It Was All Worth It

Snape awoke with a start. His breathing came in short, small rasps as he tried to block out the sight inside his mind of Dumbledore twisting and falling off the Astronomy tower.

He got out of bed and stumbled down the stairs to splash some water in his face. Merlin, he was so tired of this nightmare. Tired of not being left alone. During the war, no one would leave him alone in his waking hours. Now, with the war over and Voldemort finally defeated, he wasn't left alone while he was sleeping.

With the Dark Lord's final fall, Snape - like the rest of the wizarding world - had relaxed, but it had come at a price. Nightmare memories haunted his dreams.

Leaning over the sink, he threw some water in his face, hoping the coolness of it would calm him. He breathed slowly as he felt the drops running down his face and watched them fall into the sink. They dripped one by one like the raindrops that day long ago...

"I hate you. You killed him!" Harry's face was twisted in anger and hatred. Snape couldn't tell whether it was tears or drops from the heavy rain that ran down his face.

"Potter, listen to me..."

"No! I will never listen to you again. Bastard!" The last word came out as a sob.

Snape stared down into the sink. "I hate you." He swallowed visibly, glad to be alone at the moment. He drew in a breath as he straightened, regaining his normal posture. As he dried himself off he decided that he needed a drink, knowing fully well he would not be able to go back to sleep now.

It was dark and quiet outside. Snape sat in his favourite chair with a glass of whiskey in his hand, staring out of the window without really seeing anything. A cold night breeze blew gently through the trees outside, and Snape took another sip, feeling the hot, sharp fluid run down his throat. It only helped in the moment, he concluded. The more he drank, the more open and vulnerable he became to the chilling darkness within his mind. With a bitter, crooked smile, he took another sip. He felt like challenging whatever demons lurked inside of him.

The fingers that rested at his temple shook slightly as a more recent memory stirred. It did not flow gently as the breeze outside, not crossing his now fully awake mind as a drifting cloud - it hit him like a sharp slap in the face, making Snape almost recoil in his seat.

"Your prize then, Severus..." All of the hooded men turned towards him.

"Your prize..." Oh, God. Snape closed his eyes, hoping against reason and experience that the memory would stop. That it had never happened.

Harry laid on the ground. He looked confused and defiant as he stared around until he saw the Dark Lord's evil grin and the eagerness of the crowd. Snape approached, his face hard and determined, and watched Harry's face fill with fear.

The former Death Eater downed his whiskey and poured himself another one. Potter had always been defiant. Arrogant, obstinate and impertinent. That gave fuel to Snape's own demons. But to see that vanish, to see anger replaced with naked fear - he swirled the fluid around gently - that had almost broken him. Having Potter standing in the rain shouting how much he hated him, with pure loathing in his eyes, was a blissful experience compared to the utter horror he had seen in Harry's face that day.

Nothing could undo it. Nothing could take away the memory they now shared.

Snape couldn't really understand what Harry had gone through that night. He could guess the horror, but he could never fully understand it. Harry had refused to talk to him, to even look at him again.

Until the day when he'd learned the Dark Lord had discovered him as a traitor. That day, Lucius Malfoy had repaid him in kind.

The Order had saved him, just as they had saved Potter a few months back.

That memory didn't hurt as much. It almost made him glad, gave him a feeling of atonement.

As he had done his best to piece his sanity and pride back together, Harry had finally started to talk to him again, which gave Snape a sense of redemption he hadn't thought he deserved.

He drained his second drink and felt slightly more at peace. His monsters had finished roaring and tearing him apart for now, and they would probably leave him alone if he tried to close his eyes again. So he set his glass down and walked unsteadily up the stairs.

He eased himself onto the bed, turning to face the young man sleeping next to him. Snape caressed his face gently, and the young man opened his green eyes and smiled softly at him before falling asleep again.

"It was worth it," Snape whispered to the young man.

It was all worth it.