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Chapter 3: No Way Out

1.

Snape stumbled through the Forbidden Forest, his disgust at the previous two hours rising above the stinging sensation on his arms and face as branches tried to claw him back. His fingernails were jagged and ripped, there was dirt on his hands and his robes were torn. His legs shook below him. In fact his whole body was shaking, partially because of the sprint through the forest, but mostly with horror at what he finally realised he'd done.

As he got to the border of trees he bent almost double and retched violently, clutching his aching ribs. Of course nothing came out. Why would it when he hadn't eaten in four days?

He was overcome with a sudden sense of urgency and resumed running to the castle, trying to put as much distance between him and what he wasn't even sure he'd created.

2.

Sitting in his office, his composure regained, Snape couldn't remember exactly what had happened.

He remembered digging up Lucius' corpse- how could he forget? It hadn't looked as bad as he'd expected, but nowhere near as good as he'd hoped. Although the funeral director had tried his best to make him look as natural as possible, there was still the gaping hole in the back of his head and his beautiful silver hair was dyed slightly pink from the blood, or was this just Snapes fevered imagination? No, it wasn't. That would be too much to hope for. Why was it that blood always stained? Why doesn't it just wash off?

By the time they'd finished digging him up, his white and gold robes had been stained with mud and small drops of blood from Snape and Harry's fingers. As Snape had carried him into the forest-"We need somewhere we won't be disturbed"- he noticed the stench of death on Lucius, hidden under the sweet scents of oils and the lilies that had seemed to dominate the funeral Snape hadn't attended. He also noticed how heavy Lucius was. How hadn't he noticed this before? It was as if death had made him more cumbersome.

When he tried to think of the events after that he got a flurry of disorientated pictures- a slain unicorn, a trickle of silver blood running from its neck, a circle of charcoal slabs, Harry building a fire.

Snape heard a shuffling behind him and sat up stiffly. He knew who it was before he heard the rattling voice issued through a dirt-clogged throat, before he felt the cold, bloody hard on his shoulder, before he turned around to meet the red, empty sockets of a demon he'd hoped never to meet.

3.

As Snape fitted the rope around a beam in the Malfoy house, his intentions surprising himself more than anyone, he was soothed by the screams of Narcissa Malfoy as her husband greeted her. He'd been dead. She knew he had been! She'd killed him for fucks sake. Even if she had managed to convince herself that she hadn't killed him, his new appearance would confirm it.

It closed its hands around Narcissa's throat, the fit as snug as the noose around Severus' neck, and steadily applied pressure. Narcissa clawed at it as she stopped breathing and chunks of skin and flesh came away under her pointed nails, but it didn't notice. It glared down onto her purpling face with its empty sockets and Narcissa knew she wouldn't win this fight.

Downstairs, Severus smiled as the screams died down and he lost the ability to read her thoughts. He thought 'at last I can die in peace' and laughed at the statement. Was this peace? Hanging yourself while listening to your deceased lover killing his wife? He doubted that very much, but it was the most peace he was likely to get after bringing Lucius back to life. Severus wept as he died, knowing that the cause of his death was the man he'd lived for.

Fin

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