Rating, Warning, etc: R, contains language, m/m sexual tension, and a lot of
darkness
Pairing: Snape/Lucius, Snape/Lupin (sorta-kinda-not-really)
Archive: If you want it, you can have it.
Spoilers: PoA and GoF
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they are property of other people, I mean no harm.
Summary: Severus Snape reflects on how he got to where he is now. Original, hmm? :)

I was happy once. Hard to believe, I'm sure, the common idea is that Severus Snape came to Hogwarts as dark as midnight, but it isn't true. Did I know a variety of curses? Yes. I read about them. The books on them weren't so hard to find back then. But knowing curses no more made me a dark wizard than knowing recipes would have made me a master chef. But none of that really matters. The fact is, I was a happy child when I boarded the Hogwarts Express.

Of course, that didn't last for very long. I came from a small school, in a small area. I was now at one of the largest schools in Britain, and I soon myself to be quite an outsider. Schoolyard politics are a funny thing; when you're eleven years old, the leaders are not who can be the most convincing, but who can be the most intimidating. Sirius Black was, hands down, the most intimidating person out there. How is intimidation shown? Picking on the smaller, the weaker, the *different*. And who found themselves the smallest, weakest, most different first-year in the school? Five points to your house if you figured out it was me.

I was mocked for my hair, my nose, my height. I had textbooks knocked away from me, other texts I had borrowed from teachers torn or thrown in the mud. The professors turned a blind eye, muttering "Boys will be boys." I still
wonder how so many adults could have been so callous. Had they forgotten what it was like to be a child? Or perhaps they had never been on that end of teasing, maybe they didn't have the experience to understand that it's
not just something you can ignore, it hurts, especially when you're that young. I was smart enough not to go running to the professors for help. Instead, I found my own solutions. I leaned very quickly how not to be a target. Generally, if they don't hear you, they won't see you. I learned not to speak up with answers in class, not to speak to anyone at meals, to just go about my business as silently as possible and keep to myself.

It worked. For four years, it worked. Black found better people to pick on and I scraped by under the radar. But then I got used to it. Like a fool, I tricked myself into believing that the teasing was over. I allowed a bit of myself to show through the walls I had built. I tried to make friend with Remus Lupin. Now granted, this was not as horrifically stupid as it sounds. We were forced to sit near each other in history, and all I did was say hello every once in awhile, try to add my own shy remarks to the conversation. He even encouraged me a little, smiling at me, responding when I talked to him.

Then, Black caught wind of what was going on, and all of a sudden, I found notes pinned to my bed, my room mates telling me they "weren't comfortable sharing a room with me." And there were the charms to make my clothes turn pink, and my hair being dyed into a rainbow while I slept, and after awhile the pieces fit. Oh, how they fit. You can sometimes blow off insults which have no basis in reality, you can hold onto the knowledge that you at least know the truth. It is much harder when the comments are true, when Black and Potter are tossing words like "nancy boy" and "fag" in your direction, and you know they're true, that the way you look at their friend is wrong, so very very wrong, and the people are right about you, and there's nothing you can do about it.

I've always seen inner strength as a candle. It gives off light, but that light can die. That night in my sixth year, when I learned that Lupin was a werewolf and was warned never to tell anyone, as if I was some sort of monster who would go around spilling other people's secrets, I felt the light inside me flicker and fade. Then, as I fumed in the Slytherin common room, a hand descended onto my shoulder, and I turned to look into crystal blue eyes, and the light came back. But it was a sickly light, dependant on the blue of those eyes to keep it glowing.

I have no doubt that Lucius Malfoy knew that I fell in love with him the moment I saw him, I know that he knew the power he had over me. He had to know, because he strung me along so well. He nudged at my walls until he got in, he became the first person at Hogwarts to talk to me, to act like he cared about me. He twisted his way into my cracks, into the places that still screamed that being harassed and teased and ignored wasn't fair, and he told me of someone who would appreciate me, who would never allow me to go thorough that pain. And I believed him. I put my trust in Lucius, never doubting him, even as the person Severus Snape used to be drowned in his blue, blue eyes.

I graduated Hogwarts, earning the highest marks in the school on my NEWTS. Two years ago, I would have purposely done only average on the test to avoid attention, but Lucius told me to have pride in myself, so I did. After graduation, Lucius brought me to Voldemort, claiming I would be an asset to the Death Eaters. And I was. I had long before noticed the smile Lucius would give me when I did something that pleased him, and I would do anything for that smile. After awhile, he started to encourage me, touching me sometimes when I wasn't expecting it, always leaving me with the hint that if I was only the slightest bit better, he would have more for me. And dear God, I believed him. I melted under his touch and tried so hard to be what he wanted.

But I was a fool, such a fool. Because while I was in the middle of poisoning an innocent Muggle family, Lucius married Narcissa Malfoy. I was nineteen. I came home, wanting to tell Lucius what I had done, wanting him to be proud of me, and I found them together. And I ran.

I have never been an athlete, and I ran out of energy in some field in the middle of nowhere. I collapsed on the ground, panting for breath. It hit me all at once. I had been nothing more than a pawn to Lucius, a toy to be manipulated and thrown away. I had spent the majority of the past three years doing all I could to gain the attention and affection of Lucius, and it had all been for nothing. He had killed my soul, my passion, my heart. I only had one thing left, and I clutched it to me like a security blanket. I still had my walls. I went to Hogwarts that night and told Dumbledore about the events of the past three years. He seemed alarmed by my utter calm and sent me to spying on Voldemort and his activities. After Voldemort's apparent demise, Dumbledore got me a position teaching at Hogwarts. And still, all I had were my walls.

Walls are usually built to protect, though, but there was nothing inside my walls. The child who had come to Hogwarts all those years ago had faded away, murdered by my fellow students and buried by Voldemort. I did not care anymore, I couldn't. I became sarcastic, bitter. I was a shell of a person, defenses protecting nothing. I couldn't bring myself to feel real emotion, even Lupin stirred up nothing but a dull and distant ache. But over the years, I learned something very important. Nothing ever really dies. The boy I used to be made me hostile to the Griffyndors who all reminded me of Black, my adoration made me favor the Slytherins that reminded me of Lucius. Especially Draco, who looked so much like his father that I could never look at him for too long, afraid I would be lured back into the lies.

Nothing ever really dies. Not even evil. Voldemort is back now, and I am again a spy. I don't know who I'm doing it for this time. Perhaps this is my last stab at gaining Dumbledore's acceptance, something I never found as a student. I'm certainly not doing this for myself. Because left to my own devices, all Lucius would have to do is snap his fingers and I'd go crawling back to him, still craving his love. I would have the sense to hate myself for it, but Lucius Malfoy owns my soul, and we both know it.

I used to be happy, although sometimes even I don't believe that anymore.