A/N: Firstly THIS HAS POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR DEATHLY HALLOWS! You've been warned, aight? Secondly...bagh, I broke down and wrote Harry Potter because the last book was the best book of the series(content wise and technical writing wise!) So here is a random bit of Snape angst. Poor bug. Read and review please!

::Thank you so much to whitehound for pointing out the typos and such!::

He's tired of the beatings. He's tired of constantly having to prove himself. He's tired of not fitting in. He's tired of fighting to keep his head above the water. He's tired of lying away bruises and making up stories to cover pain. He's tired of being the half-blood Slytherin with the crazy mum. He's sick of pretending he likes things that make him feel bloody filthy inside.

He walks into the room, clutching his arm and sneering. The sneer is tempered with pain and years of practice. Now he can sneer whenever he needs to, no matter how he feels. He can laugh at people who get hexed and jinxed even when it isn't funny. He can lie better than anyone else, and no one knows when he's lying or telling the truth anymore. Not even him.

Maybe that's why Lilly can't be friends with him anymore. Maybe that's why she likes James Potter more then she likes him. Because James smiles and sneers and scowls only when he feels like it, and he never needs to be false. No, The Gryffindor 'Golden Boy' never needs to be false. He already belongs somewhere, and, what's more, he never needed to belong anywhere. Snape's not like that. He needs to belong somewhere--anywhere.

It's the beginning of his seventh year, and no one believes him a true Slytherin. No one, not even the younger students, gives him any respect. No one thinks 'Snivellus' is anything but a spineless coward with no stomach for the glorious Dark Arts. He's just a diseased smear that makes friends with Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. That's all his is. A diseased smear on the good name and reputation of Slythrin.

He'll show them different.

"Well, well, if it isn't Severus Snape," a cold voice sneers. "Had a good time communing with the mudbloods and traitors, half-blood?" Snape looks at his fellow Seventh year, Mulciber. Mulciber has taken over the tormenting of Snape ever since Lucuis Malfoy graduated.

Snape lets a smile curl his lips that isn't very friendly. It looks much like Malfoy's contemptuous smile, actually. The one that says you are dirt beneath his highly polished little shoes. "No," Snape rasps. He clears his throat, releases his throbbing arm, and tosses his head a little. He looks Mulciber in the eye and knows he's done the one thing the students here are hesitant to do. He's beaten them in their pursuit of their beloved Dark Arts.

"No, I was getting this," he says calmly. He pulls his sleeve and reveals the painful red mark for Mulciber to see. Mulciber's eyes widen, and he steps back. He looks at Snape with shocked eyes and his mouth works silently for a few moments.

Snape smirks back and pulls his sleeve back down. He leaves Mulciber there, mouthing words of shock and awe to himself. He knows his days of being tormented by the other Slytherins are over. He knows no one will dispute his place among them now. He also knows he's condemned himself to a life of acting like someone he is not, or someone he's not sure he wants to be, at least. He knows he's lost Lilly for sure this time--not that he ever had her to begin with.

Snape walks off to his dormitory. The room is blessedly empty. He locks the door magically behind him with a spell no one else in his year will be able to undo. He drops onto his bed and clutches his burning arm to his chest. He curls his knees up to his bowed forehead and breathes ragged breaths. He knows the hot tracks on his face are tears and he knows he can't stop them.

He's Severus Snape: the Death Eater, the half-blood Slytherin, the actor, and the ex-best friend of Lilly Evans, and he's bloody sick of himself.