Severus hated Sirius Black, not just to uphold the honor of a school-boy grudge, not just because of that.

Severus, even among the Dark Lord's favorites had not known that Black was the traitor. That knowledge was reserved only for the Dark Lord's bidding. His insubordinates knew there was a traitor, there was guess-work and wild chases, but a name was never found.

Black had proven himself capable of murder at sixteen and Severus should have known.

Severus felt glee as he conjured a stretcher and stalked up the hillside, Black in toe. Perhaps he would come to watch, come to witness the Dementor's kiss. It was certain to be, Severus was sure, a scene unlike any other. Gruesome, perhaps, but holding triumph Severus had only ever imagined in feverish dreams.

Then, of course, Potter ruined it. Potter had taken Severus's revenge with such casual, inept, ignorance – the gullible fool had let Lily's killer