Dearest Hermione,

I am still debating. As I write this letter your offer still hangs in the air, tantalising me. I will not lie to you. I have always tried not to lie to you - I am tempted. What you have given me is what I have spent the last two decades wanting. So I will not lie. And therein lies my quandary, you see. Truthfulness has never been one of my deepest characteristics, but faced with a vision of you, I see no other way.

I want you to know that whatever I decide, I alone decided it. You said it, but I want you to believe it. None of this should tarnish you in any way, and the one thing I have learned is that guilt is a strong tie to the past. The only way to be truly free of your past is to break the ties that bind you to it. Guilt over being responsible for a death (be it mine or Potter's) is not a tie easily broken; it is a memory more likely to break you than anything else. That is why I want to sat that none of this is your fault. You were the victim - because you took your life back does not change that. You do not have to remain traumatised your whole life to prove that you were innocent to begin with.

I am labouring this point, because there will be a time when you will want to free yourself of your past, if it has not already come. You are a remarkable person, clichéd as it may sound, but nonetheless true for the number of times it has been repeated. Your destiny should be your own. That is the least you deserve.

Free of your past, the path you choose to follow may not be any different to the one that you would have been guided down as Hogwart's Best and Brightest, but it will be your own, and so not resented. We all have our destinies - reaching the final destination should be a triumph, not accompanied by the feeling of reaching the impenetrable depths of a prison devised for you.

It is true enough that any destiny feels enclosing at times, but always try to be in a jail of your own making, and then there is some hope of escape.

I can imagine you now, grinning patiently at my lecture, politely puzzled as to why I am trying to give you virtues and goals that were probably fairy gifts at your christening. Maybe I am just trying to convince myself. That I have learnt the values necessary to become a worthwhile member of society; that I am a good enough person for you to love.

Not that I doubt that you love me, but I doubt whether you should love me. I know, that is self-pitying, and an attitude you have, but I cannot shake of decades of character forming in my solitary dungeon. It is a part of who I am, and maybe who I always was. I suppose you will just say you love that as well. Your logic is as faultless as mine, so I will abandon the argument as you are not here to defend yourself.

These are the questions that plague me. I hope I have time enough to find answers - to discover I want to live; only to have run out of time is a cruel twist of fate I have come to expect from life.

Oh, it has just occurred to me to apologise. That I did not immediately drink the antidote and rush into your arms is not a slight on you or what we have shared this past year. I think you understand that - that is why you gave me the choice, rather than dragging me on. You knew that even though my love for you ran true and deep, I have spent the last two decades wanting nothing more than to die peacefully, and been denied that most simple of rights: the choice to live or die. You realised that I must be faced with this choice, and decide to leave behind my road out of this life for a while, or my whole attention could never be on the world I inhabited, as I would always be looking for the turning that could take me on to the next. You always were perceptive.

There is one other thing I wanted to say - that I am glad you have done this. Truly I am. Though it is the most difficult decision of my life, I am happy beyond measure that you felt the need to honour your promise. The bargain was that I help you get your life back, and you would help me end mine. Whether or not I am able to save my life, I am contented knowing that I have saved yours.

If it makes you feel any better - I know it sounds like I'm saying goodbye - the antidote is still intact on my desk. Before this year, I would have smashed the vial instantly, to block all my ways back. Know that I can still see the road back to you, to life, which is a luxury I never thought I'd allow myself once I'd finally found a way out.

I love you

I love you

I love you

I can't think of anything else to say, so I'll repeat that for a while until inspiration strikes.

Your face and memory has filled up my mind, and I find myself incapable of thinking any more. I love everything about you and the way you are, your way of thinking, your voice, everything . . .

Perhaps we will see eachother again. I still do not know, though it is only up to me. I have always though perhaps is the one word that could inspire hope in the most hardened of hearts, so I will send it to you, with all my love and hopefully none of my bad influence.

Perhaps.

Severus.

* * *

THE END?