Harry Potter The Last Night

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The Last Night  
By: Bethany  
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    November 1980
    There was fire all around. Lighting up the sky and turning it
    from midnight black to an uncanny orange and red. Voices mingled
    together, some shouting, others crying. But it was a background scene,
    really. Nothing more than the back drop to cover more vicious acts. It
    was carefully controlled chaos that would spread into true panic if
    given the chance.
    There would be no chance.
    Not for the woman lying at his feet. Not for the man pinned to
    the floor by insufferable pain.
    Severus Snape looked through the small slits of his mask and
    surveyed the scene with no emotion. Emotion would get you killed.
    Emotion was weakness, and you couldn't afford to have that in his
    field. Turning his steel black eyes to the female laying at his feet,
    her eyes reflecting the firelight that surrounded them, Severus tried
    not to feel the acid burn up this throat, threatening to resurface his
    dinner. He pushed it down, willing his undigested food to remain in his
    stomach. The burning sensation didn't die, but the nausea finally
    left.
    "_Avada Kadravra_."
    The green light lit up his black eyes for a moment, and in that
    split second before death, the woman smiled at him.
    Smiled.
    Damn it.
    Severus turned away quickly, dismissing the dead body as another
    causality of war. It _was_ war, and he had his side chosen for
    him long ago. It was expected of him, this. And he was nothing more
    than a pawn born of two dark wizards that would carry out as
    instructed.
    He left the burning house and the dead bodies inside it, walking
    as quickly as he could without being detected and into the cold, crisp
    night air. He wanted to take the mask off, gasp fresh air and try to
    calm his frantic breathing. His face was hot, the acid had burst into
    his mouth and now left a sour taste that would never truly leave him.
    Grinding his teeth out of anger, he turned to the two Death
    Eaters that had accompanied him on this task. "Destroy it," he
    commanded in a voice devoid of any emotion.
    After all, he couldn't afford emotion. It was for the weak, those
    of little brain but too much heart. Those fools got what they deserved,
    all of them did, in the end.
    "_Morsmordre!_" he shouted, raising his wand. A light
    exploded out of the end of his wand, sending green sparks into the air.
    They gathered there, lingering above the remains of what had been a
    happy home just two hours previous. A skull with a serpent reaching out
    of it's mouth.
    Severus turned. "Well? What are you waiting for? Those
    incompetent Aurors?" he snapped, glaring through his mask at the two
    insufferable idiots that had tagged along with him. Without waiting for
    them to reply, he raised his wand and Dissapprated.
    He reappeared less than ten seconds later in a flat outside of
    Hogsmead. Of all the places he could have taken up residence, why he
    chose here still remained a mystery to even himself.
    His was a small flat, scarcely decorated, if you could call it
    that. Shedding his robes, he sat heavily on the bed, fighting back the
    urge to run to the toilet to vomit most of any food he had taken in the
    last three days. The Dark Mark on his arm burned slightly, humming with
    a tingle that reminded him that his life was not his own. Always there;
    always letting him know that no matter what he did, where he went: he
    would never truly make his own decisions.
    Voldemort knew that Snape made a good Death Eater, though. He was
    emotionless, heartless, and would have them believe guiltless. He
    showed no weakness, and was quick to fling a curse at anyone who
    implied other wise. He had never made a good groveler. It didn't suite
    him and that fact would probably see him tortured to death one day.
    Severus closed his eyes against the impounding headache that was
    coming on. Nights like tonight usually ended like this. And before it
    was over, he would be standing in front of a cauldron, brewing a potion
    to rid of the headache--but other pains would stay.
    Yes, his fellow Death Eaters would believe him guiltless. But
    they were wrong, all of them were. No one had ever seen the true
    Severus Snape, no one alive anyway.
    One person had seen past him. From his school days until her last
    day, she had always known what no other had.
    That Severus Snape despised power.
    All the fools who had lost their lives in the name of power had
    done nothing but that; loose their lives. They sold their souls, begged
    at the mercy of the bigger fish in the sea, and in the end all died for
    the sake of that power they wanted so badly.
    His father had been one of those people. Power hungry until the
    end. Ruthless and merciless, even with those of his own blood. And what
    had it got him? He died at the hands of that which promised him
    immortal life. And did that power he wanted so badly help him in the
    end? Did it go with him?
    No.
    And damned if Severus wasn't following in those same footsteps.
    But he wasn't after power. Severus was many things, but a fool he was
    not. He had joined Voldemort because that was what was expected, and
    when his father was alive, disobeying him wasn't an option.
    And now that his father was gone, Severus knew there was no way
    out. That he would spend the rest of his life murdering and torturing
    muggle-borns for something they couldn't help. Following a rein of
    terror that drove fear into every man, woman and child in the wizarding
    world. All because it was in his bloodline and therefore expected of
    him.
    His head pounding, Severus did not rise and go to his cauldron
    tonight. He didn't want to forget the face of the woman who had smiled
    at him mere seconds before her death. Because tonight, like all his
    life, she had seen through him.
    "Damn it," he mumbled aloud, trying to block out memories and yet
    wanting to see them at the same time. Long black hair, shining black
    eyes staring at him... _No!_... he didn't want to see it.
    "_Severus, darling, come sit with me..._"
    _No!_
    A small pout, but a grin that would never see the light of day if
    his father had been in the room. No, to show happiness in front of him
    was as if to beg for death. "_Severus, it's ok. He didn't hurt me
    much this time..._" Yet the unnatural black of her eye didn't say as
    such.
    Twisting under the blankets that bound him to the bed, Severus
    begged an unknown force to stop these images. He didn't want to think
    of her, not tonight. Not when just hours ago...
    "_Severus, you don't have to do this. But if you choose to, I
    will still love you..._"
    Black eyes snapped open.
    "_...and forgive you._"
    Midnight.
    The witching hour, when Death Eaters came out to play.
    But this Death Eater wasn't out for any fun. This Death Eater
    didn't prowl the streets of Hogsmead with a mask on, looking for death
    and destruction. It was chaos, but controlled. And right now, it was
    silent but for a few mice scattering around looking for a meal.
    A true night of revelations, it would seem. Yes, Severus Snape
    finally understood why he had chosen Hogsmead for his residence. And
    that reason served him well tonight.
    As the town fell away, he walked up the worn trail between the
    town and the school. The school he had left not two years before, with
    an oath and a memory sitting on his sleeve. A memory that had come to
    surface more with each death accredited to his name, with every scream
    and every misery he had caused. And worse, much worse.
    No, a seventeen year old wizard straight out of Slytherin didn't
    give much thought to the words of that old man. Not until years, and
    deaths, later. And now he only hoped it wasn't too late.
    Too late to repent? To do right the wrongs he had committed? No,
    he would never be able to pay for those.
    The twin oak front doors of Hogwarts opened as if they had been
    expecting him. Perhaps they had. He would never know. Silently he
    slipped through the passageways that had been his home for seven years,
    if he could call it that. Or his hell away from hell, for both places
    had it's downside. One more than the other.
    And then a familiar gargoyle stood before him and Severus
    wondered for the first time since leaving his flat what he was doing
    here. And what he expected to come of it.
    Obviously he wasn't unannounced.
    "Good evening Severus," a pleasant voice said just to his right.
    With as much dignity has he could muster, which wasn't much at
    the moment, Severus turned to face the wizen old wizard. He hadn't
    changed since Severus had seen him last; light blue eyes still set in a
    wrinkled face that delied to anyone how powerful this wizard truly
    was.
    "I take it you're not making a social call this late?" Albus
    Dumbledore asked, a twinkle in his eye as the gargoyle stepped aside
    and allowed them passage.
    "No, Professor," Severus replied, following Dumbledore onto the
    landing and waiting as they approached the top. They entered his
    circular office, the Headmaster sitting behind the desk, Severus
    sitting in front.
    "Sherbert Lemon?" Dumbledore offered, holding out a candy jar in
    front of the Death Eater.
    "No," Severus responded, exasperated. His mind was working
    frantically to pull together a sentence, and the Headmaster was eating
    candy. "Professor, I would like to talk to you."
    "Oh?"
    Severus inwardly cursed, wondering if he was indeed doing the
    right thing. Surely the Headmaster knew why he was here, but then
    again, it had always amazed Severus how much Dumbledore could willfully
    ignore.
    They sat in silence for a moment as Dumbledore swallowed his
    Sherbert Lemon and sealed the jar. He then turned serious eyes to
    Severus and for the first time since arriving the Death Eater knew he
    was doing the right thing.
    He was making a choice of his own, not one made for him. No, he
    couldn't make up for everything he had done. But he could spend a life
    time trying.
    --The End.
    This, ladies and gentlemen, is the result of a late night and writer's
    block. I hope that some of you Snape fans enjoyed it, anyway :)
    Harry Potter doesn't belong to me. And because I'm not that talented,
    nothing similar ever will. I'll just content myself with fan fiction.
    If you read, please review. Please note that the deadline for all
    complaints was yesterday.
    


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Harry Potter