Edge Of Gravity

Author Note_ Hey Guys…I know its been a long, long time since I updated Edge and I really, really suck for that. I wanted to I don’t know how many times but no matter how I tried to write it all seemed to fall completely flat. So, finally…finally I was able to produce a chapter that I didn’t hate immediately after writing it. I just want to say I’m sorry, and that I hope you will all forgive me for sucking so bad. Also, I am not sure if I even know my betas email address anymore, so this is only slightly proof read by a friend. Plus, I want to send a very special thanks to June W because you stuck with me,despite the fact I have been a complete pain in the ass about updating, and kept asking for them.


Severus Snape was a murderer, an executioner, a grim reaper with a scythe wielded into his fingers. He was the last sight on this earth for dozens, while they choked on his poisons, and dropped before his wand. The young man had loved the feeling of Godliness, the sentiment that each person belonged to him. Even his greatest enemies he had watched with glee, unblinking for that moment that made him vibrate inside…the moment they knew they were going to die.

The older version of that man, the hibernating monster that still felt the twinge for that moment stood inside the dungeon now. Finger stained a chalky red with Finnigan’s blood, making him grin to himself. This was the first time he was killing without use of magic; the first time he had felt like the bogeyman that everyone thought he was.

Finnigan had screeched, cried, and whimpered and was so near the edge of death that he could smell it in his Seamus’s pores. There was nothing that the young man could say, nothing he could do, just accept that Severus would not let him seep from his body until he had his fill of agony.

Each time, Finnigan had knew…Knew it was the end, Snape taught him how wrong he was. Blood oozed, puddle, stained then stopped. Skin puckered, bubbled, bruised, and tore and yet it mended itself. Seamus’s magic that he had hoarded, that he had not used on his victims trooped against him. It repaired him, restored him, and delivered into a new level of hell. After, twenty-three he couldn’t count anymore, or didn’t want to he wasn’t sure which.

“Please.” The word had formed so many times on the young wizard’s lips that Severus had picked up the pattern, the mathematics of Seamus’s pain and relished its predictability. He time and time again brought the boy to pain that the devil himself would cringe away from. The ultimate anguish. The complete suffering. The grief that leaked inside an already tainted soul to break the calluses that kept it safe. Only the raw meat of Seamus’s essence for Severus to obliterate, the way only another human could.

Snape knelt down, ignoring his body’s protest with creaking knees and shoulders. His mind was too caught up, too embedded in this feeling to allow stiff joints to end the game before he had checkmated his opponent. “Please?” He leaned forward, his spine only allowing him to bend half of what he wished before he nearly teetered onto body laying on its side. “Is that the last word you will say on this earth Finnigan? Please?”

The boy trembled against the hot breath tickling against the gashes on the side of his face and ear. Even the slight moistness of the voice burned like acid in the freshest wounds. “Please…Sev…”

Snape’s hand pushed down on the side of Seamus’s throat, making fresh blood pool out of the long cut under his jaw. It flowed onto the back of the potion professor’s hand, slide down his fingers and was ice cold from the skin before it dripped to the ground. “Begging for your life?” He knew he shouldn’t be surprised but somehow he was, somehow he figured that inside this boy, this former student, that pathetic creature he would memorize with more then distain. He was wrong.

“Please.” Blood seeped out the side of Seamus’s mouth and Snape wondered if he had bite his tongue off with the way it poured out.

Snape stared down at his hand; feeling almost tainted by the blood and squeezed the neck tight in his fingers. “You almost killed him.” His fingers tightened even further, and Seamus’s wheezed beneath him while his hands tried to pull away the grip. They kept on slipping off him like it was oil instead of blood coating the man’s hands.

Seamus face puffed up, while nails bite down to the quick tried to dig themselves into the pale skinned sadist’s arm. His mouth forming a ‘O’, as if he were a fish out of water. The only relief that was allowed was his body was already too far gone to frail and knock about to cause anymore pain.

“You almost made me lose him.” Severus watched the boy’s face, changing a rosy pink while deep freckles of red blotched his cheeks and around his eyes.

Dobby…Dobby the creature that he could never care more then a wit, or at least what he told himself, had almost perished at the hand of this nonentity. Only now, only in this second did he realize how much that he didn’t want to even watch this subordinate…this Voldermort clinger to die. He could not…would not allow to Seamus Finnigan to become part of him. He wouldn’t let the house elf see it in his eyes like the others. Never would he allow this bastard another chance to see his Dobby even if it was only a scrap that would linger in him like his other victims.

Severus closed his eyes, leaning forward his all his body. The snap of bone was loud, and hand on his wrist took to rigor mortis almost instantly locking in place. Snape could not bring himself to look down, as he stood pulling the arm and part of the body from the floor.

The fingers were cold, and all he could think is how he wanted them off. The first finger broke like a dried twinge, and inside he couldn’t rise himself enough to enjoy the pop of the fingers. Three and four…the thumb fell off him and he was free.

He stepped over the head, knowing without seeing the odd way the neck was zigzagged. The bones were too brittle, too weak to be any other way. Severus took long strides to the door, knowing without question Longbottom would dispose of the remains.
He only prayed he wouldn’t have to dispose of Dobby’s because he wasn’t sure his heart could take it.