A/N: This has nothing to do with any of my other Snape stories. None of these characters belong to me, they all belong to JKR
and I am making no money off of any of this. R&R, and enjoy my melancholy writing.
***
Severus Snape sat in the Slytherin common room all alone. It was well past midnight, and he was relieved to be alone.
He didn't feel like the burden of company at this moment. The cold stone floor stung his arse, and the cold stone wall which
he was seated against, was cold as well. The fire place was lit, but it didn't seem to bring any warmth with the light that
flooded the room.
Everyone else was in bed. And he was grateful for that. He needed his thinking time. The small trickle of blood fell
down his wrist. Above it lay one lonely cut. In his other hand was a peice of glass that had come from the mirror of which he
broke in the boy's bathroom. He looked at the blood which kept emerging. The red was such a contrast to the white of his
skin. He had always had a pale complection. It seemed pretty to him, in an odd sort of way. He took the glass and did it
again. Slice.
Tears fell onto his arm, mixing with the blood. It fell down his arm and onto the floor. He needed a way out. A
savior. But he had no one. No one at all.
***
The quidditch feild lay under rays of golden sunshine which had managed to peek out from the clouds that had been
there that present morning. It was Saturday, and most of the students were hanging around the castle with one another. But
Severus sat here. While the other fourth year students were probably sitting in the common rooms or walking through the
corridors, he sat here in the cold December weather. Just staring straight ahead, he started to think about the night before.
He looked to his wrist, pulled up his sleeve, and looked at the red cuts that lay there.
He inhaled deeply, and ran his fingers over the cuts. It had been a bad night. He hadn't cut that much in at least a
month. What drove him into such a madness? Everything. He had a very painful history, and even a painful life now. He was a
fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had very few friends here. He had been friends with a very odd
Gryfindor boy named Remus Lupin. But he had become friends with a crowd that did not approve of Severus.
Not only have Remus been a friend, but almost like a love to him. Night after night they would be together, they
would spend nights under the stars holding onto one another. Severus closed his eyes and remembered their first kiss. It
had been Severus' first ever kiss. The silkyness of Remus' lips was obvious. At first Severus was a tad bit frightened
because he knew that his friend was a werewolf. But he also knew that he wasn't due for another transformation for a while
yet.
Opening his eyes once again, he looked onto the wet quidditch feild. It only reminded him of the evil boys Remus had
come to befriend. The Marauders, they called themselves. A bunch of little bastards that spent all of their free time coming
up with ways to torment Severus, and then doing it. Remus would stand to the side and only watch with a look of sympathy in
his eyes. But if he cared for him, why wouldn't he stop them from doing it?
A noise came from behind Severus. He turned to see the origin of it. But there was nothing there. Right then, someone
grabbed him from behind. It took two of them to hold him down, but they were able to do it. Between those two, they carried
him to the Gryfindor locker room. Severus knew what was coming next. This was their all time favorite game.
The two boys, Sirius Black and James Potter, shoved him down onto the cement floor on his stomach. Severus tried to
fight, but knew that he never won. They always did, and always got what they wanted. One by one, the two of them took turns.
James first this time, and then Sirius. The other two just stood by watching- Peter Pettigrew and somewhere nearby he was
sure, Remus. It hurt. Not just psychologically, but physically. Pain. That was all that he could focus on. He tried to bring
his mind to something else, but couldn't.
When the both of them were finished with their little "game", they left him lying there. This was normal of course.
This wasn't anything new to him. Remus, as they were leaving, bent down to look Severus in his face. The pain was visible in
his face. He bent over and kissed Severus' sweat covered forehead, then left with the others.
Laying on the floor, he stayed there for a while. At least an hour, he figured. He was unable to move. He hated them.
He hated himself. He hated everything and everyone right at that moment. Finally, after talking himself into it he, he go
himself to stand up. It hurt, but he was used to it.
He skipped dinner that night. Instead he sat in the common room. There was once again, no one around. He took up his
bag and felt around inside for something he knew he would be needing by the end of the night- the glass. Taking books and
spreading them across the table, he began to study. He wrote his Transfiguration essay fluently without stopping once. When
he was finished, he looked up and out the window. It was dark out. There were no stars. The moon stayed hidden behind the
returning clouds. The common room was loud, with sounds of laughter and gossip. But Severus heard none of it. He heard the
Marauder's chuckling, their sounds of relief, their pleasure. Suddenly he found himself enraged. This was it. He could tell.
Taking his peice of mirror with him, he went to the boy's bathroom. There was only one other boy in there. A tall
and lanky sixth year Slytherin. But he was gone soon enough. The blood would flow again tonight- maybe for the last time.
The sharp material slid across the boy's arm and droplets of blood formed there. He wasn't satisfied. He did it over and over
again, finding it hard to stop. Finally the glass fell to the floor. His knees gave way and he fell, kneeling now on the
floor. He had hit the vein.
A chuckle came from his lips. This was it. He could tell. He was done with. He took the glass back up and brought it
to his other wrist. Slice, slice, slice. Eventually he hit that vein as well. Now, he was satisfied. He picked himself up and
walked. He walked towards where the portrait of a fat lady hung, concealing the Gryfindor common room. After only standing
there for a few minutes, someone came out. Another fourth year, named Lily Evans. "Can you please send the Marauders out
here?"
Lily gave a curious look, but turned to go back in. Within a few minutes the five of them appeared. Lily left them
alone, no doubt probably heading to the library. James had a smirk across his face, and Sirius tried his best to keep a
straight face. Remus wore no expression. "Come back for more did you?"
"No. I came here to show you something." It was becoming hard to stand. The blood was running down his hands and
dripping to the floor. Peter was the first to notice anything. He pointed it out to the others. "Holy shit! What is that?"
Remus walked forward and grabbed Severus. He took his arm and pulled up his sleeve. Getting blood over him too, he
looked at the sliced wrists. Suddenly the light-headedness took ahold of him, and Severus fell to the ground with Remus
still holding onto him. "Severus. What did you do?"
"This is it Remus," he said in short breaths. The others looked worried. None of them moved. "You four put me through
hell. But none of you hurt me more than you did, Remus. I loved you."
Tears started to blur Remus' vision. He looked at his dying friend. There was no doubt that he was going to die from
blood loss. He put his arms around him and rested his head against Severus'. "I'm so sorry Sev. I love you. I really do."
Remus looked Severus in the eyes and kissed him one last time.
Severus felt the warmth of Remus' lips and just wanted to die then, because he knew he could probably never have it
again. He tasted good. Better than the last time. Guess the waiting had made it seem that way. Everything then went black.
***
A week later, Severus woke up in the hospital wing. His head hurt. He wasn't dead. He was still alive. "Damn it," he
whispered as he laid his head back on his pillow. "Damn it."
and I am making no money off of any of this. R&R, and enjoy my melancholy writing.
***
Severus Snape sat in the Slytherin common room all alone. It was well past midnight, and he was relieved to be alone.
He didn't feel like the burden of company at this moment. The cold stone floor stung his arse, and the cold stone wall which
he was seated against, was cold as well. The fire place was lit, but it didn't seem to bring any warmth with the light that
flooded the room.
Everyone else was in bed. And he was grateful for that. He needed his thinking time. The small trickle of blood fell
down his wrist. Above it lay one lonely cut. In his other hand was a peice of glass that had come from the mirror of which he
broke in the boy's bathroom. He looked at the blood which kept emerging. The red was such a contrast to the white of his
skin. He had always had a pale complection. It seemed pretty to him, in an odd sort of way. He took the glass and did it
again. Slice.
Tears fell onto his arm, mixing with the blood. It fell down his arm and onto the floor. He needed a way out. A
savior. But he had no one. No one at all.
***
The quidditch feild lay under rays of golden sunshine which had managed to peek out from the clouds that had been
there that present morning. It was Saturday, and most of the students were hanging around the castle with one another. But
Severus sat here. While the other fourth year students were probably sitting in the common rooms or walking through the
corridors, he sat here in the cold December weather. Just staring straight ahead, he started to think about the night before.
He looked to his wrist, pulled up his sleeve, and looked at the red cuts that lay there.
He inhaled deeply, and ran his fingers over the cuts. It had been a bad night. He hadn't cut that much in at least a
month. What drove him into such a madness? Everything. He had a very painful history, and even a painful life now. He was a
fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had very few friends here. He had been friends with a very odd
Gryfindor boy named Remus Lupin. But he had become friends with a crowd that did not approve of Severus.
Not only have Remus been a friend, but almost like a love to him. Night after night they would be together, they
would spend nights under the stars holding onto one another. Severus closed his eyes and remembered their first kiss. It
had been Severus' first ever kiss. The silkyness of Remus' lips was obvious. At first Severus was a tad bit frightened
because he knew that his friend was a werewolf. But he also knew that he wasn't due for another transformation for a while
yet.
Opening his eyes once again, he looked onto the wet quidditch feild. It only reminded him of the evil boys Remus had
come to befriend. The Marauders, they called themselves. A bunch of little bastards that spent all of their free time coming
up with ways to torment Severus, and then doing it. Remus would stand to the side and only watch with a look of sympathy in
his eyes. But if he cared for him, why wouldn't he stop them from doing it?
A noise came from behind Severus. He turned to see the origin of it. But there was nothing there. Right then, someone
grabbed him from behind. It took two of them to hold him down, but they were able to do it. Between those two, they carried
him to the Gryfindor locker room. Severus knew what was coming next. This was their all time favorite game.
The two boys, Sirius Black and James Potter, shoved him down onto the cement floor on his stomach. Severus tried to
fight, but knew that he never won. They always did, and always got what they wanted. One by one, the two of them took turns.
James first this time, and then Sirius. The other two just stood by watching- Peter Pettigrew and somewhere nearby he was
sure, Remus. It hurt. Not just psychologically, but physically. Pain. That was all that he could focus on. He tried to bring
his mind to something else, but couldn't.
When the both of them were finished with their little "game", they left him lying there. This was normal of course.
This wasn't anything new to him. Remus, as they were leaving, bent down to look Severus in his face. The pain was visible in
his face. He bent over and kissed Severus' sweat covered forehead, then left with the others.
Laying on the floor, he stayed there for a while. At least an hour, he figured. He was unable to move. He hated them.
He hated himself. He hated everything and everyone right at that moment. Finally, after talking himself into it he, he go
himself to stand up. It hurt, but he was used to it.
He skipped dinner that night. Instead he sat in the common room. There was once again, no one around. He took up his
bag and felt around inside for something he knew he would be needing by the end of the night- the glass. Taking books and
spreading them across the table, he began to study. He wrote his Transfiguration essay fluently without stopping once. When
he was finished, he looked up and out the window. It was dark out. There were no stars. The moon stayed hidden behind the
returning clouds. The common room was loud, with sounds of laughter and gossip. But Severus heard none of it. He heard the
Marauder's chuckling, their sounds of relief, their pleasure. Suddenly he found himself enraged. This was it. He could tell.
Taking his peice of mirror with him, he went to the boy's bathroom. There was only one other boy in there. A tall
and lanky sixth year Slytherin. But he was gone soon enough. The blood would flow again tonight- maybe for the last time.
The sharp material slid across the boy's arm and droplets of blood formed there. He wasn't satisfied. He did it over and over
again, finding it hard to stop. Finally the glass fell to the floor. His knees gave way and he fell, kneeling now on the
floor. He had hit the vein.
A chuckle came from his lips. This was it. He could tell. He was done with. He took the glass back up and brought it
to his other wrist. Slice, slice, slice. Eventually he hit that vein as well. Now, he was satisfied. He picked himself up and
walked. He walked towards where the portrait of a fat lady hung, concealing the Gryfindor common room. After only standing
there for a few minutes, someone came out. Another fourth year, named Lily Evans. "Can you please send the Marauders out
here?"
Lily gave a curious look, but turned to go back in. Within a few minutes the five of them appeared. Lily left them
alone, no doubt probably heading to the library. James had a smirk across his face, and Sirius tried his best to keep a
straight face. Remus wore no expression. "Come back for more did you?"
"No. I came here to show you something." It was becoming hard to stand. The blood was running down his hands and
dripping to the floor. Peter was the first to notice anything. He pointed it out to the others. "Holy shit! What is that?"
Remus walked forward and grabbed Severus. He took his arm and pulled up his sleeve. Getting blood over him too, he
looked at the sliced wrists. Suddenly the light-headedness took ahold of him, and Severus fell to the ground with Remus
still holding onto him. "Severus. What did you do?"
"This is it Remus," he said in short breaths. The others looked worried. None of them moved. "You four put me through
hell. But none of you hurt me more than you did, Remus. I loved you."
Tears started to blur Remus' vision. He looked at his dying friend. There was no doubt that he was going to die from
blood loss. He put his arms around him and rested his head against Severus'. "I'm so sorry Sev. I love you. I really do."
Remus looked Severus in the eyes and kissed him one last time.
Severus felt the warmth of Remus' lips and just wanted to die then, because he knew he could probably never have it
again. He tasted good. Better than the last time. Guess the waiting had made it seem that way. Everything then went black.
***
A week later, Severus woke up in the hospital wing. His head hurt. He wasn't dead. He was still alive. "Damn it," he
whispered as he laid his head back on his pillow. "Damn it."