Disclaimer:

If I owned Harry Potter, I would be rolling in stacks and stacks of large $100 notes, not writing fanfiction on the internet. I own NOTHING. I write for my own pleasure and none of the characters are my own, neither are many of the places in which they find themselves, the many predicaments in which they are placed, thus constructing a plot, however are mine. Don't sue me. I can't afford it.

Prologue

His intervention may have well saved my life. In fact, I know it did. I couldn't have done it myself, I was wavering when he came in and I think he knew it. He - the other one - was right. I am no killer. My father would be ashamed. I am ashamed. I had never trusted Severus. My father had never trusted him. I always did what my father said. I had never believed there was any other way. What a fool I had been. How weak I was. I had failed. The first task that my master had set me and I had failed to kill even that doddering old fool. Severus had completed my task for me, and although I felt his loyalty finally proved… I hated him.

Conflicting emotions clouded my sight as I staggered after my Defence against the Dark Arts Professor. Staring at the back of his robes as he laboured in front of me through the Forbidden Forest, I loathed him with a loathing that before this point I had reserved only for that fatheaded Potter and his two pitiful sidekicks, Mudblood and the Weasle. Lost in my thoughts, I heard a small but distinctive thunk as I managed to successfully stumble over a tree root and almost collide with the very man who's actions were at risk of completely occupying my neural capacity.

"Draco, you must get out of here and get to Narcissa. She will keep you safe." I couldn't help the sneer that these words triggered.

"She's done a fine job up until now hasn't she Professor?" sarcasm thick in my voice. The reaction however was a little forced, for the manner in which he had phrased his command made it seem like he was going to leave me here. Alone. In the forest. Unbidden a memory rose to the surface of my mind, and I was once again struggling through the underbrush with Hagrid's great slobbering brute of a dog at my side. I shivered in revulsion as soft words snapped me out of my unwelcome reverie,

"Don't speak about your mother like that boy." The tone was commanding, dangerous even, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that I could see the whites of his eyes moving as he searched our surroundings almost frantically. For the first time since I could remember, Snape looked haunted and judging by his twitchy manner he seemed to be under the impression that just looking hard enough would reveal to him the positions of our pursuers. It was as I was making this distinction that Snape looked at me as though he was suddenly able to see clearly after a lifetime of darkness.

"You could say that I did it." Well, he was succinct at the very least.

"No, I couldn't." A decisive reply. I could be succinct too. A part of me was angry though. Why would I let my greedy Professor take all the credit for something that I had been planning from the beginning of the year? Even though it had culminated in a disaster that was large enough to make me question the intelligence of my allegiance. Even as my jealous thoughts took over, I found myself wondering whether I really wanted the credit for the death of a man I had despised almost as much as I had admired. Of course, it had not been my hand holding the wand, but it amounted to the same thing didn't it? Wasn't the intent to kill the same as the deed itself? A small voice worried at me. But you weren't intending to kill him in the end were you? I snuffed it out. It was not a thought I wanted picked out of my mind by the talented legilmens, Snape.

"Yes you could." The fool insisted "You could go back to school Draco, no one knows that you had a hand in it. Not even that idiot Potter could suspect the whole truth." Draco wondered why Snape's voice had suddenly lost it's more desperate edge. He wondered why the greasy haired man was raising his wand. "Stupefy!" With a glare of greenish light, the stunning spell hit him square in the chest, the force of it lifting him from his feet and sending him sprawling into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest. "Accio Broom" came the quiet mutter as Snape's broomstick came swooping silently down into the forest as he quietly thanked Dumbledore for taking off the enchantments that prohibited people from entering, or for that matter, exiting, the Tower Grounds on broomsticks.

He did not think about the many possible fates of the blond boy he had abandoned helpless on the forest floor, he spared not a moment to wonder about his safety, nor did it strike him as ironic that he was thanking his unfortunate victim for enabling his escape. It seemed to him, more fitting than anything that he, Severus Snape, should have had the last laugh.

A/N: This is my first HP Fanfiction on this website and I hope that you all like it. Constructive criticism is very welcome but taking a figurative crap on my story isn't. If you really don't like it, don't read it.