I didn\'t want to do it.
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Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
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Views:
737
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
737
Reviews:
1
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.
I didn't want to do it.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter\'s universe is the sole intellectual property of JK Rowling, and I make no money from my dalliances in it.
“I didn’t want to do it.”
It was all Snape had said since we reached our hiding place. He slumped against the door after it was shut and warded, and stared off dumbly in shock. Admittedly, it wasn’t the most eloquent thing he’d ever said, but I understood what he’d lost in Dumbledore. To have to kill the man who saved you is a terrible burden to even conceive.
After he did finally get up though, a few hours later, he sat on the old dusty couch with his head leaning back over the edge, his eyes shut. I just watched him, in my own form of shock after my entire life was ripped from me.
Now, though, it’s been three days with no word from the Dark Lord. There have been no words between Snape and I, and I wonder if he’s gone insane. He kills rats with a satisfied gleam in his eye, and then fries them up to make sandwiches. He doesn’t leave his bedroom except to use the kitchen, and I doubt he’s used the toilet since we arrived.
I sleep on the couch in case someone fire-calls during the night. I almost hope someone will so I can ask to leave. Snape’s behaviour is so erratic I almost fear to call attention.
******************
We’ve been here a week. A week, and it’s only gotten worse. There is a terrible odor emitting from Snape’s room now, and I don’t think he bothers to cook the rats anymore. I don’t leave the couch except to use the toilet and kitchen. I hide under my blanket whenever I hear Snape move around the house. He’s taken to looking at me strangely, and I think if he can’t directly see me, he won’t even think of me.
******************
I wake up to a sharp pain at my neck. I see a small blade there, Snape leaning over the back of the sofa and me. His tongue is sticking out in concentration like I’d seen a dozen times while he brewed in his office. Somehow this looks far more demented.
“I didn’t want to do it.” He says with sad eyes, and the blade runs across my throat.
I don’t realize the cut is deep until I feel warmth gather on my shoulder where the blood falls. I open my mouth to say something, to shout, to do anything but lie here silently.
Nothing comes out. Snape is looking right through me as he cuts into his jugular vein. His blood pours down and splatters onto my chest. The last thing I hear before darkness envelops me is:
“I didn’t want to do it.”
And all is lost.
“I didn’t want to do it.”
It was all Snape had said since we reached our hiding place. He slumped against the door after it was shut and warded, and stared off dumbly in shock. Admittedly, it wasn’t the most eloquent thing he’d ever said, but I understood what he’d lost in Dumbledore. To have to kill the man who saved you is a terrible burden to even conceive.
After he did finally get up though, a few hours later, he sat on the old dusty couch with his head leaning back over the edge, his eyes shut. I just watched him, in my own form of shock after my entire life was ripped from me.
Now, though, it’s been three days with no word from the Dark Lord. There have been no words between Snape and I, and I wonder if he’s gone insane. He kills rats with a satisfied gleam in his eye, and then fries them up to make sandwiches. He doesn’t leave his bedroom except to use the kitchen, and I doubt he’s used the toilet since we arrived.
I sleep on the couch in case someone fire-calls during the night. I almost hope someone will so I can ask to leave. Snape’s behaviour is so erratic I almost fear to call attention.
******************
We’ve been here a week. A week, and it’s only gotten worse. There is a terrible odor emitting from Snape’s room now, and I don’t think he bothers to cook the rats anymore. I don’t leave the couch except to use the toilet and kitchen. I hide under my blanket whenever I hear Snape move around the house. He’s taken to looking at me strangely, and I think if he can’t directly see me, he won’t even think of me.
******************
I wake up to a sharp pain at my neck. I see a small blade there, Snape leaning over the back of the sofa and me. His tongue is sticking out in concentration like I’d seen a dozen times while he brewed in his office. Somehow this looks far more demented.
“I didn’t want to do it.” He says with sad eyes, and the blade runs across my throat.
I don’t realize the cut is deep until I feel warmth gather on my shoulder where the blood falls. I open my mouth to say something, to shout, to do anything but lie here silently.
Nothing comes out. Snape is looking right through me as he cuts into his jugular vein. His blood pours down and splatters onto my chest. The last thing I hear before darkness envelops me is:
“I didn’t want to do it.”
And all is lost.