Disclaimer: My initials are not, astonishingly, JKR. I am a teenager, people- ergo, not the owner of Harry Potter.


Did you laugh when he died? So funny, huh? Did you break out the scotch and sit back and congratulate yourself on a job well done? Finally got rid of the mutt, right?

I bet you did. I bet you sneered and spat on his grave. I bet you just loved knowing that he was gone, that I was back to having no one.

You know, I never even got to cry for him. The tears just wouldn't come. I tried hurting myself. I thought if I was in enough pain, I'd be able to cry. But it didn't work. The tears just wouldn't come.

So I never cried. You were laughing, and I was bleeding, and he was dead...is dead.

He's dead.

So did you laugh, you goddamned bastard?

You're still laughing, aren't you?

You found me bleeding, and you laughed, called me an idiot boy, an arrogant coward.

I don't remember what I did. I know that everything went red, redder than blood, and I hated you, hated you, wanted you to hurt...

And I woke up restrained on an infirmary bed, with you smirking down at me, black eyes gleeful.

Black eyes laughing.

Poor little orphan, your eyes seemed to say, poor little idiot orphan, and I could hear the sarcasm rolling like velvet thunder across my skin. And you smirked, laughing silently because he's gone, because without Sirius I might as well be dead, too.

Yeah, you got the last laugh, Snape. And one of these days, you'll be sorry you did.

I'll make sure of that.