Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Why I Hate Him	By : serpentclara Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 3760 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Future Lord Potter
- 2-How It All Began
- 1
- 2
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe, including characters and places, is
property of J. K. Rowling.

Why I Hate Him

The real reason Snape hates Harry
Potter. Dark!Harry, hints of HP/SS

Horror/Angst

*****

They
wonder why I hate him so much, why I treat him so differently from my other
students. If only they knew... if only they knew what their precious Golden Boy
is capable of. If only they knew what he hides behind that angelic Gryffindor
mask of his. For the real Potter, the Potter I know, matches the Dark Lord
himself in his cruelty. But they do not know. They have no idea.
I
believe I am the only one he allows to see him for what he truly is, the only
one to whom he shows his true colours. Not because he cares enough to trust me
- no, not at all. Actually, I suspect he feels such a hatred for me that he
could not bear hide it, and could not wait to have his vengeance on me, at the
price of revealing his true colours. Not that he has to fear I will talk. He
knows that no matter how much I hate him, and with full reason, I would never
dare tell anyone.
He
knows all too well I would never reveal what he does to me, or his plans for
the future, to anyone. Not the Order and not even Dumbledore. For I alone know
the extent of his powers, that they fully surpass those of both the Headmaster
and the Dark Lord. I am ashamed to admit it, but I am afraid of him, and it is
that fear which forces me to stay silent, to keep his secrets. I am a coward,
and he knows it all too well. And even if I was suicidal enough to tell, who
would believe me? Me, a Slytherin, a former Death Eater... The Dark Mark on my
arm is enough to guarantee they will never listen to me.
And
if even all that wasn�t reason enough, the Life Debt would hold my tongue for
me, if I ever dare open my mouth to reveal something that could endanger Him,
the son of the man thanks to whom I still live. Old magic like a Wizard's Debt
can act similarly to the Imperius curse, except that the mind stays totally
lucid while you�re physically unable to say or do something. It is the worst of
torments, the feeling of helplessness that comes with the condition, knowing
you want to do something yet your body is not yours to control to do what
otherwise you can, but cannot because of him.
I
alone know his darkest secrets; I have seen his true self. For the moment, at
least. I know he is planning to reveal himself to the world someday, but for
now, only I am aware of the darkness that flourishes under the heroic mask of
the boy who was destined to defeat the Dark Lord. Funny how that prophecy never
said a word about what he might do, or become, once he fulfils his �destiny�.
Or what would happen to the world then.
The
darkness he hides so well, it rivals that which the Dark Lord possesses. But I
alone know it, yet not even I can guess the extent of that darkness nor the
full extent of his powers. But I do know what the rest of the world does not,
even though some have unknowingly guessed at it in the past. That Hufflepuff
prefect, Macmillan, was not far in his assumptions. Too bad he too had been
blinded by the Golden Boy�s talent for acting. Honestly, the boy�s charisma
rivals that of the Dark Lord. Yet it has no effect on me, so I alone notice
things about the boy that others do not.
For
example, his yearning for power. His thirst to have the upper hand, to control
those around him. His interest in forbidden spells. I alone have seen the glint
of rapture in those green eyes as he performs an Unforgivable curse. Hell, I
alone even know the Golden Boy is capable of
casting the Dark Lord�s favourite spells, or the way he prefers the second
Unforgivable, and uses it so creatively. Apparently, Bellatrix has helped him
discover a side of himself he never knew existed. He should thank her, really.
And I'm sure he intends to do just that, to thank her in
his own twisted way - in the twisted way they (the two of them) share. She
would be proud of what she has helped him become, if she wasn�t a target of his
hatred. As she is, she will regret it bitterly.
I
alone have seen the terrifying look in those startling emerald eyes as they
freeze, cold as ice, whenever he stares upon me. I alone have seen the cold
fire of hatred blaze in those eyes, such hatred a boy his age is not supposed
to possess. Even I do not know the extent of that hatred, although I do have an
idea. After all, he does not bother hiding it from me, when he visits me at
night.
They
have no idea of the way he touches me as he forces me to my knees, and how I
shiver at the raising of his wand. His wand shares the same core as the Dark
Lord�s, and it is ironic how they also share a preference for the same spell.
Those nightly visits where he commands me and I comply, bound by my fear of
him. Sometimes I passively let him have his way, silently enduring the pain he
so likes to inflict. On other nights I plead for his mercy, bound and
restrained as he forces himself on me, staring down into my eyes in utter
dominance as I feel him slam deep inside me, making me feel I am nothing more
than a servant, a slave to his demands. Perhaps that is what I really am, I
think once he�s gone, for I cannot deny some twisted part of me enjoys this.
The same masochistic part of my mind that has pushed me into the ranks of the
Death Eaters.
My
mind-shielding skills are useless against him, for he has long since ordered me
not to use them, to open myself completely to him, unless I want to suffer even
more unimaginable pain. He makes me call him my Master, fucks me ruthlessly
under my coerced submission, wrenched from me under the Cruciatus Curse.
He
always gets what he wants. And I let him, the submissive, powerless servant he
has shaped me into. He alone is my Master, not Dumbledore and not the Dark
Lord. He alone owns me, having claimed me forcefully and never let go. And he
does not intend to let me go either. I know it, from the way he stares into my
eyes possessively and how he whispers �Mine�. I can never hide anything from
him, he is the only one who can rightfully claim to have accomplished that. And
I am his reluctant, resentful, yet obedient servant, his submissive possession.
�You will always be mine, Severus.� And I answer in the way he has taught me,
having learnt my lesson under the fire of Crucio. �Yes, Master. I am yours,
only yours.� And I speak the truth, the painful truth. I am his, only his,
whether I want it or not. I am powerless before him.
He
leans down to whisper into my ear as I writhe beneath him in unfulfilled
desire. �You like the pain, don�t you? You just can�t help it, can you? Well,
that�s fine with me, for it pleases me so to hurt you, my dear servant.�
Already,
he speaks like the Dark Lord. He has learnt well.
No
chains or ropes restrain me at this moment, yet I cannot move my hands from
where he has them pinned above my head, for hours now. His power is such that
he does not need a spell or even an incantation to keep me locked in place, he
simply wills it. It is his willpower that is the base of his strength, the
strength he overpowered the Dark Lord with when he was only fourteen. My body
is not mine to control when he�s with me - it is his thoughts, his desires, his
will that commands it. It is almost as
though his spirit were possessing my body, only it isn�t, because I am entirely
aware of my every action even if I have no control. I can only watch - and
feel.
For
him, I lie to Albus, inventing Death Eater meetings to justify my frequent
visits to the Hospital Wing, to explain the provenance of the after-effects of
Cruciatus I suffer regularly.
This
is his vengeance. Since I first laid eyes on him, all those years ago, I have
detested him. He reminded me too much of the worst time of my life, of all the
torment I have suffered at the hands of the man he resembles so much, the man
whose blood he shares. For the rumours were correct, he was the splitting image
of James Potter even then. Every time my eyes fell upon him, I saw memories of
my past. And because of that, I singled him out from the first lesson and ever
since, pleased to have power over a Potter, the son of my tormentor. So I abused
that power, knowing it would not last long but not losing time to make Potter pay.
But
not only did that power not last, but look what those few moments of
satisfaction have brought me. Just like when his father and I fought, I was
never strong enough. There were rare occasions where I gained the upper hand,
but he always retaliated, and once he had taken back the control, he tormented
me worse than ever. And now, with his son in his place, things are exactly the
same way. There was the meagre time when he was young and naive and foolish,
and I, as a teacher, was in the position of power. But after his fifth year, he
changed drastically. Not only did he become more like his father than ever,
with the man�s arrogance and conceit, but he went farther. And now I truly hate
him. I hate Harry Potter for what he does to me, next to which what his father
did to me is nothing. I hate him, but I can do nothing about it. He is in the
position of power, and it will probably stay that way.
He
went a lot farther than James Potter had ever dared venture. Then again, James
Potter had never been a Dark Lord�s equal, contrarily to his son. I suppose
once he found out about the famous Prophecy, it went to his head. As the one
with the power to defeat the Dark Lord, he acts as if everything was permitted
to him and no rule applies when it comes to him. And in a sense, I have to
admit he is correct. The world considers him the hero they all owe their lives
to, the noble, golden boy whose only concern lays in saving everyone. And just
too bad the only person who knows otherwise is something they all hate: a Death
Eater. Former Death Eater or not, no one cares.
I have the Dark Mark on my arm, and it is all they see.
So
I stay quiet, knowing they would never believe the truth even if I told them,
not only would they not believe me but they would cast me away, hate me more
than ever, and naturally He would find out and make me regret it. So I keep my
silence, and I will continue doing so until the day he sits on the Dark Lord�s
throne and I bow before him, no longer his servant only at night but also
during the day. And by then it will be too late, far too late as the world will
know the truth but not have the time to defend itself. And just too bad they
will all fall, powerless to stop the rise of the most powerful Dark wizard
history has ever seen.
He
will rule the world, I have no doubt about it � and I will surely look back on
the past knowing I was the first one over whom he exercised his power. By then
I shall not be alone but alongside hundreds of others to kneel before him � but
I doubt his conduct towards me will ever change. He started this as vengeance,
but it has become a ritual, a habit of his, an exercise of his power, and I
know how he likes rituals and continuity. So I mean it when I predict he will
not let this habit go away when he will be able to exercise his power publicly.
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Why I Hate Him