Disclaimer: Don't own Snape. Love him, though. HP and such belong to JKR, and she, not me, makes all the money in the world off of them.
Redemption
By Lily Among the Thorns
He turned it over and over again in his hands, feeling the cold, smooth surface of the serpent embossed upon the intricately shaped letter "S." His hands shook; pale, leathery skin stretched taut over prominent bones. And, slowly, his vision blurred, eyes itchy and dry from forgetting to blink. Not that he noticed. He did not notice Snippy as she bustled about the rest of the house, happily cleaning. He did not notice the fire in the hearth slowly die. He noticed nothing other than the unbearable weight on his shoulders, the heavy feeling in his chest, and the uncertain thoughts, all too calm considering the decision he was about to make.
It didn't feel right. None of it did. Going out carousing with "the boys," was one thing. But this was different. They weren't wreaking havoc upon the seedier side of London. They weren't getting hammered and trying to seduce the first female they could lay their hands upon. They weren't silly, life-loving young men. Not that they ever had been. But it had seemed so once.
What were they? he suddenly asked himself. Did he even know? Yes. He knew. The better question was whether or not he could put into words what they were. Death Eaters was a very inadequate term, he found. They may have "fed" upon death in a certain light, but it was more than that. They slaughtered the innocent, the ignorant, the "impure." Mercilessly tortured and killed any who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. That was no way to live.
Severus felt so ashamed, so foolish, for following in the footsteps of a man who he had believed to be his friend. No. Malfoy was certainly not his friend. He was nothing. Another heartless murderer. Just like all the others.
And involuntary chill swept over him as he remembered with painful clarity all the atrocities he had committed, had been witness to. And for what? For sick, twisted, pleasure. To faithfully serve the Dark Lord. To supposedly to keep wizard kind untainted by Muggle blood.
It was all a lie. This he knew. Nothing any number of purebloods could do would "save" them from being adulterated by Muggles. But did his knowledge make a difference? Did his master's lie make it all right for him to betray the oath he had taken? This, he found, he did not know for certain. It was impossible for him to know, for he was only a man. And a man had no place in deciding what was truly right or wrong.
His heart beat heavily in his chest. He would defect to the side of "good." Become allies with the righteous. But who was really righteous in this world? A world of prejudice varying with whomever held power. What right did the Minister of Magic, however respectable a man, have to tell the wizarding world what was proper and what was not? Why, he had no more right than Severus. After all, they were both only men.
Then the decision was made, he thought finally. The damage was – or would be, at least – done. Or was it? Unfocused, ebony eyes widened, as if seeing some tangible truth for the first time. He realized that, were he to go through with his decision, he would be in grave peril. Revealing the Dark Lord's secrets was not a feat that most could accomplish with their lives intact. If he were to betray his master, he would be living in constant fear of death.
His stomach tightened, but he quickly relaxed. What was death to him? It wasn't as though he had never seen it. Wasn't as though he had anything to live for. No family, no friends, no lover, at least. The only person, if you could call it that, that was likely to mourn his loss was the damned house elf. Only because her master would be gone. Only because she would gain some odd sort of freedom when the Snape family died out. But an outcast house elf was hardly something to lose sleep over.
Severus welcomed death. He longed for that escape from this cruel and barbaric world. And it certainly wouldn't hurt to give something to those who were actively working to fix the problems that made the world so uninhabitable. The simple solution of throwing caution to the wind and shouting, "Oh, why the hell not?" came to mind. It would quick, it would be easy, and it might just earn him the only thing he sought to achieve before he did have the fortune to part with the world.
What was that thing, some omnipresent voice seemed to ask. One single word cropped up in his mind, the sole occupant of his thoughts, like the mention of some revered person. Redemption.
He stood suddenly, shaking the lank strands of too-glossy dark hair from his cheeks, a look of resolve forming upon his cadaverous face. He would be redeemed. And that was his final decision. Severus Snape would not die a worthless murderer. Even he did not deserve such a dishonorable demise.
And so, hands tightening into fists, he strode out of the dreary parlour, determined to seek out the only person who would listen to him – Albus Dumbledore – and finally earn his redemption.