~*Fundamentally Loathsome,

By: Laala KG

Rating: G for now.

Oh, and guys, if anyone out there knows how to make the damn text appear in italic on the net, and can tell me, that would be fab. Every time I do it in word, bloody FanFic decides to make it regular font. ARAGH!!

Please read and review, tell me what's good and what's bad. Even if you think the whole thing is crap, please review and say why and MAYBE I will change. Thanks to everyone who reviews. Email me if you want with anything - my email in my profile*~

Snape stretched out contently. Who cared about Harry Potter? He had his mansion, which he would be returning to in two short weeks. He felt a shiver of annoyance pass through him. He would've been going back in only three or four days, but he had to do an errand for Dumbledore, which would take a good nine days. Snape sighed and pointed at his door with his wand, making sure it was securely locked. Then he leaned back, smiling softly, picking up his favourite book.

A self-made copy of The Vampire Lestat.

It was beautifully made - he had spent a long time on it. He ran a finger down the dragon-hide spine, remembering just how lengthy it had been. First he'd bought a copy from a Muggle bookshop, Waterstones. It had been one of the few hand-written copies. Then he had preformed the same spell on every page, dislodging it from the cover, and then another spell that protected the paper from every possible threat. That took three days with the care he put in. Then he bound the papers together with magical wax - unbreakable. He bought dragon hide of the most expensive kind and bought leather from the most expensive shops. He choose a few of his best-looking Felluns (brightly coloured, abnormally large slugs whose skin re-grew if peeled off) and skinned them. He used the blood-red dragon hide for the spine, black leather for the front and back covers. He muttered an engravment spell and the words 'The Vampire Lestat' appeared, engraved into the leather. He attached and trimmed the Fellun skin so it was the same size as the rest of the pages in the book, and used it as a divider for each section of the story. Finally, he glued the pages down into the cover with a Permanent Sticking Charm. It was one of his most valued possessions.

He conjured up some Butterbeer and settled back to read.

~*~

Someone was banging his head, hard against a wall. His nose was broken and his lip was oozing blood. He could feel a vein in his throat throbbing painfully and his forearm felt on fire. He heard shouting, yelling...

~*~

Snape woke up, covered in cold sweat. He touched the side of his head gingerly, making sure he was not really injured. His shoulders dropped in relief, and he glared at the empty grate. Why had the fire gone out? He pointed his wand at it, and for the second time that day, muttered Naar. The grate burst into flames and as a fire appeared. The warmth spread through him like Veritaserum. Snape shivered and raised a bottle of now- cold Butterbeer to his lips.

What was wrong with him today?

He subconsciously pulled his sleeve up and rubbed at his forearm. He stared at the Dark Mark; still as vividly black as it had been the day he received it. His face filled with utter disgust, remembering how stupid and naïve he had been. But even so, no one had the right to mock him. He irritably pulled his sleeve back down, as his mind filled with images of people who had hated him. First his father; an abusive self-obsessed being who did not deserve to be Lord. Then his family, save his mother, Cornelia Lyster-Snape and his older brother, Dylas. Even in his present irritated and revolted state, he saved a second for their memory.

A sudden flashback found Senior Potter's face etched into Snape's memory once again. Snape grit his teeth and stared at a vase with all the hatred and jealousy he felt for James Potter. His heart thumped wildly and the world around him dissolved. He was in his own world now. Where only his thoughts and him existed. His Hate World, where he thought of nothing but his hatred and loathing for some people. After all Quentin Snape (his father's name had been one of his greatest weaknesses. Few people even knew what his first name was) had done to him, Dylas and his mother, Snr Snape still did not manage to get him to Hate World as easily as Potter did. His father's memory made him whip out his wand, think about spells that would protect him, and grit his teeth so hard that he needed to cast a spell to fix the shatters. But his father's memory did not get him to Hate World. James Potter was the best at doing that.

Snape thought back on when he first started to loathe Potter. Aka, when he first met him. Potter had trotted into the hall to be sorted. Snape could still remember the song the hat sang that year, his song. The year he was sorted: "I am old, as you are new,

I was made long ago,

Most know the sad sorry tale,

In which divided us four,

Have you ever seen,

Friendships as strong as these?

Two pairs they made,

And together they sought to teach,

Sly Slytherin, brave Gryffindor,

Fair Hufflepuff, smart Ravenclaw,

Together they made the world's best magic school,

In which you are now standing,

But alas, my friends,

And oh my foes,

All differences come to an end,

And there finally came the day,

When old Slytherin departed,

And though no fights then emerged,

Four became only three,

The happiness and the laughter,

Suddenly ceased to be,

So I am warning you this danger,

That I have foreseen,

And though I know many of you

Think you're smart and clever,

But I know I've got the brains,

So listen to me, and here,

I will tell you what is to be,

In the short years to come.

The war is raging on,

All you too young to care,

But I am old and know,

Many of you will perish in disdain,

But listen to me closely,

Understand what I say,

There is something wrong,

In this big old castle fair,

For though houses apart unite,

Together they fall apart,

But though one pillar can stand alone,

Together they can hold a house.

I have to part you,

Sort you each into own,

But know I am not happy,

For this will be our downfall,

Now approach and put me on,

Place me snugly about your ears,

I will look into your mind,

And find where you ought to be,

Shall it be fair Ravenclaw,

Where the smart and clever dwell?

Or will it be brave Gryffindor,

Where all are noble and bold?

Perhaps in Hufflepuff you will meet your friends,

And there you will stay,

Or even sly Slytherin,

Where you will discover yourself by day,

So come, I say,

And put me on,

Don't fear this warm wool hat,

I have talked,

I have said,

Let the sorting now begin."

Potter had been before him. He'd pranced forward all smiley and mischievous and put the sorting hat on and smiled widely. Less than a split second later, the hat open it's brim wide and yelled "Gryffindor". He'd walked down the aisle to screams and applause, having many friends sitting at the Gryffindor table already. He was popular, James Potter. Always had been popular, no one had ever hated him. He'd gotten one of the biggest burials Snape had ever seen. Flowers of every kind, mostly red and white roses - Lily loved red roses, and apparently, James, to be "spontaneously romantic (and witty)" he would dish up a mount of red and white roses and give them all to Lily at once. Every napkin, cup, plate, jug - everything had a little lily in the corner. James had loved violet lilies.

Suddenly the vase exploded, heated by Snape's anger, vibrating by his throbbing hatred. Snape jumped up, shaken out of his stupor, cursing under his breath. He hadn't made something explode out of hatred for a while now. Trust Potter to re-active his already bad anger management. Professor McGonagall's dry comment caught up with him, and echoed menacingly in his mind. "Severus, you are not the world's most laid-back man. You are not the world's best person at keeping peace in the spur of the moment. I honestly think - with all my love of transfiguration and Dumbledore's love of Sherbet Lemons - that you should take WAMC (Wizard Anger Management and Control)." Snape sneered, staring at the small fragments of what had been his mother's vase. He was cold and numb, inside and out right now, and any love or affection for his mother was gone for the moment. Snape was feeling something he didn't usually feel. Or didn't usually let himself feel.

He was lonely. Dejected. Even sad.

As soon as he analysed his thoughts and feelings, and put two and two together, Snape sneered at himself and scoffed at his sudden softness. Severus Snape didn't do soft. That just wasn't his style. Cold. Bored. Disgusted. Not amused. Revolted. Idle, even. But not sad or soft. He smiled suddenly, a scary, uncanny smile that would ward off anyone.

He has always been the odd one out, hasn't he?

He muttered, "reparo." And the precious vase reassembled itself. He swiftly turned away and waved the lights off. He wanted an early night.

~*~

Just as he was sinking into his bed, Snape heard a tapping at his door. He shot the door a death glare before getting up, throwing on his dressing gown and plunging a hand into the pocket, fingering his wand. Oh, the curses that came to mind...

"Snape? You're still awake. Good. Dumbledore needs you, in his office," Professor Sinstra said, waving a careless hand towards the dungeon steps. Snape scowled.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. Minerva's there already, and Flitwick. Hagrid might be there - I don't know. But I have a feeling someone else is there, too." Snape glared at Sinstra. "Snape. Move, now. I don't know much, but I know it's something important." And with that he turned around and left.

Snape glowered at the steps for a little longer, then pulled his robes on, and walked swiftly and silently up to Dumbledore's office. "Sweet tooth," Snape said, wincing at how ridiculous he sounded. The stone statue jumped up into life and moved apart, making way for a winding staircase behind it. He stepped onto the staircase and tapped it to make it go faster; will takes the steps in twos. He strode into the office without knocking.

"Severus. Glad you could make it," Dumbledore said gravely, taking Snape completely by surprise. He hadn't absorbed the information Sinstra had given him - he hadn't realized that this particular selection of people in one place had to mean something big.

He grit his teeth. He would have to be chivalrous, "yes. Professor Sinstra caught me just on time. How may I be of assistance?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled despite being weighed down with pressure. Hagrid just looked disgusted.

"Very good, very good, Snape," Flitwick said, falling off his chair with excitement, "couldn't've done it without you."

McGonagall stood up abruptly, "Dumbledore. You have brought them here for a reason," she stated. Dumbledore looked at her, pressing his fingers lightly together.

"True." He observed the empty grate. Snape looked it irately at it and lit it. Dumbledore smiled. "Yes. Hagrid, you know what you're to do. I have already talked to Madam Maxime, she has agreed." Hagrid's face broke into a smile. Snape raised his eyebrows.

Silence.

McGonagall sat back down, temporarily satisfied. The silence stretched, and Snape, in his tired state felt himself drifting slowly into sleep. He clenched his fists and stood up. "Dumbledore, is there anything worth knowing for me?"

"In due time. Flitwick, can you please oversee everything in and about Hogwarts over the summer holidays?"

"But of course, Albus," he squeaked. Dumbledore inclined his head in a slight bow. Silence again. Snape shook his head and looked away from Phineas Nigellus's empty portrait. Where was the fool? He normally did not go anywhere - not many liked him.

"Where's Nigellus?" he asked suddenly, shattering the silence.

"On an errand," Dumbledore replied simply. "Hagrid, Professor Flitwick. If you could go about your preparations please." Snape smirked. He had a way with words, Dumbledore. Hagrid and Flitwick obediently got up and left. The smirk slowly faded at he saw the look etched on Dumbledore's face, the distress in the eyes. But it passed a millisecond later.

McGonagall stood up, "sit down, Minerva. You can stay." She sat down. "Severus. I need you to talk to Lucius Malfoy - get back into the old gang," Dumbledore said softly. Snape inhaled sharply. He didn't say anything. He rubbed his Mark. He'd just been looking at it.

He couldn't do it.

He wouldn't do it.

He couldn't.

Suddenly a black dog, which had been practically invisible in the corner, came forth, padding softly. Snape cursed himself for not realizing and sprang up, whipped out his wand -

"Severus. Control yourself. We have already been through this," Dumbledore said calmly. Snape glared at the dog as it formed into a human.

Would he do it?