(A/N: Okay, JKR owns it all, not me. Um, this first chappie is a bit disturbing, but bear with me.)

He was the only one left standing there, staring out into the night. The rain fell heavily on the top of his head, running the length of his hair and down his face. He could not move. It was as if his feet were cemented into place. He was disgusted, and hated himself with every fiber of his being. It had been two years since he had felt this way. Two years since he performed an act so vile that he wanted to end his miserable, disgraceful life and fall straight into hell where he belonged. Two years since he had to follow through with his promise: to kill the only man he trusted, and would have laid down his life for. He never believed he could hate himself more than after that night. He was wrong.

The order was now well aware that he and Albus had made a plan. A plan he would never have conceded to without Albus' absolute authority and wisdom. He had tried to argue; to tell him that his life meant nothing, and saw no good coming from Albus' death. The older wizard only let out a sad laugh, and told the man that there was something he did not know. He explained that his hand injury was worse than it appeared. The dark magic would slowly eat at the rest of his body, until it spread internally, and eventually kill him. It would be a slow, painful process, and would only give Voldemort more confidence as time went on. He also conveyed that this act would not only give Tom the proof of loyalty he was seeking, but also give Harry Potter enough determination to finish his task. The dark haired man slumped in defeat. He finally agreed. He had condemned himself to a life of self-hatred, and endless torment.

He spent a full year in hiding. His only contact had been Remus Lupin, who was aware of the plans from the beginning. That was crucial for more than one reason. First, Remus would never have accepted his wolfsbane potion if he had not known. Second, there needed to be a contact in the order to pass information onto. And also, he would hold the evidence of the truth until the right time. The plan had worked well. In only a little over a year Harry, Ron, and the order had tracked down and destroyed all of the horcruxes. Hermione and the rest of the women of the order (with the exception of Tonks) had stayed to conduct research and hold down the fort. After the last horcrux was destroyed, Lupin told the members of the order the truth. Not only was there a letter written and signed by Albus, but also memories of the plan's creation. It was impossible to have his name publicly cleared until the fall of Voldemort, so he was still a wanted man in society. Nevertheless, he was still working with the order. According to Remus, Harry still harbored great hatred for him, but was willing to accept the situation due to the fact that it was under the orders of Dumbledore. Harry firmly believed that no matter the task, Dumbledore's orders were to be followed.

None of this mattered anyway. He was a murderer. The final task of killing Voldemort was still left unfinished. Until the evil man was dead, he was still trapped. He just wanted it to be over. He didn't think his conscience could handle any more guilt. He was empty apart from the hatred inside him. After this night, the only reason to go on was to try to restore some peace to the world he was helping destroy. Too many innocent people were being harmed before his very eyes, and he was powerless to stop it. To try would mean revealing and ruining everything that Dumbledore and the others had sacrificed for. He would bide his time. Wait until the end of the evil reign of the Dark Lord, and rid the world of the hollow monster that was Severus Snape.

A flash of lightning and the crush of thunder was what brought him back to his senses, and another wave of guilt washed over him. He looked down at the poor girl. Her body lay broken and motionless. She had never had a chance. Lucius Malfoy had spotted her that day, and a great lust had sparked inside him. He followed her around for hours, ready to pounce. She was a waitress at a nearby restaurant. He learned from another young girl that she had just moved into town. She lived alone, had no remaining family to help her, and was trying to make it on her own. Lucius followed her to her home that night, and just as he was reaching for the door, his arm burned from the call of his master. The Dark Lord finished his ranting, and wished for entertainment to cheer him from his fowl mood. Lucius was ready with a suggestion. There was no stopping it. The rest of the death eaters had apperated away from the scene soon after she had taken her last breath, but one remained behind. He knew he shared in the guilt. He may have hung back from the group, trying not to let her screams enter his ears, or see the terror in her eyes, but he still did nothing to stop it. Telling himself that he had had no choice did nothing to ease his conscience.

He looked down at the young girl once more. The rain was washing the blood away from her body and into the mud below. With shaking, but respectful hands, he closed her eyes and covered her body. For the next few hours he set to the task of digging a grave for the girl. He could have used his wand and had the job done in a matter of seconds, but he did not. He had just thrown the last shovel-full of dirt over the sight when he heard it. It came from inside the house, and he knew the sound in an instant. It was the cry of a child.

His eyes went wide in shock. He had no idea what to do. Somehow, his legs began to move, as if on their own, towards the house. He opened the door, and walked down the dark hallways towards the sound of the whimpering child. She was crouched in a corner of what must have been her mother's bedroom. He could only make out her form in the darkness. When she looked up and saw the form of the man, she became frightened and tried to back deeper into the wall, covering her face with her hands.

"Where's mummy?" she asked trembling. His heart gave a jolt, and a wave of sympathy that he had not felt in a long time swept over him. He got down to her level and spoke in a calm, soft voice.

"Your mummy had to go away. She won't be coming back." The little girl's eyes grew to twice their size before she began to cry. When he reached out to touch her they both drew back. The child drew back from fear, but his sudden withdrawal was for a different reason entirely. One he was not ready to face. Instead he asked about her father.

"I don't have a daddy," she sniffed. "I don't have anyone. It was only me and mummy. Grand mum had to go away too. How come everyone goes away? Where do they go, and why don't they want me?" she said tearfully. Severus was numb. He had helped do this. He had helped take the only person this little girl had out of her life. He knew he could not make it right, but he would do the best he could. If he could do nothing else, he would make sure this child was taken care of.

(A/N: this is a Snape/ Hermione fic, but she comes in in chap 2. Please review; let me know your thoughts.)