The Tombstones in the Hallway

Severus sat in his living room, alone for the moment. Wormtail, he knew, had gone to make his daily report to Voldemort. Not that there was much for him to report. Severus had walked in quite calmly, hung up his cloak and wand holster, written a letter to his pen pal in America, and washed his socks. He was fairly certain that the letter would be called into question, but there was nothing incriminating there; it was merely the letter Severus usually wrote every week or so. Except for the fact that he was back at Spinner's End much earlier than supposed, there was nothing outwardly unusual about Severus's actions. And Wormtail no doubt knew perfectly well why Severus was home so early.

Severus stared out his window. Somehow, despite a legal right to the property and the fact that he returned to it every summer, had done so, in fact, for sixteen years, the place had never felt like home to him. No, to him, home had always been--would always be--Hogwarts.

"No more of that, old chap," he murmured to himself. Anyone who knew him would have immediately thought this was out of character: first, because Severus Snape did not talk to himself, and second, because he did not use such terms as "old chap" when referring to anyone, much less himself.

But the Severus Snape everyone knew and the Severus Snape sitting in the living room at Spinner's End behaved entirely differently. Severus liked to think of them, in his lighter moments, as two entirely separate entities. Most people knew Snape. He was spiteful and cruel, hard and mean, and delighted in tormenting the small children under him. He had a sore spot for Gryffindors in general and the Potter boy in particular. Snape was a former Death Eater, and many people doubted his loyalties. Severus, perhaps, was his fiercest disbeliever. He doubted that Snape even had real loyalties. Snape was for Snape, like the dwarves in C. S. Lewis's The Last Battle.

Very, very few people had ever seen Severus--or at least not all of Severus. Severus had a tendency to slip past Snape's demeanour and show himself in an odd bit of sympathy...but usually Severus could hold himself back. It was only occasionally that he would sweep Snape aside and take over, and then usually for a very good cause. In the past ten years, he had only briefly appeared in public once: at the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match six years before, when he had counteracted Quirrel's jinx. And as only Hermione Granger had seen him and assumed he was the one casting the jinx, Severus felt safe.

Only one person in all of Hogwarts, perhaps in all of the world, had known Severus even existed behind Snape. Severus had only fully come out of hiding to one person. He had trusted that one person absolutely. But then again, he reflected bitterly, you couldn't help but trust Albus Dumbledore.

That was why Severus sat silent as a statue in the living room, sitting in a battered old armchair that just fit his slender, sallow form, gripping the worn armrests to stop his hands from shaking. Because, of course, it worked both ways. Severus hadn't just trusted Albus. Albus had trusted him. Albus had been the only person on that side--Severus thought of it as the "good" side--who had trusted him at all. The rest of the Order had made feigns at trust, but Severus had always known that deep down, none of them trusted him. He'd never cared, however, because as long as he had Albus's trust, he was all right.

"No longer!" Severus said aloud, unable to keep a slight tremor out of his voice. In one day, one hour, one damned minute, Severus had lost the only trust he'd ever known, the only love he'd ever known...and the only home he'd ever known. Not to mention his job; no one in their right mind would hire him once the story spread. And the story would spread. It wasn't only those four Death Eaters and Draco--poor, poor Draco--who knew. Severus was certain that he had been up on that damned parapet too.

They had agreed on it, Severus and Albus...but then Albus had a way of talking people who trusted him into making promises like that. That day Severus had burst into Albus's office, white with shock and out of breath from having run all the way from Hogsmeade in a successful attempt to not only avoid detection but get the warning to Albus as fast as he could. Albus had suddenly looked older than Severus had ever seen him. Never one to stand on ceremony, Severus found himself automatically calling Albus "sir". Albus had always had Severus's trust, but in that instant he had Severus's respect.

Oh, Severus had protested--he hadn't wanted to make that promise. You shouldn't talk that way, sir, he had protested. It won't come to that. I'll talk him out of it...it will be all right. That isn't how it's supposed to end.

Albus had just smiled at him with that fatherly affection he always had for the people he felt needed it--people like Severus, like that werewolf, like the boy. There is no other way, Severus, he had said, his voice gentle and comforting. What must be, must be. We must protect him in any way we can. I lost one boy to evil at a young age; I will not lose another. You look after your boy, I shall look after mine. When the time comes, though, you must. You know this. Promise me.

Only Albus, Severus reflected, had a way of asking for a promise that made it sound less like an obligation...more like a perfectly reasonable thing to promise. If he had asked Severus to promise to Super Glue his hands to the buttocks of a rhinoceros with diarrhoea, Severus probably would have done it. When Narcissa had turned up barely two days later with Bellatrix and begged Severus to help her boy, Severus had put on a very convincing act of servitude to the Dark Lord, but agreed--as much for Draco's sake as for the sake of the promise he had made Albus. Snape would never have admitted it to anyone, including himself, but Severus had freely confessed to Albus once that he loved the boy like a son. Albus had understood.

When it had actually come down to it, when it had actually, truly been time, Severus had frozen. He hadn't been able to do it, hadn't been able to fulfil his promise. The sight of Albus, barely able to stand, as weak and feeble an old man as Severus had ever seen, looking every inch his one hundred and fifty years, had snapped something deep inside Severus. Promise or no promise...the man had looked so fragile and vulnerable. Severus had wanted nothing more than to pick him up and carry him inside, to counter the potion that was clearly tearing apart his insides and nurse him back to health. More than that, he had seen, in the back of Draco's eyes, a spark of humanity, something that was horrified at what Draco had been ordered to do--in fact very nearly done--and what he now realised Severus was about to do. And, while Severus could not claim to see through invisibility cloaks, he had noticed the two broomsticks and remembered Albus's words: I'll be taking him with me tonight, I may need him to help me find it. I may need him to help me get back if I am too badly hurt. If I am...you know what you must do, Severus. I will hold you to your promise. What stuck in Severus's mind, however, were the words "I'll be taking him with me tonight". Potter was there--but no, Severus realised, sitting in his living room hours after the fact. It was not Potter who had been on that balcony. It was Harry. Harry and Potter were no more the same person than Severus and Snape. Potter and Snape were enemies. Harry and Severus could have been friends.

But Albus had not lied; he had held Severus to his promise. Just when Severus had been on the point of Stunning the other Death Eaters, taking Albus inside, to the winds with his promise...Albus had spoken.

"Severus...please..."

Severus had never heard Albus plead before; he knew that Draco and Harry never had either. Draco was too terrified by what was to happen to really notice, but Severus was certain that Harry had picked up on it. After all, he had been closest to Albus.

So, with no other choice, in front of God, three Death Eaters hoping to rise to the circle of Voldemort's chosen few, a sadistic werewolf, and two frightened teenage boys...Severus had kept his promise. He had barely heard himself yell the hated words...but he had seen Dumbledore tumble over the wall, he had seen the slight shimmer indicating slight movement beneath an invisibility cloak, and he knew that it had happened.

Severus Snape had protected a boy...but he had ended the life of a great wizard. Draco Malfoy's heart was safe for the time being. Albus Dumbledore's life was dashed into a million pieces.

Severus lowered his face into his hands. The look in Harry's eyes when he caught up to him, when he tried to attack him and retaliate for Dumbledore's death, had reminded Severus agonisingly of Lily Evans. Though Severus had never admitted it to anyone--except Dumbledore, and then only once--Severus had been madly in love with Lily Evans while at Hogwarts. James Potter had discovered that he loved Lily at the same time Severus did...and perhaps he had guessed at Severus's infatuation with her, for it was then that the animosity between the two began to get personal. Each time Lily had defended him against James, Severus's heart would soar...but every time, there was another Slytherin around and Severus had forced himself to uphold the family honour and the house honour and make a snide comment to her. As a result, Severus had grown up nursing a deep resentment towards James Potter, who acted like just as much as an ass around Lily as Severus himself but wound up getting the girl. When he had heard about the Death Eaters, he had jumped for the chance to join them and perhaps get back at James Potter. By the time he realised that betraying James would also mean betraying Lily, it was too late for him to quit.

Then he had found out--through a second-hand tip from a third-rate source--that Lily and James were expecting their first child. All Severus's resentment against James Potter came to a sudden, angry head. This time, however, he was furious with Lily as well for giving such an important part of herself to James. When he had overheard the prophecy, he had worked out that James Potter's son would be born at the appropriate time...and he had run to tell Voldemort, but under one condition: that Lily be left unharmed and given to him. Voldemort had agreed...but Severus had had second thoughts again the day the birth announcements were published in the paper.

On August eighth, 1980, Severus had opened the paper and seen James and Lily grinning up at him. In Lily's arms was a tiny bundle; as Severus watched, it put out a tiny hand and shifted, and Severus saw the tiny face of Harry James Potter. An involuntary smile had tugged at his face; he had a sister two years his junior who had a one-year-old daughter, and Severus remembered the way his little niece had looked the first time he'd seen her. Then he had thought again of little Ellie, how innocent and harmless she was, and realised that Harry was no different. Except, he had suddenly thought with a convulsion of horror, except that Harry was different. Harry had been marked for death before he was even born. And Ellie had been too, in a way; she had been born with Tay-Sachs' disease, diagnosed at the age of three months. Severus didn't even pretend to understand it, but Becca had eventually managed to convey to her beloved brother that it meant Ellie would not live to grow up. He remembered the stricken look on Becca's face when she had received the news and felt sick at the thought of it crossing Lily's pretty features. Two days later, Severus had paid an unexpected visit to his sister and her family, where he discovered Ellie had been taken to a hospital. Three days later, while her mother was holding her, she opened her coal-black eyes, smiled innocently, and died.

The sorrow and grief on Becca's face as she understood that her baby, her only child, was dead, was more than Severus could bear. He was saddened by the loss of his niece too...and then, suddenly, he saw Lily kneeling on the floor amid the rubble of her house, holding the limp body of her infant son and sobbing in the same way Becca now did. Severus's heart ached fiercely; he had handed his sister over to her husband, promised to return for Ellie's funeral, and vanished. He hadn't seen his family since.

That night, Severus had stumbled to Hogwarts, begged to speak with Albus, and choked out his entire story. Albus had listened in silence, watched as Severus showed him the Dark Mark on his arm, then calmly asked what Severus wanted him to do. Severus had admitted that he didn't really know what anyone could do; the damage had been done, but he wanted to spare Lily the pain and anguish his sister had to suffer through. He had offered to open his mind and allow Albus to read it, but Albus had merely replied that it wasn't necessary. He trusted Severus.

That trust had meant more to Severus than anything in the world. He had become a double agent at extreme personal risk...but to him, the risk had meant nothing if it meant saving his Lily. He'd even have saved James Potter if that was what Lily had wanted. But in the end, James and Lily had both died.

Severus took his head out of his hands and looked down at him. Both were thin and white, pristine. No one could distinguish a single smear on them...but to Severus's eyes they were deepest crimson, seeped in blood. The blood of so many was on his hands.

He looked down the hallway before him and saw tombstones, the tombstones of the people whose death he had caused, directly or indirectly. James and Lily...he had turned them over to Voldemort. His own mother had died when Severus was eighteen because he had been unable to protect her from his father's abuses. He blamed himself for Ellie's death...with his skill at Potions he could have at least done something to prolong her life, or so he thought. Cedric Diggory had died because Severus hadn't noticed the telltale signs of a Polyjuice Potion user, although these were so subtle they had fooled even Albus. Sirius Black--not that Severus had much cared for him, but still, the man's blood was on his hands; if Severus had only got the warning to Albus sooner that Harry believed Sirius to be in danger, if only he had been reckless for once in his life and passed the warning on without waiting to check in on him, Black might still be alive.

And now...now he had killed Albus. He had as good as killed his father...he was, after all, no better than Voldemort. How presumptuous they both were! Lord Voldemort--lord of what? A derelict old mansion and a bunch of ass-kissing boot-lickers! And he--he with his stupid titles, the Half-Blood Prince. His pride in his mother had given him a pretentious title that had set him up for a fall. And his carelessness--leaving his book in the Potions room--had nearly added another's blood to his hands. If he hadn't left the book, it would never have fallen into Potter's hands...and Potter wouldn't have known the Sectusempra spell, wouldn't have tried it on Draco and nearly killed him. Granted, Severus had seen in the boy's eyes that he was shocked, that he hadn't known what the spell would do, that he would never have used it on his worst enemy...but still, Severus cursed himself for twenty different kinds of an idiot. He had never intended anyone else to read his book, but the mere fact that he had left it had nearly cost him his boy's life.

Severus heard a creaking of a door and footsteps in the hallway. Taking a deep breath, he composed himself and allowed Snape to come forward. The ethereal tombstones disappeared. His hands, which had stopped shaking, became pristine white again. When the door to the living room opened again, he was ready.

"Ah, Wormtail, good, you have returned. You were gone so long, I was afraid some...mischief...had befallen you."