First to Fall
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,837
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,837
Reviews:
0
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.
Inspiration
Chapter 3 - Inspiration: A fucking internal monologue
Rated: R
Pairing: Harry/Severus &or Rabastan, Others/Various
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
Harry figured that he should have just went back to sleep this morning and not gotten involved with reality today. Waking up to the loud music that resonated through everything in the house and a distinct feeling that something just wasn't quite right on the inside should have notified him that today was going to be one of those days.
Those days when he couldn't remember what happened to make the person screaming at him scream at him. Days he traveled through in a haze of only the slightest coherence.
It was no surprise when he walked into the living room of his shared apartment that the guy with the blue tinged hair that was always screaming at him everyday was actually screaming at him. Deciding not to upset the monotony of the relationship with one of the two familiar voices in his life, Harry went about screaming the insults that his brain seemed to have pre-recorded.
Maybe it wouldn't have been so stupid, maybe he wouldn't be so stupid feeling if he could just remembered what happened yesterday or what happened the day before. He knew things, but he didn't specifically remember his memories.
All he could seem to know about the man he was currently arguing with was that he was always there in the mornings, he was angry when waken in the mornings, they fought and he stormed out before lunch, and would come back eventually. It wasn't exactly a relationship, it wasn't exactly a life.
Harry was confused and confused so much that he didn't have a clue as to how he should go about getting rid of his confusion. He felt as if he were trapped in a story book with only one chapter that was continuously being read over and over repeatedly. He remembered his life, he remembered people and places, but he couldn't remember the details anymore.
Harry wanted to scream. He wanted to rant to somebody. He wanted to tell someone what was going on, but every time he would start to tell the only wizard in the vicinity that something was very terribly wrong, everything would just go blank.
He would only find himself waking up to the man with blue tinged hair yelling at him while the damned stereo blasted out screaming nonsense. Then the man would storm out after grabbing the blue duffel bag that was always stashed in the corner beside the door.
Harry could have kissed Dumbledore when he turned to find the man standing in his door. Hell, he would have even given that greasy bastard a big wet one right on the lips! There were the two best people in the world that he knew at recognizing something was wrong magically. The professor would recognize he was under a spell or Snape would recognize that some potion was being used on him. Someone would recognize something! They just had to.
Harry opened his mouth ready to shout his joy at seeing the group that had come to rescue him.
The words that spilled from his mouth, however, were not exactly what he had been trying to say. He kept forming the thoughts in his mind, but as they traveled to his mouth it was as if something was blocking him. As if his physical body was being controlled by something or someone else and he was merely a spectator in this conversation.
The lies that spilt from his mouth disgusted him. What the fuck was the gibberish he was going on about. The tale was just cruel to be a lie. He fought as his body got up to retrieve a black letter from a table in the kitchen. He fought as hard as he could to get the slightest hint across to his old professors that something was seriously wrong.
When he resumed sitting he was even more disgusted that no one noticed. Not a single one of them noticed that something was wrong with Harry. Did they really not remember him enough to realize that he would never speak this way about something? Did they really believe he had changed so much?
When a man walked in and gave a smug smile at what was taking place in the living room, Harry vaguely recognized him. When the man slipped over and casually stopped the spell that was about to be cast, Harry knew that he had seen this guy before. He began to immediately dislike him.
The way the man grabbed his face and proclaimed him high as a kite made him even more pissed and he wished that he could control his foot just for a moment so he could deliver a good kick in the balls. This guy was one hell of a lying son of a bitch.
Fuck it all if Dumbledore and his other rescuers weren't eating out of the man's hand.
Damn it! Look at him! Look at Harry you fools! Just take a good look, get your head out of that guy's ass and realize that something is more than fucked up about the situation.
Harry's internal frustrations were cut short by the man offering him to his rescuers. Well, hell, at least something went fucking a-okay today. Maybe he could some how get this bunch of jerk offs to realize that something was wrong, or maybe if he just didn't do exactly what he did the day before like he was doing today then tomorrow he wouldn't be so confused and everything wouldn't be so wrong.
He could convince Dumbledore that he wasn't high and killing himself, that everything he had told them was some fucked up fabricated lie to scare them, and he could cuss them six ways passed Tuesday for believing that damn guy.
God damn it! God damn him. When he looked back over his shoulder if that fucking duffel bag wasn't blue and that fucking son of a bitch didn't have blue tinged hair.
Rated: R
Pairing: Harry/Severus &or Rabastan, Others/Various
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
Harry figured that he should have just went back to sleep this morning and not gotten involved with reality today. Waking up to the loud music that resonated through everything in the house and a distinct feeling that something just wasn't quite right on the inside should have notified him that today was going to be one of those days.
Those days when he couldn't remember what happened to make the person screaming at him scream at him. Days he traveled through in a haze of only the slightest coherence.
It was no surprise when he walked into the living room of his shared apartment that the guy with the blue tinged hair that was always screaming at him everyday was actually screaming at him. Deciding not to upset the monotony of the relationship with one of the two familiar voices in his life, Harry went about screaming the insults that his brain seemed to have pre-recorded.
Maybe it wouldn't have been so stupid, maybe he wouldn't be so stupid feeling if he could just remembered what happened yesterday or what happened the day before. He knew things, but he didn't specifically remember his memories.
All he could seem to know about the man he was currently arguing with was that he was always there in the mornings, he was angry when waken in the mornings, they fought and he stormed out before lunch, and would come back eventually. It wasn't exactly a relationship, it wasn't exactly a life.
Harry was confused and confused so much that he didn't have a clue as to how he should go about getting rid of his confusion. He felt as if he were trapped in a story book with only one chapter that was continuously being read over and over repeatedly. He remembered his life, he remembered people and places, but he couldn't remember the details anymore.
Harry wanted to scream. He wanted to rant to somebody. He wanted to tell someone what was going on, but every time he would start to tell the only wizard in the vicinity that something was very terribly wrong, everything would just go blank.
He would only find himself waking up to the man with blue tinged hair yelling at him while the damned stereo blasted out screaming nonsense. Then the man would storm out after grabbing the blue duffel bag that was always stashed in the corner beside the door.
Harry could have kissed Dumbledore when he turned to find the man standing in his door. Hell, he would have even given that greasy bastard a big wet one right on the lips! There were the two best people in the world that he knew at recognizing something was wrong magically. The professor would recognize he was under a spell or Snape would recognize that some potion was being used on him. Someone would recognize something! They just had to.
Harry opened his mouth ready to shout his joy at seeing the group that had come to rescue him.
The words that spilled from his mouth, however, were not exactly what he had been trying to say. He kept forming the thoughts in his mind, but as they traveled to his mouth it was as if something was blocking him. As if his physical body was being controlled by something or someone else and he was merely a spectator in this conversation.
The lies that spilt from his mouth disgusted him. What the fuck was the gibberish he was going on about. The tale was just cruel to be a lie. He fought as his body got up to retrieve a black letter from a table in the kitchen. He fought as hard as he could to get the slightest hint across to his old professors that something was seriously wrong.
When he resumed sitting he was even more disgusted that no one noticed. Not a single one of them noticed that something was wrong with Harry. Did they really not remember him enough to realize that he would never speak this way about something? Did they really believe he had changed so much?
When a man walked in and gave a smug smile at what was taking place in the living room, Harry vaguely recognized him. When the man slipped over and casually stopped the spell that was about to be cast, Harry knew that he had seen this guy before. He began to immediately dislike him.
The way the man grabbed his face and proclaimed him high as a kite made him even more pissed and he wished that he could control his foot just for a moment so he could deliver a good kick in the balls. This guy was one hell of a lying son of a bitch.
Fuck it all if Dumbledore and his other rescuers weren't eating out of the man's hand.
Damn it! Look at him! Look at Harry you fools! Just take a good look, get your head out of that guy's ass and realize that something is more than fucked up about the situation.
Harry's internal frustrations were cut short by the man offering him to his rescuers. Well, hell, at least something went fucking a-okay today. Maybe he could some how get this bunch of jerk offs to realize that something was wrong, or maybe if he just didn't do exactly what he did the day before like he was doing today then tomorrow he wouldn't be so confused and everything wouldn't be so wrong.
He could convince Dumbledore that he wasn't high and killing himself, that everything he had told them was some fucked up fabricated lie to scare them, and he could cuss them six ways passed Tuesday for believing that damn guy.
God damn it! God damn him. When he looked back over his shoulder if that fucking duffel bag wasn't blue and that fucking son of a bitch didn't have blue tinged hair.