It's the rules now. If you were convicted of war crimes, it was an automatic death by veil. No appeals, no delays, and one visitor. One person, one last face to spend your last day with. I wrote his name down without thinking.

They lead him through the doors, a veritable squadron of guards. Nothing but the best for a well lauded hero of the war. His eyes are cold and his face is set. He lets me know his feelings instantly

"The Minister himself ordered me here. I do hope you aren't expecting me to intervene on your behalf," My smile is bitter. I've gotten good at bitter.

"Hardly. I think I merely wanted to spend the day with someone who knows the truth of what I am." He says nothing and sits. Stares. An hour passes, two.

"You were a fool to go against us."

"He never gave me any other choice." There's something comfortable about time spent in silence with someone who hates you. You never have to worry about small talk.  Everything they say will be true. No platitudes and false glimpses of hope. I glance at the scars on his hand, drawing it into a closed claw. Hands that were talented, hands that must have brought someone joy and love as much as they brought death on the ruined field where what's left of Hogwarts stands. "You know, I asked you here for a reason." He looks up at me. "I wanted you here because you hate me." His face is carefully blank. "It will be easier to go tonight, knowing that there's nothing left for me. That the only person I had left to ask for hated me." I don't like his smile as he leans over and pushes matted hair out of my eyes.

"Oh Potter, didn't you ever learn? I never hated you. I didn't really care enough to." I curl in on myself and watch Snape leave the room as the guards throw a clean set of clothes at me.

"Five minutes Potter."