A/N I have never written anything so angsty or so dark before.  Thank depression for it, I suppose.  Please R/R, but not to tell me I have problems… compared to those I find myself writing about, my own are petty indeed.  If you want the next chapter, I shall upload it.

Again, he thought dully, staring into the glass in his hand, I've been betrayed.  He wanted nothing more than to drink the liquid in the glass, the strong scent of brandy overpowering the subtler scent of that with which it was mixed.  One drink, a voice in his mind whispered seductively.  Just one drink, and it's over.  He had promised, years ago, that he would never end his life. He had promised, sworn, given his word.  Then again, he thought bitterly, nobody else keeps promises around here.  Severus Snape was a man of his word, a word that was mistrusted and believed to be worth little, admittedly, but not through any fault of his own.  He had never repeated a secret, and never broken a promise.  Spying had involved deceit and trickery, yes.  But throughout the darkness of the years he wanted to forget forever (and drinking the contents of the glass would certainly achieve that), he had never once sworn to do something and not done it. 

He had agreed to actions he knew he would never take, lied about more things than he could count, but when asked to swear he was telling the truth, he had always told it.  A backwards form of honesty, and a strange code of morals to live one's life on undoubtedly, but he had never betrayed a sword secret. 

Sirius Black had broken his oath – never to tell a soul about the day he had set Remus-the-werewolf on Snape.  Remus had broken his own oath, the oath he had taken to never reveal Snape's drunken secrets to another soul.  Those had both hurt him, yes, but nothing had hurt so much as this final betrayal.  Albus Dumbledore.

The headmaster had sworn, when he had learnt of Severus's curse, to never tell a living soul.  He had sworn to help Severus in all ways he could, and to never reveal the secret, his affliction, to anybody as long as Snape lived.  Now, only three months after the final defeat of Voldemort, the entire staff knew.  The glass of poison had never looked so appealing.  But in drinking it he would be betraying his own oath, and oath he had admittedly taken under duress, but a sworn promise nonetheless.  With a snarl he threw the glass into the fireplace, where it shattered and the liquid inside it exploded.

The rest of the world might well do so, but Severus Snape would break no promise.