Disclaimer: FOR THE LAST TIME I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER!
Authors Note: You may wonder why it is I have said for the last time in my disclaimer. I don't mean the last time forever, but this is the last chapter. These are Severus Snape's thoughts. I hope you enjoy the last chapter of this fanfic. Please review, I am anxious to hear your thoughts.
Chapter 8: What have I done?
Snape ran through the forbidden forest. He knew this trail well, and he knew it would lead to the border of the school where he could escape. Though it was rather cold outside, sweat still poured off of his forehead, partly due to the long run he was enduring (the path was roughly 9 miles long and he had already been through about 3 miles) and partly due to nerves. Almost frantic thoughts rushed through his mind.
It was simply time to choose sides, and I chose the strong side. One part of him rationalized.
You killed him because you didn't want to break an unbreakable vow and die. The other part said.
Harry's voice echoed through his head, screaming, "COWARD."
"No," he panted aloud, "No, I'm not."
When had Dumbledore ever been rude to you? Did he ever spit on you like so many others had?
No, his other side had to admit.
No, he never has been rude to you, has he? Did he DEMAND that you let him live?
Dumbledore's last words rang through Snape's head like they had been shouted, although in reality they were only a whisper when they were first spoken "Severus, Please…"
No…he got you out of Azkaban, too, didn't he?
Yes, he did. But he was weak. He should've protected himself; he's certainly powerful enough to have.
Come on, you and I both know that it wasn't a fair fight. The Dark Lord told you what was at the Horcrux at the lake. He was weak, yes, but that was because he had drunk infirmitas potion: you know what that is.
YES I know what it is: the sole most debilitating potion ever created…I know, it causes the most damage without death; more so than any curse or other potion.
So the fight was very unfair. You were very very wrong.
Snape had reached the halfway point. He sat down at the base of a tree. He had some grace, now; no one could find him here.
But he did not have any grace or break from the thoughts running through his mind. No, the inner battle raged on, one thought in particular circling dominantly over all the others.
What have I done?
-END-
Authors Note: Thanks to my sister for editing. Thank you for the reviews also. I shall write again!