Disclaimer: Not mine. I don't own it and I don't claim to own it.
Severus wondered how he got himself into his position.
Sitting in a cold cell in Azkaban, alone, completely miserable even without the dementors. The only thing keeping him company was the moans and yells of his fellow prisoners, occasionally a shouted conversation, before that was stopped by the guards. The stench of sweat, people, and bodily fluids was no longer enough to make him gag, which told Severus he had been in here for a very long time.
He had stopped counting the days long ago, after reaching three years.
A bitter laugh wanted to form as Severus thought back to when he was still free, back to before he had done the deed that made sure he would never see the light of day again.
Back to before he had killed Dumbledore.
He remembered clearly all the arguments he had had with Dumbledore. Telling him he refused to do it, that he would rather die than kill the old man. Dumbledore and his damn lemon drops and twinkling eyes. But Dumbledore couldn't let Severus die, even though he had damned himself. No, the old man continued to say Severus would be more useful, and that he was already dying anyway. He said he would rather die on the other end of Severus's wand than anyone else's.
At that memory, Severus did let out a bitter laugh, one he had to fight back down before it could become a sob.
Now his thoughts turned to his old colleagues. The ones who had trusted him only because Dumbledore had. The ones who had watched coldly as he was sentenced to life in Azkaban. It seems death would be too merciful for him.
They all hated him, he knew. McGonagall, Lupin, Tonks, the Weasleys...everyone who had been in the Order. Everyone who had ever met Dumbledore, or even heard of him, hated Severus, except the supporters of Voldemort. Even he hated himself for what he did.
But none of them knew the truth. Dumbledore never told anyone, as far as Severus knew. They would all have done their best to stop him.
The old man never was as senile and sweet as he seemed. He would do anything to ensure the Light won. Including sacrificing himself, Potter, and condemning Severus to a life in Azkaban.
He supposed the old fool figured Severus would die in the battle. Damn him. Damn him and his lemon drops and twinkling eyes.
Severus thought back to the day of his sentencing. He could see clearly the Wizengamot, and the people who came to watch. He could also remember the thing that had been bothering him since then.
Most faces had been cold, full of contempt. But hers...she watched sadly, silent tears sliding down her cheeks. Severus wondered if she would have been there at all if it wasn't for Ron Weasley, who continuously sneered at Severus. When they announced his sentence, she sobbed. Watching as they took him away with large, terrified eyes.
He could again feel the twinge in his heart.
He again hated himself.
Some say it's the simple things in life that really matter. Severus wondered if that were true, but was beginning to think it was. The simple gesture of the girl crying meant a lot to him.
Maybe he wasn't as hated as he thought. Maybe Hermione Granger knew more than he thought.
Severus snorted. And Lucius Malfoy would rise from the grave and kiss the girl.
He turned back to his cynical thoughts, ready for them to keep him company for the rest of his days.
A/N: This might possibly be unfinished. It sort of feels that way, but I'm not sure. Feel free to share your thoughts, and constructive criticism is welcome!