Bittersweetness (A Snarry Fanfiction)

Part 1

Silence. Not a clock ticking time away, nor the chirp of a bird. Just, silence. The thick fabric of a cloak folded and unfolded as its owner took one step after the other, ever-so-silently, quietly reaching for his wand under the folds of his robes. The Potions Master tiptoed on the ancient ebony floorboard which did not creak at his light gait. Getting closer and closer to the door of the abandoned cottage, Severus Snape felt his heart hammer against his ribcage like a mad drummer; his eardrums were flooded by the sound of blood pumping inside his head. He wanted them to stop, he wanted his suffering to end at last. He had already heard enough, he had already lived enough. At last, gripping his wand tightly between his slightly shaking hands, he raised the weapon towards the front door, seemingly aiming at an invisible target.

"Show yourself." His guttural voice rang in the icy breeze which seemed to have progressively owned the rocky walls and was slowly digging its way into the core and bones of its residents.

With a thud, the Invisibility Cloak fell to the floor, revealing The Chosen One.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he panted out of breath, a cloud of hot fog was expulsed of his mouth and nose as he struggled to fill his lungs once more, "Dementors."

A grunt left Severus' lips and he watched as Harry Potter picked up the Deathly Hallow from the ground, quavering slightly at the highly decreasing temperature.

"I am your professor no more, Potter." He said, a look of indifference modelling his features, "Are you having trouble with the silencing charm still?" Snape added with a tone of disdainful amusement as he applied the Muffliato charm on the door behind The Boy Who Lived.

"And you?" Harry asked back, hardly containing the boiling fury in his throat, "Having trouble not being an utter prat still?" He saw the eldest frown and open his mouth to retort but Harry cut him off, "It's not because the Death Eaters have won that you can be an arse to me! I know Voldemort is out there and I'm the only who can stop him! I know I can't flee because so many have died for me to go on- all of my friends have died!" He shook his head, repressing a sob and continued to bellow furiously, "I know-"

"What it is to live a life full of remorse?" The former Death Eater's voice was deadlier than ever. The scarred boy's anger had subsided almost instantly at the dreadful pain which filled Severus' every word, "Do you? Because I have lived thirty-six long years, and I can tell you that remorse never leaves." His dull dark eyes fixed Harry intently, "It is done. There is no way of coming back. I have been at the service of the Dark Lord-"

"Don't say that, you're not a Death Eater anymore." Harry quickly mumbled through gritted teeth while Snape continued, looking as if he had not heard him.

"-fulfilling his every request, answering his every need. He, who had killed the woman I loved so deeply."

"Stop it." The boy fumed, his voice almost as cold as his ex-professor's.

"The woman who I still love to this day-"

"STOP IT!" Harry shouted at the man dressed entirely in black, "Don't you dare-" His voice shook violently as he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself, "Don't you dare make me feel guilty for my mother's death."

"It was not my aim." Severus replied, his dim eyes gazed at the ex-Gryffindor in front of him. "I simply meant to say-"

"Yes, what did you mean exactly?" Harry struck again, his tongue lingered on every single syllable as to give some time for the words to sink into Severus' brain as it would on a piece of parchment, "Because I don't seem to quite understand you as much as you'd like, sir."

He emphasized the end of his sentence; his mouth was close to spitting venom like his ex-professor's used to. What was happening to him, why was he so keen to attack the only person he had left in the world so vehemently? Regret seemed to capture Harry's brain and laced his lips tightly together to let the Potions Master speak. When a heavy silence started to weigh on both men, Harry could not prevent his mouth to open as the regret that laced his lips slipped on his tongue to form an excuse: