Escape
My Life
I would really like to know you better,
But sometimes I'm afraid that it's not meant to be.
I would like to believe in something higher,
But I can't get a grip on all the little things.
As Harry attempted to process the information, Snape slammed the palm of his hand into his forehead. "I'll put this simply. I'm going with you, or you're not going at all. Does that make it clearer?" Harry suddenly nodded. He knew a threat when he heard one, and this was much closer to the Snape Harry knew and hated. Besides, he was curious. But curiosity killed the cat. Maybe it wasn't such as good idea to go digging deeper into Snape's past. Then again, it would explain a good deal, even why he told Voldemort the prophesy in the first place. But, he wasn't leaving if he didn't agree to stick with Snape, so . . . "Alright, then," he said, "It was just odd, hearing you say that. It wasn't anything like what I've heard you say before." In fact, ever since Snape caught him dying in the dungeons, he'd been nice to him. Which was odd. The more he thought about it, the stranger it seemed. How had Snape found him? Why did Snape save him? Wait, Snape had already answered that. But was there more to it? Harry snuggled further into the chair, black of course, and took another sip of his hot chocolate. "It's . . . complicated. Nothing you need to know about anyway." Snape was deliberately avoiding the unasked question, and from experience with other people, Harry knew that Snape would not talk, so he let the matter drop until another time.
When the night comes I cannot sit still you see.
And the years they have not been so kind to me.
Got a gallery of figures standing all in a row,
And every single figure has a soul of its own.
But I never look back,
Never look back.
Don't turn your back on me.
Snape sighed, "Listen, Harry. Things have got to change. You know this. Your death won't change anything. Too much anyway. But, the loss of both sides' best and only spy will be a terrible detriment." He sighed again, and stood. Pacing back and forth, he said, almost to himself, "Nobody, and I do mean nobody, can do what I have been doing all my life because they haven't lived like me." Suddenly, he stopped and swirled around to face the young black haired boy sitting in the chair behind him. "Tell me, do you know why it is that occasionally multiple children from the same family have amazing acting abilities, that are bred for acting by their parents?" A confused shake of the head from Harry and Snape was back to his rant. "Because of what acting really is. It's putting on a mask and pretending to be someone totally different. The only people who want to do that don't like themselves. But, since it's a very low chance that two or more kids from the same household hate themselves, there's a high chance that they were abused. A very high chance." There it was again, all that hinting and beating around the bush. Snape let out another exasperated sigh, shaking his head as if upset. "If you're really as thick as you make yourself out to be, harry, I'm not going to spell it out for you." Harry sighed, rather upset himself that Snape wasn't telling him what he meant. There had to be some kind of connection between Snape, acting, and those hypothetical kids he kept referring to.
(Hey yeah) My life has come unraveled again
Like so many threads
(Hey yeah) my life has begun unfolding
In so many pieces
(Hey yeah) my life has come unraveled again like
so many threads in the wind - drift away - drift away
Harry took a gulp of his hot chocolate that really should have gone cold by now, but was still as hot as when he was first handed it, although the cup was cool. Was it another trick of Snape's? Dear Lord, what all did that man put in his drink? "So you're coming with me, and we're going to some random muggle place. What about, er, tweaking my appearance?" In all actuality, Harry did not want to 'tweak' his appearance in the slightest, but he wouldn't mind losing his scar. That was rather awkward. Snape moved swiftly over to a small desk and unlocked a drawer that Harry hadn't noticed before. What did it contain? "Our appearances, Harry. We're both rather recognizable people, if the right people are looking for us." When he turned, Snape had a pair of lethal looking scissors in one hand, and a bottle of peach stuff he'd once seen Hermione putting on. Harry's left hand flew from his blue cup to his mid-neck length messy black hair defensively. Even though it was such a hassle, he loved his hair very much and would cry if somebody cut it.
There's a time and a place
For understanding
And a time when action speaks louder than words
And I don't seem to get no indications
And I don't know how to get through to you
And when time like the pyramids
Has worn away
All the mountains and the valleys
Of the words that we say
Only five minutes later, Harry looked as if he'd never had any scar at all, and Snape looked as if he'd actually seen the sun and spent time outside. A real shocker. "And that, Harry, is the wonder of muggle cosmetics." Cautiously, Harry reached up and touched his blank forehead. It looked just like any other forehead. Nondescript. "So long as you don't go rubbing at it, it'll be fine." Snape sounded rather distracted, and he looked up to find that the older man wasn't there. And then he felt cold blades brush against his scalp. Harry let out a little whimpering noise, because he knew exactly what Snape was doing. He'd probably had not hair by the time he was done. "Quit your whining! I'm going to have to cut mine too! I might go so far as to bleach it." Instantly, Harry shut up. Snape with blond hair? It was almost laughable.
We have got to make sure that something remains
If we lose each other we've got no one to blame
So never look back
Never look back
Don't turn your back on me
Two hours after that, Harry glanced into a mirror. His hair looked good, and it was neat. Christ, what did he do before he became a potions professor? Cut hair? Apply cosmetics? Stand in as a muggle movie costume and set designer? What else could he do that he didn't know about? Harry's black hair was slicked back, almost like Malfoy's, only without the help of muggle or magical appliances. Just water, a comb, and a skilled hand. A couple of strands of black hair fell across his forehead, right where his scar used to be - was, Harry reminded himself. When he turned around, Harry's jaw nearly dropped to the ground. Snape had dark reddish brown hair, and it was clean. He threw an irritated glare at Harry, one that he'd seen Snape use on Slytherin students who would screw up their potions. "Gawking is an unflattering expression, Harry. I'd appreciate it if you'd stop." Snape took one long step over to the chair that he'd had Harry sit in while he was fiddling with his hair and picked up those lethal scissors with a grim look on his face. Carefully, with the precision and control that Harry had seen him use with certain complex potions, he nipped and cut almost randomly at his hair. Watching with hidden interest, Harry noted exactly where and how Snape cut his hair, until it was as short and messy as his own had been. When Snape turned to face him, he bore an expression of great dislike on his face. "My appearance now reminds me of your father's." The anger in his silky voice was barely suppressed, and Harry had to quickly hide his giggle with a cough and could not look at Snape. "Believe me, it sucks lemons." He sighed, stood, and strode over to the young teenager and tapped him lightly on the shoulder before turning to leave. "No going back, Harry. It's final."
