A Potions Master's Perspective – 6.
It was so damn difficult. It took every last bit of his well practiced reserve not to do the one thing he swore at his Mother's grave.
He would not cry.
His feet carried hi, as if they had a mind of their own.
Through the grounds, across the drenched grass. Muffled thuds of foot falls.
Almost there, he told himself. We're not out of the line of fire yet.
Screams. Falling Stones. Cruel laughter. Terrifying growls.
The rain.
Always the damn rain.
Faintly, their fleeing shadows were illuminated by the burst of colour behind them. His mouth curved up into a bitter, cold smile. It was almost like fireworks.
His left arm ached. The Dark Lord was pleased.
The hair on the back of his neck stood, and he knew even before he heard the slopping footsteps on the wet grass that were not theirs, or the frenzied shouts.
Potter.
But how?
That question was left unanswered, as he hastily put up a shield, half turning, still running.
Fleeing. Like cowards.
Vaguely, he realized that the blonde beside him was afraid, yet he didn't stop to look or hear. He just ran like a hunted animal. He felt amused by the comparison.
"Keep going, the boundary is just beyond the trees," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. The blonde just jerked his head and put all his energy into sprinting those last few yards.
Severus slowed and turned around.
Potter stopped, a brief look of surprise crossing his face.
So unguarded, thought Severus. In the moonlight, he could read the boy like an open book.
The features contorted into hate, disgust, pain, anguish, betrayal, and … regret?
Before he could analyze the unexpected emotion, a spell bounced off his shield. The boy was being verbal. Severus snarled as he pushed off another pathetic attempt with a bored flick of his wrist.
"Is that the best you've got, Potter?" He snarled and hexed the boy silently. He could smell the damp smell of singed flesh cooled by rain. Stupid, Stupid boy!
"You should learn to duel better, boy. I can hear every move you're thinking of making. OCCLUDE!" He roared, not half caring if anyone else was listening.
Potter seemed momentarily dazed and confused as he landed flat on his back.
The rain pelted down on him as Severus moved forward mencingly. The hair on his arms stood as if in warning, and he acted in haste.
"Cru-" Potter was slammed back into the grass, the wind pushed out of his lungs, till he could not speak the curse.
"No unforgivables from you, boy!"
Potter grit his teeth and tried to stand. Severus could see that his eyes were red, his face tear stained. He struggled to adjust and clear those blasted glasses.
"That imbecile better get rid of those soon, he thought, and raked his wet hair out of his face. Severus didn't pay attention to the scratches his fingernails were leaving across his face. The pain was welcome. He idly wondered if one could crucio onself?
He turned and resumed running, though at a lesser pace. He had to get out of here. His guilt and self loathing and grief threatened to overwhelm him.
Almost there, he thought.
"Stop and fight me, you coward!"
That did it. The boy's mulish anger would be the death of them all.
Severus spun around and sliced through all the hexes and curses the boy was throwing at him with reckless abandon.
"I am NOT a COWARD!"
Potter was stunned by the trembling rage behind those words, than the force with which they were hurled back at him. As if he were surprised that a low, sarcastic silky voice was not the only thing the dour potions master was capable of.
He was very sure he could not trust his voice to be devoid of emotion now.
He didn't give a pickled bat's arse about it.
Severus concentrated on controlling his rage. Albus would never forgive him if he hexed the boy into oblivion and saved the Dark Lord the trouble.
Albus.
The grief threatened to burst his heart open. Ripped from his chest and gone with the man he had just murdered.
Oh Merlin, he was a monster.
He longingly thought of the last few yards into the forest, where he could finally leave and hope to die a painful death.
Hagrid's hut burst into flame.
"You know nothing,boy! Practice is needed for your abysmal dueling skills. Try not be so verbal Potter! Stop being such an open book. Stop wearing your heart on your sleeve!"
The boy hardly heard Severus' words.
Severus summoned Potter's wand to himself and it slapped into his open hand with a sting. He resisted the urge to snap the bloody thing in half.
Hey stared at each other in silence for a moment. Faint pops of apparition could be heard from beyond the trees.
The rain still poured. The splatter of water drops was loud in the almost silence.
He felt the wards collapse.
It was as if the magic from the castle was fading.
Like the light that had faded from Albus' blue eyes.
Stop. Please.
Severus fled, throwing the boy's wand toward him.
He left the anguished sobs of the grieving boy behind him.
Cry for both of us Harry.
He cut through the undergrowth of the forest, even if he could have just vanished from the ward-free castle grounds. He tasted salt on his lips. He wasn't even aware of the tears. He stopped and turned once again this night, and saw Potter on his knees, face buried in his hands.
One last look at his beloved castle.
One final farewell to Albus.
Time stood still and then moved forward, agonizingly slow. He could see the boy's silhouette and felt the piercing gaze. He vaguely heard Potter's voice yelling at Hagrid the words for the spell of water, as his walls crumbled and a cracked scream ripped from his throat, fading in his ears as he blinked out of sight.
(TBC)