Why You Came... One Shot

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood

And sorry I could not travel both,

He never wins. Back in the days when he was a sallow, greasy-haired kid with the most intelligent answers, he still never won. Most of the times, he is okay with it. He understands that people get away with his hard work, and reaps what he sows. But on one of those days, when he has nothing important to do, he tries his level best to pinpoint exactly when everything had started to go wrong.

Sometimes, very rarely, he is desperate. He doesn't like not knowing the answer. The answer, the quest for the truth, the quest for what is inscrutably true and painful is what he lives for. Because he knows anyway that the truth will be painful, but he needs to live for it. That's what he lives for, because that's what makes him different from everyone else.

And on some very rare days, when try as he might, he cannot pinpoint why he never wins, he feels the need to be different from everyone else. Even marginally.

And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

He sits there under the tree, and stares at nothing for a few seconds. It isn't like him to just go away and appreciate nature. He doesn't do that. But he waits anyway.

When she first comes, he pretends not to notice. He notices that her red hair is plaited today, and she is not wearing her school uniform, but he pretends to disregard it altogether. He tries hard to also disregard her fake smile, but he doesn't have the strength.

"Hi." She smiles too brightly at him, and he nods.

She sits quietly beside him, and for a minute, no one talks.

"What's wrong?" He asks finally, because he cannot bear to not know.

"You're not allowed to save me." She snaps at him, and he doesn't reply. Her words sting him, because he does want to save her. He thinks it is the only way he can save himself.

"My loss." She tries to amend the situation.

"My gain." He snaps back, more out of spite than anything else.

She looks at him horrified for a moment, before getting up and walking away. He does nothing to stop her. Silently, he watches the first and fatal wound to their friendship.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,

He doesn't study because he wants to show off; he knows he can't show off anyway. He likes to study because there is simply nothing else to do. He thinks it's the one thing that will not betray him. But when Lucius Malfoy climbs into the portrait hole one night and sits down besides him, he can't ignore the tingling feeling in his spine. Someone else had, willing, come to talk to him. But he doesn't close his book, because he likes to study anyway.

"You're studying." He states, and continues without an answer, "Girls like power, money, strength. Knowledge, not so much."

He doesn't answer. He pretends that he can't hear him, but his attention is solely on the elder boy, because he is a teenage boy, and they are girls.

He listens to him continue, "You could have all that. Power. Money. Strength. And you're intelligent, that's just an added bonus. The Dark Lord will admire you very much. Think about it."

When Malfoy leaves, he sits there staring at his book for a long time thinking about what it feels like to win. And for the first time ever, he hopes. To win.

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

He looks at her in the Great Hall, and for a second the shininess dazzles him. He looks at her, and wishes she will turn back and smile, but she doesn't. Then he sees her leaving, before giving Potter a hug.

So when later that day she tries to intervene between their fight, he cannot control his anger. He doesn't even know why he is so angry at that point, but later he is terrified to find that calling her a "Mudblood" gives him a weird sense of satisfaction.

He tries not to feel guilty after the initial euphoria has passed, but he fails desperately. He thinks about her gaunt face and her bloodshot eyes, and for a fleeting moment he wants to go and make things right.

He finds her at their spot, under their tree, and he quietly sits down beside her. She doesn't go away, but merely looks ahead. It impresses him that she isn't the least bit intimidated by him.

"I'm not allowed to save you." He blurts it out suddenly, even though he doesn't know why.

"You are." She surprises him by speaking, but he doesn't show any emotions.

"It was torrid." She continues after he doesn't speak, and he knows precisely what she is talking about. He wants to agree, but he finds that his mouth has gone dry.

"I just want to win." He cringes as he says it, because he doesn't like to show weakness, and he doesn't like the desperate undertone in his own voice.

"I know." Her reply soothes him, and he marvels at how they get each other even without speaking.

They sit in silence for a little longer, and get up. Simultaneously.

"My loss." He whispers at the trees as he sees her going up the castle, but he can feel that she has heard him.

He just feels that it needs to be said.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!

When Malfoy asks him again, he accepts. And he looks forward to winning, and he hopes that it is as euphoric as he thinks it is. But for once in his life, he behaves idiotically, because he doesn't win. Later on, he reflects to himself that he couldn't have won, and he was Severus Snape, and Severus Snape doesn't win. Cannot win. Shouldn't win. He doesn't know which one is true, but they all lead to the same thing anyway.

He gets the card one morning, inviting him to the wedding of Lily Evans to James Potter. He tears it into pieces and throws it away, and he realizes that those mere words are actually causing him physical pain. But he goes to her wedding, because he recalls that he is allowed to save her. He stands unnoticed by the trees, and sees her walking down the aisle. His breath hitches for a moment, but he doesn't let go. He knows that she can feel him.

"Are you alright?" Dumbledore's concerned voice echoes from behind him, and he feels nothing at his words. For a moment, he wonders if he should.

"I never won anything." He states it out, because he needs to hear it himself, and he prides that his voice is void of emotion.

He hates the fact that it's true.

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

He races up the castle to meet his former mentor. He thinks nothing of the stitch in his side, or the throbbing sensation of guilt at what he has done.

When he finally arrives, he finds him smiling sinisterly at him. For a second, he doesn't place his smile, but then it fits. He wonders to himself why he is running around in circles, but wryly figures that at least it means he is running around.

"You know." He plaintively states, but doesn't sit down. He doesn't know if he's welcome. He doesn't even know if he has the right.

"I know." Dumbledore replies calmly, and he takes it as an invitation.

"You love her." Dumbledore states calmly again, and for a second he looks up shocked.

He doesn't affirm it because he dreads hearing it out loud. He even wryly thinks that the war isn't really his fault, and he hopes that one day he will be able to take leave of that blame. So he merely nods and stays silent.

"I never-" He gets interrupted by his mentor and his eyes blaze because he can't speak.

"You have." He says it with remarkable calm, and his blue eyes twinkle.

He doesn't say anything, because he is too tired to argue.

But he doesn't feel the euphoria. And he wonders if he should.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,

It is almost over, he thinks with a relief. He knows that that is the last thing he should feel, but he cannot help himself. He lies there on the floor, and he can feel his breathing become shallow.

He looks at her son staring down at him, and for one second, when he thinks he is in the alternate universe, he feels like hugging him. But then the second is gone, and he is only filled with relief that he had managed to save him. A little, anyway.

So he says nothing, and tries his snarky Professor act one last time. He sees the boy kneeling in front of him, and feels compelled to say something. In a flash, he remembers what he owes him. He understands that he owes him her. And he doesn't mind.

"Look…at….me…." He manages to wheeze it out, and makes a valiant effort to open his eyes properly. Her green eyes stare back at his black ones, and he welcomes death.

And that has made all the difference.

He finally feels the euphoria.

______

Please tell me you at least remotely like it :P! Well, I like constructive criticism better. And I really hope you do like it!

Happy New Year and Happy Reading

Shreyasi