A/N Hello readers, any reviews would be lovely! This is my first fan fiction, and any feedback would be greatly appreciated. :-)

The Remorse

A Harry Potter Fan Fiction

A woman walked alone in the dark. She rarely slept so she took to walking the deserted streets to distract herself. She liked the quiet and the way she could do whatever she wanted without anybody there to see her. She was never frightened- she had grown up in this small English town after all and there was nobody she didn't know. On this night however, unbeknownst to her strangers walked through her town- the strangest strangers one could imagine. She heard a whip-like crack somewhere behind her, and she swung around. Two men had appeared out of nowhere. They hadn't noticed her yet, but she noticed the odd attire and bizarre appearance of the two.

Dressed in long black robes the two men appeared to be arguing. The woman hid behind a tree and listened.

"Really, Amycus, there was absolutely no need for you to wait for me! I am perfectly capable… don't forget it was me who fulfilled our Lord's wishes! I can handle one pathetic little boy!"

So they're "the Lord's" are they? The woman thought to herself disapprovingly. What honourable Christian wanders the streets at this hour?

The man who had been shouting stalked off, in the direction of her hiding place. He was tall and imposing and had a very sour expression on his face. She was no longer frightened though, more annoyed that they had destroyed the peace. The man called Amycus muttered something under his breath and the man rounded on him.

"Weak, am I?" The man questioned in a deathly whisper. "Are you saying that anyone could have done what I just did?"

Amycus wavered but stood his ground. The woman leaned in closer, eager to see how he would react.

"I am not saying that you're weak… not at all, Severus. I am merely commenting on how easy it must have been to kill the old codger once we had already defeated him."

Amycus had avoided looking at the other man's face while he talked but seemed to strike up some courage when he got to the last few words, as if saying the words made them true. Severus looked repulsed and his black eyes glittered oddly behind his curtain of greasy black hair.

The woman shook her head. She was beginning to feel scared. These people had murdered someone and who was to say that she wouldn't be next. She slowly began edging backwards when another whip-like crack rang out. Her heart beating faster she looked over to where the men were standing and to her horror saw a young woman materialize out of thin air. She tried to stifle her gasp but it was too late. The trio plunged their hands into their pockets and were brandishing what appeared to be sticks. It looked almost comical but she was much too frightened too laugh. The one called Amycus leered at her, and said, "Oh look… some sport to top an otherwise perfect night."

The other woman giggled girlishly. Severus' face was unreadable and as Amycus and his sister tortured the woman, it remained that way.

Another day, another torture, thought Severus Snape dryly as he threw his wand on his bed, all in a day's work.

He was a killer, he didn't deny it. He had killed two times in one night; ordinary people wouldn't even kill once in the entire span of their lives! Although my "friends" would probably kill 5 times more than me without batting an eyelid.

Snape sighed. They weren't really his friends; in fact he despised the whole lot of them. In a way he was jealous of their complete lack of conscience- oh to be free from the guilt that tormented him! To be free from the myriad of questions that kept him from sleep every single, lonely night. Did the guilt make him a better person? Because he felt genuine remorse for his sins, did that make him less evil than those who didn't? Or did it make him worse? These were the questions that kept Snape awake at night.

I'm worse, Snape would conclude, I am worse because I know that it is wrong. It is wrong and yet I still do it.

Snape had turned his life around- or at least he was trying to. Everyday he had to struggle with his conscience… and struggle to keep his murderous cohorts from finding out where his loyalties lie. See, Snape was a liar. He was a traitor. According to Dante this was deserving of the worst punishment, but Snape considered it to be the most honourable deed he ever did. Snape was a spy against his tyrannous "master". Snape's master had mass-murdered countless people, and still his followers believed it was for a greater cause, the superior race. Snape had believed it once too. Well, not so much believed as craved the acceptance. Not now though. Snape had realized that he was merely a pawn for his master's twisted desires. Snape ran to Dumbledore, the only person he could trust and confessed everything. He repented and Snape was given a second chance. What Dumbledore asked him to do, however, struck fear into his heart. The thought of going back into that pit of vipers was terrifying, and even more frightening was the thought of what would happen if they found out he was a spy. If they discovered his true allegiance… Well, I'd be better off dead. Snape shook his head as if to clear the thoughts. He had to go back though, how could he say no? If he did get caught that was what he deserved for all the pain he had caused.

I deserve everything I get. In fact, I wish someone would kill me, Snape felt sickened by his self-pity; it's the poor woman I should feel sorry for.

He had to kill her- it was a mercy-killing, really. She was better off dead than being tortured slowly into madness which is what his companions would have done. Although he knew it had to be done he still saw her pleading face every time he shut his eyes. Snape tried to avoid thinking about the woman, but the other murder would drift to mind. Snape moaned.

"Oh god." He felt a wave of sickness and he lay on the bed. It couldn't bear thinking about. Dumbledore had made him promise to do it, if it came down to it. Snape knew he had to or the consequences would be terrible to behold. If he broke the promise the wrath of Voldemort would be placed upon innocent people. He really couldn't bear facing anyone… the very thought of being congratulated by Voldemort's other followers for it sent that wave of sickness over him.

"I am repulsive," Snape said into the darkness, "and everybody finds me repulsive." Indeed, the only people who weren't repulsed by him, he himself, found repulsive. Oh the irony! Snape laughed bitterly at the hopelessness of his situation when really he longed to cry. He couldn't bring himself to cry though, that would be weak. He longed for the sweet release of death but that too would be weak. His mind screamed, hurled insults at him, and Snape knew he deserved every one. He was a broken man, a vile man. A man unworthy of trust. Unworthy of love. Only one man had loved him and Snape had killed him. Snape had killed Dumbledore the only one who took a chance, and found a glimmer of good in him.