Leave me (a Severus and Edward friendship fanfic)

Chapter 3- Mystery

Author’s note: Hello to all my wonderful readers! I imagine this is a much anticipated chapter as we see Edward through Severus’ eyes when they meet for the first time. It is quite a long chapter because I wanted to fit the entire conversation into one post, so I hope you don’t mind :)  As always, happy reading, and please do let me know what you think!

‘Leave me’

Chapter 3- Mystery

 Severus' POV

The bar tender and I co-existed together rather well. He was a quiet, respectful man who was comfortable with the silence that permeated between us. Loyally, he held the bourbon bottle in his hand, constantly ready to fill up my glass whenever it was near empty. Although I had been through Hell that day, I felt peaceful and resolved in the way my life would soon end. Every sip I took helped numb my body, to the extent where my head was somewhat clouded, and the agony from earlier was reduced to a dull pain in my chest. I kept drinking glass after glass, knowing that if I stopped I would be forced to address reality- address the thoughts that would no longer be hidden in the cloudiness of my mind. I could not allow myself to feel any longer; my body would not survive the sheer agony of my guilt let alone the horrific images that floated through my mind.

I felt at peace in the pub, getting into the rhythm of drinking whenever a thought or image appeared in the shadows of mind. Nevertheless, time passed slowly, an experience I knew I deserved in lieu of all I had done; this was God’s way of reminding me of every error I had ever made. There were numerous. Excluding the events of the day, I was able to relive aspects of my past in a neutral fashion; undoubtedly the numbing effect of the alcohol was working. In this strangely restful state, I thought of Lily, the woman I knew at Hogwarts and thanked her for all she had given me in the years of friendship we shared. The knowledge that I would be with her again soon, helped me stay calm- I would have eternity to make it up to her. I then watched myself beg both Albus Dumbledore and the Dark Lord to keep Lily safe, but instead of seeing how they both failed, I could observe my desperation, my love for her. The alcohol numbed the pain, but not my love, and this is what I was left with in the final hours of my life. I retrospectively realised that Lily’s life should have been placed in my own hands, someone who truly loved her, rather than trusted to two powerful, agenda-driven wizards. I would have done anything, sacrificed my own life if it meant she remained alive and whole. If only I could go back in time and kept the words of the prophecy to myself. It pained me to acknowledge I never would have heard it if I was not spying on Albus Dumbledore on the Dark Lord’s orders.

What possessed me to defer to the Dark Arts? Certainly, I was fascinated with the art, and possessed extensive knowledge in its magics, but that was surely not enough. Perhaps it was my way of escaping from her, escaping from the reality that we were no longer friends. I had lost her respect, her friendship and her love, but I did not change sides in spite of her, but because I believed I had nothing left…

I took another sip of bourbon and closed my eyes with renewed knowledge: this is how it felt to have nothing.

When the bartender, still patient and silent poured my sixth drink, the door to the bar quietly swung open. To my left, I could hear the sound of a single pair of footsteps enter the small dwelling- intruding on my solitude. Despite my drunken state, my training as a Death Eater had ensured my senses were sharp. The person had a soft walk; they could barely be heard as they gently closed the door behind them and walked up to the bar. When they spoke, I discovered it was a man, his voice deep and smooth as he spoke with the barman. Although I was disgruntled that this man had stolen my silent companion from me, I did not look up from my glass, and I did not speak. Eventually, the man sat down at a stool two to my left, and I could hear the bartender pouring him a drink as they conversed. When I heard the bartender mention that he would usually be closed by now, I begun to tune them both out; small talk was of no interest to me.