Severus Snape; The End
Of all the ways he had imagined Death would find him, none were what actually awaited him.
As the Dark Lord told of taking the Elder Wand from Dumbledore's grave, Snape's stomach roiled; the thought of him breaking into that last resting place, prying apart the cold, dead hands--
"All this long night, when I am on the victory, I have sat here, wondering, wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner...and I think I have the answer."
And suddenly his stomach turned with a new horror, even as he had never expected to survive to see the Dark Lord's victory or defeat. He had imagined being caught, being exposed and dying for his loyalty to Dumbledore. It would be, he'd thought, a last redemption; to die without giving up his secrets despite any torture the Dark Lord or any of his servants attempted. How utterly foolish and naive he'd been.
"Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen."
The Dark Lord's words were empty--he was not capable of feeling regret, except possibly that he would lose a source of information--but even if they were not, they wouldn't have been any consolation.
But there was still more he had to do; one task Dumbledore had given him that he had to do before he died. He couldn't leave Potter unknowing of what Dumbledore had really intended for him or how important it was that Harry enact it...
"My Lord--" he said, searching his mind for something--anything--to stall with, to buy even a little time, even though he'd had a whole year's worth of time and had never been able to find a way to tell Potter. Of course that was mainly because Potter would never have listened to him, and would have cursed him on sight, rather than let Snape give him the memory itself...
"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine."
"My Lord!" Snape interjected again, raising his wand, though deep within he knew it was futile, that there was nothing more to be done.
"It cannot be any other way. I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."
Time seemed to stretch out as he watched the Dark Lord's hand cut the air with the Elder Wand, expecting the green flash... But there was nothing, and for a moment there was a tiny spark of hope within him as he prayed that something had gone wrong.
But then he saw it: the magical cage containing Nagini, rolling toward him. There was no time to move aside, even if there had been any chance at escape, had he dodged the cage once. Something cold passed over his head and shoulders, he heard the low hiss, saw the snake prepare to strike and heard a scream as his hands moved of their own accord to try and push the cage off him, realizing belatedly that the sound was coming from his own throat--
Pain, sharp and crippling, lanced through his neck as the serpent's fangs pierced his flesh; his veins felt as though icewater was being injected into his veins through the wound until his legs buckled and he fell to the floor. The cage retreated, the serpent rejoining her master as the Dark Lord said something Snape could not hear, and disappeared from view.
Instinctively, his fingers groped for the wounds, warm blood rushing over them in defiance of his attempts to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. Even if he could find his wand, or had the entire contents of his Potions classroom at his disposal, he knew there was nothing he could do. Nagini's venom would prevent the wounds from closing quickly enough to prevent his life from bleeding out onto the floor; he had scant minutes to feel it leave him and be powerless to stop it.
Potter has to know; where is my wand, there's time enough yet if only I can find my wand and something to hold it--
Movement at the periphery of his vision caught his eye and somehow he was unsurprised to see Potter materialize out of thin air, that damned Invisibility Cloak of his in the boy's hand.
Potter, he must know--
He could feel something else trickling out of him--out or his ears onto the floor, out of his mouth and down his cheek--and he knew, even as Potter leaned over him what it was.
He seized the front of Potter's robes, forcing the boy to look him in the eye--those eyes, those familiar eyes, he'd never forgotten them--somehow found the strength to hold him in a death grip, somehow found the breath to speak, even if it rattled and gurgled out of him with none of his usual force.
"Take...it...take...it..." he said, seeing Potter look around, and then Granger was there beside him, a flask appearing out of nothing--Granger always has to be the one to do all the necessary work for you, doesn't she, Potter?
The bottle disappeared from his line of sight and reappeared a moment later, filled with a silvery substance. There was quite a lot there and he could only assume what else the bottle contained but it didn't matter now, the secret he'd sworn Dumbledore never tell the boy. Maybe it would make a difference now, maybe it would help, if only too late for him...
He could feel his strength ebbing, darkness appearing at the edge of his vision, but it was done now. He could do no more. But even as his grip on Potter's robes began to loosen, one last burning need filled him, gave him the strength to speak.
"Look...at...me..." His voice was no more than a whisper; a breath formed into words by the movement of his lips.
Green eyes loomed over him, stared into him--
Those beloved green eyes--
His body felt numbed with the cold of the venom--
Lily?
The pain was gone, his body weightless--
Lily? Can you ever forgive me?
--and all was darkness.
As the Dark Lord told of taking the Elder Wand from Dumbledore's grave, Snape's stomach roiled; the thought of him breaking into that last resting place, prying apart the cold, dead hands--
"All this long night, when I am on the victory, I have sat here, wondering, wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner...and I think I have the answer."
And suddenly his stomach turned with a new horror, even as he had never expected to survive to see the Dark Lord's victory or defeat. He had imagined being caught, being exposed and dying for his loyalty to Dumbledore. It would be, he'd thought, a last redemption; to die without giving up his secrets despite any torture the Dark Lord or any of his servants attempted. How utterly foolish and naive he'd been.
"Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen."
The Dark Lord's words were empty--he was not capable of feeling regret, except possibly that he would lose a source of information--but even if they were not, they wouldn't have been any consolation.
But there was still more he had to do; one task Dumbledore had given him that he had to do before he died. He couldn't leave Potter unknowing of what Dumbledore had really intended for him or how important it was that Harry enact it...
"My Lord--" he said, searching his mind for something--anything--to stall with, to buy even a little time, even though he'd had a whole year's worth of time and had never been able to find a way to tell Potter. Of course that was mainly because Potter would never have listened to him, and would have cursed him on sight, rather than let Snape give him the memory itself...
"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine."
"My Lord!" Snape interjected again, raising his wand, though deep within he knew it was futile, that there was nothing more to be done.
"It cannot be any other way. I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."
Time seemed to stretch out as he watched the Dark Lord's hand cut the air with the Elder Wand, expecting the green flash... But there was nothing, and for a moment there was a tiny spark of hope within him as he prayed that something had gone wrong.
But then he saw it: the magical cage containing Nagini, rolling toward him. There was no time to move aside, even if there had been any chance at escape, had he dodged the cage once. Something cold passed over his head and shoulders, he heard the low hiss, saw the snake prepare to strike and heard a scream as his hands moved of their own accord to try and push the cage off him, realizing belatedly that the sound was coming from his own throat--
Pain, sharp and crippling, lanced through his neck as the serpent's fangs pierced his flesh; his veins felt as though icewater was being injected into his veins through the wound until his legs buckled and he fell to the floor. The cage retreated, the serpent rejoining her master as the Dark Lord said something Snape could not hear, and disappeared from view.
Instinctively, his fingers groped for the wounds, warm blood rushing over them in defiance of his attempts to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. Even if he could find his wand, or had the entire contents of his Potions classroom at his disposal, he knew there was nothing he could do. Nagini's venom would prevent the wounds from closing quickly enough to prevent his life from bleeding out onto the floor; he had scant minutes to feel it leave him and be powerless to stop it.
Potter has to know; where is my wand, there's time enough yet if only I can find my wand and something to hold it--
Movement at the periphery of his vision caught his eye and somehow he was unsurprised to see Potter materialize out of thin air, that damned Invisibility Cloak of his in the boy's hand.
Potter, he must know--
He could feel something else trickling out of him--out or his ears onto the floor, out of his mouth and down his cheek--and he knew, even as Potter leaned over him what it was.
He seized the front of Potter's robes, forcing the boy to look him in the eye--those eyes, those familiar eyes, he'd never forgotten them--somehow found the strength to hold him in a death grip, somehow found the breath to speak, even if it rattled and gurgled out of him with none of his usual force.
"Take...it...take...it..." he said, seeing Potter look around, and then Granger was there beside him, a flask appearing out of nothing--Granger always has to be the one to do all the necessary work for you, doesn't she, Potter?
The bottle disappeared from his line of sight and reappeared a moment later, filled with a silvery substance. There was quite a lot there and he could only assume what else the bottle contained but it didn't matter now, the secret he'd sworn Dumbledore never tell the boy. Maybe it would make a difference now, maybe it would help, if only too late for him...
He could feel his strength ebbing, darkness appearing at the edge of his vision, but it was done now. He could do no more. But even as his grip on Potter's robes began to loosen, one last burning need filled him, gave him the strength to speak.
"Look...at...me..." His voice was no more than a whisper; a breath formed into words by the movement of his lips.
Green eyes loomed over him, stared into him--
Those beloved green eyes--
His body felt numbed with the cold of the venom--
Lily?
The pain was gone, his body weightless--
Lily? Can you ever forgive me?
--and all was darkness.