Eating Death
His black hair hung like strings from his greasy scalp. The room was dark as Severus watched flies fly above him. Summer was just as bad as the rest of the year. Vacation is something that Severus did not feel relieved at. Ilene cried downstairs while his father lay passed out and smelling of liquor in the master room.
In Severus's room he could block it all out with a simple silencing spell. For once though, he didn't want to block it all out. For once, he wanted to be able to fight back. For once he wanted to be able to please his father. For once he wanted to be useful.
It was his corrupted father. His father would often tell him how worthless he was. He hated his father, the drunk. The worst part was that Severus knew his father was right. He deserved to be beaten; yelled at. He deserved to be embarrassed. There was one way to get out of it. He pointed his wand at one of the flies on his ceiling. He mustered all the hate he could.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The fly fell onto Severus's grey bedspread. A slight smile covered his face. He had felt power surge through him. His heart rose out of its deep well of pain for those split seconds. For those seconds he knew the fly's life was under his control. He had power. He wasn't worthless. Those seconds faded as he realized that he truly was worthless. It wasn't just his father.
It was James Potter and Sirius Black. They often would jinx him in the hall. The arrogant son's of bitches were loved and adored by all. Nobody stopped to think that he could feel the pain. Nobody ever even cared if he died. The hate boiled his blood. He never fully understood what he did to them, so he just assumed it was the same reason his father gave. He deserved to be made fun of. He was worthless. He was pathetic. There was only one way to solve it...
"Avada Kedavra!"
Again, the power gushed through his thin, pale body. Once again he felt he was capable of something. He imagined Black's haughty sneer turning into a look of terror. In his minds eye he saw Precious Potter fall off his precious broom in precious fear. He watched the third one, Lupin, as his head fell into one of his stupid defense books. Defense couldn't save them now. They couldn't use anything against these.
The euphoria left him one last time. It wasn't like it was he, Severus, who they were afraid of. It was the Dark Arts. His treasures, his curses, his only good trait. Now he realizes that they aren't his. They are his father's boss's; The Dark Lord. Oh, what a title. Oh, the power and fear it represents. Severus's father served his most noble cause.
The idea was brought to his before. But now, it seamed golden. More powerful than Potter. As strong as Father. Not completely worthless. Death Eaters, what a glorious title to hold.
"I eat death," he whispered to the darkness. "I eat death!"