Deathnote Retribution by malcious lufoy

Summary: Snape and Sirius loathe and despise each other beyond even death. One day, Snape receives a letter from the recently deceased Black, the last person he would have thought to want any contact with him, especially after he died...but the reason Sirius had the note sent is rooted in their inability to let go of old vendettas.

Rating: Probably PG-13...there's swearing and some reaaally bitter issues going on here.

Category: Drama/Angst

Warning: Spoilers for HBP in here, so be warned. I got a theory after reading the book, and needed it hashed out along side my obsession with Sirius Black and Snape.

Disclaimer: This is fanfiction, I don't get anything from itbut my own, twisted enjoyment of making the characters dance to my own tune, heh heh. Ahem, I mean, everything here is JK Rowlings.

Note: I really would like some reveiws on this, since I spent a lot of time trying to figure out all the crazy action going with Snape and his flashbacks, and how Sirius and Snape seem to loathe and despise each other beyond any sort of reason. Tell me if you think it explains anything, if it was confusing, tell me if you liked it, if you hated it!

"Snape,

This is entirely post-mortem. Aka I, Sirius Caliga Percellus Black, am dead. I hope your puny, sad, overheated brain can understand that. I am owling this to you because I know you're enjoying your victory celebration. You're probably drinking some godforsakenly expensive alcohol fusted onto you by Lucius Malfoy for brewing him his little "medicine" to keep himself sane. I can see you laughing into your drink as you rip out my face from the yearbook and throw it into the fireplace, finally getting your revenge and cackling about how miserable Harry is feeling at this moment.

No doubt your whiskey filled mind is sobering at the arrival of this letter to your window. No doubt, you are wondering, what detestable business does Sirius Black have with me, of all people, that he would wish to contact me even after his death? Believe me, I am the last person who would ever want to contact you in any way, about anything, much less waste my last words on. I hope I'm scaring you Snape, because this is retribution coming. You know, unequivocally, that I hate you. Understand this- Regulus was the only reason I had ever done anything I had done, and you destroyed him. You destroyed and betrayed him, and now you are still alive and well, no doubt still betraying someone else with that snaking brand of filth on your arm.

Do you know what happens to unfulfilled prophecies? I hope you remember your Divinations and Arithmancies. One- if a prophecy goes unfulfilled, it always, always, makes another. Two- real prophecies cannot be undone, only warped by one who has been aligned with it. Three- great change in magic of any kind creates backlash, warping back onto the destroyer. Four- the nature of a prophecy is not to coerce, it is to state the future. It is simply a fact, like the ingredients in a cake or how much it is to buy spell books. Definite, but able to be mutable.

So, here is the question again. Snape, I bet you're sweating right now, wondering why the Hell you're reading this and why aren't you chucking this out the window. Well, the simply mention of Regulus should do that. Being a Death Eater, and as proficient in Dark Arts as you are you must have noticed certain things those long ago years. Voldemort's shoddy appearance, Regulus' reluctance after becoming the Dark Lord's favorite. Don't think I don't know, Severus. I may not have been the epitome of genius in my sixth and seventh years, but I saw. I saw exactly how you lured people using your pain and suffering, knowing smiles and mysterious air to reel them in like fish, only to use them to your advantage. And Regulus, well, he was just a feather in your cap, brandishing him against me like some sort of weapon.

I may be stupid, Snape, but that does not mean that I lost my reason or instincts. You had something planned for him, and what did you think that stint at the Shrieking Shack was supposed to do? Oh, yes. Only you and I know, I deliberately set it all up. It didn't stop you, but at least you knew I knew. It was a scare tactic, if not successful murder.

Then, well, then you had second thoughts seeing how insane your 'master' was, and ran to Dumbledore. I could have told him you were unreliable, your very nature was corrupt, there could have been saving you, if not for the fact the mark had twisted into you. You were almost found out, weren't you? I bet Voldemort was staring into your traitorous soul, beyond all help and loyalty, shrunk and miserable as mold in the dark, knowing exactly what you were doing.

I could almost see the idea blooming in your mind, what perfect revenge for that incident at the Shreiking Shack? You and Regulus, tight as thieves…he would have confessed anything to you, right? When he started disappearing on long journeys, and your Master's thin pallor after every trip…I bet you found the perfect way to deflect the attention off of you.

And then Regulus' corpse was set mangled on our porch, revenge successful. Do you know what I think you're thinking? You're scared so shitless now Snape you're going to do something desperate. Something so desperate it's going to kill you, or worse. And writing this letter, I'm overjoyed. I know what I'm doing. Regulus was in the Hall of Prophecies, you know. Dear old mum and dad were sooo proud of him for it. He was the original prophecy. And now, I bet you're remembering those four points I stated earlier. It's going to be retribution, from now on. Do you know why? In that anguished, miserable heart of yours, you- "

Snape tore the page away from himself. It was nothing…nothing! Black, only he would do something like this. Even after dying, the Gryffindor whoreson bastard was still trying to fuck with his mind! Snape's eyes glittered strangely as they darted around his dungeon room nervously. What the hell did he mean, he was going to get retribution! He was dead! Snape's mind whirled and whirled as he clutched tightly to the parchment, staring into the illuminated walls like a madman.

That piece of filth didn't know anything. How could he judge him! How could even try to understand what he went through to even scrape up a milligram's worth of an existence, when every single second of every miserable day he huddled alone, waiting. Always alone, waiting and waiting for someone's ax to fall and split his little body in two. Voldemort- well, and then there was Dumbledore, if the old man found out about the thing with Regulus, no matter how valuable a spy he was the coot wouldn't want him anymore.

Black! It was all Black's malice, his working! Every turn, he was trying to curb his rise. Every turn, always there…he looked around again, not sure who or what may be coming for him in the shadow of his room, but still unsettled. His eye turned to the damned parchment, unable to look away from the poisonous inky scrawls. What else did it say?

He looked away, unable to bring himself to read on. He knew the implications. Snape's mind rocked and wrecked itself to pieces with the infinite possibilities, the little twists of fate, the ironies. Anytime his fall could come, if it was prophesied. Black would know better then anyone the turning of the Wheel, he coming from that household. Eerie stargazers the lot of them…his hand trembled as he went to reach for a vial of calming potion. He mustn't do this! He must be calm…

Dark eyes rolled back as the serum pumped through his veins- not enough. But it would have to be. Black…Black! His mind reeled in the twisted light of the glowing fire as he went back in time. Oh, those were the strange days…Sirius told him that he and Regulus were brothers, when he and that animal were on speaking terms. He hadn't told anyone else, and Snape almost didn't believe it. They were as separate as anyone, and Black always claimed to be half muggle.

Lucius was always there, so helpless without him, and asked so nicely to be introduced! As if he didn't know who Regulus was already. There was no seeing reason with Malfoy around, Lucius would make him take in the boy. Malfoy had a vise around his heart…forced to be Bond friends at the age of five, unable to stop caring for the lunatic who dragged him into hell with him, and always he couldn't stop it from happening. It was so easy too, when Regulus was so young, so eager and young, to manipulate him.

So what if he enjoyed it, their game? So what! Black had no reason to judge! Black had no right, when he was always there, crawling behind them, yanking his chain and choking him back. Ever rivals, Lucius told him, they could never be anything else, always rivals…rivals all the time rivals! It made him sick. Sick to see Black there, against him. All the time, always held in combat against each other...

And so why shouldn't they be? Black betrayed him, he betrayed Black. The hypocrite selling him, Snape! over to Malfoy. Hating blackmail and then to revenge himself for the recruitment of his precious brother…forcing him to forever be Lucius' slave, lackey, then trying to kill him in the Shreiking Shack! Snape burned, he burned all the time, in agony. His life so hacked and spoiled and dying with nothing he could do to fix it! Those were the strange days…he writhed under Lucius' control, cringed in Voldemort's rule, chaffed in Dumbledore's! He ached with hatred with Black's betrayal, selling him off! Selling him out, to Malfoy, whom the idiot despised!

Always, there was an understanding, never did they go too far. Their hatred was always there, but controlled. Now look what happened when they let it rampage in that fateful seventh year! The fool was dead, and now he was about to be. To die from their hate…No. No! He wouldn't die! He would not die and give Black the satisfaction. Black would no doubt be laughing hysterically like the insane madman he was if he did. Snape's dark, glassy eyes turned involuntarily to the parchment, before quickly darting around the room again, ever nervous and unsure…he never thought this aloud, but maybe, just maybe Black was right when he said-

The dark mark seared into his flesh, smoke rising from the burning, eating, acid-ripping pain. Snape clutched his aching arm desperately. There was no help for it, no time. The Dark Lord's call was to be taken above all else. Not knowing why, Snape swiped the letter from the desk before he left.

"But I don't understand! How could this happen, didn't he survive years and years? Why now, of all times?"

Dumbledore leaned wearily at his desk, eyes dark and grave, face lined and tired. "I don't know, Remus. There's only the fact that Occlumancy is an art dedicated to full concentration. With one quiver, one tiny slip in one's full concentration, and Voldemort-"

Remus well could imagine what would happen. "I don't think Snape gambled with his life unnecessarily. I saw that batch of calming potion on his desk, taking that, any normal man would be blabbering about flowers with his head in the clouds! He was always sure of his ability to come through each Death Eater meeting. Snape clung to his life too much to not give it his full concentration. What could have distracted him so? I can't imagine anything shaking him up to that point."

Dumbledore sighed, his hands resting calmly on a cream, vanilla parchment. His old eyes dragged themselves to the open window, the dark panes of the glass reflecting his reluctance. "Severus was always a private man. He spoke to no one about his affairs, be they little or large. I don't think anyone knew him well at all. Even I couldn't tell what he thought, occasionally. No one could ever tell what he wanted, not even himself sometimes. Severus never wanted to elaborate himself onto others and now- well. Now we won't ever be able to ask him." Dumbledore's eyes went hard then, "Voldemort did a thorough job, leaving us with nothing but a shell."

Remus shuddered, remember finding the body on the outskirts of the school. Snape, sitting still in his bloodied robes, Death Eater mask broken in his lap. His wide, staring, vacant eyes and gaping, open mouth drooling stupidly like a comatose victim. He felt sick even thinking about it…

Musing to himself, the headmaster seemed to fade away in his own thoughts for a second. "They say dementors take the very soul of a man, leaving his body with nothing to cling to, and nothing to remember or even feel."

Remus clenched his fist tightly, before rising from his chair and leaving. Before he went out the door way, he turned to look at the headmaster, eyes full of sincerity. "I just wish I knew what happened…"

Dumbledore heard the door click shut, before turning back to the parchment haunting his desk. He didn't dare open it again, already feeling as if he was seeing things he was supposed to not. Some deep, haunting thing that lay between two, dead men. But he remembered the last few paragraphs.

"…And now, I bet you're remembering those four points I stated earlier. It's going to be retribution, from now on. Do you know why? In that anguished, miserable heart of yours, you know. You know what you are doing, and you know it twists your soul because it is wrong. You bath in it, you embrace it, you cannot let go of it. I know, Severus, the demon you are on the inside, the anguishing damned thing choking within that cold exterior.

"I bet you wish, in that last, lingering part of you that is actually living, that it comes. That some day, rising out of an old, clutching grave, it comes for you. Retribution, clawing into your chest and tearing out that miserable piece of shit you call a soul and eating it whole, till there's nothing left for you but blank eternity.

"I'll give you what you want, Severus. I'll do it, for you. Not because you once were innocent, not because you were wronged, not because once you and I went beyond rivals and into…well, into something. But because, in that moment, when it comes, you'll think only of me, and curse my name while writhing in agony. Because you will hate the very fact that I was right- that I gave you something that in all those wasted, withered, lonely years you strived for and never got, and it came from me, Sirius Black.

With tender, loving care,

Sirius Caliga Percellus Black"

Note: If you didn't get it, what Sirius was hinting at was that Regulus was originally in the Prophecy as the one to destroy Voldemort. Every time Regulus went and destroyed a Horcrux, Voldemort would feel weaker, and Snape would notice. He turned him in as a traitor, knowing this, and disrupted the prophecy, so a new one had to come into play, which was the one with Harry. Anyways, that is what Sirius was talking about.