Title: And Thus We Perish
Author: SeveredMind
Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter (and others)
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. Characters/situations are copyrighted to JK Rowling. No money is being made off of this.
Rating: R
Summary: With the loss of Sirius, Harry begins to question his purpose in life and is thrown into devastation as more around him die. Pushed to the breaking point while being confronted with unexpected surprises along the way, Harry begins to falter on that delicate line between good and evil, where he is blinded by shades of gray.
Author's Note: All feedback welcomed, tell me what you think and review, please. Enjoy!
Prologue: Weary of this Existence
A dreary, summer breeze wafted in the air along Privet Drive, minding not the darkness which veiled its homely residences, while a sole beacon of light was shone from one small window. Up on the second floor of Number 4, a room was washed in a yellow glow that filtered through the glass and iron bars, only to fade into the night. From inside the room, a boy of sixteen peered out from where he sat on a shabby cot, watching as the somber pitch began to lighten in hue. He uttered a sigh full of grievance, seeming trapped within his own morbid thoughts.
Today, I go back to Hogwarts...I should be happy, thought Harry, while watching the dawn of yet another day. A bitter smile curled his lips. Yes, "happy", indeed.
Turning away from the window, he fell back onto the bed, a faint squeak of the rickety frame sounding its protest. Staring up at the ceiling, it was all he could do until it was time for him to leave for Platform 9 3/4. Beside the closet his trunk was already packed with Hedwig and her cage right next to it. Everything was taken care of, surprisingly enough.
Looking back on the summer months, Harry knew it was by far the easiest, and yet hardest, few months he had to endure. He had kept no contact with anyone whatsoever, aside from a favor he asked of Mrs. Weasley, who was only too readily to comply for the boy who had suffered so much. Since he knew there was no way getting the Dursleys to send him to Diagon Alley, he had sent his list to Mrs. Weasley in askance that she may help him purchase his school supplies, providing her his Gringotts key along with the request. The items were first sent to Mrs. Figg, as Harry had instructed, with a note attached explaining what to do, then delivered to Harry as she secretly met him at the Dursley's front door one midnight evening.
The days that followed were an incoherent blur of mere existing on his part. After all, that was all he was required to do, to stay alive and play the pawn. To be everyone's savior; the martyr. He would only die while in battle. Like Sirius.
A pang of sorrow seared through him at the thought of his late godfather. Remembering the man; that was the hard part of his summer. The Dursleys were tolerable for they ignored him as best as they could (due to a prior threat established by certain Aurors back at the train station). But Sirius forever remained a sore spot for Harry; the pain, the loss...
The guilt.
Not to mention the horrendous nightmares and visions added with his mourning. There was no rest when Voldemort was still free to rein terror upon the masses. Every night there were so many different faces, families, all victims to the sadistic wizard and always Harry would experience everything firsthand. From the tortures lavished unrelentingly onto his weary body to the rape of his very mind where he shared with great (unwanted) intimacy of Voldemort's corrupted essence. The monster's very thoughts and feelings coursing through his every vein, a poison that rotted his insides, that sparked his own darkness in tempting it to rip and crawl out of Harry, to consume him.
Another sigh was heaved, this time filled with such weariness. Gingerly, Harry rose from his bed, his body still aching from the latest vision shared with Voldemort, and padded across the room to the closet where a full length mirror remained inside. Peering into the glassy surface, he surveyed himself and how much he had changed oh so drastically.
Staring hollowly back at him were dulled green eyes, sunken into his skull and encircled with dark shadows from the lack of sleep. His complexion was extremely pallid, almost ghastly as he looked half dead. The tousled, jet-black hair had lengthened in brushing against his nape, further creating a sharp contrast to his pale skin. Reaching a frail hand to the cool glass, Harry traced the outlines of his face, just noticing how much weight he had lost, appearing as though thoroughly starved to the point of becoming near skeletal.
Grimacing at the vision presented to him, he shut the closet door closed, locking it as though that would entirely erase the image of his own disintegrating body. Harry was never one to be vain nor prided himself on his looks, quite opposite as he was modest in just about everything pertaining to himself, but the gaunt appearance he witness reminded him too much of another. A sudden flash of crimson eyes pierced his brain. Shaking his head to clear the muddled pictures, he steadily returned to his bed.
Facing the clock on his bedside table, the hands pointing, indicating that it was 7:30AM. It was just about time for the Dursleys to wake; in a few minutes he'd have to go downstairs and prepare their breakfasts. And soon after breakfasts, he would have to return to the wizarding world, to once more play his role as hero.
Such was the life of Harry Potter.
TBC...
Author: SeveredMind
Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter (and others)
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. Characters/situations are copyrighted to JK Rowling. No money is being made off of this.
Rating: R
Summary: With the loss of Sirius, Harry begins to question his purpose in life and is thrown into devastation as more around him die. Pushed to the breaking point while being confronted with unexpected surprises along the way, Harry begins to falter on that delicate line between good and evil, where he is blinded by shades of gray.
Author's Note: All feedback welcomed, tell me what you think and review, please. Enjoy!
Prologue: Weary of this Existence
A dreary, summer breeze wafted in the air along Privet Drive, minding not the darkness which veiled its homely residences, while a sole beacon of light was shone from one small window. Up on the second floor of Number 4, a room was washed in a yellow glow that filtered through the glass and iron bars, only to fade into the night. From inside the room, a boy of sixteen peered out from where he sat on a shabby cot, watching as the somber pitch began to lighten in hue. He uttered a sigh full of grievance, seeming trapped within his own morbid thoughts.
Today, I go back to Hogwarts...I should be happy, thought Harry, while watching the dawn of yet another day. A bitter smile curled his lips. Yes, "happy", indeed.
Turning away from the window, he fell back onto the bed, a faint squeak of the rickety frame sounding its protest. Staring up at the ceiling, it was all he could do until it was time for him to leave for Platform 9 3/4. Beside the closet his trunk was already packed with Hedwig and her cage right next to it. Everything was taken care of, surprisingly enough.
Looking back on the summer months, Harry knew it was by far the easiest, and yet hardest, few months he had to endure. He had kept no contact with anyone whatsoever, aside from a favor he asked of Mrs. Weasley, who was only too readily to comply for the boy who had suffered so much. Since he knew there was no way getting the Dursleys to send him to Diagon Alley, he had sent his list to Mrs. Weasley in askance that she may help him purchase his school supplies, providing her his Gringotts key along with the request. The items were first sent to Mrs. Figg, as Harry had instructed, with a note attached explaining what to do, then delivered to Harry as she secretly met him at the Dursley's front door one midnight evening.
The days that followed were an incoherent blur of mere existing on his part. After all, that was all he was required to do, to stay alive and play the pawn. To be everyone's savior; the martyr. He would only die while in battle. Like Sirius.
A pang of sorrow seared through him at the thought of his late godfather. Remembering the man; that was the hard part of his summer. The Dursleys were tolerable for they ignored him as best as they could (due to a prior threat established by certain Aurors back at the train station). But Sirius forever remained a sore spot for Harry; the pain, the loss...
The guilt.
Not to mention the horrendous nightmares and visions added with his mourning. There was no rest when Voldemort was still free to rein terror upon the masses. Every night there were so many different faces, families, all victims to the sadistic wizard and always Harry would experience everything firsthand. From the tortures lavished unrelentingly onto his weary body to the rape of his very mind where he shared with great (unwanted) intimacy of Voldemort's corrupted essence. The monster's very thoughts and feelings coursing through his every vein, a poison that rotted his insides, that sparked his own darkness in tempting it to rip and crawl out of Harry, to consume him.
Another sigh was heaved, this time filled with such weariness. Gingerly, Harry rose from his bed, his body still aching from the latest vision shared with Voldemort, and padded across the room to the closet where a full length mirror remained inside. Peering into the glassy surface, he surveyed himself and how much he had changed oh so drastically.
Staring hollowly back at him were dulled green eyes, sunken into his skull and encircled with dark shadows from the lack of sleep. His complexion was extremely pallid, almost ghastly as he looked half dead. The tousled, jet-black hair had lengthened in brushing against his nape, further creating a sharp contrast to his pale skin. Reaching a frail hand to the cool glass, Harry traced the outlines of his face, just noticing how much weight he had lost, appearing as though thoroughly starved to the point of becoming near skeletal.
Grimacing at the vision presented to him, he shut the closet door closed, locking it as though that would entirely erase the image of his own disintegrating body. Harry was never one to be vain nor prided himself on his looks, quite opposite as he was modest in just about everything pertaining to himself, but the gaunt appearance he witness reminded him too much of another. A sudden flash of crimson eyes pierced his brain. Shaking his head to clear the muddled pictures, he steadily returned to his bed.
Facing the clock on his bedside table, the hands pointing, indicating that it was 7:30AM. It was just about time for the Dursleys to wake; in a few minutes he'd have to go downstairs and prepare their breakfasts. And soon after breakfasts, he would have to return to the wizarding world, to once more play his role as hero.
Such was the life of Harry Potter.
TBC...