The Dark Arts
Peter Pettigrew Sirius Black Severus Snape
Angst Drama
Multiple Eras
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
Published: 04/19/2003
Updated: 04/19/2003
Words: 649
Chapters: 1
Hits: 1,505

The Watcher


Story Summary:
For years he watched four boys make their mark on the world, and later he saw them fall apart. How was Severus Snape influenced by those he hated—and those he would later come to understand?


Author's Note: My first attempt at Snapefic. Please let me know what you think.

The Watcher

What I wouldn't have given, to have friends like that. If I had, would I have become the man I am now ashamed to be? Would I carry with me the weight of all these years of regret, of all the horrible deeds I have done? Would I have been better for it, for their influence? I would have given anything to be loved that way--unconditionally. Unconditional care. Unasking sacrifices. Understanding. I never was.

And you threw that away. I grieve for them, you know, because of what you did. How could you have something so beautiful and throw it away in the name of power? Don't you know that power amounts to nothing in the end?

They would have died for you. Any of them. All of them. They loved you, and I thought you loved them. Did you?

Does that matter?

Do you know what I would have given to have been in your place?

I've spent my life being misunderstood. First I locked my heart away in order to survive. I told myself that power was what I wanted, that it would fill the gap in my soul, but even then I knew I was wrong. I only wanted to belong.

Four boys. So different, yet so strong together. A werewolf, one of them, and the others didn't care. I couldn't understand it, then, and I hated you, all of you, for it. I wanted what you had. I wanted that bond. I wanted to know that unconditional friendship that you all shared. What I wouldn't have given to know that kind of love. I hated you because you had what I did not, what I never could have. I hid it, of course, behind snide remarks and outward rage, but the fact that I hated you stemmed from what you had. All of you--together, always together. You had it all.

You threw that away, you bastard. Fifteen years later, I look at what you've done, and I see what you did to your friends. One lies dead, buried in a forgotten grave--his only legacy is a lonely boy who should never have had to shoulder the burdens he carries. Another has spent most of his life alone, and his eyes bear the scars, although he is still strong, and wise--but he'll never again know the acceptance he did by your side. And the other is a wreck of a man, tormented still by the hell you threw him into--even I can see the pain in his eyes. Even I, who hated him for nearly all of my life, and who now comes to understand what drove him to do as he did.

You didn't deserve them. How long did you lay in wait? They trusted you, and it hurts me to remember that, because I look at what you wasted and wish it could have been mine. I wouldn't have wasted it. God, if I'd had friends like that... It kills me to think of all the dark roads I might not have taken. Of all the ghosts that might not now be in my past. Of all the pride I might have once had in what I truly was.

How could you throw something so beautiful away? It wasn't perfect, but you had brothers. I envy you to this day, Wormtail. You didn't deserve what they gave you, and you stole it from them. But even when I look at them, they wouldn't trade a one of the memories to avoid the later pain. In their own way, they still love you, love you in a way I will never know.

You wasted it.

You betrayed them.

And I sit alone, wishing that I could have been in your place.

I would not have made the same mistake.