Never Say I Love You

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but Alana Blueridge (My very first OC!) Although if Miss Rowling ever decides to give me Severus Snape as an early birthday present, I wouldn't say no to that! XD

WARNING: Mentions of RAPE, NON-CON, VIOLENCE, OOC-ness (Told in first person POV)

RATING: M for Language, Mature Situations and Sexual Content

SETTING: During the First War. A few months before Voldemort's demise.

A/N: Before I begin, let me say first that there are a lot of wonderful, great authors out there that I cannot even compare myself to. So thank you for deciding to spend your time reading one of my stories. It is such a great feeling for a neophyte (in posting stories online) that you choose to support my endeavors. I promise to deliver to the best of my abilities. Enjoy!

A/N 2: This is my first attempt at writing smut/lemons XD. I don't know if this would qualify as that but this definitely has a plot (whew!) So, not all chapters will contain M-rated content. I will let you know before the beginning of each chapter if there is something to worry about :) I don't usually do OC's but this is just what my crazy shrink ordered (a.k.a. my muse) to cure the writer's block that I am experiencing with my other stories. So dear ladies and gentlemen, I have wasted too much of your time reading this unbelievably long A/N. Without further ado, I present, Chapter One of Never Say I Love You. Read and Enjoy. Reviews are welcomed!

Chapter 1: Black and Green

01010101010

(Alana's POV)

My name is Alana Blueridge. In the world that I now live in, pedigree is important. So, let me say first that I am a half-blood. My father, I was told, was a very prominent pureblood; my mother was just one of his many conquests. I was orphaned at the age of seven for my mother had died of heart complications. She never saw my father after their one night of passion until she had died. Neither did I.

I had no other living relatives for my mother was an only child, so were both her parents. She never mentioned my father's name either, not that I was interested to know anyway. I was sent away to an orphanage after her death. It wasn't much to talk about that is, until I began showing signs of magic. I never knew before that it was called that. All the other kids just called me weird. I hated it but I knew deep inside that I was special.

One day, a kindly old couple came in, wanting to adopt. I was eleven then. I shrugged as all the other kids put on their best behavior. I couldn't care any less; nobody would want a weirdo like me.

But to my surprise, old Mrs. Blueridge sat beside me while I painted a picture of tulips. It was one of my true passions, painting. She said that she liked the picture I was sketching. I smiled and thanked her. That day I came home to my new family; that day I willed myself to forget about my weirdness; that day I became Alana Blueridge.

My new father and mother had been childless for so long before they had decided to adopt me. Father ran a small bookshop with mother as his assistant. Together they have nurtured me, loved me and completed my early tragic life. I have never been happier my whole life; that is until that ill-fated day came.

It was the day of my 18th birthday. Mother made my birthday cake and father had closed the shop early to celebrate. As I blew my candles, the front door of our little cottage burst open. Men in black robes and silver masks went in an began wreaking havoc. My kindly old father tried to stop them, but his age already made him too frail to put up a fight. Before I knew it, one of the masked men shot a bright green light from the stick he was holding towards my father; and just like that, he fell down on the floor, his eyes opened in horror, dead. My mother suffered, not a different fate, as soon as she knelt down to check on my father, another masked man shot her with a bright green light. She fell on top of my father's body, hugging him –dead. I stood frozen in my spot. The man, the one who had killed father smirked evilly at me.

"What, muggle, never seen magic?"

Magic? Is that what it was? I could do magic before, I wanted to tell the bastard that but, I was too scared at that moment to even move. I just glared at him. He pointed his stick at me.

"What, don't tell me you aren't scared of me," he snarled. "See this, little girl? This is my wand. I can make you hurt or even –" he glanced at the dead bodies of my parents.

"You bastard!" I yelled and spat on his masked face.

"Why you –" he lowered his wand. "Let me show you how much of a right bastard I am!"

He ripped off his mask and began assaulting me. I did not see his face or the others of those who came with him. I kept my eyes closed as he began ripping into my clothes. At that moment I willed myself to just die right then and there –or at least go numb. I hear those around me, laughing, cheering, taunting. I feel hands, lips, teeth, tongue –all over me. Before that day, I have never even been kissed. I muttered a silent prayer as a tear escaped my shut eyes. And then, I heard him.

"Release her, at once!"

The voice was commanding, firm, but soothing at the same time. The hands that were pinning me down were removed after that order. Still, I kept my eyes closed.

"Aw, come on, Severus, can't we have just a bit of fun?" I recognized the voice as that of the one who had just violated me.

"The Dark Lord does not spare your sorry lives to have fun!" It was the man they had called Severus. "His orders were strict; to get supplies and nothing more!"

"Severus, we are getting supplies," another taunting voice said. "Our supply of filthy muggle playthings." A chorus of laughter came.

"Yeah Severus," it was again the man who assaulted me. "Look at this bitch," I assume he was referring to me. "She's almost too good to be a muggle. I'll share her with you after I'm done with her." Laughter came on again. I cringed as I felt somebody approach. I readied myself for the groping and pulling and biting that I was sure would come next upon my being. I heard a couple of footsteps by my side. But nothing came next. There was silence.

"Open your eyes."

There was that firm voice again. A part of me wanted to defy his command, but at that point, it seemed that my body had a mind of its own. I opened my eyes. It was then that I saw him.

I found myself down on the ground, staring into a pale, strong but gentle face. I thought he couldn't be more than a few years older than me. The man had inky black hair that nearly reached his shoulders. His pale lips were drawn into a thin line, his nose prominent, his eyes were like the starless evening sky; it's almost as it I can see my own emerald eyes mirrored in them. The moment I stared into those eyes, I was drawn; I began having flashes of memories in my head –the death of my real mother, my life at the orphanage, my first sign of "weirdness" at seven, the day I was adopted, my first crush, my first heartbreak…

And then it stopped. I was once again staring into the man's seemingly fathomless eyes. He seemed troubled at what transpired. He moved away and turned his back on me.

"That is because," he spoke, addressing those who were present. "She is no muggle." He moved towards the doorway as the others parted in his wake. Surprised gasps rand all around.

"But –but –" It was the man who assaulted me, I saw now that he had a rounded face and straw colored hair. He was staring at me like I had grown an extra head or something. I quickly slipped my tattered shirt back on.

"But what, Avery?" the man with the black hair and the black eyes looked back. "Not smart enough to notice your own kind?"

"I did not know Severus, I swear!" The man called Avery pleaded. "This –this a muggle neighborhood and –"

"Clearly, you were not using your head! All of you!" The man called Severus spat out.

"But Severus, still, we cannot just let her go, that's not how we work! Muggle or not! She already knows of our identity. What if she goes to the Ministry?" Another man, this time with red hair asked. A number of others murmured their agreement. I held my breath as black eyes met my green ones. I sent him a silent prayer, a plea.

"Take her with us, but do not touch her. Let the Dark Lord decide on what to do with her/" He then turned his back, said no more and left.

01010101010

A/N: Tell me if it's any good. I would really appreciate knowing since I don't usually do these types of things :) Until next time! – Eastwoodgirl