by WretchedScar
© May 28, 2003
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all of its entities belong to J.K. Rowling. No infringement intended.
Rated: PG; Harry Potter/Severus Snape (POV)
Professor Severus Snape stalked into his personal chambers, black cloak billowing out behind him until he came to an abrupt halt and collapsed in his favorite chair. His breathing, he acknowledged, was quick and deep and certainly not calm.
It had been such a shock. Who would have expected? Surely not him, oh no. Of course it was something that went against most any type of common sense and surely enough all forms of logic. Harry Potter a parslemouth?
Severus closed his eyes and tried to slow the pounding of his frantic heart. It was just Potter after all, but those words, the sounds . . . the memories of someone else. Those memories played at the back of his mind, taunting him with the nightmares he would much rather forget once again. Had he ever truly forgotten?
What would Lily have said, to have had seen her precious child speaking the words of the serpent so naturally? How had it happened? How could it not have? Severus was going to have one hell of a headache by morning.
Harry Potter a parslemouth? It had made his skin crawl to hear those words, to see that snake turn from its victim, one moment vicious the next moment as domestic as could be. And all because of that boy, the hero and savior of the wizarding world, he just had to save the day again. But who would save him now, from all of this? What would the wizarding world think if they ever found out? He could see the headlines now, "Boy Who Lived Next He Who Must Not Be Named" – right. Oh dear. Typical. Hilarious. Downright aggravating.
Severus laughed out loud and reached to the table next to him to pour himself a bit of a drink. A strong drink, actually. Something that might, maybe, hopefully, calm his nerves.
To hear the words of the serpent alive on another's tongue again – what did this mean. How had it happened? Surely that scar was more than a scar? What did the remains of Voldemort's curse entail for Potter? Nothing good. What did it entail for him? Nothing good, either.
He sighed and looked down into the dark liquid, which was contained in the glass he held. Contained so well. All those lies, all those dark secrets. One bad memory, one dark past and one family name.
"Potter."
Snape threw the glass across the room, watching it crash to the floor, breaking, shards of glass scattering dangerously around the cracks and crannies of his chamber.
Everything was falling apart. Breaking. And only by his acknowledged choice.
(Finis . . . )