The Potion Induced Musings of Severus Snape

~Pozagee~

I'm alive?

The lengthy man blinked his black glassy eyes, totally confused. Touching his neck, he shuddered. Dried blood surrounded two minuscule holes. Slowly standing up, the thirty-seven year old, brushed off his dirt and blood stained robe. A lot of good that did.

*Well, this is rather... Unexpected...* Then he laughed. Naturally! The sadistic bastard has seemed to have forgotten the... Special properties of his snakes venom, and his OWN abilities as of late. He was a *Potion's Master*, for Merlin's sake! *Antidote, Dark Lord? perhaps a dose of blood replenisher and cut clogger?*

Then he remembered, and promptly sunk back down to the floor of the Shrieking Shack. Hoarsely, the sallow-skinned man whispered, "I, Severus Tobias Snape, do hereby pledge to protect one, Harold James Potter, to the best of my ability... Oh Lily, my Lily! I-I have failed you..." Jumping up angrily, whirling and kicking the wall forcefully, he spat, "YET AGAIN!"

"Damn you, overly sentimental Albus! Damn you, blasted 'Tom Riddle'! Damn you, arrogant fool, Potter!"

No. Harry. Damn him. No. He doesn't deserve that. Didn't. Didn't deserve it. ANY of it.

What "it" was, he didn't know. He was a SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD CHILD, for the love of Merlin! He didn't deserve his parents to die. Or to have a snake-nosed, red-eyed, biased, kill-happy, bonehead with an unhealthy 'fascination' with him constantly try to kill him! He didn't deserve his 'dogfather', the imbecillic Gryffandor, to get himself killed! Or derisive comments from a greasy dungeon bat... *Do NOT think about that Snape!*

Nor did he deserve to be betrayed by a twinkling meddlesome old coot; a man he had put all of his trust in. *"Albus! You raised him... Like a pig for saluter!" "Severus-"*

And that is exactly what 'IT' was. Betrayal. Both of them were played. Both just puppets for the man in charge to jerk their strings. And when the puppeteer falls... The puppets go down right with him.

Severus knew his thoughts had turned exceedingly dark, and, though he would loath to admit it, excruciatingly random. Despite himself, he continued sitting here. After all, their savior was gone. The only one with the evidence that he was not a loyal Death Eater. Naturally.

The Dark Lord had already 'killed' him. So... No use going to continue to spy. Well, if the twinkling puppeteer had thought right, he wouldn't even have anyone to spy on. Wouldn't that be a relief. Ha! Then on to Azkaban.

He would be found, he knew. Be it retreating steel-blond Death Eaters, one-eyed crazy ex-Aurors, or idiotic, recently Imperio-released ministry 'officials', he knew he would be found, and the results unpleasant.

He was a dead-man-walking. Yes-sirey. Sirey. Surey. Wasn't that where Potter lived? With Tuney? Oh shit-

He, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Was-Overly-Hyphenated, lived with the magic hating, horse-faced Petunia Evans? He always knew... But never the connection. He always thought of the angular woman as Tuney Evans. Petunia Dursley... Right, right. She married the walrus Vernon. Lily hadn't been invited to the wedding. Shocker.

A thought suddenly occurred. Those horribly failed Occlumency lessons... There were warded memories. He had just ignored them, the ones surrounded by the dense fog, thinking they were inconsequential. He saw small things, borderline abuse. The blasted dog. The laughing. The shouting. Hints, but nothing more.

But there was somethings missing. A lot actually. There weren't very many memories of his time with the family. Why did he ward some, but not ALL unpleasant memories?

A choked feeling emerged inside him. He could never test his theories on the boy to see. Lily's child. Why? WHY?

The man sunk down the wall, clutching at his face. He had accomplished nothing, NOTHING! in his thirty-seven years. He had been his drunken fathers punching bag. He had been an entertainment outlet for the Marauders. He had given his life to the devil, becoming a marked man. He had gotten his best friend and true love killed. He instilled fear into every child (but one, he grudgingly admitted he had never gotten to Potter). He killed his mentor, as manipulative and senile as he was, his father figure. He broke his vow (though not an Unbreakable one. Oh, of course not. Death would be too merciful for a low-life sniveling cretin, such as himself. He suddenly wondered why he went to the trouble to preserve his life.) to his best friend. Potter died. He *almost* got murdered by an exceptionally large possessed snake, the *almost* due to a Potion Master's precaution. But now... Death was what he craved. He wanted death to devour him, or he it, as the name and mark he took straight out of school implied.

He had never understood the term Death Eater. Frankly, it seemed disgusting on many levels. No he understood. Death Eaters give their lives to a homicidal psychopath WILLINGLY. And then their lives are destroyed (no, that isn't the right word. More like obliterated. Annihilated. Pulverized). Completely 'nuked' so much, that they crave death, down to the last atom in their being.

Those were Severus's exhausted (incredibly morbid) thoughts, as he slowly stood and walked out of the Shack.

A/N Yep. I'm in denial that he died. So... he left, disappearing off the face of the earth, but was happy making potions...

Oh yes. Definitely denial.

So... Review!