𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 || Severus Snape x OC ||

37. UNFORGIVABLE

*.·:·.☽ ✧ ☾.·:·.*

Fate can be a harsh creature; old, and wise, and sage, with the ashes of Pompeii and the dust of Alexandria upon the hem of her dress, she dips the quill into an ink black as the night and draws upon her parchment the path of one's life.

And in that night, Severus's map laid before her. Rivers of black ink sprawling down its harsh contour. The green hues of Defiance had faded, and in their place was a clear course, a path he wouldn't skew from. Alone, in the classroom where he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, Snape now stood like a ghost, feeling the inks of Fate sinking into his skin, and dripping into his heart.

Droplet by droplet. Bit by bit.

The path of no return.

Until it was all painted black.

He lifted his gaze to the moon that peeked through the clouds. A moon full and pale.

And what of my soul, Dumbledore? Mine? What's to become of it?

Fate hoisted her quill from the parchment, and smiled setting it a side, watching as all fell into place. Voldemort's parchment laid not too far; his path already set. Rivers of Defiance, Death, and Greed streaked across it.

The croaking of a raven echoed, and the black bird came to land upon Fate's shoulder.

"Why, you've been coming from afar, haven't you?" her long, skeletal fingers caressed the creature.

"I have her own one here," Fate reached to her side, her fingers curling around a scroll. "But not long is left before the end."

The raven flapped its wings alarmed; its beady black eyes sought Fate's gaze.

"Now, now, don't rattle your feathers too much. After all, you and I both know this was your doing, too. Wasn't it, Gymynrodd?"

*.·:·.☽ ✧ ☾.·:·.*

She thought she had more time.

She thought there would be time enough for her to notify the Order that Malfoy was using the Vanishing Cabinet, that the Death Eaters were about to infiltrate Hogwarts.

She thought her wings could fly high enough, far enough, without the help of apparition; the one skill he had not taught her.

The raven-haired witch hid her wand in its sheath and rushed down the creaking staircase. The old innkeeper, long-bearded and with a sorrowful gaze, glanced up at her through a stained mirror above the bar.

She had barely made it back to her hideout, after managing to leave Borgin & Burkes, just as Death Eaters were swarming right into the shop in the dead of night. Instead of fighting with them in a space as small as this, and whilst being clearly outnumbered, Alice sought to flee. Hidden in the fireplace, her wand held between her teeth, she'd climbed her way up the chimney and out of the shop and into the night, as she had done once before.

Now back at the Inn, she'd used the sole owl the innkeeper had to send the warning to Lupin, Tonks, and the Weasleys that she'd found how the trusted followers of the Dark Lord would enter the castle.

With her heart still thumping in her chest, her face and hands still smudged with coal and ash, Alice crossed the small, dingy, and very dirty room. The scent of animal— a goat or perhaps a hog— found her nostrils. There was nothing welcoming about this remote, gloomy inn, but the bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, and that alone, was reason enough for her to seek cover in it. The witch knew few if any would come visit this place. And none of them was the good kind.