The Price You Pay
Part Three -- The Rest is Silence
In the final days of Lord Voldemort's rise, a younger Severus Snape is about to learn that in the dangerous game he's playing, betrayal can come from anywhere.
DISCLAIMER: I own nuthin' you see here, not even the chapter title. Well, on second thought I guess I own Charles Snape...but someone else can have Charles, 'cause I don't particularly want anything to do with him after this installment!
A/N: Sorry for the huge delay on this part, Life interfered with Writing yet again. This part is dedicated to Emma (Andromeda_2k), my wonderful beta-reader who somehow convinced me that this was worth posting!
Part Three -- "The Rest is Silence"
The sharp voice called out loudly, cutting across the noisy chatter of a regular 3 p.m. in the Hog's Head.
"Oh, Snape...Earth to Severus Snape!"
Startled, Snape's head snapped up from the empty glass he'd been clutching in his hand for the last thirty minutes, trying unsuccessfully to empty his mind. It was only mid-afternoon and he was just starting to feel the effects of the Ogden's Old Firewhisky, but he knew that even getting drunk wouldn't help him today.
For one thing, he hurt everywhere. The shock to one's body from having every pain nerve fired for an indecently long amount of time didn't wear off overnight, and Severus had woken up wondering if his bedclothes were possibly on fire and he hadn't noticed. The pain from yesterday's Cruciatus Curse had subsided now into a sort of persistent ache, only slightly more bearable in its intensity.
Now he suppressed a groan as Evan Rosier slid into the booth across from him. "Last person I expected to see here," his old housemate said. "What are you doing in town?"
"Business," Snape replied coolly, knowing Rosier would take that to mean business for the Dark Lord and wouldn't dare question him further. Severus had advanced through the ranks of the Death Eaters faster than any of his old school crowd except the Lestranges, and the few times he saw Rosier, Avery, Wilkes and the rest now they seemed eager to cling to him, to stay in his good graces. Which behavior Snape found almost as annoying as he'd found them in school, when he had been the outcast due to his family's amazing talent for sitting on the fence where Grindelwald and Voldemort were concerned.
In truth, he had come here because he couldn't force himself to go to Hogwarts, though he knew he should warn Dumbledore about his exchange with Lord Voldemort the night before. He couldn't bring himself to admit he had betrayed the headmaster's trust. And even more disturbing was Voldemort's reaction of seeming unconcern to the news of the Potters choosing a Secret Keeper. Once again, there was a vague feeling in the back of his mind that he'd stumbled upon something important, and he had all the evidence he needed, but somehow the inevitable conclusion eluded his grasp once more.
"I'm here on business too," Rosier supplied unasked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
Snape's gaze wavered angrily. He'd lost it. The warning conclusion that had flickered into his mind for a brief instant was gone. He came very close to cursing at Evan Rosier, who was looking almost unbearably proud of himself as he continued.
"Recruiting mission for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named -- it's a Hogsmeade weekend for some of the older Hogwarts students." He grinned. "Remember when we were here, Severus, meeting with the Death Eater recruiters for the first time?"
Oh, for God's sake, call him by his name, Snape thought irritably. "Actually, Rosier, you guys left me behind that day, remember?" he asked coldly, growing impatient with the conversation. Severus himself had been recruited in slightly more...unconventional...means.
He almost smiled at the look on his fellow Death Eater's face. Rosier's smile had disappeared, replaced with a look not so much of discomfort but of immediate fear.
"Oh, why -- we knew even then that the Dark Lord would wish to approach you more directly, Severus. We--" Rosier's pathetic attempt to make up for his blunder hung in the air between them for a long moment.
"Has it occurred to you, Rosier, that I may be waiting to meet someone just as you are?" Snape asked in a voice that could have frozen water, beginning to enjoy himself now. His last couple years in Slytherin after Charles graduated had been a living hell of isolation and forced introversion. The resulting bitterness had been one of the key factors leading the intelligent but very alone young boy directly to the promise of Lord Voldemort's New Order.
"Oh, yes, of course," Rosier mumbled unhappily, jumping to his feet. He played nervously with the hat clutched in his hands before shoving its crumpled form back on his head. "Yes, of course. Well, I'll be seeing you, I dare say, Severus. Must go find a table to meet the students." With that, he left very quickly.
Severus grabbed his wand from its spot beside him on the bench and stood up, leaving the empty glass on the table. Hogwarts could wait. It was too dangerous now anyway, now that he'd been seen in such close vicinity to the castle with no valid excuse. He had no desire to sit here and watch Evan Rosier charm a bunch of seventh-year Slytherins with talk of power and wealth and the tantalizing lure of privileged elitism. A lie the truth of which they would learn soon enough. He stalked outside and Apparated directly back to Snape Manor.
And froze where he stood, suddenly swept by a sick wave of nausea.
The Dark Mark hung suspended in the air above the stately, elegant house. The skull and serpent Snape had burned on his own arm grinned terribly at him, mocking.
No.
All Severus's thoughts coalesced into that one simple word of denial and abject horror. He had known Voldemort would surely discover his treachery, had imagined the consequences of his role as double agent so many times...but it had always been his own death he was imagining. Not this. Oh, no.
Sick with dread at what he knew he would find inside, Severus slowly made his way into the house. No, no, no.
He found them immediately, under the carved archway of the entrance hall, and every possibility of denial disappeared in a shattering instant.
His parents and younger sister, their bodies pale and still in death, battered horribly. They had not been killed quickly, that much was clear by the amount of blood pooling around what remained of his family members. Across the room, a distance away from the bodies, a single word was scrawled unevenly in blood on the hardwood floor:
REVENGE
This had not been a simple hit, accomplished quickly and wiped from mind afterward -- the Dark wizards responsible had clearly enjoyed themselves. Such gruesome treatment was usually reserved for Muggles and Muggle-born wizards -- it was rare for pureblood wizards outside of the Resistance's inner circle to be tortured for no reason but the sheer fun of it before the final merciful killing curse, the way the three bodies here had been. Snape turned away, swallowing hard to prevent the growing nausea from overpowering him completely. He squeezed his eyes shut.
A mistake. Immediately the darkness in front of his eyes was replaced by an image of Lestrange, Mulciber and himself at a massacre of Muggles in a quiet pub the year before. The same sort of destruction, of complete lack of regard for the sanctity of human life. And he had taken part in that, still remembered the feeling of immense power, so different from his first murder of the old Auror. His eyes snapped open, a new thought exponentially increasing the sickness.
Divine retribution, Snape.
Snape turned back around and crossed the room, careful to avoid looking at the remains of his parents and Robin. It was impossible to avoid the blood, he discovered. A small table stood to the side of the room, and on it Severus found three wands that had once belonged to his family, each broken cleanly in half. The order of the neat little pile among the chaos of the rest of the room was striking, an insult to the destruction behind him. Propped up against the wands lay a folded piece of parchment. Blood soaked one of the corners, darkening now as it dried.
Wrapped in a sense of sickened inevitability, Snape picked up the parchment and unfolded it, momentarily surprised that his hand wasn't shaking.
It was a short note written with green ink, in a cramped, spiky handwriting that somehow managed to look decidedly sinister. The simple text made him go cold all over, and it was then that he began to tremble uncontrollably:
Do not think for a second, Severus, my friend, that this ends here. Those who betray Lord Voldemort pay with their lives--and your turn will come. But first you will watch everyone you have ever loved disappear in blood and flame. Only then, when you will have wished for death long before, will it finally come. This is the price you pay for the choices you make.
V.
Charles.
He had to find Charles, warn him to flee. That was all that mattered to him, getting his last remaining family member out from under the death sentence Severus had inadvertently brought down on all of them. Fearing that he may already be too late, nearly paralyzed by the fear of finding another Dark Mark hovering over his brother's house, Snape Apparated directly to the front hall of Charles's London residence.
He found Charles in the living room with Erin, engaged in what looked like another wedding planning session. "Charles," Severus gasped as he half-stumbled into the room, relief flooding through him at the sight of his brother alive and well.
"Severus!" Erin exclaimed in surprise, jumping to her feet. He must look awful, he realized, blood soaking the bottom of his robes and a haggard, haunted look on his face.
Charles had also leapt to his feet at his brother's entrance, but the look of surprise in his eyes was very different. He looked as if he were seeing a ghost, so great was the shock etched on his face. "What are you doing here?"
Haltingly, Snape did his best to explain: "I came from the house. Father and Mother, Robin...they're all -- they're dead. Lord Voldemort--"
Erin gasped and her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes sad. "Oh, Charles," she said, looking swiftly to her fiancé.
Charles seemed not to hear her, however. Instead, he was staring at Severus, a thousand emotions passing across his face in quick succession. As Severus watched, the immediate look of horror and grief faded into something that looked startlingly like remorse. This expression quickly hardened into one even more puzzling, however -- a glare of coldness bordering on hatred.
In one terrible instant, the realization of what must have happened slammed into the pit of Snape's stomach. Charles's surprise at seeing him, the reaction of remorse at the news of their parents' death, the fact that someone must have betrayed him to the Dark Lord...and most of all, Charles's suspicion of his brother's non-existent relationship with Erin and the strange look of triumph in his eyes when Severus had revealed his role as a double agent for Dumbledore.
My brother.
It was a full ten seconds before Severus remembered how to breathe, and when he did managed to draw a shaky breath he found he still couldn't speak. Charles said nothing, a shocked look still on his face. Clearly, he had never expected his actions to have such devastating consequences. Severus felt a fresh wave of nausea sweep over at him at the realization that his own brother had found his death an acceptable means to an end -- and how could he have been so stupid! How could he have underestimated the power he was playing with so devastatingly, have made the decision to betray his own blood when everyone knew that to Lord Voldemort, blood was strong enough that the sins of the son would be visited upon the father and mother and sister and himself as well?
Erin was crying silently, and the sound brought Severus back to the harsh reality of the moment.
"Erin, will you please leave the room," Snape said flatly. It was an order, not a question. All of a sudden, Erin had ceased to become important. Severus's whole world at that moment consisted of the knowledge that his brother, his confidant, his best friend since they were children, had betrayed him to Lord Voldemort. The reasons didn't matter, his own feelings for the girl didn't matter, nothing mattered anymore except that his family was dead and he was left alive and he didn't want to be.
"Severus, I--" Erin began.
"Now, Erin," Charles said, speaking for the first time. Her eyes widened a bit at the venom in his voice, but she left quietly toward the back of the house.
Severus and Charles stared at each other for a long time. Severus wore the haunted expression of someone who has just had every belief he ever held shattered cruelly and handed back to him with a smile. Charles's face, on the other hand, was icily defiant now. If he still felt remorse or sadness, he was doing a beautiful job of hiding it behind a wall of flint worthy of Salazar Slytherin himself.
"Why--?" Snape began, realizing he didn't need to know, that he just wanted to inflict as much pain on Charles as he was feeling right now, as much as Robin and their parents must have felt in the moments before they were murdered.
"Don't look at me like that, Severus," Charles said into the tense silence. "If I were you I'd try to stay out of lectures about morality."
He couldn't come up with an answer to that fast enough, and Charles continued in a quiet voice.
"Come on, Severus. You were in Slytherin. The ends justify the means, isn't that the philosophy?"
"I was your brother. I trusted you!" Severus cursed himself inwardly - he hadn't meant his voice to shake so much.
Did Charles have soul enough left to be hurt by the pain in Severus's voice as he unconsciously referred to their relationship in the past tense? Snape thought, just for a moment, that Charles paused, that his face showed a moment of -- regret? hurt? Or simply rage?
Charles's voice when he responded after that momentary pause, however, was silky with malice. "Ah, but you still are, little brother. And trust is dangerous. You know that."
This was more than Severus could take. Without thinking, he yanked his wand from his robes and flung out his arm, training the wand on his brother.
"Go ahead, Severus. Kill me," Charles interrupted hastily. It had the desired effect; the words on Severus's tongue were cut off before the curse could be completed. "You've had lots of practice at that, I'm sure," his brother added more confidently now, his gaze flickering for the briefest of seconds to Severus's wand. "But remember, if you say those words right now, you're no better than I am."
"I don't care!" Snape retorted bitterly, still covering his brother with his wand. He knew he sounded like a desperate child, knew and didn't care now as he fumbled for the right words, the words he'd used so many times before without knowing the hatred behind them now. And the love. The confusion made him feel sick again, and he blanched, swallowing hard. "Avada Keda -- Avada Ke..."
He couldn't do it. Slowly, Severus lowered his wand. There was a tense moment of silence, and Charles's eyes lit up in triumph. At the flash in his brother's eyes, however, the lump of tears in Severus's throat dissolved at once, replaced by a kind of bitter rage that far surpassed any emotion that had led him to the Death Eaters.
"Get out, Charles. Get out of the country," he said, his voice deathly quiet and low. "I don't care where, just out of Britain. Out of Voldemort's reach. He won't care that you helped him."
"From murderous to concerned in five seconds flat," Charles intoned dryly. "Touching, Severus, truly touch--"
"Be gone by tomorrow. I don't ever want to see you or hear from you again," Severus said, his voice shaking with equal parts of rage and confusion. "Tomorrow, or I'll make sure you pay for what you've done today. By Lord Voldemort's hand...or mine."
Charles's dark eyes flicked to his brother's wand again, and Snape could almost see the internal struggle between his pride and instincts of self-preservation. Severus had always been the better wizard, and they both knew it. In the end, the logic won out. Once again Severus thought he saw some unreadable, haunted expression flash in and out of his brother's eyes. Or maybe not, maybe it was only his imagination. Whatever the look had been, it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
"You always did run from your problems, Sev," Charles remarked with forced lightness. Then, with a cool dignity that hid feelings Snape would guess at and agonize over for the rest of his life, he swept from the room.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Severus stood leaning against a tree in the Forbidden Forest, just off the Hogwarts grounds, remembering the last time he'd been here and wondering how he'd ended up back at this particular juncture in his life.
"You always did run from your problems, Sev," his brother's voice rang through the hollows of his mind, the mocking tone amplified by over a decade of distance.
Snape swore quietly, a muttered oath that surprised even him in its intensity. I do not, he told himself fiercely.
Then what the hell are you leaning against this tree for, Sev? he snarled silently, self-mockingly using the affectionate shortening of his name that Charles had been the only one ever to get away with.
"Dammit, you don't know anything about me!" he whispered aloud at his brother's memory, glaring with contempt at the empty air. And as if to prove it, he Disapparated.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
He stood for a long time in the middle of his brother's living room, frozen. To anyone who saw him at that moment, he would have appeared deep in thought. But in truth, he felt numbness above any other emotion -- everyone has a breaking point, and Severus Snape had been pushed well beyond his.
Where was he supposed to go now? he asked himself. Not home. Never home again. He couldn't face the sight of his parents' ruined house -- perhaps it too closely echoed the state of his own soul.
Snape Apparated out without consciously knowing where it would take him, not caring much if he did get splinched. He was therefore somewhat surprised when he ended up at the nearest Apparation point to Hogwarts, but he set off for the castle anyway, all of a sudden feeling eleven years old again. Dumbledore. The Headmaster would sort things out. Slipping back into a childish faith that had been disillusioned already once before, Snape quickened his stride.
He burst into Dumbledore's office without knocking this time. The Headmaster was seated at his desk, Remus Lupin and Mundungus Fletcher in chairs across the office. All three men sprang to their feet at Snape's entry. It didn't matter. He had no cover to worry about anymore.
Severus watched as the surprise on Lupin's and Fletcher's face turned to various shades of dark hatred. It was clear that not all members of the Resistance knew of his role as a double agent.
"Mr. Snape," Fletcher said coolly, his green eyes glittering with ice.
Remus Lupin, his old childhood enemy, was more vocal. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked. "You have a lot of nerve, coming here --"
"That's enough, Remus," Dumbledore said calmly, speaking for the first time. His eyes never left Severus's face, which was paler than usual and still wearing a stricken expression that the others hadn't noticed through their suspicion. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but I need to speak to Severus alone. We will continue this discussion tomorrow." He still didn't look at them, his piercing blue gaze cutting right through Severus the whole time.
The two men left, their expressions throwing daggers at Snape.
There was a long silence after the door closed behind them. Dumbledore broke it first. "What happened?" he asked quietly, staring hard at the devastated and sober young man in front of him.
"You need to know that my cover's been blown," Snape managed flatly, unable to put emotion into his voice.
He had managed to catch Dumbledore off-guard this time. The old wizard's face changed indefinably for a fraction of a second, and his gaze became even more probing. Even through his grief and the hard wall he was building around himself and his emotions by the second, Severus knew what a blow this was to Dumbledore's Cause.
"How?" questioned Dumbledore after that moment of silence.
My brother, Snape answered silently, the words running through his mind repetitively. I told him, this is my fault, it's my fault they're dead...
Snape opened his mouth to answer, almost told Dumbledore the truth. But something -- Slytherin pride, maybe, or possibly just the feeling that saying it out loud would make it real -- stopped him. "I don't know," he lied. Emotion definitely made it into his voice this time, so vehemently that Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.
Dumbledore gestured Snape to a chair, but Severus remained where he was.
"Severus," Dumbledore said quietly.
"No," he replied, desperation in his voice now. Slowly, in agonizing detail, he told Dumbledore the story of finding the bodies of his parents and younger sister, the condition they'd been in. He made little mention of Charles, only that he'd gone to London and warned his brother to flee.
He couldn't say it out loud, couldn't admit to anyone the horrible guilt he felt that he'd been so trusting, so stupid to confide in Charles Snape when so many lives could be destroyed by the secret. It was easier to seal himself off from the guilt and betrayal and anguish, to force the emotions to the back of his conscious and instead hide behind a wall of cold and bitter fortitude. It was a tactic the younger Snape had developed in his Hogwarts days, the lonely years of isolation at the beginning of Lord Voldemort's rise -- and it was made all the easier now by the cold rage he felt at his brother, at Lord Voldemort...at himself...
Snape's voice quavered as he finished his story, but it wasn't a repressed sob. Rather, a dangerous gleam was beginning to appear in Severus's eyes, an iciness that even Dumbledore found chilling.
The Headmaster must have noticed Snape's very loose contact with sanity, because the moment Snape fell silent he rose and took charge of the situation. "You will remain here at Hogwarts until we figure out what to do next," he said. Then, in a gentler tone, "I'll have someone look after the affairs at your parents' house." He looked at Snape for a long moment with his penetrating gaze, seeming to guess what he was thinking, and added, "Lord Voldemort will not win in the end, Severus."
Snape shook his head angrily, jumping to his feet. "I'm going after him," he declared, already heading for the door.
"You will not," Dumbledore commanded in the sharpest voice Severus had ever heard him use. "That is what's called a suicide mission, Severus."
"I don't care!" snapped Snape in response, stepping away from Dumbledore and towards the door. Good, he thought savagely. Somewhere in his mind he recognized the sheer insanity of the plan, realized how little chance he'd stand against a wizard of the Dark Lord's power. But he didn't care. His life was worth less than nothing now, as far as he was concerned. The fact that it was a suicide mission was part of what made it so attractive.
Dumbledore regarded the young man with a deeply sad look. "Severus," he said again heavily, taking a step towards him. "You will spend the night at Hogwarts, and that's an order. Tomorrow is another day. We will see."
Something in the Headmaster's eyes, usually so calm and contemplative, told Snape that argument would be a pointless mistake. Dumbledore had done enough for him already, and now, when so few people in the wizarding world would even trust him at all, he was offering Severus a place to stay. He allowed himself to be led to the bedroom off an unused professor's office and given a potion to help him sleep.
When Severus was alone in the small bedroom, however, his earlier resolve returned with even more force. He sat upright in bed, planning the next day's events. He would find Lord Voldemort and kill him, curse him before any of the wizards who were constantly with the Dark Lord could so much as draw their own wands. Snape laughed bitterly to himself, intellectually knowing the impossibility of what he planned to do. It would take only a matter of seconds before Voldemort or his bodyguards responded. But maybe...just maybe, he could get off one good curse before the end. Yes, revenge for today would be won -- and if the price was his life, then so be it.
He felt his eyelids droop heavily. Damn him for taking that Dreamless Sleep potion the headmaster had given him.
Tomorrow, he promised himself. Everything will be repaid tomor--
And Severus fell into a heavily drugged sleep in the middle of the thought.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Professor Snape Apparated into the cemetery by the old Riddle house. A chill swept over him at the heavy silence that lay over the graveyard, but he remained still for a long time nonetheless. He had ignored the call from the Dark Mark on his arm last time, the day of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, until it was too late. Now he would have to convince Lord Voldemort that he had seen the error of his ways, that he was truly on his side this time and that he would never betray the Death Eaters again.
He knew the Dark Lord too well to believe he would succeed.
But he would try.
He owed that to Dumbledore, to his family's memory, to James and Lily, most of all to himself.
Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders against the wind, Severus made his way towards the house and the past he desperately wanted to forget.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
November 1, 1981
Snape awoke with a start the next morning, blinking his eyes open slowly and trying to remember why he was there. When the memory of the last day came slamming back, he sat bolt upright in bed. He was horrified to find a midday sun filtering in through the window of the small room. How long had they let him sleep?
Severus jumped out of bed, hastily pulling on his robes and doing his best not to think. The less he thought the better. He would just do it, make some excuse to Dumbledore and leave to find Lord Voldemort. Who was probably looking for him already, Snape thought grimly, remembering the note still in the pocket of his robes.
He found Dumbledore in his office, stopping outside the door and listening to the snatches of conversation for a moment: "Black...Ministry...Fudge...Azkaban...Peter Pettigrew...."
Then, impatient at the thought of time already lost, Snape walked into the office after a quick knock on the door. There scene was very much the same as the day before, except that Lupin and Fletcher had been replaced by Mad-Eye Moody, the old Auror. This time, however, the mood was very, very different, and he immediately wondered what was wrong. Dumbledore looked tired and sorrowful. Lines and shadows of exhaustion hung around his eyes, which held a look that Severus couldn't interpret. It was deeply sad, but there was a hint of a tightly controlled triumph there as well. He suddenly realized how very old the Headmaster was.
"Severus," Dumbledore said quietly at his entrance. "Please sit down, there's something you need to know."
With a wary glance at the Auror, who was glaring at him with a look that could only be described as pure hatred, Snape sank into a chair across the desk from Dumbledore.
The Headmaster sighed heavily, templing his fingers under his chin and staring down at a pile of papers on his desk. "James and Lily Potter were killed last night," he began, and was cut off by Severus's sharp intake of breath. All of a sudden, the memory of his last confrontation with Lord Voldemort two days earlier came back, and this time he realized with a strangely dead feeling that the Dark Lord had told him everything he'd needed to be able to tell Dumbledore exactly who the traitor was. And he'd done nothing....
"Who was their Secret Keeper?" he asked quietly, his stomach clenched into a ball of guilt that he mentally forced himself to shelve with every other emotion to which he had deadened himself in the last twenty-four hours.
"Dumbledore, you can't tell him that!" Moody cut in reflexively, shooting Snape another suspicious glare.
Dumbledore sighed, looking back and forth between the two men. "It doesn't matter now, does it, Alastor?" he asked. Then he turned back to Severus. His eyes were dark with sadness. "Sirius Black."
Snape's eyes widened. He could still clearly remember Sirius beating him up once a month for seven years at Hogwarts. He could also remember how close Black had been to Potter and Lily Evans. Another betrayal. He closed his eyes momentarily. Stop thinking about it.
Alastor Moody looked appalled Dumbledore's lapse in security. He rose and bowed slightly to Dumbledore. "I have things to take care of," he excused himself. Severus got the distinct impression that old Mad-Eye felt a little lost, like he didn't know quite what to do with himself all of a sudden. The Auror swept from the office, still looking quite horrified, and a tiny, exhausted smile danced around the edges of Dumbledore's lips for a brief moment before he continued.
"Severus, something very unusual happened at the Potters home last night. Something we may never fully understand. After killing James and Lily, Lord Voldemort's curse failed against their son, little Harry, rebounding against the Dark Lord himself. He's gone, Severus. His powers, at least, maybe Voldemort himself. It's over."
Snape felt like something inside himself had splintered all over again. He stared in horror at Dumbledore, unable to wrap his mind around the enormity of the news. A young boy, an infant, and he had managed to do what Snape would have given his life to accomplish. And by doing it, had robbed Severus of any chance to avenge the deaths of his family and so free himself from the guilt...
One thing he knew for sure: he would never be able to forgive the Boy Who Lived, little Harry Potter, for condemning him to this life of self-hatred.
His parents. Robin. James. Lily.
All deaths that he had caused, one way or another. By carelessness. By the foolishness of trust and love. Unforgivable lapses on his part, and ones which he would never allow to happen again.
Dumbledore seemed to guess the thought behind the pain in Snape's eyes.
"You've paid a price I wouldn't have chosen for your actions, Severus, and the guilt weighs heavy on you," he said, his eyes serious. "But not nearly so heavy, I would suggest, as the guilt you would feel had you never tried at all."
Severus remained silent, suddenly overwhelmed, and Dumbledore continued. "I can't bring your family back to you, nor undo the remorse you feel at your hand in their deaths," the headmaster said gently. The familiar disappointment was gone from his eyes now. It would never come back. "All I can offer you is the thanks of everything that is right for what you did do. The rest...."
He shrugged wordlessly.
Snape never learned what Dumbledore had been about to say. Instead of finishing his sentence, the headmaster gave him a last kindly look and exited, leaving Severus alone in his office.
All over England, the wizarding world celebrated the survival of the Boy Who Lived, the tiny boy with a lightning scar on his forehead who would that day begin a new existence with relatives he had never seen.
Severus Snape remained alone at Hogwarts castle, nothing but his own thoughts and guilt and self-hatred to help him pick up the pieces from which he would have to rebuild his life.
__________
A/N: Not a very happy ending for a story, is it? But then Snape's not a very happy guy, I don't think...
Thanks SO much to everyone who reviewed the first 2 parts of this, and also to everyone who reviewed Indiscretions! You guys are the greatest, your comments mean so much to me, especially since I tend to be really pessimistic about my writing ability and this has been my first attempt at fanfiction. So, everyone who's been kind enough to review, it means more than I can express!
Okay, enough from me! Just review! ;-)