This story is told from Severus Snape's point of view…

No One Would Care

I, Severus Snape, am at home with my abusive parents in the middle of August. I go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and am in my sixth year there. However much fun you think that it would be to go to a school for magic, it is not fun at all. Not when there are a group of four people who always pick on you just for being different. Just for understanding, and maybe even practicing the Dark Arts. They don't understand…. They don't get that I had to learn those spells to help me protect myself from my parents, but then again, I guess perfect Potter, Brilliant Black, Wonderful Remus, and that other one wouldn't understand that there are people in the world that do not have a perfect life. But, I guess that there is nothing that you can do to change that, especially when all of the foolish teachers at Hogwarts would rather side with the Golden Four than with greasy, soon to be sixth year student who studies the Dark Arts. Now that you know about me, I will tell you my story.

I sit here in my room, my face pressed against the cold, cloudy window that is by now covered in a thin coat of fog. I stare blankly into the distance, not even noticing all of the animals scurrying back into their homes, knowing that a storm was soon to come. This, even though it was unusual in the summer, did not change anything in my thoughts. A squeaking sound that came from inside of the house caught my attention though, so I turned my head so I was now looking at the corner of my room, into the darkness of the shadow there, and noticed that it was just a rat. Most people would shriek about something like that, me however, feels sorry for the rodent. I know how he feels. Small compared to rest of the world, misunderstood, has to take to the shadows just to protect itself, and most of all, feels like he will break if someone just grabs them in their grimy hands and just pulls.

I was snapped out of my reverie when I heard the shout of my mother and the quiet, but deadly, rumble of my father's voice. My breathing increased suddenly, and I crawled into the corner where the rat is. I tried to quiet my breathing, so my "parents" didn't know that I was there, but they always know. The door slammed open, and I heard the door straining not to detach from the hinges. My Mother was the one to find me, looking in the most obvious place that any 16 year old child who did not have any time to think would go.

She tightly grabbed my shoulders and threw me to the floor in the middle of the room. I landed with my newly scarred cheek against the cold, wooden floor with my knees and legs beneath me.

"Stand up," my father commanded in his famous, "if you don't do what I tell you to do, you will get hurt much worse than if you do" voice.

I quickly, but painfully scrambled to my feet, staggering slightly since I got up a bit too fast.

Without waiting for me to regain my balance I heard two different voices shout the same curse, one of the three unforgivable ones, not that they care.


I quickly felt the excruciating pain that came with this spell and my screaming drowned out the sound of the happy laughter that emitted from my parent's mouths.

They left the spell on for some amount of time that seemed like a life time to me. I felt trapped in limbo, not quite dead, but not alive anymore either.

Soon, the spell stopped altogether as my torturers lifted the curse, and left me to deal with the after affects. I remained standing with a defiant look on my face as they simultaneously left the room.

Then, and only then, did I slump down to the floor, my breath ragged and coming out in pants. I curled up into a ball, trying to ignore the images, feelings, and sounds that resounded off of the walls of my brain of past tortures that THEY had put me through.

I tried to take my thoughts off of the unforgivable curse that someone like me, who is connected to the dark arts, would not even use on another. Not even the Marauders. I thought of school starting again in a few days and could not decide which torture was worse. The ones here, in my own house, by my own parents, or by my peers. I never came to a conclusion as my eyes slowly closed and I drifted off into a restless sleep, haunted by nightmares of past events.

Starting of the Feast

I sat down at the Slytherin table as usual, away from everyone, including the most popular group of Slytherins, Malfoy and his gang. They did not even seem to notice that I was there, so I was content. That was until Dumbledore had finished his beginning of the year speech, and before I could even start eating, the four people that I would have liked to have ignored for the rest of the year came by, all with their wands raised. No one noticed them since everyone was talking to their friends about their summer, so they didn't have anything to worry about.

"Well, if it isn't the greasy git Snivellus." Potter said with a sneer to his tone.

"Hm… I guess even during the summer he doesn't take a shower. That's disgusting!" Pettigrew, I think his name was, said.

"Can't you guys just leave me alone for once" I asked them, slightly, but not really pleading with them.

"Aww, it looks like Snivellus wants us to leave him alone. Yeah right!" Sirius said with a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Before anything else could have happened, Dumbledore had once again stood up and the plate cleared. He told everyone of their own respective houses to follow their respective prefects, and to head on to bed, since tomorrow was Monday.

The students in Slytherin followed our prefect towards the dungeons where our common room waited for us. After a few minutes walk down the cold, dark, damp dungeon we arrived and the prefect said the password "Salazar" but it did not register in my mind and it came up with a better idea.

No one wanted me around, so I would commit suicide. Some people might be thinking, how can there be no one that cares for me, but it is true. People of the other houses hate me to the very core of their being, since I am interested in the dark arts, not the defense against them, especially Potter and his gang, but that doesn't really matter to me. The teachers hate me for the same reason, and they think that I talk back to them to much just because I say that their information is wrong, even though it usually is. Dumbledore does nothing to help me in any of these situations. He would rather help out the Golden Four, and he always does, so that tells me that he doesn't care. Even the people in Slytherin just see me as being the person that can help them with a lot of their homework, so my death wouldn't matter.

With this thought in my head, I walked into my dorm room, and found my trunk, and located the one thing that I had been looking for, and even awaiting the touch of, a silver knife with a deep blue handle. The blade was curved to make it easier, really to cut meat, but in my case it would help just the same when cutting my skin.

I quickly and stealthily stowed it into the pocket on the inside of my robe and nonchalantly walked out the dorm and out of the common room, up the stairs, and wandered the castle, using my heightened sense of hearing that came from straining to hear if my parents were coming down the hall to check if anyone was coming. I made it to my destination, the astronomy tower, without anyone noticing me. I don't know why I went so far from the common room. No one would notice that I was missing, or if they did, they wouldn't care, so the thought left my mind.

I quickly took the knife out of my pocked and held it in my right hand. Not wanting to waste time I impaled the blade into my left arm until it was imbedded in a few inches deep. No blood had come yet, so I took the knife by the blade, wanting more blood to leak freely onto the floor, and roughly pulled it out so the red wine of my body came out, flying, almost, onto the wooden ground beneath my feet. I knew that it wouldn't take much more to have me die by blood loss, so I crawled onto the floor, and closed my eyes while tracing all different parts of my body with the tip of the blade wanting more of the juice of my body to seep away from me, leaving me in pain, though not caused by another. I soon realized that my breath was getting ragged and I found my throat closing up and understood with a satisfied grin on my face that one of the next few breaths would be my last. And I was happy! Not just the fake show that you put on for kind relatives, but the really one where you felt like jumping up for joy, though this would be impossible for me, seeing as how, now, I had passed on, to who knows where.

This is how my body was found the following morning by our head of the house, which had been told that I had not gone back into the dorm last night. He had looked everywhere for me, though I did not know that, nor did I care. He brought my bloody body to Dumbledore's office and told him that that was how I was found.

The old git, Dumbledore, arranged a ceremony to commemorate my name, though many people did not come. Potter and Black and their gang did show up, though, but they looked pleased that I was gone. I watched from above as they imitated the way that I used to act, but now I really don't care, because I had fulfilled my greatest desire, and that was to leave that horrible life behind, though I am not sure what to expect from this new life, in heaven, but I hope, and I think that it has to be better than life was down there…

I am really sorry if this story sucked, but it was really a spur of the moment thing. You know if a plot bunny bites you, you just have to write the story. Also, I tam truly sorry that people are OOC, but please don't tell me that Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter would not imitate someone who was dead and make fun of them, because I already know. So if you would be so kind as to review, I would greatly appreciate it! (Please don't leave a flame though!) Thank you!