Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize is mine. It mainly belongs to the goddess JKR or an awfully long list of people.... If you like it, review and feed my soul. And since we don't need to hurt each other, if you don't like it, don't tell me ! Flamers will be adopted by my family (if you don't believe it's a threat... too bad for you !) This was test-read by Elena, Queen of Slytherin and Sarah *and* beta-ed by Venus4280. I thank you my Sweets! You're warding my personal Dementors off my flat!

Failure

How could you know ?

How could you understand ?

I've been teaching for so long now that the children of my very first students are starting to arrive, year after year. I do not need to frighten those: their parents have already warned them against me.

I am the much dreaded Hogwarts' Potions master.

The Slytherin.

Even the students of my own house fear me.

Those who respect me... Those, per decade, I can count on one hand.

I suspect that some of the parents remember or have been told who my friends were when I myself attended the school. Some must have put two and two together and they suspect my activities as a Death Eater...

It took me years to perfect my look and craft a dreadful reputation.

I dress in black for two reasons: I have discovered that it intimidates most people (especially since I am so tall and can loom over them). The other reason betrays a personal weakness: *I* feel so invisible and secure wearing that colour.

My skin is naturally so pale that my wearing black added to my staying indoor produces a complexion which looks unhealthy.

I have also invented a sort of cream I put on my hair: it protects it against the potions fumes, but makes it look greasy. I keep it as long as I can stand it as well.

One of the few times I ventured into a Muggle district, I noticed the look on the face of a lady when she witnessed a thug spitting in the street. Though she and I were both repulsed, I adopted that horrid habit to generate the same feelings of disgust around me.

I am sharp, cunning.

I can be extremely fast and I *know* how to kill with words.

Some Slytherins do not even dare look at me or ask for advice.

I've been working hard on my isolation.

I want to let no one into my life.

I can trust no one. I never could.

How could you know that all this certainly started before my birth ?

How could you understand that I've never wanted to be a follower of Voldemort ?

Make no mistake. As a Death Eater, I have killed. Even tortured once or twice.

There was so much anger in me against those Aurors who permitted my own family to prey on me that when I've had the occasion to avenge my lost innocence, in a very twisted way, I took that opportunity.

My most beloved family did everything to please me. But only according to their own standards.

I've been brought up in silk and satin.

Admired and praised as long as I was conforming to their model and their philosophy. As soon as I started to ask questions, they corrected me. Oh! Don't be misguided. I have *never* been beaten. It's vile and only good for the House Elves... No. They used words to punish me.

"Singing is totally useless, child. Besides, you have the voice of a toad. Go back to your books and do something useful!"

"Potions ? What for ? Work on the Dark Arts."

Words, imprinting obedience in my flesh, my bones. My soul.

Words. To control me and my life.

And they succeeded.

Even when I rebelled, years too late, Albus Dumbledore thought he was doing the right thing by giving me a "second chance". A second chance for what ? To suffer in another way ?

Now my family loathes me, and strangers would hit me if my long sleeves were not hiding the Mark of my obedience, to the Dark Lord *and* to my own blood.

How could a child have resisted to that ?

Even if people knew now, they would find ways I could have used to escape and they would give me endless reasons not to *obey*... A path I could have chosen...

What choice did I have ?

My past. My history cuts me from the others. Even if I had saved the Potters or brought Voldemort to his end, for most people, I would still be a Death Eater who belongs in Azkaban. How could they believe that I was not affected by the Dementors when I was there before my trial ? I had not a single happy memory at the time.

Today, my only crumbs of... not being unhappy occur in my Potions Lab. That's my only true gift from Albus Dumbledore. I don't even have to see or interact with other people there. I can lick my wounds and wait for death. Maybe one of my clumsy students will succeed in killing me someday...

Yet, even in that relative haven, I can still hear *their* voices. Telling me what a failure I am. Telling that not one of my actions was ever worthy, that I am nothing. Whatever I did or do, it's never enough...

I can hear them by day and I dream of them at night.

God. I want to die...

No! I don't!

I want some peace, some quiet. Control over *my* life...

I want *them* to shut up.

Pretty please.

How could you know ?

How could you understand ?

End