Smoke-Novel

ather wish we had the equivalent of a Muggle university. I'd prefer to teach
young adults who are serious about the subject."
"There's not a large enough population base," Snape said automatically.
"There is for all of western and central Europe," Russell retorted.
"And what language would the instruction be in?"
"Latin, of course," Russell stated. Snape just shook his head.
The two smoked in silence for five minutes.
"What else is bothering you, Severus?"
Snape sighed. He would hold that he had no friends. Russell was, however, at
least close enough, and experienced enough, to act as a confessor of sorts. "You
can likely guess," he finally said.
"Potter and Black."
"Exactly. I loathed Black, and he returned the feeling. The only thing we had in
common was a common enemy. I know there was nothing I could have said or
done to prevent him from going to the Ministry that night, so I do not feel any
guilt over his death. Still, as much as I hated him, I wish he was still alive."
"For his own sake, or the sake of Potter?"
"For the sake of the struggle," Snape retorted. "And it was his fault he died as
he did. I do not mean running off; Merlin knows that that was merely a glaring
flaw in his character, and I realize now I can no more be critical of that than I
can be about my own shortcomings. No, he died because he spent most of his
time for the last year feeling sorry for himself and drinking. I doubt he practiced
at all. As much as I hated him, he was once a skilled wizard. If he had kept in
training, he either would not be dead, or he would have at least taken some of
those people with him. There is not one of them, except perhaps Lucius, who
should have had a good chance at beating him if he had been prepared. Then
that Boy would not be depressed at best, and I hate to think of the state he
might be in at worst."
"And of course you admit no guilt in this."
"Over Black? No, none at all."
"How about over Potter?"
Snape scowled, and drew in a large relaxing lung full of smoke.