Most of you will probably hate this chapter. Oh well, please try and enjoy it. It focuses on Snape, who I'm not particularly fond of. This is providing some background so that you guys can better understand what will come in the next chapters. Mischief Managed.
~Wallie
Sirius wondered, in hindsight, if perhaps filling the Slytherin common room with irritated doxies was the best way to execute revenge. Maybe, if he had foreseen the consequences, he would have paused to consider his actions, and all that would follow. That, in a furious desire for revenge, a certain Severus Snape would make it his personal endeavour to discover the secret of the Marauders. The group of boys kept many secrets, some better kept than others, but Severus knew that a friendship as binding as theirs could only come from experiencing the unexpected and astonishing. The complexity and sheer number of secrets and lies surrounding this group drove Severus to near despair; his challenge was to separate the ordinary from the extraordinary.
This was a task more complicated than it first appeared, but one that he was willing to undertake, in order to bestow revenge upon the boys that drove a stake into his most precious friendship and hounded him, to the point where he grew bitter and dark, embracing the dark arts as an old friend. He relished in the solace of potion-making. Many hours were spent watching delicate spirals of steam as they curled seductively, dancing for him as the mixture bubbled and brewed, lapping persistently at the lips of the sable pewter cauldron, as though it could not contain the magic fastidiously crafted and fashioned by his careful hands. His lips twisted into macabre shapes as he whispered cruel words over his wand, words that could cause great men to fall to their knees and crimson lines to fly across skin, staining robes.
He enjoyed the power. Power was all that he craved, after years of falling prey to the vicious, relentless Marauders. His Hogwarts letter seemed a reprieve from a childhood of abuse, his father too afraid to do anything other than hate him. He was nothing more than a constant reminder of his mother's betrayal, and the magic that had smothered their relationship, binding him to her in a way that was dark and impure. It was never true love, tainted by falsities and illusions. How was little Severus Snape to know that the abuse had only just begun, and that he would have to endure years of taunting and pranks at the hands of those more fortunate than himself?
The Marauders were not all to blame though; Snape's bitterness and inexorable interest in the dark arts caused him to shy away from those his age, and they from him, mostly from fear of the unknown. Even with his own house he was not comfortable, surrounded by those of aristocratic heritage, Pureblood and unwilling to accept those who were otherwise. With his mismatched clothes and lack of hygiene, an ingrained habit that remained with him from his callous childhood, he was not popular amongst his peers. Instead of dealing with their snide remarks and loud boasts, he would often escape to the dark serenity of the dungeons or the vast expanse of the night sky from the Astronomy tower.
Sometimes, lying upon the dark bricks with the stars winking above, as though they were disclosing secrets to him, silently gossiping, he felt safer and more at home than he had ever been. Sometimes, lying among the stars, he felt that he could reach out and grab one, pulling it close and carrying it with him always, so that he would forever have company. He imagined floating away among the twinkling lights, soothing in their midnight dance. Sometimes, he thought of the Marauders and, how, if things had been different, if he had whispered a hasty plea to the Sorting hat, if he had stumbled upon their compartment rather than clumsy Peter Pettigrew, if it was him that had been born into a family with good intentions and the capability to love him, that they would have made rather good friends.
Thanks for reading (: I know it was pitifully short, but please review?