"I'm sorry."
"What are you here for?" She perceives you so well and you hate her for that. You hate her, yet to see her slip away...you need her. You always have.
"I came to tell you that I was sorry. You can do nothing more, Mother." You stare at her face and watch as some of the ice melts from her eyes, and her mouth becomes less thin.
"Would you like to come in?" Her hand motions to the open door, and from the outside you see the orange flames as they lick her hearth, and the welcoming glow emitting from the large yet homely room. Part of you longs to sit by the fire and tell her what you did during the year, tell her your favorite class and how you miss it when she used to tuck you in. Part of you has always longed for her this way, longed to become that small child she used to love. But you hate yourself for thinking it. You hate what she does to you, and what you have become.
You shake your head. "Thank you, but I must go." You live your life making excuses for your absence, when really, you have nothing else to do. Why is that, Severus? What are you so afraid of?
"If you are certain." The mask slips onto her face once more, a mask you know all too well. She detests you. Why did you come?
"Positive." And you stand there, your own actions betraying your own words. Moving away from those eyes is too much for you, isn't it? Those eyes that look nothing like yours? Nothing like those empty, black orbs you use to keep them all away. Nothing at all. Instead these are large and brown, and although they are cold at the moment, you know that is not her fault. They hold a glint within them, a small light yours will never have. It is the shadow of a better time, and one which you saw only the end of.
Minutes pass. She closes the door. You knew she would, and yet you find yourself wishing she hadn't. You miss her eyes, simply because you once held so much trust in them, and believed they kept all nightmares at bay.
You were wrong.
Gait slow and weary, you make your way to where you came from, wondering why you said no. She isn't your Father, Severus. Why do you keep her at arms length?
Because you betrayed her. You betrayed all that she taught you, and all that she had fought to keep true. All she had left was you, and you ruined it by becoming the one thing she hates the most. You became a slave of the dark, serving the wants of another and forgetting your own needs. Your desires and wishes became another's, your ambition and greed blind you on your way to death. And all for what? For lies and deceit, for you yourself know his will is hardly based upon the best of intentions. And yet you serve it anyway, your word bound to his and his to yours.
You betrayed her.
Snowflakes dance in the air around you, and gracefully they fall to the ground. A sheet of snow covers the floor and the tops of houses, green trees become as white as the clouds on a summer day. It cleans the world, if only for just a night, of its dirt and impurity, starting anew with greater beauty than rain can ever bring.
Do you deserve such beauty, Severus?
Of course not.
Why not give yourself the one thing you do deserve?
You have become what you are in fear. You love control, and yet it is not given to you, and after all those years of working for it, here comes a man who offers it like a bag of gold. There are consequences for everything, Severus. Everything we do in life has a price, one which we will pay for at the most unpredictable of times. But you know that now, don't you? Even if it is a lesson learned too late.
The smell of overcooked meats and cheap liquor reaches your nostrils, the sounds of hearty laughter ring in your ears. For a moment you stand there, and are suddenly hit with a wave of abandon so awful, so empty, that you fear it might all be in vain. You call those people fools, don't you Severus? Indeed, it may be argued that this is what they are, and yet they do not stand outside their homes, with not a soul that could care less for what is to become of them, do they? No, they seem quite content with their wine and warm company, something you, dear unfortunate, obviously lack.
Quickening your pace, you make your hasty way through spared crowds and finally down a solemn path, one which you could only hazard a guess at where it might lead. However, your mind is somewhere else now, and where those feet will take you is the last and smallest of your worries.
You drag your sight away from the darkness before you, and instead down towards your hands. You take off the gloves, roughly tugging one finger at a time, and look down at the porcelain-white of your skin. Although in the moonlight they glisten, long and graceful fingers clean as slate, you yourself do not see that same beauty, do you? I see you stare at them when no one else is looking. I see the look of disgust that crosses your features, the sheer hate in the glares you give yourself. Do you see the blood, dark and wet, on those long and graceful fingers? Are they gnarled and twisted, burned at the backs where the tears fell? Are they? Or perhaps you see another's hands where yours should go, or the strings that pull on them whenever He calls. I see what the others do not, Severus. I see what the other's don't care to see, or even look.
It is then that you notice the dim lights and soft echo of music, and for once acknowledge where you are. Hogsmead is certainly closer than you had thought, isn't it? Or had that stroll taken just as long?
Frowning to yourself you slide through the shadows the merry crowds cast, and once again are reminded of what they are celebrating. The fall of the Dark Lord, indeed. The mark is till upon your arm, as well it should be. After all, little one, some stains will remain forever, no matter how much you try to forget.
A group of Gryffindors sweeps quickly beside you, cheers of relief and joy being uttered all at once. Have they so soon forgotten their Star, you wonder, the famous Quidditch player Potter, his throne of everlasting pranks and adoring fans now left behind? Or the smartest one among their class, the girl in charge of making up for Potter's loss of points? Did they not notice who was the culprit of their murder? Did they not hear the name of the man whom had betrayed his best friend, the man who could enchant any girl with a single word or grin? Apparently not.
You walk on, cursing yourself for waking more demons, for remembering things best left behind.
And then you stop. Stop dead in your tracks and stare blindly at a figure you merely caught a glance of, stare at the place with your eyes gone cold and warm at the same time, feelings of utmost hate and obsessive love swirling in your rotten heart. It couldn't be. It wasn't him. Yet you cannot help but search the mass of shifting faces, frantic eyes moving from one place to the next, hoping to see that head of silver hair once more. And yet fearing that you might just meet those eyes of cold gray marble, dreading that you will be seen and thus be trapped.
His smile is a mocking one, his eyes demanding to be entertained. He has an air of superiority; he stands a head taller than yourself and walks much like a prince. And yet he is not vulgar, not pompous or irritating to the eye. He is both cruel and seductive, butbut you see something, don't you dove? You see something in him that you long to have all for yourself. You can smell his pride, his wealth, his power. And you want it so bad, don't you? He has what you do not, and yet instead of feeling envy, you feel something else. Something you don't recognize, something both hurtful and amazing, completely new to your senses, completely wonderful to have.
You want more than just his power, don't you Severus?
Oh, yes you do.
You want more than what you're worth.
Closing your eyes tightly, you force those bittersweet memories out of your mind. All but running down the street you open your mouth, a silent cry being uttered by a man now broken. I see where you're going. I know the path you take well. But haven't you suffered enough already, Severus? That place brought you so much pain, so much agony and sour friendship. Have you not had enough of it all?
Ah, but I know what drives you so mad. I know there is an ounce of hope somewhere deep inside your soul, and this is the key to your despair. While most of you has died away, having not survived the tortures you were so willingly put through, a part of you still lives after all, but this too is sick and going quickly. You long to keep it aflame, don't you? You don't want to die, or do you?
"So you are Severus Snape? I have heard much of you, friend." Something within those stormy eyes sparkled with amusement, a mischief only known to him.
" 'Friend?' But we have only met." He could not keep the admiration out of his voice, although at the moment, it was being smothered by a seeping wave of confused suspicion. Was this a trick? No one spoke to the pale, thin first-year, and this even the most ignorant knew.
The older boy smiled, eyebrows raised as if the answer were obvious. "As true as that may be, we are of the same kind." He lowered his head, whispering his last words into the other's ear. "You were sorted into Slytherin, were you not?"
Your foot gets caught on a rouge root, and sends you sprawling on you knees.
Your eyes adjust to the darkness of the forest undergrowth, your hands ache
from the fall. Where's your grace now, Severus? Was that taken from you as well?
You blink twice before looking up from the dirt and leaves. The entrance gates
to Hogwarts grounds loom before you, high and great as they pierce the midnight
sky. Once on your feet you walk towards them, trying your hardest not to quiver,
as you know not what you are doing here. Who will you go to, once inside the
castle walls? You will be captured, poor dove, and will be locked away for centuries
still. Why are you so determined to bring harm to yourself? Oh, you will have
a messy end. Of that, at least, you can be certain.
Lips of cool silk brush against his own, and although the boy being kissed has his eyes closed shut, he knows the other's mouth is curled into a smile.
He brings his hands up to his lover's cheeks, softly framing that face that whispered perfection. "Lucius?"
The older boy was playing with the prey's hair, tangling his claws into the long, black locks that slipped so easily through his fingers. "Yes?"
"Is this a dream?"
The snow is falling heavily now, obscuring your way through the tall trees and finally up the stone steps. There are tears on your face, dove, but you have yet to notice.
Images swarm inside your head, tearing at your memories like a dagger tears flesh from bone. I told you not to come here. Don't you see? No one wants you here, no one cares-
The young Gryffindor's eyes were an odd mixture of anger and concern, but unknown to the boy at his feet was the fact that not all of these feelings were aimed at him. He slowly extended an arm towards the other, shooting an apprehensive glance back towards the closed door down the tunnel. "Are you alright?"
A terrible howl penetrated the air for a moment, before the boy was able to say a word in return. "Fine", he growled, getting up without aid.
"But-"
"I said I was fine, Potter. Do you want me to grovel on my knees and give you thanks as well?"
Feelings of deep remorse and hate stir within your heart, and what hurts you the most is that it is simply too late. Too late to turn back from the dark path you chose, too late to mend your wasted life.
But if it is too late, then why do you persist on coming here, of all places?
Oh, I think I know the answer to this question. I know the truth behind this journey, I know what you seek to do.
You wish to die.
And what better place to end one's life, than at the heart of the cause?
"Where are we going, Lucius? Where do you take me?" His voice was not irritated, but merely curious, hoping the other would stop his games and answer.
"I think, Severus, that the time has come..." His lover's voice was thoughtful and with a hint of pride, his eyes veiled with a sort of muddled wonder.
"Oh?"
The older Slytherin smiled at his friend's ignorance, holding up a hand for the other to take. "Don't waste time, love." He gave a small kiss to the hand now placed upon his own, not once averting his eyes. "Our Master really does hate to wait."
You're in pain, aren't you? Your heart breaks, am I right? I see your tears now run freely, like rivers they flow down your sallow cheeks. That small bit of hope inside you is steadily dying, falling from your grasp like a man chasing dreams after sleep. This place held you prisoner for so long. You want to see your own blood on these stone floors, you don't want to deal with this any more...
Give yourself escape, Severus. Give yourself what you deserve!
A sob tears at your throat as you lean against the large door, hands flat against the wood as if to push them open, without success. A million questions flutter through your mind, a thousand regrets blossom on your tongue.
The young boy was shaking, face drained of all color, eyes wide and filled with guilt. What had he done?
Lucius frowned at the child before him, not comprehending, exactly, what was amiss. "Look at me, Severus." Icy gray met depthless black. "You made your Master proud." He ran a long finger down the other's face, gently stopping over his lips. "I love you." He kissed them, this time with no passion or feeling, but more as a gesture to prove his point. "We both do."
A hand falls upon your shoulder, and startled, you look up.
There, above you, stands Albus Dumbledore, a sad smile on his kind face.
"H-headmaster?" Your voice is both small and hoarse, fearful of what might soon follow.
The old wizard nodds, wrapping an arm around your soaked-through shoulders. "Come Mister Snape. I have been waiting for you."