Dereliction of Duty
Chapter 2 – Severus Snape

I can still see his face. His eyes. I can hear his voice.

Albus had always insisted the boy wasn't capable of hatred. That he had no cruelty in him.

He was wrong.

DON'T CALL ME COWARD!

My own voice rings in my ears, and I hate myself, more than I ever have. The loathing, the hatred in his eyes… he'd looked at me like I was nothing, like he would gladly wipe me out of existence.

And he still hasn't learned to Occlude his mind. Voldemort and his other, lesser opponents can anticipate his every move until he does this. Foolish boy, doesn't he realize that even Scrimgeour has Legilimency experts working for him? He's an open book!

He's a fool.

I tried to teach him. I tried. He just wouldn't learn. There was no point in doing the theory, or so I thought, because I have noticed that Potter learns best through experience.

Several of his memories flash through my mind, and I clench my fists as it occurs to me exactly why he learns best the hard way.

And I can't breathe.

He thinks I wanted to. He thinks I killed Dumbledore out of hatred. What he doesn't realize is that I had to channel my hatred of Narcissa, of Bellatrix, of Voldemort to complete that spell. And I had to complete it. I would have died had I not.

It was my life or Dumbledore's. The life of a spy or the life of a figurehead.

Malfoy's life or Dumbledore's. The life of a child or an old man.

There was no choice.

And I'm cold.

I put the bottle of whiskey down and it sloshes all over the table. My hand is not shaking, I tell myself. The table is lopsided.

And I'm not a coward.

The sky isn't blue.

It's black. And it's raining blood.

It's raining guilt. My guilt. Because I know, deep down, that there must have been another way.

I know, deep down, that I should get Draco far away from here.

I know, deep down, that I should go to Potter. That I should help him.

Because I know the task ahead of him is not as easy as Dumbledore made it sound. This is no mere treasure hunt he is on. Even Dumbledore, the strongest and wisest of the Light, does not understand what he faces.

They haven't a bloody clue.

I should go to him. I should help him.

He'd just try to kill me. Weasley probably would kill me. Granger would suggest tying me up in the basement and torturing me for information.

That girl has a blood-thirsty streak. She has a great deal of Slytherin in her. I could see it in Potter's mind. She blackmailed that reporter, after all. What was that if not a Slytherin action?

The blasted Know-It-All Gryffindor.

I should go to Potter. I should help him.

I lift up my bottle again and try to take a sip, but it spills all over me.

Blast.

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LIZ