She looks at peace, a state he hasn't seen her in for months. Even in her sleep, she's the most beautiful creature to walk this planet. A lump catches in his throat. Where he will find the strength is beyond him.

He hugs her closer to him, knowing that this will be the last time he'll ever feel her curves against him. He kisses her head with more force than necessary, trying to make it enough to last the rest of his lifetime, but he stops himself at the count of three. The longer he stays, the harder this will be. He's not sure he can do it but if it's not now, it's never.

She's sleeping on her stomach, she only ever does that when she's deep asleep; she won't hear him slip out of bed, of their house, of her life.

Loving someone means letting them go.

Madam Snape hasn't been happy, not for a while. She thinks that he hasn't noticed but how could he miss how she subtly leans away from his touch, how she keeps herself busy when he's free, how her smile never reaches her eyes anymore?

Leaving makes his stomach twist, but seeing her unhappy, unfulfilled, makes him feel even worse. He promised that he'd never hold her back. And, he hadn't, not until now. But now that he has, he has to leave.

All will all be fixed in the morning, with the divorce papers he signed, awaiting her on the dining table. She'd feel bittersweet, he predicted, but she'll sign them anyways and all of her troubles will dissipate.

He imagines the relief she'll feel. That almost makes this worth it.

"I love you, always," he mumbles into her hair, even though she'll never hear it. Maybe subconsciously, she'll know he loves her with everything he has. She deserves that, to be loved.

He rolls out of bed, being careful to cover her back with the blanket, and tiptoes out of the room. He hangs around the doorway, sadly watching her for just a moment longer.

You're doing the right thing, he tells himself. She'll be happier without you.

A foot is what separates him from their -her, he'd give her the house- bedroom. Walking is a task that might be beyond his abilities at the moment but somehow, he adds on to that distance by one, then another, and what feels an eternity later, he's downstairs, eyeing the papers as if they had personally offended him.

How had they come to this? Honestly, he doesn't know. They were childhood sweethearts, as you would call it. He somehow got the guts and asked her to accompany him to the Yule dance and for whatever reason, she agreed. And, the rest was history. Lovers from the age of 16, divorcees at the age of 30.

It was the best 14 years of his life- he wouldn't trade it for anything, even knowing it would end in heartbreak for him, at least. Better to have loved and lost than never loved at all, they say. He agrees, surprisingly.

He pens a note. He doesn't want her to worry about him (even if her love for him is gone, she still has the biggest heart) and, well, he just can't stop himself from a final goodbye.

Love,

You might be wondering if I've lost my mind. I'm a selfish man, mi amor, you know that. Still, somehow, I can't bear the thought of you being miserable. I suppose being in love changes one. I know I've not been the best husband- I work too many hours late, I'm not approachable in the early hours of the morning, and I'm not the most pleasant man in general. Still, if it makes up for any of it, I love you more than anything else in this world. Maybe the problem is just that I don't know how to love, or perhaps my love isn't enough. All I know is that you deserve better.

Which is why I'm setting you free. I'm holding you back, I've never wanted that for you. You can have the house, I've sent a sum of money to your account- it's all yours, I have no need for it.

Signing the papers was the hardest thing I've ever done but it's necessary. You would never ask me for it, but I can sense that you ache for it. There's no need to feel bad, I understand. Completely.

I love you forever.

Severus

He folds the paper into three equal pieces and sets it ontop of the divorce papers. He didn't know such evil could reside in inanimate objects before now.

He crosses the threshold for the last time. His things are collected at the couch, he already did that last night. He doesn't have much that he needs, just a suitcase full of his clothes and a few books and other assorted items, but he left the rest for his wife; soon to be ex-wife.

It leaves a dirty taste in his mouth.

The handle is cold and the suitcase heavy, but he manages to roll it all the way to the door. He stares at the maroon material. How many times had he left in the morning through this exact door? Too many times to count. This would be the last.

All for her.

That summons the last bit of his courage. He twists the knob and the harsh air of the winter greets him like an old friend. He steps out and hears the door shut locked behind him. He left his keys back in the house to remove any further temptations. He continues down the path and, with one last look at the house, he apparatus away.

To better days, he supposes.