They were dead. He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe it. With his cloak wrapped tightly around him, Severus Snape left Godric's Hollow for the cold October Night. Almost as if waiting for him, Albus Dumbledore stood opposite the destroyed house with an expression of stunned horrified disbelief. Then his piercing blue eyes met the empty and ashamed black ones.

Traitor

Before the bravest man he knew dashed into the burning building.

He felt contaminated, dirty. He was to blame. No, he was to blame. The Dark Lord should be punished for their murders, he should.

Not that the Dark Lord could be blamed for their deaths. He was dead.

Or was he?

The mark on his arm bucked and writhed as if screaming in pain. Shouldn't it be still? Yes it was getting smaller, fainter even, but nonetheless it was still there.

Severus watched as the flames licked the ivy growing up the walls, watched as the smashed glass melted on the floor. And yet, it was only when he cast his coal black eyes on the flower shrivelling up in the fire did he allow a single tear to stream as gently as a caress down his cheek.

It was an emotion that he had long forgotten. One that he had just learnt how to adapt to, to hide. He needed to hide now.

It was practical more than anything else. Soon the authorities would be swarming everywhere, magic and muggles. And he wasn't the kind of man who liked answering questions, much less the kind of man who was liked.

Yes. That was the reason that Severus told himself as he walked away from Godric's Hollow.

He accidently bumped into a large gaggle of muggle children. Seeing them look at him with their bright innocent faces made him feel sick. This was what the future had had in store for them before their death an hour or so before. Their father pulled them all away, glaring at him while muttering under his breath about weird filthy tramps.

The youngest girl however, paused, and with a shy smile, placed a very stick sweet in the palm of his hand before toddling off.

No one had been that nice to him since, no. No. He mustn't think of it.

Instead he was drawn to the sound of someone gruff and firm, and another voice distraught and pleading.

Sirius Black looked shell-shocked. Already his pale face was worn and gaunt, his once floppy curls lank, his hands shaking and his eyes filled with tears. As he spoke, he pleaded through sobs, wringing his hands. Severus could not hear his conversation, nor did he want to. Instead he turned his back and missed it all.

'Please, please I'm his Godfather, Hagrid. I'm his Godfather.'

Hagrid towered above him, but despite his firm tone with the much younger man, he still oozed comfort and sympathy. 'I know. I know. But Dumbledore's orders-'

'Fuck Dumbledore's orders!' The younger man's voice broke. 'I don't care. I don't. I don't.'

'Look,' the giant said encouragingly, for once ignoring the slight on the great wizard, 'speak ter him yerself. He'll listen ter yer. Good man, Dumbledore. Good man. And this may only be a temporary measure an' all the thing. Just while yer get yerself back on yer feet. Yeah? Ok?'

Despite the still sad expression in his eyes, Sirius nodded and wiped his eyes and nose with the back of his sleeve.

And so of course, Severus did not see Hagrid place into the arms of Sirius Black, a little baby in the image of James. He did not see Sirius kiss the baby's scarred forehead in goodbye. He did not see the baby's eyes flicker open, eyes that were the same emerald green of Lily's.

The pair hadn't exactly seen eye to eye in school. In fact, Severus hated him. Even when they'd become adults, a chance encounter would result in a fight. However, now that Severus was actually desperate for one, the slumped shoulders of Sirius suggested that he simply wasn't up for it.

'Going to miss your pathetic little ally are you?' Goaded Snape.

'Yeah.' Sirius murmured softly. 'Yeah, I will.' And then he burst into tears.

It wasn't the reaction that he'd hoped for.

'What kind of man cries?' He jeered, inwardly hating himself for the wet streaks on his own face. 'How can you call yourself a man, and stand there crying?'

Sirius' grief seemed to be so much so that he didn't even recognise the identity of his companion.

'He-he made me laugh.' Sirius choked. 'On the first day, on the Hogwarts Express, I was so unhappy, and he made me laugh. He got me my first detention. He got me into the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. He was my neighbour for a while, my companion, my work colleague, my detention buddy, my brother, but most of all.' He broke down into sobs. 'He was my friend.'

Severus watched him with curiosity. And yet, he wasn't sure exactly as to what he was confused about. Until Sirius' cries turned into angry snarls.

'I'll kill him.' He growled.

'He's already dead.' Severus spat. His chest tightened, confused as to how he felt about the downfall of his Master. Scared? Revengeful? Relieved? He just did not know.

'Not him.' Snapped Sirius, pushing back his shaggy mop of brown curls. 'That lowlife piece of scum who really did kill them.' It was then that he bounded off into a run, Severus dashing behind him trying to grab a hold of his arm.

'Let go of me.' Sirius eventually snarled, rounding on his old childhood nemesis with undisguised loathing. 'I have a job to do.'

'It won't bring them back.' Severus hissed, pushing him violently as he had been pushed. 'It would only earn you a life sentence in Azkaban, if not worse.'

For a second, Sirius hesitated and Severus jumped on it. 'Think about it.' He urged. 'Who deserves that fate more. You? Or him?'

Sirius eyed him suspiciously. 'Why are you trying to help me?'

Severus dropped the front of his robes as if they were red hot. 'I'm not helping you.' He muttered, avoiding his gaze. 'Do what you like'.

Sirius was just about to reply when his eyes flashed brighter. Whipping around, he saw Peter Pettigrew start to disappear behind a bush.

'Got ya'. He snarled again, and with a force faster than lightening, he had Peter Pettigrew by the scruff of the neck, slammed up against a brick wall, with his wand in his face.

The smaller man literally squeaked.

Severus just couldn't bear it. He was in the same league as this man, if not worse. He just couldn't stand by and watch this happen.

However just as he was about to walk away, his stomach churned in horror as he saw dozens of muggles come out from the nearby pub, wanting to see the fight.

'How could you?' Sirius kept on screaming. 'Your friends. Your friends.'

As Peter began to protest his fear of Lord Voldemort, Severus smirked from where he stood. He hadn't been afraid. He'd been all too eager to betray his friends.

'He forced me to.' The scummy traitor stammered. 'He, I-'

Severus had no desire to see the rest, but as he turned away he heard a shriek that chilled him to the bones far more than the whip of cold wind that had suddenly swept around them as if in anger.

'Sirius Black killed the Potter's! Sirius Black killed the Potter's!' Followed by a terrifying explosion.

Fire.

Everywhere. The fire was everywhere. And amidst it all stood Sirius, his handsome face in shock before splitting into a terrible grin as he began to laugh.

There were cries from the other side of the street where authorities had previously been investigating Godric's Hollow. Now, however, they were coming.

'Run!' Severus screamed at Sirius, pushing him away. 'Run!'

But Sirius only began to laugh harder. Nearby a car exploded, and more muggles cried out, their shrieks encircling them along with the ring of fire.

'Sirius'. He urged.

His old childhood enemy could only laugh. He was beyond help now.

Sensing the authorities arriving at any moment, Severus Snape fled the scene.

'Sirius Black. It was Sirius Black who betrayed them. Other than you of course. James' best friend.'

'Sometimes people turn'.

'Not Sirius.'

'Maybe he surprised us all'.

'Maybe he's framed.'

'Maybe.'

'Severus, is there anything that you would like to tell me?'

The haunted black eyes met the piercing blue.

'No. No, there is not.'

'Severus, don't let an old childhood-'

'Black was always bad news. It's perfectly plausible that he turned one day. I don't want to talk about this any more. Why did you bring me here?'

'Her son lives'.