My first story on posted. Reviews are highly appreciated. Thanks.
Disclaimer: use your common sense. I do not own Harry Potter in the least.
Description – The white and black of Snape's sex-life. White is when he's older. (Black is when he is younger.)
+Monochrome+White.
Everything; together and warm it seems, yet sharp and painful.
He is bright, as if he really is angelic, and gentle to the touch. I reach, but he is swift, and I am caught. Caught inside white, or, rather, underneath it. Forced in me, unnatural, hardly as pure as it would seem. Aristocratic bastard.
Still, I am waiting for something, anything, and not receiving it what I want, and he takes advantage. Uses me, for laughs.
They laugh at me; I am the weak one, the ugly toy.
Everywhere I move, he's there. I'm lost and weak. My fault, my fault. I let this happen, I knew better, and still I wanted something unrealistic, something I don't deserve.
Do I deserve anything?
Thrust.
He is done, but I am not.
Sick, covered in the sheer white gleam of my captor, I fall asleep, dreaming of living in a white, marble house, with an angelic husband, smelling the white lilies as I put them in a white vase.
And it's all lost, as the white reaches me and flows around me, a mess of horrible colors.
Black.
Nothing; that is what I deserve, but it is not what I get. It is what mother got.
Nothingness reminds me of mother. Nowhere, wearing nothing, saying nothing, breathing nothing... Breathing nothing... Not breathing...
He comes for me, offer me something, but I don't deserve anything. He told me that. But here is, offering me something... Something of his. Take it, take it, her urges. We've done this before. And I know that tomorrow he'll tell me I shouldn't have taken it, because I don't deserve it. Just like all those other nights.
I don't take it.
I look up at him, so tall, dark, thin, naked, and offering me something I don't deserve. I don't deserve anything.
Sloppily, he walks toward me, glaring—no, staring—at me. He smiles and tells me he loves me, and I know he is lying, but I remember mum, telling me she loves me, and I look at her, breathing now. I want her to offer me something, not this man who makes her cry. Who makes me cry.
I want him to love me, like mother does. I take it in my small hands that I can't see clearly in the blackness, and he leans back, and then, slowly, so slowly leans forward against me. Making a noise, that sounds like he's choking.
No.
That was mother. Suddenly, I let go of him, and I wail, loudly, crying; because mother is choking, and he is offering me something I don't deserve, and I'm confused and scared.
I feel something big, strong, thick, grip my bare arm and quickly, too quickly, I see darkness.
I do not wake until the next day.
He punishes me, tells me I shouldn't have taken it, I don't deserve it—and look at what I did to my own mother!
I go to my room, and sit in the black darkness.
And wait, wanting something, anything, and not deserving it.
End.