expect.
Regret.
Remorse.
Pain.
Loss.
Harry's eyes widened as Snape stood stock-still, ready to counter and nothing but. And then it Hit Harry as the whispered words echoed in his mind. Snape's body crumpled to the ground as he continued to stare at Harry in fear. Harry felt his world collapse as tears flowed down Snape's ugly face.
Perhaps, just perhaps Dumbledore still trusted Snape, even after his death. A phoenix was singing somewhere, or perhaps it was just his imagination.
Perhaps, just perhaps, the rage and hatred on his face as he killed Dumbledore was not aimed at the old man. Probably not but who knows?
Harry kept his wand aloft even as he left, he learned too readily about what happened to those who lowered their wand before their time. Harry passed Draco as he walked by. The poor blond boy lay cuddled to the bodies of his mother and father. His sobs echoed in Harry's soul.
It was easy to blame Draco.
It was easy to blame Snape.
It was easy to blame him self.
But in the end it was Voldemort. No question. It was this monster that did this to people. He, who blackmailed, threatened, tricked, and enslaved.
There was no better person fitting of hell.
No even then he deserved nothing less then limbo. To be able to watch the living but not be able to live.
Hell was the best he could do.
Harry would give it to him.
Harry waited as cold red eyes looked at him.
And then he raised his wand.