XXIII

It was a tranquil evening. The entire school was in silence; the footsteps of the students clumsily walking through the hallways did not resound, nor did the swooshing noise of the ghosts' flying come to anyone's ears. Not even the enormous swinging pendulum make a single noise that day. The owls did not fly, nor did Peeves find the moment to create his raucous taunts and songs of his own composition. It was an oddity. But it was serene. Finally, a moment of peace had come.

Severus sat alone in the Great Hall. Lunch had already passed and dinner was hours away. He had time to himself; he finally had the time he needed just to think. By nature, he was a lonely man. For a time he cherished the people around him (mainly Lily), but it grew too much for him. He needed his concealing wardrobe and the lack of interest of people to once again disappear from notice. But life didn't work that way most days.

Severus took in a deep breath, relishing the quiet he had longed for. There was one thing missing—Lily, sitting beside him quietly. But she was out on Head Girl duties, which seemed of little importance to Severus. In silence there was only loneliness. Not a single person was there to annoy him. It was days like these that Severus enjoyed the most. Yet they were the ones he had long forgotten.

He knew that the attack on Shillings was approximately a month away, but it didn't matter. He knew he had to make an unearthly potion, but it was irrelevant. Nothing mattered to Severus, for he had the greatest thing of all—a moment of profound placidity.

He opened his potions text book and further modified it. It was nearing the point where it would be filled with more modifications than instructions.

Severus peeled a larger, slightly green banana. He munched on it quietly. No one was bothering him that day. He savored the silence. He flipped to a blank page and pressed his quill to the paper.

Once he was satiated with his notes, he moved onto more pressing things. In his notebook, he scrawled down every detail and every fact he knew, but he didn't dare voice his opinions, nor did he dare to put his name inside of that notebook. He knew of the risks of documenting anything, but if he were rendered incapable of continuing his 'miraculous endeavor', then he would have it to give to Dumbledore, so he (or one of his lackeys), could complete the damned mission.

A shrill voice resounded through the halls, "Snape! I thought you swung the other way! What's gotten into you?! I guess I was wrong…" Sirius Black was his old, disrupting self. He snatched the banana out of Snape's hands and threw it somewhere in the vicinity. "There, you don't need that now. You don't want to give blokes the wrong idea about yourself. You're lucky that you've gotten in Lily's pants."

"I've done no such thing!"

"Says the man who probably has pictures of her hidden somewhere in your books." Snape gave him a spiteful look, only for Sirius to throw back his head as he roared with laughter.

And I thought I was going to have a quiet evening!

Sirius set himself down next to Severus, but maintained his distance. Severus frowned as he felt his 'companion' sit down. "Don't you have any other place to sit? Perhaps Potter will enjoy your company, or how about Lupin? They would surely enjoy your presence more than I."

"Oh sod it Snape. I'm only here because I gotta talk to you." Severus oddly snorted. "I'm serious."

"Who would have thought you would have learned your own name. It only took you—what—seventeen years?" He knew it was a terrible insult, or more of a terrible joke, but he still found the audacity to laugh on the inside.

"Yes, yes, stealing my pun. Very funny. Now, I need to talk about Reg." He took Snape's lack of a reply as an intrigued comment, or at least, until he received an acerbic reply.

"I do not wish to speak about him, or anything that he would be interested in doing. I'm in no such mood to remember such things, or to be informed about the things I will have to learn at a later time." Regulus had done something Severus had never wanted him to do. He could no longer consider Regulus as a brother. His soul was far to damaged, far too darkened and far too terrible for Severus to think of him as the same boy he once knew—the same boy with the cheerful, innocent grey eyes.

He, as usual, disregarded Snape's refusal. He looked away for a moment, falling silent. "It's not working Snape. No matter what I do. And for what? All this is causing me to lose my friends." To Sirius, it seemed as if Snape could have cared less. "Snape, you're the one who told me to do this! And here I am, listening to you. What's the point? You're always going to be a ruddy, heartless Death Eater, no matter how much you think you love Lily. Why did I even do this?"

Severus scoffed rudely. "You did it because you don't want your brother going down that path."

"Look, I've abandoned my friends, just so I can listen to your stupid instructions. Why couldn't you do it? He thinks of you as a brother, more than he will ever think of me as one."

"Your idiotic friends are no reason to give up. Just go on and keep trying. You'll never get anywhere if you don't." Severus angrily piled his books together and got up. Sirius pulled him back down to the table and Severus fell over. His back was on the ground; his legs sprawled in the air. He was like a toppled over tree.

"I told you that we have to talk about him.

"He…he went to that meeting last month. I'm sure you know about it. I'm not sure how much more I can do."

Exhausted, and unwilling to resist anymore, Severus cracked. "How about sit with him at the Slytherin table? Have you ever attempted to do something out of the ordinary? You are a bloody Gryffindor for Merlin's sake! There is no ordinary with you."

"It…it won't work. James will—"

"James is not your blood. You two may share a friendship, and you two may share the same interests. But in the end…would you rather sit at your dying friend's side or your dying brother's?" Severus had no utter idea of where the words had come from. Regardless, they had flowed effortlessly from him.

"I…" Sirius broke into silence, contemplating deeply about what he would do. He remembered Reg as the young, spirited boy he was—so hopeful and always happy. He now saw that once happy little boy as a depressed man. He began to shake his head as he battled with himself. The question was unlike anything he ever answered. He would have had an easier time passing an exam in potions.

"I—" Shocking himself, he stopped there once more. He felt guilty, because he wanted to say his friend—a person who had no blood similar to his, nor the irreplaceable family ties. And then, all he could see and all he could think of was the little boy he once knew. He remembered how on the boy's third birthday, as a cake floated up to him, he used a hilarious display of magic and caused it to explode midair, all over the faces of the haughtiest members of the Black family. Then, there was the time he taught the boy how to fly on a broom, and soon after, their first Quidditch match against a few of his friends (at the time). But his favorite memory—and he was sure he would never forget it—was the time when their mother had yelled at Sirius for becoming a bloody Gryffindor. Regulus floated his mother up to the ceiling and tied her to it with a magical rope. But now, there was a husk of the former person which Regulus was. To his dismay, Regulus was now the follower of a true murder.

Meanwhile, Severus recollected the memories of that one meeting. He remembered Reg, sitting at the table, his face glazed with intrigue and captivation. A gagging sensation caught in Severus' throat, but he suppressed it quickly. He remembered Regulus only listening intently, too fearful to make a comment.

Grey eyes starred at the Dark Lord, unaware of anything, but the enigmatic figure. The man's tan toned skin, now pale, partially because of the fear which encompassed the entire room, and partially because the cold had drained the blood from his face. Severus knew this, for he had been using legilimency on Regulus.

He peered into his mind out of intrigue and worry. The enthrallment was apparent, but it had only irked Severus. He fought the urge to change the ways Regulus viewed the events. It would do no good for himself.

The look was like poison, slowly seeping in, causing a retched fire to burn in your veins, and causing a low nauseous feeling which would refuse to flee. "Why Regulus, why?" he thought over and over again, the words spinning endlessly in his head.

He turned away—disgusted. Horrendous. Unbearable. Revolting. It was the same look he had worn on his face so many years ago. Despicable he was, but now he saw a shadow of himself in Regulus. Broken, he never faced his friend.

Sirius' hand slapped Severus face, leaving a red imprint on his left cheek. "I thought you might have dozed off ol' chap!"

His eyes squinted in anger. Don't hex him. Not now. Just once… "What I would pay to see you in Azkaban right now!" he grunted.

"Hagger off it."

"Do you have an answer to the question?" He deliberately refused to forget it.

"I—" pitifully, he looked away, disappointed in himself, and raging mad at the fact that Snape could have bloody stumped him. "No. I don't have an answer."

Severus chose not to reply, because he knew he was in no place to. He was a terrible person, violated by so much of his own wrong doing and sullied by the dark which incapacitated him.

"Black," Severus began, not sure what he had really intended on saying, "Have you honestly and wholeheartedly tried to be a brother to Regulus? I have yet to see a change."

"You will never see a bloody change, because sodding Death Eaters don't change!"

"That is a bit of an extremist comment." He knew that Sirius was implying that Severus too wanted to be a Death Eater, but no one, but Dumbledore could know why. "I've changed. I suppose it would never matter to you. You have already predetermined our fates, haven't you Black? Oh yes, you are the one who controls everything. Why not lock you up in Azkaban, or perhaps have you tied to a chair until prophetic words trickle out of that uncouth mouth of yours?"

"Why do I even bother speaking with you Snape? It's like talking to a moody woman! What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"Black, you've ruined my peace of mind, my few moments of silence and even whatever plans I had for this evening. Honestly, this was not your best choice."

"I said I'm here to talk to you about Reg, like you wanted me to. So I am doing the right thing. Now, about Reg…"

"Can you talk about this at a later time?"

"Weren't you the one who said that there was no time? Mutual respect for each other and a tolerance for one another? Really Snape? You haven't changed. I have no idea what Lily could see in you. There are such better choices. And now, when you have her, you go run off to your Dark Lord! Do you know what you're doing? Are you really that blind? Do you plan on killing yourself, or are you going to take us all down with you?"

"I'm not in the mood for this." Severus took his book, and left Sirius sitting on the bench, looking content. Sirius never thought he would be able to trust Snape. Joyfully, he indulged on the various situations on where he was right all along. He smirked at himself. But when he saw how lonely he truly was, without James, or the Marauders, he felt a large pang of guilt bombard him. He wasn't too different from Snape.

The seventh floor—secluded above all things—was Severus' hideaway. He could escape from life, plan his next move or waste away along with time, without a single person there to bother him. He sat on the cold marble floor, writing things in his crafted, yet sharp handwriting.

He found himself an empty room. There was no furniture, nor carpeting. It was the least impressive room in all of Hogwarts, and for that reason it was perfect. The walls were caramel colored, swirled with a beautiful bronze, and flecked with specks of cream, like a fine coffee. The floor was and odd pale lavender, which was calming and comforting color to Severus. The ceiling had one small bronze chandelier, which held white candles.

Life had entered a boring stage once more. Alone, he had nothing to die for. He had convinced himself that by staying away from those he loved, that they would eventually forget that he had existed, and in forgetting they could never feel betrayed by him.

To think I was that big of an idiot. Blinding myself is all I do, isn't it? As he thought, he found himself giving into temptation. He looked at the once blank page of him notebook and saw Lily's face in black and white, looking at him, smiling slightly, but awkwardly. He closed his notebook, only to open it again, repeating the same ludicrous movements over and over, until he finally went mad and threw the book at the wall with such force that it split the spine in half. He lied down, his hair scattering on the pale lavender colored marble.

Break up with her, before it gets too serious. She can find another man. She ended it with Potter, so she won't go back to him. She doesn't need you! You don't even deserve her for Merlin's sake. Leave her. Abandon her. You've done it before. It will be simple, and swift. Just never face her again.

Pessimistically, he kept on fighting with himself. He found no answer good enough. He was not only lying to her, but he was hiding every true, deep, dark secret. In a relationship, you must have trust, and you must be able to confess to the person your every secret unreluctantly. But he had so forcefully hidden who he truly was, knowing that beneath his first layers of filth, lied more filth, and then beneath that, at his core was his rotting heart, slowly decaying because of the darkness that he let himself be engulfed by. Lily was his light; the ever strengthening force which powered him through his morbid journey. Yet she was the force which caused him to delve deeper into the darkness, until it would fully blind him by its capacitating quality. He was not encompassed by the darkness of the evil forces which he had only begun to deal with. He was encompassed by his own follies, and therefore found his own darkness to submerge himself in. At the crossroads of life he had turned, thinking that he had finally gotten onto the unbeaten path. Two miles down, he had finally seen the many potholes on the twisting, uncertain road, which only led to a field of gravestones. His life was impending doom.

He bolted up, stood on his feet, wand at ready. The sounds of footsteps entered the room and echoed softly. "You aren't supposed to be up here," the voice of Regulus Black resonated through the large, circular room.

"And neither are you, but that doesn't seem to bother the both of us, now does it?" Severus tucked his wand in his robes.

"It's unlike you to escape the room in the middle of the night, when there isn't a meeting. Why are you up here so late, or rather so early?"

"It doesn't matter really." He hadn't taken pleasure in conversing with Reg as of late. Regulus had grown fond of talking about the Death Eaters' motives, and spoke highly of them, so highly that Severus had begun to think of every excuse, no matter how terrible it might be, just to get away from him. He had begun to lost hope in his friend, if he could still call him that. He knew a lost cause when he saw one.

Regulus picked up the split pieces of the note book that lied on the floor. He flipped through the pages of each rather quickly. But something had caught his eye once he flipped through the second half a second time. On the third page lied a drawing, so intricately drawn that it looked human in a surreal sense. The fine lines of hair whisked against a smiling face, and the shine in the carefully drawn eyes cause him to gape in awe. He handed the pieces of the journal to Severus. "Heartbroken?"

"No," he looked away from Regulus, not in the mood for talking about his miserable love life.

"If the Dark Lord finds out—"

"Do you think I ruddy care about what he will do if he finds out? Regulus, what does whom I care for have to do with anything? These silly ideas you have stored in your mind about what you can and cannot do. I'm the one who is older. I have maturity and experience; as such you should get it through your head: You must listen to me."

"You were never this cranky a year ago. Come to think of it, everything changed in October. Suddenly you were a different person. Why should I listen to you? Tell me, have you changed your mind again? Are you unwilling to join the Dark Lord? I told you once Snape, and so did Avery—the Dark Lord does not like those who he cannot trust."

"Leave." He casted a terrifying look upon his face.

"You cannot do anything that will force me to."

When Severus walked away, Regulus grabbed him. Severus tried to pull away, but only ended up pinned against the floor. "We will talk about this right now Snape. Whether you like it or not."

Severus pushed him off. "I have never met a person more stubborn than you." He wiped off his sleeves as he sat on the floor across from Regulus.

"I want answers. I deserve them too. You can't deny me that. You haven't been yourself since October."

"I will answer your questions, but if any word I utter shall leave this room, I warn you, I will obliviate, not only you, but every person within the walls of Hogwarts. Heed my words: I will not hold back on any punishment."

"What side are you on?"

"The Dark Lord's, and I will forever be on his side." Severus nearly smirked. He had been given no Veritaserum. He could lie skillfully, and freely.

"What is your situation with…Evans?"

"We are currently in a relationship, but it will not interfere with any of my goals, nor the goals of the Death Eaters. I plan on letting this relationship run its course."

"Are you implying that it will end, and possibly soon?"

"I am only saying that I will let it continue, or end if it must. You very well know that I am not a seer, and furthermore, I am not insane enough to yell out so-called prophecies, such as Trelawney does on a daily basis. I cannot predict what will happen between Lily and me."

Regulus nodded his head in satisfaction. Maniacally, he began to laugh, his laughter loud and disruptive to Severus' train of thought. Severus too began to laugh out of pure insanity, unable to distinguish whether it was appropriate or not.

"What has happened to us?" Regulus said between his fits of laughter.

"I often ask myself the same thing."

The laughter had gotten out of control. The sense of an aphrodisiac filling the air was thick, but both knew it was impossibility. Regulus' clutched his stomach and rolled on the floor as he laughed even louder, completely oblivious to anyone or anything but he and Severus. Severus had only begun to stop laughing.

"Severus?" Regulus asked as he lied on the floor, starring at the bronze tinted ceiling.

"Yes?"

"What has happened to us? We were once good friends."

"We've both been entangled by something too laborious to find time for friendship."

"I suppose that, that's true. But Severus?"

"Go ahead ask me anything. I'm almost convinced that this is a dream."

"It could be, after all it's only four in the morning." They both smirked. "Do you know why Sirius has started to act like a brother all of a sudden to me?"

"Maybe he feels remorseful," It was the only answer he had planned if such a question were to arise.

"He hadn't felt remorseful for the past six years."

"It takes time to feel remorse. Whether it takes a second or years, you will feel it before the day you die. It's inevitable."

"There's a quidditch game this weekend. I know the Slytherin's haven't played in a while considering the weather, but it is supposed to be nice out this weekend."

"I can't Regulus, I'm not interested in the game. You always wanted the Seeker position. Why not play for me instead? You have a slew of people as back up for Keeper."

"You can't be serious."

"Of course I can't. I'm Severus."

"For Merlin's sake, Sirius has gotten to you too?"

"We have formed a mutual respect for one another. Or at least we had."

"He's mentioned you these past few days. He says you aren't as bad as you seem."

"How touching," he sneered. "I always wanted his approval." His sardonic comment came off bitterly hilarious to Reg.

"You're like a brother to me, you know that Severus?"

"I believe you have told me that several times, yes. But isn't it important to view Sirius as your brother? After all, he is related to you. It's all the family values and what not. Isn't that what matters?"

"You've gone soft."

"No, I believe I've gone insane." They burst into another fit of laughter, but it did not last long.

Severus felt inebriated, and so did Regulus. Their conversation was bubbly and thick, sometimes sour and at other times sweet, like a fine bottle of alcohol. They had easily gotten drunk off it.

Eventually, Regulus left half asleep. Severus was once again alone in silence. He had felt slightly more cheerful, but it did not do anything for him.

Like an hour before, he had wrote in his notebook, experimenting with various ideas for spells, all the while thinking of what must be done. The hours floated away, and he left the room. The bronze colored, purple floored room now empty of everything.

Still confused, he wandered, throughout his day momentarily convinced that he had finally come up with an answer; when in reality he had only formed more questions.

Reviews? Follows? Favorites?

I expect the comments of 'He's going to break up with Lily'.

I'm just letting you know that only I know what will happen by the end of this story!

It's the joy of being the author.

How am I doing with this?

-E.S. Grey