Mein Herz Brennt (My Heart is on Fire)
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,934
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,934
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Mein Herz Brennt (My Heart is on Fire)
Title: Mein Herz Brennt (My heart is on Fire)
Rated: NC-17 for later chapters
Pairings: HP/SS, RW/HG, NL/Other
Warnings: This will start out pretty PG but will turn into SLASH. If this is not
your cup of tea, please don\'t start reading this series.
A/N: This is a WIP. I have no idea how many chapters there will be
I\'m guessing 25 or so. Feed back would be appreciated so I
Know if this is going over well, or if there is anything I need to
Change.
A Huge Thank-you to Hanakai aka Vain Chan, for the Beta and
advice.
Disclamers: The Characters of Harry Potter belong exclusively to J.K. Rowling
and no infringement is intended. This is purely non-profit
entertainment. Musical Lyrics are from Rammstein\'s CD
Mutter and are freely translated.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
MEIN HERZ BRENNT
(My Heart is on Fire)
Royalty is made of those who know pain
From fire that burns the skin
I shine a light
In my face
A hoarse scream
Fire free.
Royal are those who know pain
From fire that in pleasure burns
A spark tossed
In your lap
A hoarse scream
Fire free
Dangerous are those who know pain
From fire that burns the soul
Dangerous is that burned child
With fire that separates from life
A hoarse scream
Fire free
• Rammstein (Mutter)
Chapter 1 Versagen (Failings)
What had begun as a misty unformed thought at the edge of his conscious during the lonely hours of his internment with the Dursleys, had cleared and assumed solid form.
He had done it. Clearly, irreversibly, without question it was definitely his fault. As sure as he was of his acursed name, he now knew this to be an indelible fact. Murderer.
He quickly squashed the moan that begged to escape his lips at the thought. If it hadn’t been for pure dumb luck, it could have been any one of the others or all of them. He had been an emotional and irresponsible puppet. Voldemort’s puppet. And he had lead his friends and his protectors into danger. Without cause. It was a miracle that only Sirius had died.
Harry pulled his legs in closer to his chest and rested his forehead on his knees, letting out a harsh choking sound. The Wizarding world had put their faith in him? It was a sick joke. He was woefully unprepared. He could blame Dumbledore for dumping him on the Dursleys’ dismal doorstep, or for keeping certain truths from him, but, when all was said and done, Harry hadn’t really wanted to be told, had he?
Maybe as a first year he could claim ignorance, and having been overwhelmed by the changes in his life. But, by the end of second year, after Voldemort’s repeated attacks, certain truths should have been self-evident. Harry was a walking target--a virtual magnet attracting the darkest evil--and he had chosen unconsciously to ignore the greater ‘why’ of that fact. He had allowed himself to be lulled by the Headmaster’s twinkling eyes and honest, yet-less-than-telling answers. Still, Harry had known, hadn’t he? In the very center of his being--in that place he had come to know, but was unable to define; there where the power he had resided--Harry had known. In this moment of absoulte stillness, away from the eyes and ears of the castle, Harry rolled the implications of that thought over in his mind. His arms gripped his knees tighter, pressing himself together against the chill of rapidly approaching night, and the burning tears he would not allow himself to release.
God, what kind of idiot was he anyway? Hermione had warned him. Shit, she had practically diagramed and outlined Voldemort’s manipulation, but Harry had barely listened. She had been exactly correct in her assumptions. If he had truly valued her friendship, he would have followed her advice better, trusted in her intelligence, logic and sound judgment. The way they had all mistakenly trusted in his. Now, when he looked in her eyes, he saw in them the shadow of his error..
Following months of painful self-examination, Harry had come to the unbelievable revelation that everything Professor Snape had said about him was true and, if he dared to look, he would see the same smirking knowledge of his culpability in those black eyes.
Snape. Death Eater, member of the Order of Phoenix, bane of Harry’s existance. God damn him to hell. There had been an Order member at Hogwarts, right under his nose, and he had dismissed the thought of going to him for help before it ever surfaced. He had allowed his unfounded distrust of the man to take precedence. In so doing, he had put everyone in grave danger and caused the death of the man his parents had loved, trusted and who had, in return, loved Harry. Was it a wonder Snape despised him? Famous Harry Potter.
The tremor that had started in his stomach and then moved like a freight train through his body had become a regular acquaintence. Harry rolled to the side and vomited violently. It was as though his body was forcibly trying to expel the grief, guilt, and pain that had accumulated in his soul. Shaking, he dug his fingers into the still warmed earth and breathed deeply the now moist and cold night air. No matter how often he vomited, he never felt empty.
The horror and shame of his self-revelation had drawn him to the Quidditch pitch every evening since his return to Hogwarts, always with the vague notion that flying would clear his mind and allow him a respite from his troubled thoughts. He’d not yet made it off the ground. On his Firebolt. Sirius’s gift. He quickly performed a cleaning spell, stood up, and once again left the pitch, disgusted, distraught, and raw with the knowledge of his own failing.
He never saw the tall dark figure watching him from the stands.
Rated: NC-17 for later chapters
Pairings: HP/SS, RW/HG, NL/Other
Warnings: This will start out pretty PG but will turn into SLASH. If this is not
your cup of tea, please don\'t start reading this series.
A/N: This is a WIP. I have no idea how many chapters there will be
I\'m guessing 25 or so. Feed back would be appreciated so I
Know if this is going over well, or if there is anything I need to
Change.
A Huge Thank-you to Hanakai aka Vain Chan, for the Beta and
advice.
Disclamers: The Characters of Harry Potter belong exclusively to J.K. Rowling
and no infringement is intended. This is purely non-profit
entertainment. Musical Lyrics are from Rammstein\'s CD
Mutter and are freely translated.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
MEIN HERZ BRENNT
(My Heart is on Fire)
Royalty is made of those who know pain
From fire that burns the skin
I shine a light
In my face
A hoarse scream
Fire free.
Royal are those who know pain
From fire that in pleasure burns
A spark tossed
In your lap
A hoarse scream
Fire free
Dangerous are those who know pain
From fire that burns the soul
Dangerous is that burned child
With fire that separates from life
A hoarse scream
Fire free
• Rammstein (Mutter)
Chapter 1 Versagen (Failings)
What had begun as a misty unformed thought at the edge of his conscious during the lonely hours of his internment with the Dursleys, had cleared and assumed solid form.
He had done it. Clearly, irreversibly, without question it was definitely his fault. As sure as he was of his acursed name, he now knew this to be an indelible fact. Murderer.
He quickly squashed the moan that begged to escape his lips at the thought. If it hadn’t been for pure dumb luck, it could have been any one of the others or all of them. He had been an emotional and irresponsible puppet. Voldemort’s puppet. And he had lead his friends and his protectors into danger. Without cause. It was a miracle that only Sirius had died.
Harry pulled his legs in closer to his chest and rested his forehead on his knees, letting out a harsh choking sound. The Wizarding world had put their faith in him? It was a sick joke. He was woefully unprepared. He could blame Dumbledore for dumping him on the Dursleys’ dismal doorstep, or for keeping certain truths from him, but, when all was said and done, Harry hadn’t really wanted to be told, had he?
Maybe as a first year he could claim ignorance, and having been overwhelmed by the changes in his life. But, by the end of second year, after Voldemort’s repeated attacks, certain truths should have been self-evident. Harry was a walking target--a virtual magnet attracting the darkest evil--and he had chosen unconsciously to ignore the greater ‘why’ of that fact. He had allowed himself to be lulled by the Headmaster’s twinkling eyes and honest, yet-less-than-telling answers. Still, Harry had known, hadn’t he? In the very center of his being--in that place he had come to know, but was unable to define; there where the power he had resided--Harry had known. In this moment of absoulte stillness, away from the eyes and ears of the castle, Harry rolled the implications of that thought over in his mind. His arms gripped his knees tighter, pressing himself together against the chill of rapidly approaching night, and the burning tears he would not allow himself to release.
God, what kind of idiot was he anyway? Hermione had warned him. Shit, she had practically diagramed and outlined Voldemort’s manipulation, but Harry had barely listened. She had been exactly correct in her assumptions. If he had truly valued her friendship, he would have followed her advice better, trusted in her intelligence, logic and sound judgment. The way they had all mistakenly trusted in his. Now, when he looked in her eyes, he saw in them the shadow of his error..
Following months of painful self-examination, Harry had come to the unbelievable revelation that everything Professor Snape had said about him was true and, if he dared to look, he would see the same smirking knowledge of his culpability in those black eyes.
Snape. Death Eater, member of the Order of Phoenix, bane of Harry’s existance. God damn him to hell. There had been an Order member at Hogwarts, right under his nose, and he had dismissed the thought of going to him for help before it ever surfaced. He had allowed his unfounded distrust of the man to take precedence. In so doing, he had put everyone in grave danger and caused the death of the man his parents had loved, trusted and who had, in return, loved Harry. Was it a wonder Snape despised him? Famous Harry Potter.
The tremor that had started in his stomach and then moved like a freight train through his body had become a regular acquaintence. Harry rolled to the side and vomited violently. It was as though his body was forcibly trying to expel the grief, guilt, and pain that had accumulated in his soul. Shaking, he dug his fingers into the still warmed earth and breathed deeply the now moist and cold night air. No matter how often he vomited, he never felt empty.
The horror and shame of his self-revelation had drawn him to the Quidditch pitch every evening since his return to Hogwarts, always with the vague notion that flying would clear his mind and allow him a respite from his troubled thoughts. He’d not yet made it off the ground. On his Firebolt. Sirius’s gift. He quickly performed a cleaning spell, stood up, and once again left the pitch, disgusted, distraught, and raw with the knowledge of his own failing.
He never saw the tall dark figure watching him from the stands.