Inexplicable Guilt

All was quiet, and peacefully so. There was no wind whistling through the trees, the sweet twitter of birds, or the tinkling sounds of laughter as small children played together. It was pure tranquility, lying there alone with all that calm enveloping him like a sheet. Severus wondered when the next person would arrive, whoever it would be.

He thought for a moment what was happening back where he had been. Had the Dark Lord been defeated? Had the Potter boy come out victorious? Was the war going to end soon? This he knew he would never know, and he doubted he would see either of them in this curious place. He desperately wanted the war to be over, if it wasn't already, and that not too much blood had been spilled. The tyrannical wrath of the Dark Lord had taken control of them all, but together, he believed that Hogwarts would be able to fight his strength. They made up for their size with unity, and though he couldn't see them, he could imagine the faces of his colleagues and the students as they all fought for their lives against impending evil.

He suddenly felt an almost imperceptible pressure on his back, close to his right shoulder, so light and gentle it could almost have been an insect, but that couldn't be. He noticed that he had rolled onto his side, his legs slightly curled up in a foetal position. Normally, he would have jumped in fright and drawn his wand at whatever or whoever was provoking him, such was the nature of his anxious self. Years of experience had taught him that no one could be too careful, and it was better to hex first than find out who it was he was hexing beforehand, as there was always a counter-curse for the latter should he make a mistake. But he had no wand, and though he did not know who was behind him, he knew it was no one bad. For how could it be bad, when the worst was already over?

At another push by his nameless companion, he slowly got up and looked round. At first, his eyes were downcast to the ground, so he could only see that the person was dressed in long, flowing, silvery-grey robes, simple yet elegant. He didn't have to look up to know who it was. "Albus," he said shortly, in a clipped tone that sounded nothing but formal.

"Severus," said Dumbledore in greeting, a faint smile upon his wrinkled face, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Severus looked up and noticed immediately that Dumbledore's nose had been mended. Instead of being crooked and misshapen in two places along the bridge of his nose, it was a perfect, symmetrical slant. His mentor and trusted friend was standing before him, and Severus had no idea what to do or say. He was momentarily lost for words, and all he could do was stare speechlessly at the man he had worked for as a double agent for more than a decade, with dire consequences.

"Have you seen the boy?" asked Dumbledore. Severus shook his head. "Ah," said Dumbledore softly, as if he already knew the answer before he said it, the word coming out more like a whisper than a sigh, "he will be on his way soon." Severus blinked, not knowing what to do next. Even here, Albus had a commanding air, expecting others to do what he said. It was this that made made Severus trust the man so much; he exuded power. He knew Dumbledore would never betray him, and it was the same vice versa. But how would he know if the prophecy would be fulfilled?

The silence grew between them, stretching like an elastic string to the point where Severus was willing it to snap and recoil, anything to break it. "I'm sorry," he blurted out, before he could even think, shattering the silence. The phrase burst out from his lips like he had been meaning to say it all along, and he felt an instant relief from it, like he had finally let go of yet another burden he had been carrying for years. He let out an inaudible sigh.

"For what, Severus? Killing me?" Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling with a knowing gaze. Severus knew it was a rhetorical question, but nodded mutely, staring at his feet.

"But that was not your fault, Severus." He looked up in surprise, and saw that Dumbledore had tears in his eyes. "I ordered you to do so," he said softly, "It was not your choice to kill me. And that, Severus, is the difference which prevented your soul from being ripped apart."

"I'm still sorry," said Severus, a little stubbornly. He had not wanted to kill Dumbledore, after all. All those years he had avoided killing innocent Muggles and Muggleborns had to have meant something. That aside, he felt relieved that Dumbledore didn't see him as a murderer of any kind, and from that he could take comfort. "Did you feel any pain?" he asked. He knew he had – the snake bite had been a long and painful death, and he resented the Dark Lord for giving him so much agony considering that he was his most faithful Death Eater. But then, at least he had spoken to Potter before he left the mortal world. At least he had had a little time to make amends.

"None whatsoever," said Dumbledore, who was smiling once again. "Just falling, an eternity of falling through air, but… I landed safely." He took a moment to gesture at his surroundings, but as he looked around, a look of surprise registered on his face. "It looks as if you still have yet to decide what you want your surroundings to be," he remarked calmly.

Severus was confused. "Y-you can choose?" he said.

"My dear Severus, don't you remember what I've taught you all these years? You always have a choice, no matter how dire the situation. And it is these choices which make us who we are. But no matter," said Dumbledore, with a casual, dismissive wave, "you will know soon – at the latest, after you have met everyone else in your place."

Severus nodded, wondering whether Dumbledore had already met the five people he had to resolve issues with, and thought whether he was one of them. Perhaps they were merely here to fulfill each other's tasks in order to move on. He made to ask, but refrained after a moment of thought. He knew Dumbledore would only tell him half of the truth, if at all. And anyway, it would have been a rather personal question.

A part of him seemed to have mended itself from that little apology to his mentor. He was not one to apologise – the word 'sorry' had always meant so little to him, as his father had said it often during his childhood, throwing the word carelessly about as if it were a childish toy before committing what he had apologised for again the next day, to the disappointment of the rest of his family. He had learned not to trust the word if anyone said it to him. The first time he had ever sincerely apologised to someone, that someone had rejected it. Lily couldn't forgive him for what he had done, and had even given him an ultimatum – her or the Dark Lord. It had already been too late, however; by the time she had asked him, he had already gotten the Dark Mark branded on his arm, so in the end, he hadn't really had a choice at all. He had lived most of his life thinking that no matter what he said, people weren't going to see him any differently. But he had been proven wrong once again.

"Anything else?" said Dumbledore. Severus closed his eyes, sighed, and shook his head. "I never thought you would forgive me," he said. "I felt so…so guilty. And everyone else thought I should be."

"You have no reason to be guilty," said Dumbledore. "Move on, Severus, move on."

And just like that, he was alone again.