Music in our veins

MUSIC IS IN OUR VEINS

-CHAPTER ONE-

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any HP characters, they belong to JK Rowling.

NOTES: IMPORTANT! I am ignoring HBP. I am going to pick some facts out of the books and ignore some events. Hopefully it will turn out to be something good. I am pretty sure you’ll like it if you like both hetro ‘n‘ slash, bi, music, and fights. It will be some alcohol and drugs. This is a both dark and light story.

It might be a bit confusing first, but this story starts at scratch and will build and grow into something huge. It will involve everyone we have seen so far but mostly Severus, Draco, Harry slytherins and some marauders. (not sure about that one yet) For more information email or check out my live journal.


INFORMATION: www.livejournal .com/draycious review answers, info etc

EMAIL AND MSN: black_moore@hotmail.com


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CHAPTER ONE

Severus Snape was lying wide-awake in his bed, thinking of everything and nothing and all. Sleep didn’t seem to find him easy these days. He’d even stopped drinking tea, hoping it would help him be able to sleep. Well, it didn’t. He still couldn’t sleep no matter what he did. It was really starting to get frustrating and that in turn lead him to be in a bad mood, much too the horror of the first years at Hogwarts. The term had started two weeks ago and he already felt worn out. He was still spying for Voldemort, or so people thought. Personally he wasn’t so sure anymore. In truth he wasn’t exactly sure about what he tried to accomplish, or if he was trying anything at all. He was going through a thought period of self doubt and doubt of others. For the first time in his life he didn’t know what he wanted. He’d always been strong headed and he’d always known what he wanted to do. He used to have a very clear picture in his head of how he wanted thing to be and he didn’t stop working until the reality matched that picture. Right now all he saw was a black hole, no, it wasn’t even black. It was frigging blank!

Groaning he turned around in his huge black bed and lay on his stomach. He wasn’t the only onewho had doubts concerningloyalty. A certain Harry Potter had been acting up and caused lots of trouble for Dumbledore when he went to the papers and told everyone how Dumbledore was a lying asshole. Snape snorted down in his pillow when he remembered what was written in the article. He alsoremembered a certain quote that told him a lot about the boy but that others (that weren’t spies) wouldn’t look twice at.

“You know, sometimes I wish I could have it my way for once. I haven’t been myself for ages and they won’t let me play Quidditch, I haven‘t played for ages!” That seemed like a typical thing a self-absorbed complaining brat would say, and everyone thought Potter had meant he hadn’t been himself in ages because he hadn’t played quidditch, but those two things were two entirely separate statements made into one, a very clever thing of Potter to say. He told everyone the truth but yet no one recognized it for what it really was. It was complicated but brilliant. Something he actually had to give the boy credit for. No one would know what he actually had said unless someone was looking for that particular things which was…

Well, Severus wasn’t exactly sure what to make of it but he was pretty sure he’d gotten some ofit right. Potter said he hadn’t been himself in ages, pretty much stating that the “golden boy” image was nothing but a façade. Therefore that left Severus to think of who he really was, who he might be. The boy had many strange sides and he was positive that he hadn’t even seen half of them yet. He was also intrigued by the words “I don’t know anything, in fact everything seems so fucked up. I’m not sure of anything anymore. Everyone is lying and keeping secrets, and you know there’s a saying that goes ’there’s two sides to every story’."

Severus took that as a statement that Potter was confused about his loyalties. Perhaps he could put his spying skills into motion and figure out what the boy was up to. The interview had been a total shocker. He didn’tthink Potter had it in him to go out in public and throw shit at Dumbledore, no matter how much deserved it was.

Severus sighed and sat up in bed. There was no use trying. Instead he reached down underneath his bed and grabbed a notebook from the floor. He also took a muggle pen since they didn’t tend to get messy with ink. He crossed his legs and sat Indian style in the dusk inside his bedroom in the middle of his bed. It looked like he was meditating, even more so since he only wore a pair of black silk pyjama pants. He stared at the paper a while before scratching away over the paper. He composted a song. He’d always liked writing songs and he was pretty good at it too. It wasn’t light songs; they were dark and everything from rock to metal. He tried to write down how he felt right now, andcompareit to howhe feltwhen he was younger. He had never been a carefree person and he knew he was sometimes close to suicide, but he never did push himself over the line. He was depressed through; he had only just admitted that to himself. He didn’t realise thathe was before. Now he wished he’d just let his feelings be instead of analysing them. It just turned shit anyway. The big turn around, when he first began to analyse his feelings, had been after a particular rough death eater meeting when the dark lord had captured some order members and tortured them before killing them off. Every death eater in the two closest circles around the dark lord had been there and watched, participated. Even Severus. He could do nothing to save them. That had been two months ago and he still wasn’t over it, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be. He didn’t let anyone know about his current state of mind through, and no one suspected a thing. They just thought he was a greasy bitter old man. That wasn’t true either. He wasn’t greasy, not really. He just didn’t care about what others might think about him. There was only him, and no one else. Nothing else matters, no one else mattered. Severus thought about all this and tried to but some of his feelings into words. It wasn’t easy but after many scratched words he managed to make something that he kinda liked. It went like this:

READ IT ALL BECAUSE IT’S IMPORTANT, or else you won’t understand everything else.

Only

I'm becoming less defined as days go by
Fading away (you might say) I'm losing focus
Kind of drifting into the abstract in terms of how I see myself
Sometimes I think I can see right through myself

Less concerned about fitting in to the world
Your world that is because it doesn't really matter anymore
None of this really matters anymore

Yes I am alone but then again I always was, as far back as I can tell
I think maybe it's because, because you were never real to begin with
I just made you up to hurt myself, and it worked. Yes it did

There is no you, there is only me
There is no fucking you, there is only me, only

Well the tiniest little dot caught my eye
And it turned out to be a scab
And I had this funny feeling like I just knew it's something bad
I just couldn't leave alone

And I kept picking at that scab
Like it was a doorway trying to seal itself shut
But I climbed through

And now I'm somewhere I am not supposed to be
And I can see things I know I really shouldn't see
Now I know why and now I know why
Things aren't as pretty on the inside

There is no fucking you, there is only me, only

Is this really all there is?
Is this really all there is?


(Written by Trent Reznor, Nine Inch Nails)


He sang it quietly to himself before he threw the notebook onto the floor and let himself fall backwards into the soft pillows. He turned his head to see his digitally clock shining green, telling him it was 04:59. Great, I am supposed be up in only three hours and I am still not asleep.
His first class started by 08:30 this Tuesday morning. He didn’t dare take a sleeping draught either because there had been a time in his youth when he had become independent of them. He just didn’t want to go through all that again; trying to stop taking the draught. The thing was that he started using mild sleeping draughts but with time his body got used to them and then he had to take stronger and stronger onesuntil he was in danger of stopping his own heart during sleep because the draught were so strong that it made all his muscles sleep too, including his heart and lungs. It had been a real bitch trying to lay off and it hadn’t been an easy thing to do either. Thinking back he couldn’t remember much of the time either. He only remembered feeling like his brain had been packed in a several layers of cotton, his mind wasn’t working at all and his vision was blurry. He also remembered intense pain coming from everywhere when his body screamed for the draught while he denied it. And then there was the aches and shakes and throwing ups. It was almost like he’d been on some real drugs that would damage his brain. The sleeping draught couldn’t cause any permanent damages, but it could do damage for the time being. Such as not being able to concentrate or listen, even see.

Never again, he thought. Tomorrow he decided to start analysing Potter. Maybe he would find something interesting.