Black Onyx... Chapt.1
This is a story I started to write a while ago...
It turned into a Harry/Snape...
Black Onyx
Rating: M
Summary: Snape is an arrogant bastard.
CHAPTER 1
I once heard a tale of a man
Who split himself in two.
The one part never changed at all;
The other grew and grew.
The changeless part was always true,
The growing part was always new,
And I wondered, when the tale was through,
Which part was me, and which was you.
- ORSON SCOTT CARD
THE GOD WHISPERS OF
HAN QING- JAO
----------------------------------------
He can feel it in his bones. Like a thousand daggers ripping through his heart and destroying him over and over again…
But he won’t die.
He never does.
‘I want to die.’
The thought has never occurred to him.
Not surprising. To want to die from pain was pointless.
Might as well do something before you become just another corpse taking up the ground or being burned and leaving a horrendous smell.
“Get up.”
His body detests him for obeying.
“Turn around.”
His heart is trying to stop beating.
“Scream.”
‘I want to die.’
Sometimes he just wishes that it will happen…
But it never does.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“… Oh really? And why should we trust a snake like you?” The man that sits across the table has only but one eye. The other is a round ball of blue. His face marred all over.
An Auror.
Dark, onyx eyes dull. No more light. No more soul. Too tired for a man whose passion landed him in Hell…
“ Well, you could choose to believe me or you can suffer the guilt of a hundred dead children.” No more sneer, no more smirks.
Nothing.
The Auror says nothing and glares.
“And what makes you think that these children are in trouble. Except the fact that you interpreted such thoughts from your Master?” a woman no older than her twenties scathingly asks. Her bleach blonde hair turning pink.
The onyx darkens to nothing.
“That is for me to know and you to mind your own business.” Quietly spoken, the voice of a man who will not be taken for a fool.
That simple declaration is all it takes for a long argument to issue.
And after awhile no one notices as the dark dull onyx leaves the room.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
No will show. He’s been here hiding for an hour watching the children play in the Courtyard of the orphanage. Children who are of every size and race. Children who know nothing of evil and are scared by merely a spider.
Children who are not born to Darkness and Death.
Children who are about to die.
An hour and not one soul will believe him. Not one soul will stop the Massacre that is about to happen.
Simply, because it was he who said it.
The sounds of screaming fill his ears. The sounds of the children crying, and maternal caretakers screaming.
The world is cruel.
But the man knows that.
He knows that because his entire life was full of that. The bullies, and the abuse that no child should have to go through.
Closing his eyes, he can still hear it. Still smell the stink and taste the burning souls as they take flight from the bodies.
He can still hear the small screams of children who should never have to scream like that.
But he won’t cry.
He can’t.
He cannot allow weakness. He has no weakness. He is strong. Stronger than any other human being he has ever met.
But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to.
That doesn’t mean that as he crouches in this darkness, that he doesn’t want to risk it all and save the children.
The children who still scrawl their names. The ones who can barely pronounce their “Sh” without mixing it up with “Ch”.
But he must stay strong.
He must be as cold as their statue of Christ. The one who lies on the cross for days, bleeding to death for a cause he believes in.
For he is a man who knows, there is no good or evil… there is only what feels right and what feels wrong.
The screams that fill his ears feel wrong.
But staying behind in the shadows feels right.
He can see the tears that don’t want to fall.
And he dies a little inside.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
No one has come.
But when it becomes apparent that the Death Eater’s have had their fill, the onyx eyes come out of the shadows.
Walking out of the shadows, the onyx man glides towards the orphanage.
No thoughts. No emotion.
Nothing.
Picking up the lifeless bodies he moves them to lay next to each other in the Courtyard.
For an hour he does this.
The lifting of every tiny body, placing them in the Courtyard.
Aligning the small baby like limbs to the chest. Closing each pair of horrified eyes.
Even when he hears his name, he cannot stop.
“Severus?”
Even if that person who spoke the name is trying to pry his fingers from holding onto a little girl with black hair… her small baby like clothes ripped in shreds. The blood dripping down her small porcelain thighs.
Even if the tears refuse to come and the eyes refuse to show the pain that he might’ve known had he the emotions.
He continues to look as though ice was freezing him.
They didn’t come.
And he hated them…
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He could feel the stares at his back. But there was no need to turn around to see their animosity.
Why should he?
They didn’t believe him.
Why should he turn around if only to face the accusations in their eyes?
Why should he have to defend himself?
Why should he have to give reasons to live anymore?
Why should he not sleep…
Forever more.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The bright green emerald eyes flare out at him. Anger.
But the black onyx doesn’t care.
He does not react as he’s called a filthy Death Eater.
Doesn’t look at the face of a boy whose hatred tears at his conscience…
No, he only waits for his Saviour to come back and save him from these stares.
He awaits for the arrival of his new Master.
He doesn’t react when the fist connects with his jaw. Or when he goes down on his knees as the kicking to his face and torso starts.
He uses that same god- awful non-feeling ice that he uses for the ‘Crucio’.
The taste of copper is in his mouth. And the beating has stopped.
Another lonesome soul crying reaches his heart.
And for the first time since he was remotely human… he holds that other soul.
Cradling that tired and sad soul to his heart.
Severus Snape is not weak.
The Head of Slytherin, will not be weakened.
Not ever.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SITTING
The degree of nothingness
Is important:
To sit empty
In the sun
Receiving fire
That is the way
To mend
An extraordinary world,
Sitting perfectly
Still
And only
Remotely human.
-Phyllis Webb
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“How old are you?” the question is spoken with caution.
Looking up into the face of a man whose good- natured features are more worn for tear than his own… Black Onyx is silent.
Then,
“Ancient.” One word. So many meanings.
The other man says nothing. His grey hairs that stand out from his brown hair glisten in the sunlight.
The sadness in his heart is nearly reflected in his eyes.
And the smell of envy is reaching his senses. The overpowering envy that the man with the cold hard stare has for his open emotion.
“Why did you let Harry hurt you like that?” well, curiosity does kill the cat.
Silence.
“We all need to hate something.”
Astonishment, as the other man gets up to leave.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you were to tell a man that Severus Snape loved… was an excellent lover.
Would they believe you?
Perhaps not.
But being an Ex- Death Eater, the only spy this side of the war they had. They kept tabs on him. Not letting him out of their sights and fore tailing him whenever it deemed appropriate.
Not that the snarky bastard knew it.
That was the general thought that most of the members of the Order thought about it.
Especially the one who was watching him tonight.
The dragon tooth earring dangling in the dim light.
But there was no thoughts going through his head as he watched one of the men he loathed.
No thoughts as he watched the cold irreproachable Potions Master, enchant without magic.
The slow seduction as he moved on the dance floor of the Muggle establishment.
The dancing partners coming to him as though he was a magnet. Or like he was a polar icicle that desperately needed to be heated up.
The genders ranged from all sorts. Big women, young boys. Black, blue hair.
Everyone in here wanted him. Wanted his cold unyielding eyes to be unfocused in desire as he looked at them. Wanted those vampire like teeth to sink into their flesh and claim them into a dark abyss…
Wanted to feel the gentle and rough hands… wanted to warm the cold flesh with their own passion.
Wanted to feel lust as an art like this man pins his desires on.
The red haired man in the corner with the dragon tooth earring watches this. Deciding to get drunk as fast as possible.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Another week. Another day. Another hour.
Will it not end for me?
Will I not feel anymore?
Will another body in my bed not warm me?
I am tired.
I am old.
I am nothing.
No longer even remotely human….
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
Finale.
It turned into a Harry/Snape...
Black Onyx
Rating: M
Summary: Snape is an arrogant bastard.
CHAPTER 1
I once heard a tale of a man
Who split himself in two.
The one part never changed at all;
The other grew and grew.
The changeless part was always true,
The growing part was always new,
And I wondered, when the tale was through,
Which part was me, and which was you.
- ORSON SCOTT CARD
THE GOD WHISPERS OF
HAN QING- JAO
----------------------------------------
He can feel it in his bones. Like a thousand daggers ripping through his heart and destroying him over and over again…
But he won’t die.
He never does.
‘I want to die.’
The thought has never occurred to him.
Not surprising. To want to die from pain was pointless.
Might as well do something before you become just another corpse taking up the ground or being burned and leaving a horrendous smell.
“Get up.”
His body detests him for obeying.
“Turn around.”
His heart is trying to stop beating.
“Scream.”
‘I want to die.’
Sometimes he just wishes that it will happen…
But it never does.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“… Oh really? And why should we trust a snake like you?” The man that sits across the table has only but one eye. The other is a round ball of blue. His face marred all over.
An Auror.
Dark, onyx eyes dull. No more light. No more soul. Too tired for a man whose passion landed him in Hell…
“ Well, you could choose to believe me or you can suffer the guilt of a hundred dead children.” No more sneer, no more smirks.
Nothing.
The Auror says nothing and glares.
“And what makes you think that these children are in trouble. Except the fact that you interpreted such thoughts from your Master?” a woman no older than her twenties scathingly asks. Her bleach blonde hair turning pink.
The onyx darkens to nothing.
“That is for me to know and you to mind your own business.” Quietly spoken, the voice of a man who will not be taken for a fool.
That simple declaration is all it takes for a long argument to issue.
And after awhile no one notices as the dark dull onyx leaves the room.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
No will show. He’s been here hiding for an hour watching the children play in the Courtyard of the orphanage. Children who are of every size and race. Children who know nothing of evil and are scared by merely a spider.
Children who are not born to Darkness and Death.
Children who are about to die.
An hour and not one soul will believe him. Not one soul will stop the Massacre that is about to happen.
Simply, because it was he who said it.
The sounds of screaming fill his ears. The sounds of the children crying, and maternal caretakers screaming.
The world is cruel.
But the man knows that.
He knows that because his entire life was full of that. The bullies, and the abuse that no child should have to go through.
Closing his eyes, he can still hear it. Still smell the stink and taste the burning souls as they take flight from the bodies.
He can still hear the small screams of children who should never have to scream like that.
But he won’t cry.
He can’t.
He cannot allow weakness. He has no weakness. He is strong. Stronger than any other human being he has ever met.
But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to.
That doesn’t mean that as he crouches in this darkness, that he doesn’t want to risk it all and save the children.
The children who still scrawl their names. The ones who can barely pronounce their “Sh” without mixing it up with “Ch”.
But he must stay strong.
He must be as cold as their statue of Christ. The one who lies on the cross for days, bleeding to death for a cause he believes in.
For he is a man who knows, there is no good or evil… there is only what feels right and what feels wrong.
The screams that fill his ears feel wrong.
But staying behind in the shadows feels right.
He can see the tears that don’t want to fall.
And he dies a little inside.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
No one has come.
But when it becomes apparent that the Death Eater’s have had their fill, the onyx eyes come out of the shadows.
Walking out of the shadows, the onyx man glides towards the orphanage.
No thoughts. No emotion.
Nothing.
Picking up the lifeless bodies he moves them to lay next to each other in the Courtyard.
For an hour he does this.
The lifting of every tiny body, placing them in the Courtyard.
Aligning the small baby like limbs to the chest. Closing each pair of horrified eyes.
Even when he hears his name, he cannot stop.
“Severus?”
Even if that person who spoke the name is trying to pry his fingers from holding onto a little girl with black hair… her small baby like clothes ripped in shreds. The blood dripping down her small porcelain thighs.
Even if the tears refuse to come and the eyes refuse to show the pain that he might’ve known had he the emotions.
He continues to look as though ice was freezing him.
They didn’t come.
And he hated them…
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He could feel the stares at his back. But there was no need to turn around to see their animosity.
Why should he?
They didn’t believe him.
Why should he turn around if only to face the accusations in their eyes?
Why should he have to defend himself?
Why should he have to give reasons to live anymore?
Why should he not sleep…
Forever more.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The bright green emerald eyes flare out at him. Anger.
But the black onyx doesn’t care.
He does not react as he’s called a filthy Death Eater.
Doesn’t look at the face of a boy whose hatred tears at his conscience…
No, he only waits for his Saviour to come back and save him from these stares.
He awaits for the arrival of his new Master.
He doesn’t react when the fist connects with his jaw. Or when he goes down on his knees as the kicking to his face and torso starts.
He uses that same god- awful non-feeling ice that he uses for the ‘Crucio’.
The taste of copper is in his mouth. And the beating has stopped.
Another lonesome soul crying reaches his heart.
And for the first time since he was remotely human… he holds that other soul.
Cradling that tired and sad soul to his heart.
Severus Snape is not weak.
The Head of Slytherin, will not be weakened.
Not ever.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SITTING
The degree of nothingness
Is important:
To sit empty
In the sun
Receiving fire
That is the way
To mend
An extraordinary world,
Sitting perfectly
Still
And only
Remotely human.
-Phyllis Webb
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“How old are you?” the question is spoken with caution.
Looking up into the face of a man whose good- natured features are more worn for tear than his own… Black Onyx is silent.
Then,
“Ancient.” One word. So many meanings.
The other man says nothing. His grey hairs that stand out from his brown hair glisten in the sunlight.
The sadness in his heart is nearly reflected in his eyes.
And the smell of envy is reaching his senses. The overpowering envy that the man with the cold hard stare has for his open emotion.
“Why did you let Harry hurt you like that?” well, curiosity does kill the cat.
Silence.
“We all need to hate something.”
Astonishment, as the other man gets up to leave.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you were to tell a man that Severus Snape loved… was an excellent lover.
Would they believe you?
Perhaps not.
But being an Ex- Death Eater, the only spy this side of the war they had. They kept tabs on him. Not letting him out of their sights and fore tailing him whenever it deemed appropriate.
Not that the snarky bastard knew it.
That was the general thought that most of the members of the Order thought about it.
Especially the one who was watching him tonight.
The dragon tooth earring dangling in the dim light.
But there was no thoughts going through his head as he watched one of the men he loathed.
No thoughts as he watched the cold irreproachable Potions Master, enchant without magic.
The slow seduction as he moved on the dance floor of the Muggle establishment.
The dancing partners coming to him as though he was a magnet. Or like he was a polar icicle that desperately needed to be heated up.
The genders ranged from all sorts. Big women, young boys. Black, blue hair.
Everyone in here wanted him. Wanted his cold unyielding eyes to be unfocused in desire as he looked at them. Wanted those vampire like teeth to sink into their flesh and claim them into a dark abyss…
Wanted to feel the gentle and rough hands… wanted to warm the cold flesh with their own passion.
Wanted to feel lust as an art like this man pins his desires on.
The red haired man in the corner with the dragon tooth earring watches this. Deciding to get drunk as fast as possible.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Another week. Another day. Another hour.
Will it not end for me?
Will I not feel anymore?
Will another body in my bed not warm me?
I am tired.
I am old.
I am nothing.
No longer even remotely human….
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
Finale.