Reflection
Severus knew time was running out. Dumbledore was dead. He was the new headmaster. The dunderheads were trying to revolt against him and he had no staff support.
Snape was a man of vast intelligence. He knew he wouldn’t survive the war. In fact, he hoped he wouldn’t. His soul was mangled. He betrayed Lily Evans. He committed unspeakable acts, both as a spy and a willing participant, before he made his way to the light. The headmaster’s death was a mercy killing - he knew that and yet, his soul refused to accept it as anything except murder.
No, Severus Snape would not see the end of the war.
The days were either incredibly short, or horrendously long, there seemed to be no middle ground. It was already the beginning of May. He felt in his bones that he would be gone by the end of the week.
So he did what any condemned man would do. He sought out his heart’s desire. He roamed the castle, in search of the room that would hold his fate. He opened the door, the old castle groaned as the hinges squeaked. Severus walked to the middle of the room, reaching up to grab the tarp that covered his prize. Pulling it off with a flourish and a cloud of dust, he stepped forward, reading the script.
Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi
Severus gazed into the mirror, eager to see what his heart’s desire was. He needed to know before he bravely walked off to his demise. When black eyes looked into the glossy surface, he gasped.
There was no reflection.
