No. 1 Black - Harry Potter: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Title: Black Eyed Abyss
Author: Evilremmy
Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Rating: Gen
Theme: No. 1 Black - Five colours
A.N. I do like messing with this Horcrux thing. *cackle*
Black. Black was what he saw. Black abyss before his eyes. Endless black on black. There was nothing to see; and nothing to feel except dull, numbness, with an edge of cold that he could feel without truly feeling. He floated in it; and it enveloped his flesh as though it were thick water. It felt almost as if - if he could move - he should simply feel as though he were trying to swim through mud, or honey.
Yet the black was fading now. Somewhere out in the distance, there was a faint outline to the black that he saw. Parts of the shape stayed darker; whilst others were highlighted. Slowly the image took on that of a blotchy, dark face; sans feature. Slowly - ever so slowly - it began to take on true features. Still the dark patches were lightening, but even then there were places the light simply couldn’t reach.
Harry found himself, in time, looking up into those black, shadow eyes; staring up into the abyss he’d been trapped within, and wondering if, perhaps, that was where he had been all along. But the sluggish feeling of post-unconsciousness was around him, and the strong scent of the blood he felt trickling over his forehead. He was on the dusty, moth-eaten carpet of Severus’ home, and Snape was leaning over him, looking - if not worried - then dismayed.
“Did it work?” Snape suddenly asked, and Harry had to strain to remember what they’d been doing before the blackness. He couldn’t remember much at all. It was as though someone had torn a part of him mind out forcefully; painfully. There was that same deep, black pit, whenever he tried to remember. Just deep shadow: overcoming him.
“Well?” Snape’s voice was more impatient now. He growled in irritation when Harry still didn’t respond, and demanded, “Speak some Parseltongue, Potter.”
So Harry tried. He tried as hard as he could. But as much as he tried to remember; it all came out in English. It was gone. Harry didn’t know if he felt grateful or empty. But at least Voldemort was purged from him: even if it did leave him feeling terribly black inside.
Author: Evilremmy
Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Rating: Gen
Theme: No. 1 Black - Five colours
A.N. I do like messing with this Horcrux thing. *cackle*
Black. Black was what he saw. Black abyss before his eyes. Endless black on black. There was nothing to see; and nothing to feel except dull, numbness, with an edge of cold that he could feel without truly feeling. He floated in it; and it enveloped his flesh as though it were thick water. It felt almost as if - if he could move - he should simply feel as though he were trying to swim through mud, or honey.
Yet the black was fading now. Somewhere out in the distance, there was a faint outline to the black that he saw. Parts of the shape stayed darker; whilst others were highlighted. Slowly the image took on that of a blotchy, dark face; sans feature. Slowly - ever so slowly - it began to take on true features. Still the dark patches were lightening, but even then there were places the light simply couldn’t reach.
Harry found himself, in time, looking up into those black, shadow eyes; staring up into the abyss he’d been trapped within, and wondering if, perhaps, that was where he had been all along. But the sluggish feeling of post-unconsciousness was around him, and the strong scent of the blood he felt trickling over his forehead. He was on the dusty, moth-eaten carpet of Severus’ home, and Snape was leaning over him, looking - if not worried - then dismayed.
“Did it work?” Snape suddenly asked, and Harry had to strain to remember what they’d been doing before the blackness. He couldn’t remember much at all. It was as though someone had torn a part of him mind out forcefully; painfully. There was that same deep, black pit, whenever he tried to remember. Just deep shadow: overcoming him.
“Well?” Snape’s voice was more impatient now. He growled in irritation when Harry still didn’t respond, and demanded, “Speak some Parseltongue, Potter.”
So Harry tried. He tried as hard as he could. But as much as he tried to remember; it all came out in English. It was gone. Harry didn’t know if he felt grateful or empty. But at least Voldemort was purged from him: even if it did leave him feeling terribly black inside.