"Albus Dumbledore was a dead man walking. Only his death could break the cold war."
This is how it feels to be Daphne Greengrass.
She did not remember putting away her wand.
"It was by his manipulations that Harry Potter was destined to die by the Dark Lord's hand. And now… Albus Dumbledore is dead and Harry Potter is alive… do you disagree?"
She did not remember quite how he had avoided her spell; she does not remember collapsing into the chair she now sat, nor does she remember drinking water from the half-empty glass she found in her hand. All she could remember was that the one man in the wizarding world she made it her mission to kill had not only defeated her, but talked her down.
And she wasn't even angry about it.
Only numb.
"I have watched you these past years. I have seen you grow. I bid and waited for you to discover your place in this new world. And when I gave you the chance, you took it. You told me you would do whatever it took. Has this changed?"
Laboured breaths were the fly in the ointment of an otherwise permeating silence. A fractured chair lay crumpled in the corner, fumes emanating from its impact with her killing curse. The taste of burnt charcoal filled their lungs.
Severus Snape sat before her in the Headmaster's chair as though this was merely a teacher-student conference. His face was twisted, his eyes wide and unblinking. His hands were folded over each other like the talons of a bird, trembling violently. She was shocked by how much emotion there seemed to be behind them. The scene between them was disgustingly ordinary. As if nothing had happened. As if nothing had changed.
As if she had not just tried to murder him.
"No..." a distant voice said from her lips. "... that's why you have to die."
"I have sacrificed everything to be where I am, Greengrass. Everything! I do not get to die, yet and neither do you. We do not get off that easy!"
The pain in his expression made it all the more unbearable. It did not seem right that this man who had killed and tortured her should be hurt and scared too. It felt wrong to feel any sympathy, let alone remorse, for one who deserved nothing else. She tried to focus on the words he spoke in a futile effort to douse the emotions within her.
"... killing you…" she mumbled, "... is all I have left…"
"No, Daphne..."
He sounded like her father when he used her name.
Her sanity twanged and curled inside her. She was lost somewhere in the dark abyss, her heart beating slower and slower as the echo of her soul leaked out. Every time she reached, she fell.
"Then just kill me."
Her breaths were dry, her head was empty.
"... No."
She looked around the room, taking in everything once more. The books. The furniture. The fireplace. The ruined chair. The blackened floor. How did she know this was all real?
A revealing tear fell from her face and she turned towards him again. She could see that much of his fear was gone, there was no anger now, only sadness and something else she couldn't recognise. She wondered what her own face was revealing to him. She knew the hatred must still be there. But did she portray her grief as well?
"You're correct, of course… It would be easy for me to kill you…" he said quietly, and his voice cracked slightly. "But you're soon to be head of your family. You kill me, others kill you. And then? Astoria has nowhere to go and your grief is merely passed to her. Does she deserve that?"
She choked suddenly, feeling something inside her breaking loose, something long held back. Terrible and ugly, like boiling poison threatening to spill out. It was all coming to the surface riding on another wave of grief. Tears broke openly, pouring down her cheeks, and her mouth opened as she began to speak, realising how loud she was being. Her voice broke on her first words.
"Daddy is dead! Dumbledore is dead! Harry's gone and… The Dark Lord won because of me."
"The Dark Lord was going to win that night, regardless," he said. "You saved your life. When your father gave his life for yours, it was his decision. Squandering that means he died for nothing."
She took a breath, closing her eyes against the tears and tried to focus.
There was nothing left for her if she couldn't do this. Any chance for a legacy or happiness died with them and nothing brought her out of bed in the morning except the thought of revenge. If she did not do this, she had no reason to exist any more. It was all there was for her, all she could do. She needed the chance to make it right. And if not then she would never forgive herself. And she knew her sister would not forgive her, either. Astoria Greengrass would understand and she could make her own way in life. But she would never forgive Daphne if she did not avenge their family. It was the only thing she had left. She had to.
The salty taste of tears was pungent on her lips. She felt as though her chest might explode, but she kept it together. She was a Slytherin girl. She was strong. She was brave.
"What do you know of Harry Potter's whereabouts?"
The corners of her lips twisted slightly at the sound of his name.
Her face darkened.
It seemed to chip away at her heart a little every day Harry had not tried to contact her, especially given the state they last saw each other in. Perhaps she had just imagined their closeness this whole time. The thought of that was painful but necessary. Because she had to believe he was alive and okay, and that he would still be okay. He was too Gryffindor to fail. There was no point in contacting her anyway. They couldn't go back to how things were before, not after everything. Maybe he had realised that earlier than she had.
Or perhaps — and most likely — he was simply busy fighting in the war that she had started.
"... I haven't heard shit about him. And if I had, I wouldn't tell you."
His lips drew into a thin line.
"You think you can keep secrets from me?"
"I can now."
"You need to trust me," Snape said. "We both want the same thing. We both want to save his life."
She laughed without humour.
"You have a life ahead of you that is not worth sacrificing over petty revenge. Your experiences have given you a gift not many are party to. And I will not allow you to squander it."
Daphne stared past him. She knew he was making sense. She knew that there were more important matters at hand. She wanted to believe it all, she truly did. Yet something in her gut didn't care. That there was a chance to make sure others didn't have to suffer the same way she did. It was selfish, yes. But it was human. She was human. And she was scared. She was hurt and she needed someone to blame. To hate. And so her anger chose the man who had saved her life twice now.
"You think you know my pain… ?" she hissed through clenched teeth.
Her voice broke and she covered her wet face with her hands.
When he spoke, however, it wasn't in any way she expected from him.
"I have spent the last seventeen years of my life locked inside my mind," he said quietly. "That is all I know."
His gaze was filled with so much emotion that she was surprised it hadn't spilled down his cheeks. She saw how tired he was and felt how deeply broken. She knew that hopelessness.
She shook her head.
"What happened?"
He stared straight into her eyes as he said, "I have committed unforgivable deeds. I do not expect you to understand them, nor will I waste both our time by attempting to justify them. Because I am not a leader and no action I am capable of could ever give me the salvation I need. I died a long time ago, Greengrass, and now I only exist in hatred. But I carry on. Because I do not do what I do for anyone other than those I have lost. To make their sacrifice, however unwilling, mean something. Even if I lose, I have to try."
For once, she got the impression she was seeing a completely honest side of Severus Snape. One that, up until this point, she doubted ever existed. It was like looking into the eyes of another person entirely, rather than the man who had taught her, saved her, and nearly killed her. There was nothing alive in those eyes. Only sadness and remorse fuelling an unburied corpse.
She wanted to believe it. She wished she could. She wanted to tell herself the pain she was feeling wasn't real, wasn't justified and that Snape was just telling this to continue his circle of manipulation. But she didn't want to fight anymore. She didn't want to be the bigger person and she didn't want to listen to sense. She wanted her pain to be validating. Justified. She wanted to make the people who had scorned her pay. Her life was no longer her own. And if it wasn't hers, then she didn't want it.
She shook her head slowly.
The Headmaster's lips parted to say something else, but he held his tongue.
Instead, her gaze slithered slowly to the table between them. To her wand, that sturdy shaft with a twisted wooden handle. That sort of wand was befitting for her - everyone saw the proud, strong section, but only she was aware of the twisted origins giving her her strength.
"It's too late for me, Professor Snape," she whispered. "If I can't kill you, then…"
She had been pursuing this moment from the second he died. Since the night she heard his final scream, she knew this could be the only outcome of it all. He'd been so proud of her, in his last moments. She'd never seen him look at anyone the way he had at her then. Why couldn't he have done that more? Would things have been different if he had? Now she was broken beyond any hope for repair. But it also gave her her final resolve and she would make his death worth something. And if she couldn't do that, she had nothing.
She felt herself smile faintly as she stared into the wand.
"... just let me die."
She did not try to speak again. Instead, she took her wand from the desk's top. She was not afraid to die anymore, but hardly considered herself pleased about the idea either. It seemed wrong to die without having accomplished something significant, but that was just how life went sometimes. She was nothing. She was the scion of nothing. A failure, like her mother and her father before her. A disgrace not just to her family, to her house, but now finally to herself. It would be a mercy to not have to live with all that.
There was no fear any more. No hesitation. Only resolve. She knew what she was about to do and had come to terms with it. She was already dead.
With a final, anguished breath, she held the tip of her wand to her throat. She felt it touch her skin, the heat of it, the tingle of magic, and the sudden rush of blood through her veins. She could feel it burning, coursing through her body, making her whole, giving her strength, and willing her to do what she needed.
And then the pain came.
She cried, unable to believe the stinging ripping through her hand, but it was too real for denial. Her wand fell from numb fingers as she crumpled forward, falling from the chair and spilling onto the floor. Her lungs burned, her head pounded and every inch of her was aflame. Even when it finally ceased she did not stop crying. She curled up into herself tightly and dared not halt the tears, which were as hot as the pain had been.
She blinked her burning eyes and tried to see. Nothing could be seen clearly for the tears and her eyelashes stuck together. Had she actually done it?
A shadow loomed over her.
"Stupid girl!" he cursed. "Idiot girl!"
She was - she should have disarmed him first.
She let herself go limp, giving weight over to him completely as he strung her back to her feet. She thought she saw a brief flash of concern crossing his features, but it was gone before she could be sure. His grip was gentle as he dragged her back to the desk and released her down into the Headmaster's throne.
She took a shuddering, choking sob.
This couldn't be the way it happened tonight. She needed resolution, one of them had to die and if it wasn't him, she couldn't live with herself. She refused to. Why couldn't he understand that? Why couldn't anyone understand that she was not built for this world they were so adamant she had to exist in? What was there left? Words had failed to give the answers she needed, so there was no more searching for them. There were no longer any words at all. Only actions. There had to be actions. There was nothing left. In her head there was only fire. And around her heart, a chilling ice.
"Why…?" she whimpered into his chest. "...w-why can't… I just die?"
"Because..."
His face appeared by her own as he knelt beside her.
"... I've been where you are. I've seen what you've seen and I know how it feels. The only thing that keeps me alive is that I'm doing it in memory of those I've lost. Do you hear me? If you cannot do it for yourself then… do it for them."
His truth was not kind. It made her want to scream, to kill things and curse the sky, to curse him, to curse everything. But it was still the truth.
"... I'm nothing like you…" she whispered, attempting to pull away but not quite mustering the strength.
He looked hard at her for a long moment.
"No. You're better."
She fell silent. His eyes burrowed into her.
"The person with nothing to lose is the person with nothing to fear. Great people are forged in fire and it is the privilege of lesser people to light to flame. I'm not a saviour, Daphne, but you can still be one."
