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Meditation with Flies by Gina R Snape [Reviews - 11]


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Subject: Severus Snape

Title: Meditation with Flies
Rating: PG
Pairings (if any): none
Author's Notes: Severus Snape, age 15, meditating on the state of his life. Time started:
2:38pm Time ended: 3:08. Blimey, 30 minutes goes fast! I did cheat and came up with the
title afterwards

Disclaimer: I make no profit off this fic. I had no beta on this fic. 'Tis the nature of this
challenge. Please read and review.

****

The Headmaster told me to sit alone and meditate, perhaps that would help. But it's not. It's
the problem, really. I sit alone, a lot, and think, a lot, about everything. About all of them, out
there, and me, in here, in this room, in this body, in this mind, in this reality.

So to clear my mind I zap some flies. Avada Kedavra isn't illegal when used on flies. What else
am I to practise on? Bloody things only have a 3-day life span anyway.

It's so nice to be gawked at one moment, invisible the rest. It was like that at home. Father
would yell at mother, not knowing or not caring that I was in the next room, or sometimes in
the same room. I hated when he was home. On especially energetic days the wand would
come alive with hexes. Has nobody noticed in 15 years that I return from that house with hex
marks bigger than dinner plates all over my body? It takes days to heal. I suppose I should
see Madam Pomfrey about them. But whatÕs the use. They go away, but they don't stop
coming.

I've grown tired of crying. Grown men don't cry, and I am a man now. I have the body hair
and daily morning erections to prove it. Not that I've got anyone to show this physical proof.
Because I'm invisible, remember? At least, invisible when I'm not being gawked at or mocked.

Father was well chuffed the day I stopped crying after my mother's daily mental torture.
"Finally, some silence out of that boy!" he said one day. He'll be crying soon, though. When I
stopped crying, I started watching. And listening. And learning. I've learned nearly every hex
he's used on us over the years now. Soon he'll get a taste of his own medicine. At least I can
practice on Potter and his little gang of sunshine boys. Managed a quick shot at Bertha Jorkins
last week, damn her for messing with us. Florence was the first bloody girl to pay any attention
to me at all in, oh, forever, and that prissy little nosey thing Bertha had to come along and
disrupt the first moment of pleasure and peace I am afforded in ages. Now Florence is
frightened of me for my fast reflexes. Didn't know I knew so many hexes, did she? I thought
the whole school knew by now.

Ah, but I wouldn't be hexing her, the dear girl. Not when I could be stroking and fondling and
pleasuring her in so many ways. I know she liked it. I felt the damp heat between her legs
with my own hand. She pulled me into the bushes. She took my manhood in her hands. She
whispered "Severus, oh if the other girls only knew what lies beneath those robes. You're my
little secret, Severus. You're so good. YouÕre so smart, and sweet and shy."

Why am I to suffer because my father is a bastard and I have lightening-quick reflexes? Why
am I to suffer because I was too weak and mistreated to handle a broom until long after the
other boys? Those marauders, up to no good yet they get away with everything.

Snivellus gets detention for lack of a winning smile. Well, what have I got to bloody well smile
about?

I thought school would be an escape. But instead I think it is my destiny to suffer. To be alone
and despised and mocked and ignored. I watch them, watch them all. Friends carousing in the
hallways. Passing notes in class. Snogging in the rose bushes with every girl---they'll all be
paired off before long. Sitting at meals with friends.

I don't even get the attention I deserve in my own house. "Oh Severus, you're so smart," they
say. "Can you spare us your notes? Can you brew us a love potion? Can you hex that nasty
Ravenclaw who won't shut up in Herbology?" But where are they come Hogsmeade weekend?
Where are they when I need something? Not that I need anything, or anyone. I can take care
of myself. Only Bellatrix seemed to understand that. And she's gone now. Finished her
NEWTs and married that LeStrange. Joined that movement I've been hearing about. Got
herself a wicked new wand and a hidden tattoo.

I sit alone in the library, and wait. My day will come. I know how to wait, and watch. The
Headmaster says I should learn to share my feelings. No, rather I learn how to hide them. Far
more useful, I think, to keep them away from others. What will it help me to hand over my
heart and soul on a silver platter? In fact, the Restricted Section has a very interesting book on
hiding one's feelings, and reading others'. It's the single most practical thing I've found in here
all month.

I must have zapped fifteen flies sitting here. What in MerlinÕs name has died in this room?

No matter. Next week is the full moon. I think it's time I found something else useful out
about where sunshine Potter's little lackey goes when the moon comes up. I think it's time to
plan, indeed. I think it's finally time to catch those little wankers at their game. I need a little
reward in this life. Lord knows it would be the first time.

THE END

Please review.

Meditation with Flies by Gina R Snape [Reviews - 11]


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