I wrote a letter yesterday
Just trying to explain
Couldn't find the words to say
Cause you are so far away
So far away
* * * *
Severus let out a sigh of brief regret, crumpling the half-finished letter in his hands. It always ended this way; he didn't know why this time should be any different. But he had thought - hoped - that she could understand what had driven him to this. She had not.
He and Lily Evans had never been more than friends - both would've been startled if anyone had even suggested such a thing. They'd known each other far before the age-old rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin had sought to separate them forever, and that was, perhaps, the only reason they had still been close, even after Snape's Slytherin friends had proposed open hunting season on Gryffindor Muggle-borns.
But the inevitable would not be denied so easily. Lily had fallen for Gryffindor quidditch captain James Potter, and Snape, more out of fury than any real liking for the Dark Side, had become Voldemort's youngest Death Eater.
He'd sworn to seek her demise for turning her back on him that way, but time had eased his fury, and he had finally seen the truth: she had not turned her back on him. No, it had been the other way around - he had, after all, been the one to call off the friendship. And though Lily was willing to forgive and forget, he was not.
It was not sheer heartlessness; he comforted himself with that. Something far more unchangeable than his own stubbornness had come between them, and that something was the Dark Side. He'd learned quickly that Voldemort's vision of the future did not suit him at all, but by then it was far too late to change his mind.
Lily did not understand the danger he posed. Not to her - he would die before he would let her come to harm - and not willingly on his part. But his very attitude toward her placed her in danger; the Death Eaters would not allow one of their own to develop a sympathy for the others side. If they knew he still cared about her, her life would be forfeit, and he would be the cause of it.
* * * *
I wrote a letter yesterday
It's so hard for me to face
That it had to end this way
But my love will never change
Will never change
* * * *
It had to be this way; the Dark Mark on his arm branded him forever as her mortal enemy. But it was so hard for him to face the harsh reality that he had taken this last step, that it was his fault. Always his fault.
He had taken it upon himself to teach her to hate him. Not what he was - she already hated Voldemort with a ferocity that was frightening in its intensity - but him. And he'd succeeded, all too well. He supposed he should be pleased; he'd done what he'd intended. But her new hostility toward him did little to ease his fears, and he lived in perpetual terror that she would be Voldemort's next target.
For Lily was Muggle-born, and Voldemort had sworn a vendetta upon her kind. Snape didn't understand why the Dark Lord hated Muggles the way he did, nor did his master favor inquires into his past. He had simply been Lord Voldemort, and that was all. But Voldemort's silence had aroused Snape's curiosity, and the young Death Eater had discovered a wealth of information about the man.
But nothing really told him what had made this former Head Boy of Hogwarts turn into the wickedly cruel, manipulative man he now was. Of course, nothing in Snape's own background would have suggested his association with the Dark Lord, either.
He had not missed the irony of the situation, but somehow it didn't seem as funny as it should have. Instead, it seemed kind of sad, and Snape had surprisingly little trouble imagining the imposing figure he still bowed to as becoming the model Slytherin: Head Boy and prefect, leading Slytherin house to victory in the Inter-House championship year after year.
* * * *
When I search my soul to find the truth
About the love we shared
I wonder why you're no longer here
* * * *
What had led him to this . . this insanity? He couldn't seem to name a particular reason, and found it subtly disturbing that he could not. But he wouldn't allow himself to begin this endless cycle of guilt again. It changed nothing; only drove him deeper into the darkness of utter despair.
But it suddenly seemed so completely pointless; this needless hatred of Muggle-borns. What difference did it make, in the long run? The biggest supporter of the Light Side, Albus Dumbledore, had blood as pure as anyone's, yet he was the most important obstacle to Voldemort's plans.
Voldemort himself was only half-blood; was his hatred of the Muggle father for which he'd been named really worth this?
No, Severus admitted, it wasn't. But he known that for quite a while now, and the knowedge did not help him in his quest to stop this monster.
And destroying the Dark Lord would be the only thing that could free him from this dark piece of his past. Yet even if Voldemort was destroyed, he would always be one of them; the mark on his right arm proved that. The Dark Side was his past, his present, his future; there was no escaping it.
Even if he refused to return to Voldemort now, what would it prove? Nothing, he finally decided, besides the fact that he was a fool for not answering his lord's summons. It would earn him only pain, in the end, and that would not accomplish anything.
But there was another option; there was always another option. The aurors. Though Snape would almost prefer Voldemort's mercy - if such a thing existed - rather than that of the aurors.
He was trapped either way; regardless of who finally caught him, he would be questioned, and in the end, forced to tell all he knew. To tell the aurors everything would be surrendering to a future in Azkaban; to be forced to talk by the Dark Lord would be admitting that he no longer had a future.
He knew what Lily would want him to do, and that finally made his decision for him. He really didn't have a preference, but with a certainty borne of years of friendship, he knew that she would. And he owed her that much for all the pain he'd caused her; he could do this last thing, try to undo some of the hurt he'd inflicted upon her.
And he whispered a silent plea for her safety, because he wasn't going to be there to protect her when the moment finally came . . . .
* * * *
You can just walk away,
But I don't feel the same
My heart still beats for you, breathes for you, sings for you
And those feelings will never fade
I can't hide my pain
I can never hide the way I feel for you