Yes, unfortunately, I don't own Severus Snape. If I did, he would still be alive and probably sitting right here next to me (but then again, I wouldn't have to write this). Oh, and I don't make money with this because if I did, I could at least buy a new car and I wouldn't have to worry about getting a degree.

***

Apparently, I was never adequate.

He's told me bits – he's told me pieces. I was never worth the whole, big picture. He kept that to himself.

The figure on the chessboard. He had a place in mind for all of us – me, Minerva, Potter, himself. He moved us all. This way – that way. Backwards – forwards. Sacrifice.

None of us were apparently adequate.

I wasn't – Minerva wasn't – Potter wasn't.

We were all just pawns in his game. No – Potter was probably – is probably – a knight.

He sent him away – he'll probably have sent him to his death.

He has sent me to my death – even though I'm still breathing.

Did he even blink? Did his eyes even lost that twinkle for a moment?

“He has to, Severus”, he had said.

We all just had to, didn't we?

Minerva just had to – and that cost me a good friend. There's no doubt in my mind that she'd kill me, Avada me in less than a heartbeat.

She despises me, hates me.

And why?

Because I was a pawn in a game that none of us understood.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts, Severus Tobias Snape, son of Eileen Snape, nee Prince and Tobias Snape, half-blood, Death Eater, spy who wasn't a spy any more because he wasn't believed any more and Albus Dumbledore's favourite, pawn sat in the Headmaster's office, a quill between his fingers.

It wasn't a quill any more. He had plucked all the little feathery bits of it – he had cut himself doing it – he had bled. It was still twirling around in his fingers as he had his head laying sideways on the old, ancient, Headmaster's desk.

Not his desk – never his desk.

Not his office – never his office.

Office and desk of the person he pretended to be. Not himself.

Who was he? Did he even remember?

He closed his gritty eyes – too many memories, too many images in his mind.

Minerva, smiling crookedly at him when she had beaten him at chess – chess. Minerva as she gave him a hand when he had fall over as a student.

Minerva – his friend. Not his friend any more.

Albus Dumbledore – taking his Vow to protect Potter – to help him – to be a spy. Eyes madly twinkling, the smell of lemon drops.

Albust Dumbledore – who he had wanted to be his friend.

Potter – stupid Potter. Not being able to take care of himself. Never that – always getting in scrapes. And eyes, eyes so like his mother's.

Severus Snape – current Headmaster – a farce that – really – desperately longed for a drink. Any drink – anything to dull the emptiness, anything to evoke some kind of feeling – even sadness, desperation. Any feeling.

He had orders, though. Orders from the Master who was alive and then not – and orders from the Master who was dead. No difference, no difference. An inadequate pawn used by both.

A drink, a drink, a kingdom for a drink. No. He needed his head clear.

Why?

Yes, why? You don't need a clear head – sooner or later you're going to die. Today. Today, you're going to die.

Will I see Lily? Will her husband taunt me? Will there be anything? Will there be an afterlife? Will Albus be there? Will I get peace, finally? Will I find myself adequate? Enough to live up to them?

I was never enough. Not for Lily, not for the Slytherins back in school – always fighting for acceptance. Never enough – never adequate. Just always a bit lacking.

Shut up, Severus Snape – you need your wits about you.

A drink. A drink. A Wizarding School for a drink.

The Headmaster looked up and felt it. A tingling sensation, starting from his arm, reaching his toes.

It was time.

The portraits were empty. They had been for a while. No wonder, no wonder.

I want to say good bye. Who to? Who will listen?

Get ready, Severus, get ready.

It's time. Get up, grab your wand, die as a good, inadequate pawn would. There will be no dignity if Minerva gets me. There will be less dignity if He gets me.

“Good bye”, I say aloud. To no one. No one is here.

That's how I was – alone. That's how I will end – alone.

Alone, inadequate. I could have done more. I should have done more.

Let's go, Severus, let's go.

I'm coming. He's here.

I hope there will be peace.

***

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