Severus Snape sat in his old armchair with an empty glass still in his hand. He stared intently at Draco Malfoy, who was standing in front of him. Something seemed to have upset the boy deeply. He had suddenly turned very pale and had rushed out of the room, as though chased by some scary, invisible threat. Snape stared cluelessly at the closing hidden door. He then stood up and headed towards the rickety table.
"Enough drinking for tonight. Not that it's of any help, anyway," he thought as he put his glass down on it.
His eyes fell on Draco's Chocolate Frogs package, and then he saw it. There lying on the table, was Dumbledore's card staring curiously back at him. He picked it up with trembling fingers. Why were his fingers trembling? It couldn’t be because of the alcohol he had drunk. No, he could stand that stuff very well, and it was not like he had drunk that much anyway. Obviously, his tremor was due to something else, something more intimate. Still holding the card in his hand, he moved back to his armchair and collapsed on it. He suddenly felt too weak to stand. He stood there, staring on and on at that familiar face, a sight that felt like a stab to his heart.
"Why, Albus? Why did you have to make me do that," he whispered to the card, hoping vainly that the figurine might answer.
"I didn't want to go on with the plan, but you wouldn't listen. I told you it was insane to hope the boy would see reason. You were asking him to trust you. How could you ever expect any trust from someone who has grown up knowing only deceit and betrayal?" he now hissed, feeling his anger rise against that benevolent, smiling face.
"You told me you just wanted to save as many lives as possible. That you didn't care if that meant giving your own life away while trying. That was very noble of you, but you've always been noble anyway," his monologue went on, "though I doubt these particular lives were really worth it. You knew the boy wouldn't be able to kill you, but why did it have to be me, instead? Why, of all persons, did it have to be me? I who owed you so much?" he whispered in an unsteady voice, for now tears were streaming down his gaunt face.
"I hated you so much there on the ramparts. There, when you were pleading me: ‘Please, Severus,’ you said. Please, go on with the fucking plan and kill me! You meant, though it sounded like you wanted me to spare your life," Snape nearly shouted, revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face. Actually, those feelings were not against Dumbledore, but himself. He cursed himself for having been so foolish as to accept Dumbledore's request. He regretted that he had not imposed his will to leave the Order forever, and to hell if he couldn’t keep his vow to Narcissa and he died.
"What am I supposed to do now? What will become of me without you by my side, without your guidance?" he softly whispered, his voice now pleading.
"I played my part, and now the play is over. I have no more roles to play. I'm useless now; there's no place for me in this world," he heavily sighed, clutching the card to his chest.
"I cannot stand this pain anymore. There must be still another way to escape this ... yes, of course there is!" he said, his eyes suddenly alive with realization. He put a hand in an inside pocket of his black coat and retrieved a small, dark vial containing a shining, purple liquid. He stared at it for a while, his expression unfathomable.
"You're going to help me, my little friend. At least potions have never betrayed me so far," he silkily whispered while a hopeful smile curled his thin lips.
He had made up his mind, and there was no way back. With a swish of his wand, he conjured a small table with a pair of blank sheets of parchment, a quill and ink on top of it. He bent over the table and began to write a letter, his hand running smoothly over the parchment. His hand was now steady and he had not a single moment of hesitation. It seemed he had known for a long time each of the words he was writing. When he was done, he carefully read over it while waiting for the ink to dry.
To Whoever,
As I really don't know who, when or even if someone's going to ever find this letter.
If you're reading this, it means my plan worked and I'm no longer able to disclose the following events to you myself. I have killed Albus Dumbledore, as you are probably aware by now. What everybody is ignorant of is the reason why I did it. I had a key role in all this mess we call "the Second War.” I was a Death Eater, but I was an Order of Phoenix member as well, and I was a spy. I've been the servants of two Masters, the Dark Lord and Dumbledore. But while I served the Dark Lord for mere survival, I've been serving Headmaster Dumbledore out of gratitude and pure loyalty. Yes, my loyalty lies with Albus Dumbledore and no one else. He's been the only one to understand me, to support me, even to ... love me, perhaps.
It was in the name of that loyalty that Dumbledore ordered me to kill him to save young Draco Malfoy's life. At first, I've refused to go on with the plan. It was too painful for me to kill the only person who ever cared for me. I've tried to make him change his mind, but it has always been useless trying to reason with Albus Dumbledore once he had his mind set on something. I dearly regret my weakness and hate myself for accepting that damn mission. I wish it was me who died on that tower.
You probably won't believe a single word of this. You'll call me a liar ... I don't blame you. Lies have been keeping me alive for nearly all my life. I know truth hurts, but truth is all I've left to give you. My double-agent's role has come to its end. No more spying for me, no more fighting by Dumbledore's side. I doubt you'll believe the sincerity of my confession, but I felt the need to do it all the same. Now the time has come for me to walk off the stage and disappear.
Severus Prince Snape
He folded the letter and put it in an envelope, writing a few words on its front: To anyone interested. He was not sure why he had written that letter, but he could not suppress his need to tell someone the truth. After so many years of lies, he desperately wanted to tell the truth, even if he doubted anyone would believe him. He wanted to justify his actions, and he could not stand the thought of people talking behind his back. With another swish of his wand the table, ink and quill disappeared. He took away the stopper to the vial and raised it as for a toast.
"Albus, come to welcome me on the other side. Let's begin our next great adventure together!" he said before bringing the bottle to his lips and draining its content.
The room began to sway before his eyes. He managed to lay the empty vial on the nearby table, before abandoning himself against the armchair. The letter he had just written lay across his lap, and his right hand was still holding Dumbledore's chocolate frog card. He closed his eyes and relaxed, welcoming the blessed effects of the potion, as a smile graced his now peaceful face.