Harry Potter 1. Prologue

A/N: This right now is just a one-shot dealing with Snape's feelings about what he did. HBP spoilers. I may eventually turn this into a full-fledged fic. I dunno. I have ideas.

Disclaimer: I do not own Severus Snape or any other Harry Potter character. : pouts :

I despise having to be here and pretend like I'm on his side. But that's my job and I'm going to do it well. No matter what happens, I'll keep getting information from him, even if it costs me my life. God knows I deserve to die.

I loath the fact that the Order hates me. I may never rejoin their ranks, but what I did was as necessary as gathering information. They'll get over it eventually.

I can't stand that Harry may never speak to me again. Yes, he is an insufferable brat and he's always hated me, but everything I've done for the past sixteen years I've done to protect him. I just want to tell him that.

I despise how all the Death Eaters congratulate me on a job well done. They don't know how much it hurts me to know that I have their approval.

I loath these emotions coursing through my body. Emotions are a weakness and I've always suppressed mine.

I hate that the one man who understood me is gone. He was the only person I could feel emotion around and not feel weak. Now I'll never be that way again.

But mostly I hate myself for what I have done, taking the most amazing person ever to live away from the world and leaving it a worse place.

My life is filled with one thing:

Loathing.

A/N: Please tell me what you think!


	2. Chapter 1 The Motel

A/N: I've officially decided this will be a novella-type fic! Yayness! So, I'm looking for constructive criticism. Let me know if something doesn't make sense or anything. I'm gonna wind up getting the whole story up, then I'll take all criticism to heart, revise, and repost! So please, help me out!

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Chapter 1 – The Motel

Severus sat at the desk in a small motel room, poring over a number of scrolls, his black, greasy hair falling all around his face. Articles of clothing were flung all around the room and a lamp lay smashed in a corner.

Picking up a quill, Severus dipped it in some ink and wrote something on the scroll he had been studying. He looked at the line closely then read it quietly to himself. "My life is filled with one thing: Loathing."

Nodding he dipped the quill again and continued writing:

'_My name is Severus Snape and today is the 1st of September. I have decided to keep this record in the hopes that someday someone will read it and grow to understand me better. Perhaps it will lead to someone finding me not wholly guilty of my crimes. Who knows?_

'_I have been forced to hide in a muggle rat-hole more commonly known as a motel. I fear being found by the Order, but I fear facing the Dark Lord and his followers even more._

'_Right now I'm still trying to get over what I have done. I sit alone sometimes, wondering where my life went wrong. Really, it all leads back to my parents._

'_You see, my parents never really got along. They loved each other for a bout a year, but then I was born and ruined everything._

'_They fought every day, morning, noon, and night. And, eventually, I grew to hate them both. I hated my father because he hit my mother and I, and I hated my mother because I was never good enough for her._

'_Then I went to school. I had no friends and everyone hated me. Because I was different. And those horrible 'Marauders' tortured me every day._

'_I suppose that was about the time I decided to be a Death Eater. I was something that my mother would be proud of me for and I'd be able to get back at the Marauders.'_

A knock on the door caused Severus to look up with a start. After quickly hiding the parchment, ink, and quill, he stood up and walked to the door.

He looked though the peep-hole and found himself staring at the manager of the motel: a tall, balding man with wide, staring eyes.

Sighing agitatedly at the interruption of his writing, Severus opened the door.

The manager jumped in surprise as the door was flung open.

"Oh," he said unintelligibly after a moment of catching his breath.

"What do you want?" Severus asked in the most deadly calm voice he could muster.

Shaking from head to toe, the man held out a yellow parchment envelope. "A letter for you," he whispered.

Severus frowned as he took the letter and slammed the door shut. He walked slowly back to the desk, staring at the envelope disapprovingly. Sitting down, he opened the envelope and pulled out the parchment letter that was inside.

A frown line appeared on his forehead as he read the letter. Finally, he set it aside with a sigh and turned back to his work. He read the last sentence then continued:

'_Now, you must understand that I've never hated the Marauders. There are only four people I have ever truly hated: my parents, the Dark Lord, and myself. I wished no evil on the Marauders or those they loved; I only wished to give them a small taste of their own medicine._

'_So when I heard part of that prophecy, I never knew who it pertained to. But when I learned of what the Dark Lord was planning – trying to kill an innocent baby – I knew that I could no longer be a Death Eater. I went to Albus and confessed my sins, and he welcomed me with open arms and put me to good use.'_

Severus put down the quill, read the letter again, and shook his head sorrowfully. He picked up the quill once more and wrote a last few lines:

'_Sadly, I have just received some very disturbing news and I must leave my hide-out. It may be a long while before I can write more of my life down, but I do plan on writing more. Farewell for now,_

'_Severus Snape.'_

Standing up, Severus rolled the scroll up and put it in one of his cloak pockets. He then walked purposefully toward the door. Briefly, he flicked his hand behind him and the broken lamp flew onto a desk, completely fixed. He turned on his heel and disappeared.

Outside, the manager listened at the door and shook his head. "Such a weirdo," he muttered as he walked away.

A/N: Remember to help me out now:: winks ::


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Harry Potter, Angst