The things that I do for Albus Dumbledore are incomparable to anyone and anything else on this earth. Of course, becoming a spy is one of those things along with teaching to an arrogant and hopeless class of teenagers, and now having to make a potion thought extinct because of the lack of basilisk skin and venom. Not only would the last errand be not only completely impossible, but it would also mean having the company of the one and only self absorbed Golden Boy because of his sickening (and yet thoroughly ironic) ability to speak with snakes. Yes, the things I do for Albus Dumbledore are remarkable.

Especially since he’s dead.

“Will you get a move on it, Potter!” I snarled, watching in satisfaction as the boy jumped slightly and looked away from the doorway to a… bathroom.

“Well, we’re here, Professor.” The brat said, fixing me with a truly pitiful glare.

We walked through the entrance and I followed Potter as he made his way to the wall where rows of sinks were stationed. It barely occurred to me that this was the very same bath that the troll had been in, judging from the broken porcelain scattered against the tiling. Potter led us to the very last sink, following a trail of what appeared to be green slime and dried blood. The boy looked over at me and I had to give him another glare for him to turn back to the sink. Potter turned the right knob and I got a glimpse of a tiny engraved snake on the side before a hissing sound made it’s self known.

Potter was speaking in Parseltongue and his eyes were intent on the sink. Before my very eyes, the sink sunk in to the ground, leaving a great whole in the wall, big enough for a grown man to fit in.

Why on earth had this castle become a school in the first place, it was dangerous. Then again, it isn’t everyday that you have a Parseltongue speaking in the toilet.

Potter looked back up at me with that absolutely dreadful glare and gestured for me to get into the… tunnel.

“By all means, Potter. Please go first.”

The boy, although he was now at least eighteen and his eyes flashed angrily at the mention of it, seemed to loose some sort of battle within himself, for the next second he turned away and sighed as he lowered himself into the hole before disappearing from view. I stepped forward and leaned over to look into the pitch-blackness of the slimy tube.

“It’s alright, Professor. You can come down now.”

Muttering an oath to myself that if Potter even thought of pulling something when I got down into that chamber, there would be hell to pay.

*

The carcass of the basilisk was rotting and smelling of rancid garbage when the two wizards arrived in the great cavern. The larger of the two men advanced on the snake and knelt neatly next to the opened mouth, taking out three vials.

Snape went to work and extracted the venom in exact amounts, glancing over occasionally at his companion who had gone to stand in front of a large carved face of Hogwarts’ most vilified founder.

“Potter?”

Harry turned around glanced listlessly at Snape, his wand shaking in a clenched fist. His eyes were lightly glazed.

“Do you know she was almost dead when I found her?”

Oh great Merlin, not the Weasley girl. Snape mentally rolled his eyes; the girl had died at the battle for Hogsmade. After refusing to give the location of Potter’s secret keeper the Dark Lord had turned his wand on her. A flash of green light.

Quite an honor, really...

“Potter!” he snapped.

Harry seemed to jolt out of his reminisce and he turned back to Snape. The glazed look was gone, replaced with a hollow sort of stare. “Shall we get going then, Professor?”

He didn’t wait for a response as Snape stood to follow; the three vials full of a milky white liquid were placed carefully in his pocket after a quick impenetrable charm. As they walked towards a small doorway on the other side of the chamber, Snape glanced over at Potter.

“She wouldn’t want you stop your life, Potter.”

Harry looked back over at the greasy haired professor, his eyes hardening slightly. “Don’t talk about things that you don’t understand, Snape.”

“What is wrong with you, boy?” Snape snarled grabbing at Harry’s shoulder, “Ever since Al- the Headmaster passed…”

“Don’t CALL ME BOY!” Harry bellowed, his voice straining under the ferocity of the statement. “And what would you know about loss? You’re the one that killed him.”

Snape reeled back and glared at Harry.

“I know a great deal more than you think, Potter.” He hissed, “And I only ever did what Albus asked of me, I never disobeyed him!”

Harry, about to scream other obscenities at Snape, stopped short and looked at the sallow man more closely.

“Would you do it again?”

Snape took a step back, “What?”

“Would you do it again,” Harry asked more urgently, “Please Professor, I… I don’t want this anymore… Ron’s dead, Hermione, Ginny, they’re all dead!”

“Stop it, Potter…”

Harry took another step forward, urging Snape to understand, “You’re so loyal, Professor. You always did your duty, can you do it again…”

Snape watched Harry wearily, “Why?”

“I’ve seen enough, Snape. I want to go home.” Harry said, “Please Professor, I know that you promised Dumbledore to watch out for me, although I have no idea why, do this for him.”

The sallow man watched Harry fidget and nervously drag a hand through his wild mane. Letting out a shaky breath, Snape pulled out his wand.

“All right,” Snape said.

Harry let loose the first real smile that he’d had in years, it almost made the haunted look in his eyes disappear.

“Thank you.” Harry whispered, sincerely.

Snape nodded slightly and let out a low breath, thinking of all the times he had encountered this boy… no, man.

“Avada Kedavra”

Watching as Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived crumpled to the ground with a lingering smile on his face, Snape could only think of one thing. How ironic is that the one person that Severus Snape loathed the most, would be the one that would touch him most.