After Severus Snape killed Dumbledore, he cried.

He escaped the other Death Eaters' celebrations and went home. He locked the doors and dimmed the lights. Once he was sure that he was alone- really, truly alone- he sunk to his knees and sobbed.

Severus rarely cried. In fact, it had been nearly two years since he'd cried last. The last time was when Lord Voldemort had returned, and his role as a double-agent started once more. Of course, he'd never complained to Dumbledore; what good would that have done, anyway? Even if Dumbledore had told Severus that the Potions Master didn't have to spy anymore- which was impossible, either way- Severus would have continued doing it. He didn't spy for Dumbledore. He spied for Lily- for Lily's forgiveness, for Lily's son.

Harry. Severus had cried over Harry before. In fact, the last time he'd cried before Voldemort's return was after Harry's Sorting. It was the first time he'd seen the young Potter since he'd visited Godric's Hollow, that fateful night. Although the memory was blurred with tears and time, Severus remembered the one-year-old Harry's crying face, pressed to the bars of his crib. Severus had prepared himself for seeing the now-eleven-year-old Harry Potter, as the boy shuffled into the Great Hall, just one small, dark head in the sea of first-years. But nothing could have prepared himself for seeing the boy, as he scanned the group for Lucius Malfoy's brat of a son and found, instead, a little James.

But even from across the room at the staff table, Severus could see them. Lily's eyes. A perfect, stunning green that made Severus's heart break. They were Lily's eyes. Not James's. Perhaps he was just a miniature James, but Lily had left her mark as well.

That night, after the Sorting and the feast, Severus had been approached by Dumbledore, who suggested that they go and have a 'little talk' in his office. He refused, knowing all too well what that meant- sitting with Dumbledore, being called 'my dear boy' profusely, sucking on sherbet lemons, and talking about the deal they had. The Potions Master had no interest in that. Instead, he had gone down to his quarters, locked the doors tightly, and collapsed on his bed, tears streaming down his pallid face.

Hands trembling, Severus had pulled a framed photograph out of the bottom drawer of his bedside table. It had been taped to the top of the drawer, to keep anyone else from finding it.

The photograph was of a young woman with curly ginger hair, a round, freckled face, and brilliant emerald-green eyes that pierced him, even then. "Lily." Severus had said, his voice thin as tears continued to wetten his cheeks. "Your s-son… Harry… he's here now. A little Gryffindor, j-just like you were. And you know I promised Albus I'd protect him, but… he… he looks just like him, Lily. J-Just like James. He's got your e-eyes, too… I don't know if I… can bear to look at him."

Lily smiled glassily back at him. Like all wizarding photographs, she moved, but unlike wizarding portraits, she could not see him, or hear his cries; instead, Lily tilted her head to the left, beaming sweetly. She was looking right through him. The Potions Master gripped the frame tighter, wishing that she could hear him, to tell him that it was all going to be okay…

It was the same as when he had visited Godric's Hollow after Voldemort's attack. He'd held Lily's lifeless body in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably, his tears spilling uselessly over her prone form. Severus would have given anything for her to wake, to save him from the nightmare that was swiftly consuming his whole life… he wanted to be dead, too; to be where she was, and not all by himself… but that was how things always ended up for the broken Potions Master; alone…

And now, here he was. Still alone, sitting in a miserable heap in his old house on Spinner's End, crying his eyes out over the awful deal he'd made with a manipulative old man with a cheerful smile. Now, all of Voldemort's suspicions of Severus still being faithful to the Order of the Phoenix were gone; his suspicions had died with Dumbledore himself- which was good, he was the perfect spy now, Dumbledore would be proud- but it came with a price. All of the people who Severus cared about now thought that he was truly a Death Eater. All he wanted was for them to know that he was still fighting alongside them, working to take down Voldemort's army from the inside.

With shaking hands, Severus pulled something from the folds of his billowing black cloak. It was the photograph of Lily Evans. The picture was one of the very few things he'd taken from his personal quarters at Hogwarts before going up to the Astronomy Tower to kill Dumbledore. He'd known that he wouldn't be allowed back in after killing the well-loved Headmaster- so, as quickly as he could, Severus gathered up the things that he'd never forgive himself if he left behind. The photograph had been the first thing he'd grabbed.

The Potions Master stared at Lily for a few moments, tears rolling down his pale cheeks. "A…At least you know." he began tremulously, black eyes locked on her joyful face. "If you… if you can see me from wherever you are, Lily, I hope you know that I'm on the g-good side now. I hope you know that I'm doing all this for you… and for Harry, too, so he can live."

The smiling woman in the photograph still did not acknowledge him, or give any signs that she'd heard him. Severus wasn't expecting anything different, but it still hurt like hell every time he looked at the picture, as the beautiful green eyes he'd spent years admiring stared just past him.

"I just h-hope you know." the Potions Master croaked, pressing the frame to his chest.

Somehow, he had a strange feeling that she did know, but for once, the thought of Lily's approval didn't make him feel better. Every time he thought of her emerald eyes, he thought of the fury and hurt he'd seen in Harry's matching ones, and his stomach clenched. Even if he'd protected Harry thus far, Severus felt like a failure to be the cause of so much trauma for the boy.

"I j-just hope you k-know that I… I'm sorry, Lily." Severus sobbed. He'd never felt so unworthy, so alone, so hollow before in his life.

end