Disclaimer: All things seemingly HP belong to J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. As for the song, we give credit to the Master's of Morose, the
original Mopey Goths, Simon and Garfunkel.
Summery: Song Fic to Simon and Garfunkel's "I Am a Rock." Professor Severus Snape reflects back on his past, both the hate and the painful
scorn of love never noticed.
Warnings: Character Death Alert!
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A winters day, in a deep and dark December.
I am alone.
Severus Snape sat, staring out of the dirt streaked window of his cold and lonely dungeon. His thoughts were dark, a normality of sorts, in the corner his mind often took refuge in. Memories that he had tried so hard to repress swirled in waves through his cluttered brain. They sent shivers down his spine, brought bile to his throat, and yet he could not stop them. He could never stop them once they came, overpowering all other senses, all artificial feelings of well-being he so often forced upon himself.
He could see her kneeling before him, see her begging, panic stricken tears falling in floods down her bloodied face. Hear the many screams in the background. Smell the distant burning. This was what he was meant to do, all he was good for. This was his life. His destiny. He raised his wand, a determined sneer pasted on his face....
Severus turned from the window, and so his memories in disgust, clutching his robes convulsively. Their suffering had been momentous. His would be forever.
I am a rock. I am an island.
He sat down at his large oak desk, running his pale hand over the polished surface as his eyes traveled the classroom that was both his freedom and his prison. The Dark Lord was gone, finally dead after another long rein of terror, unlike anything any had ever even though possible. So many more deaths then the time before. But he had been on the side of Light this time. He had felt the pain as one by one those around him dropped, some lives lost young, some old, but all tragic.
Don't talk of love. Well, I've heard the word before.
It's sleeping in my memory.
He held up his slender fingers, counting down the names of the dead. Granger, Longbottom, Lupin, Moody, Tonks, Thomas, Parkinson, Malfoy, and dozens of others. Some brought more pain, though he would never admit to the feelings. But he had grown closer to them all during the climax of the war. He had felt the joy when some that had been led into the Dark had turned, come back to the right side. He could still remember Draco, so nervous as he stepped forward, denouncing the Dark Lord and so his family. He had cried in anguish when the Avada Kedavra had hit children, those he had taught for years, seen them fall to the ground in heaps. But none had hit him, none had hit them all, like the death of the one they had all stood behind. The death of Albus Dumbledore.
I won't disturb the slumber of feeling that have died. If I'd never loved I never would have cried.
The pain was still overpowering, so complete that Severus had to stop to take a deep breath, lest he fall back to the helpless sobs that
he had so often been reduced to as of late. They reminded him that he was still human. He couldn't have that. He could never have that. He was a monster. He had been in the ranks the first time innocents had been taken. He had tortured and killed, raped, having to pretend his pleasure at the chaos as he spied for the order. He had killed his former friends, the others that had gotten the Mark with him, those he had trusted. He was a monster then. He was a monster now.
I am a rock. I am an island.
He opened a drawer in the bottom of his desk, taking out a small bottle filled with a dark green liquid. He was shaking, both in pain and fear. His thoughts always seemed to run wild. They cascaded through his cluttered mind, making any rational thoughts slip as if drops of water in his hands. All his life there had been nothing but pain. Nothing but teasing, torture, tears. Nothing but the terrified boy he had been, and the terrible man he had become.
He opened the bottle carefully, placing the stopper on the desk. He couldn't afford to lose any. He had to do it this time. He had tried so many times before, but had stopped himself, always spilling the contents to the ground, feeling once again the coward he really was. Or at least he felt he was. But he couldn't stand it anymore. He couldn't take the anguish. This was it. This time, he would die. Not as a hero, but as a man. A man everyone had ignored.
He put the vial to his lips, smelling the sour smell of the poison. He had no choice. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This wasn't how he should have lived. So this was how it would all end. His determination surged through his veins. It would be quick, painless.
He had made this poison strong. It would only take a few seconds. He just had to do it. He closed his eyes, tipping his head back....
And a rock feels no pain. And an island never cries.
Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, former Death Eater, then spy, fighter for Darkness and Light, finally met his end. He finally found release. It was finally over.