|A Potion Master's Perspective
Author: SeverusLuciusAbraxasMalfoy PM
What was going through the Potion Master's mind when he was on the other side of the story? What was he thinking at that time? I try to put in words the thoughts of one Severus Snape. Please Read & Review! Tell me what you think...Rated: Fiction K - English - Severus S. - Chapters: 8 - Words: 9,902 - Reviews: 11 - Favs: 4 - Follows: 5 - Updated: 12-27-08 - Published: 11-27-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4680319
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A Potions Master's Perspective – 7.
Time stood still and then moved forward, agonizingly slow. He could see the boy's silhouette and felt the piercing gaze. He vaguely heard Potter's voice yelling at Hagrid the words for the spell of water, as his walls crumbled and a cracked scream ripped from his throat, fading in his ears as he blinked out of sight.
He landed painfully on his knees, and he understood that he had brought himself to the only place of assured solitude for the short while he could bear the pain of ignoring his Master's call.
His broken sobs were swallowed by the wind chilling his drenched wretched body.
He didn't care for now. Here, he knew only tears, cries, pain and the cold, cold wind.
dona eis, Dómine,
et lux perpétua lúceat eis.
Requiéscant in pace. Amen."
Words of long forgotten prayers he intoned. He could think of nothing else to say.
Severus didn't know how long he had been there. How long he had been kneeling there, softly speaking the words he never thought he'd remember.
Tracing the words in the stone, over and over again.
His mind wandered back to the tower. To Albus.
"Please…" he had begged. At that moment, Severus had thought his chest would burst into flames. He remembered the burn as it threaded back into his body.
Two words he said, and yet another tear into his soul.
"And what of mine, Albus?" He had asked.
A bark of bitter laughter broke free. He had no soul. He had sold his soul to the devil once, and no amount of penance would bring it back to him.
He was afraid to close his eyes.
There was the green light, the light leaving Albus' eyes, the peaceful look on his face. He floated, like a feather from Fawkes.
Resplendent, even in death.
The ever piercing black eyes were dulled. His mentor, dead by his hand. Twice before he had felt such despair, and each time he had prayed that he may never have to see it again.
Of course life was so ironic. It killed the good people and let the washed out misanthropic bastards live.
"Forgive me, Albus."
It was all he had left to say. With one last caress to the grave, he turned and walked. His home was far, but he needed to walk. He needed to prepare himself for what was in store. So far, it was all going as Albus expected it.
Had expected it.
Quietly, he went, tamping down his grief, locking it away with the guilt and despair, directing his rage toward the next set of steps to help finish what they had started.
Pain, he left. It was his own, and he needed it. Over and over, the scene flashed before his eyes. Those few seconds. The glare of the Morsmordre that lit up the brooms.
Wait… brooms? What? Two brooms, he was quite sure.
Everything fell into place. Potter could have only chased him that fast if he was on a broom, or he had been right behind him. That's how Potter knew!
Severus growled out loud.
"Albus, you manipulative old coot! You twinkling demon! The boy saw everything! Blast that thrice damned invisibility cloak to the farthest point past Hades!"
Severus was breathing hard. No one else was anywhere close to hear him. He should be more careful.
He shuddered t think what would have ensued, had that idiotic, impulsive boy been discovered. Imbeciles, the lot of them!
"Bloody Gryffindors," he muttered to himself, cursing every one in general as he walked on, head bent in concentration.
He could see his home in the distance. He snorted, knowing the rat would await him, whining about the injustice of it all.
And Draco. He would hex the boy nine ways into next week. The air crackled around him, his rage waiting for a reason to break free. The Malfoys were bloody lucky that Draco had the best Occlumens in Britain for a Godfather. It was probably the only reason Draco was still alive.
Severus sighed. He was surrounded by idiots.
Calm enough to face what was left of the night, he entered the tiny lane, closer to Spinner's End with each broad step. The house was unplottable, thank Merlin.
The gate swung open on its own accord, the wards having recognized him. Somewhere in the house, the dim light from a few candles threw the house into an eerie glow.
He threw the door open, and almost immediately there were muffled footsteps from the back of the kitchen. He closed the door and rested his forehead on the gnarled wood for a moment. Draco was watching him from the kitchen entrance when he turned back around. He didn't seem surprised by the delay in Severus' return.
The blonde scrutinized the older wizard for a few moments, a cool and detached expression plastered on.
Seeming satisfied with what he found, whatever that was, Draco nodded once and turned sharply, moving back into the tiny kitchen.
"There's tea," Draco threw over his shoulder, not waiting or caring for Severus' answer. Severus' jaw twitched with his rising irritation with the arrogant self centered brat. He watched the stiff retreating back for a moment before following with an ill concealed sigh.
Tea sounded like the only sane option.