Rated for one mere swear word.
Tranquility
Standing in soft, flickering torchlight that illuminated the surrounding grey dungeon walls were two men, each refusing to meet the eye of the other as they maintained their uncomfortable silence. It was usually like this -- the elder would stand in silence as the crimes of the younger were reported, then dismiss him, not wanting to know any more. And the younger... The younger stayed.
Albus didn't know what to think of this particular member of his Order. The others were simple enough to deal with. Remus was intelligent enough to live without advice, apart from the occasional word of sympathy; Tonks was a tad eccentric, but calm enough; Sirius had had some problems, but Albus didn't need to worry about these things now. Severus... Severus unnerved him.
His Potion Master was pacing now, dark robes swirling around his gaunt frame, expression hidden by those locks of black hair. Albus remained, as always, in silence, waiting for whatever Severus would inform him of next.
And Severus, as always, stopped in his pacing, eyes flickering upwards to meet Albus's. It was like clockwork, he mused to himself, it was always the same old routine...
But there was something different in Snape's eyes tonight, and they fell quickly away, redirecting themselves onto the opposite wall. It would take more prompting, then... Surpressing a sigh, Albus straightened tiredly, eying his spy in silence for a moment before murmuring softly, "You can tell me, Severus."
"Professor --"
"Albus," the Headmaster corrected automatically, a soft sigh emerging from his lips. He was tired of this, truly. Tired of this old routine of prompting and waiting, when Snape never had anything else to say -- when he always strode away with a mere explanation of various events that hardly seemed to be what he was going to say originally. Snape had chosen other methods of expressing his emotions -- if, indeed, he had any emotions at all. In his wearier moments, Albus doubted it...
But tonight was different.
"Albus, then," the younger muttered, gesturing impatiently and standing in his place for a moment. After a few moments, the spy -- the traitor -- straightened slowly, an odd, maniacal look slowly spreading onto his face.
"We know the sacrafices you've made for us, Severus," the Headmaster soothed quietly, a patient tone within his old, warm voice. "We know you regret your actions, we know how difficult this job his for you, we know how valuable you are..." What was he, some Catholic priest? Some confessor?
But Severus's eyes were flashing, and Albus fell silent.
"Albus," he mumbled at last, a mirthless, bitter laugh emerging from his chapped lips. "You don't understand..."
"We know how difficult this is for you," Albus continued quietly, a comforting air coming to his features, "We understand..."
Snape shook his head, and Albus fell silent.
"Professor," the Potion Master mumbled at last, and this time Albus didn't bother to correct him. "Is it... wrong --"
Really, was this all? A soothing smile came to Albus's face. "Of course not, Severus, you're doing it for the sake of the Order --"
"/No/." An abrupt glare came to Snape's face, and he tensed immeadiately. His air changed immeadiately; instead of faltering hesitation, an air of pent-up frusteration and -- was it? -- loathing came onto his face. "/No/, Albus."
"What, then?" The comforting look faded immeadiately, and the Headmaster stood awkwardly, staring in silence.
Severus intook his breath sharply under Albus's gaze, forcing his own black eyes to meet Albus's glittering blue ones. "Is it..." He cut himself off immeadiately, closing his eyes for a moment in order to say this correctly.
"I still kill, Albus. I still torture. I still murder."
"I know, Severus; we know you're doing it for the good --"
This interruption went ignored, and Albus's voice trailed away.
"You don't... You don't know the whole of what I've done. You don't --"
"You told me, Severus. Remember?" Albus remembered well enough. Those tortures Severus had spoken of...
Another laugh emerged from Snape's mouth, and Albus found himself shuddering slightly at the mirthless tone hidden within it.
"There was more. There was much more, Albus. I've... I've done things that you can't imagine. My hands have plunged knives into the eyes of children -- Muggle children, but /children/, Albus --; my ears have heard and relished the sound of their tortured screams; my robes have been soaked with the blood of women and children. I watched as minds were controlled; I watched as figures twitched and writhed upon the dirt; I watched that beautiful flash of green light coarse across the sky... And... Albus, I enjoyed every fucking second of it."
Voice almost a whisper, Albus responded. "Severus, we know your mistakes, we know you regret it..."
"Is it wrong?" Severus turned away with one swift step, eyes fixing themselves upon one of the torches hanging from the nearby stone wall. "Is it so wrong, Albus, to say that I still.. I still enjoy it?"
The two stood in silence for a long moment, Albus's eyes fixed on the back of his Potions Master's head. Swallowing slowly, the Headmaster turned away, leaving his spy more immersed in solitude than he could possibly know.
It was Minervra that found him, bless her soul. She had been told by Albus of that conversation; she had become concerned for her former student, and vowed to pay him a visit in the morning. Vowed to cause this lingering specter to leave his mind.
The specter had left, but it was none of her doing.
He was found slumped against the floor of his precious dungeons -- the only thing he had that even resembled a home. No note was left -- none was needed. Severus had no one.
Minervra had thought he was merely sleeping. Sleeping, or passed out. It hadn't been the first time he had tried to drown his thoughts in an ocean of alcohol...
It was only when she had seated herself beside the Potions Master and rested her hand on his forehead when she noticed that he wasn't breathing.