Chapter One- What It Feels Like To Drown Without Water: Part One
AN: Disclaimer: I own nothing. I would say I own the idea, but it's fanfiction. Everything's been done. We only try to do it better.
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And in answer to Guest who wanted to know when I'll update: Hopefully every weekend. I actually wanted this chapter to be longer, but it's in 1st Person, which makes it that much harder for me (Harry's a guy and I'm a girl.) I wanted to write it this way, because in the future this is the POV I want to write my own, original stories in, but that also makes it harder to write right now. I'm trying to improve my writing skills. So, anyway, this is the first part of the chapter. The second part will be here next weekend. Sorry for such a long answer for a simple question. I'm trying to update frequently and do a good job. Really. I am.
Harry POV
When Snape barged in the room, I think I took it pretty well considering I was halfway out the window.
"Umm...I-ugh-wh-who-erm-mayb-."
"For Merlin's sake, Potter! Can't even talk right, can you?" Snape said.
I wasn't really sure what was happening now. "I can talk!"
"Not eloquently." He drawled. "Now get out of the window before I curse you."
I figured I should probably do just that because a: My wand was in my trunk, and b: My trunk was downstairs.
Snape started rummaging through my things, throwing Dudley's oversized flannels on the floor and breaking the spines off several elementary How-To-Books while I stood uselessly to the side.
"I want to know who you think you are and what you're doing as well as when you're going to leave." I said, sounding braver than I was. I was mostly confused.
He paused. Looked at me. "Going amnesiac are you? I've only been your professor for four years."
I scowled. "Dropped by for tea then, sir? Can't say any of my other professors have done that."
Snape stood tall and rigid, his robe billowing in non existent wind and completely bat-like. I wondered not for the first time if it was charmed to do that. Picturing Snape getting up early every morning to spell his robes to keep his image.
"I'm not staying."
"Obviously." That wasn't the right thing to say. Snape rounded on me, a steely look in his eyes.
"I'm here on the Dark Lord's orders, Potter. And I'm making it look like you put up a fight. I'm going to be punished later for making it a mess, but it's more realistic this way." He sneered. "It's more like what Dumbledore's Golden Boy would do. Fight even when you're outnumbered."
Maybe it was his sneer or maybe it was the fact that I'd been digging this metaphysical hole all summer and was feeling claustrophobic, but I bit back. "Well you would know, wouldn't you? As opposed to being a deatheater and being outnumbered everyday, I rather like being Dumbledore's Golden Boy."
Snape snapped, drawing his wand and silencing me with one swish, flick, and jab. "You, Potter, would do well to watch your tongue." With each consonant he took another step towards me until I was forced to stumble back.
He stopped. "Do you still want to know what I'm doing here?"
I nodded and he took off the spell.
"I'm going to kidnap you."
My heart stopped. "...I-what?"
"And tell me, Potter...who do you think is going to save you? Because I sincerely hope you've learned how to save yourself."
I doubted he really hoped that. If he did why would he be there? It's one thing to think your Potions Professor is working for Voldemort. It's another thing to know.
His words echoed in my head like a Quidditch announcer or that song everyone hates but can't get out of their head.
Who do you think is going to save you?
Ever since I was eight and broke my arm, only to go to the doctor two days AFTERwards, I'd pretty much stopped depending on my aunt and uncle. And since Cedric, who's the third person to die because of me, I'd pretty much stopped depending on anyone. I hadn't even been reading my friend's letters that summer.
I know, I know. You're probably thinking, "What? Taking the only good part of your life for granted? How many people have to die for you before you realize they're not dropped onto this world solely to do your dirty work, you prat." So let's get things straight, okay?
1- I'm not even going to mention the prat part. People call me names all the time. I was getting pretty used to it, actually. Nice try, though. I'm sure it will make someone else cry.
2- I knew my friends were the only thing I had going for me. Believe me, I knew. Without them, I was just some loser who couldn't do anything right.
And 3- I wasn't talking to them, because I did realize that. And because I did care. And...because I didn't want to kill anyone else. I never wanted anyone to die for me. Promise.
(It hurts...it hurts a lot)
At any rate, I thought Ron and Hermione realized I wasn't going to reply, because once Sirius sent a letter to verify that, yes I was alive, and no, I wouldn't tell him what's 'going on' because I was literally doing nothing, the owls had stopped coming.
For the first time since I was eleven, I felt alone. I'd never been so terrified that I was doing the wrong thing. I mean...what if they got hurt anyway? Ron's whole family was obviously on the light side (or right side haha) and Hermione was a muggleborn and-
No. I didn't regret anything. I couldn't.
(Because if I did...I think I just might have let go)
And honestly? I didn't really want to do that..
"Potter? I'm waiting... but I suppose you're used to people waiting on you, aren't you? So much like your father it's pathetic, really." Snape drawled.
I started. "Snape...er, sir." I said. "You don't really work for Voldemort, do you?"
Snape scowled and smoothed his robes, a nervous habit I hadn't ever picked up until he wanted me to.
"And where did you get that idea, Potter?" He spat.
"Because if you did I would already be dead, sir." I said, copying his speech pattern.
Snape stopped himself from ripping up my photo album, his eyes on the cover photo. "Potter," He said softer than I thought possible. "No matter who I work for or how ill you feel about me, will you listen to me?"
I paused and leaned against the wall. 'I'm not sure I-"
"Trust." Snape said. His dark eyes played with the shadows against his face before meeting mine. "Do you trust me?"
I swallowed. "It's not that I don't trust you, it's that you've never given me enough reason to."
All at once he was back to being the Snape I knew. With a snarl in my general vicinity, he scowled once more. "It's not my job to make up your mind, Potter. It's my job to make it that much harder."
And with that, everything went black.