Bitterness and Cynicism - Chapter 01

Summary:

I don’t want to teach today. I would so much rather just lie here in bed.
But I know, I’m paid to teach, I ought to get up. My head is killing me; I can’t get the images from last night’s nightmare out of my mind. I can feel pressure from blood vessels squeeze my brain. I can’t even think.
There’s still some sort of foul smelling slime on my robes from yesterday. I have just about enough time to put together a potion to remove the stain – and the stench.
Why is it always Potter? Everywhere I look, he’s there. I’m pretty sure yesterday’s little stunt was deliberate.
Damn, I’m out of Gekkhis Powder. Looks like I won’t be able to wash this out.
My head is absolutely pounding. I worry I might actually hurt someone today.
Jesus, Lupin was a werewolf, but he still managed to refrain from killing any of these little bastards. If any of them had been through even half what I’ve been through… But then I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Not even Potter. I’m not going to bother with breakfast this morning. If I’m quick I might be able to find a spell to get this slime stain out of my robes.
Here’s the spell book.
Here’s the spell.
Done. Good as new.
My head still hurts though, and I know there isn’t a spell in the world that could make this pain go away.
Why does it come back now? I’ve done a damn good job at repressing this pain for nearly thirty years, why do the nightmares come back now? God knows I’m too old to be afraid of the dark.
But still…
I know things happen when it’s dark. I’m not talking about the Dark Lord either. Some of the most evil things a man can do don’t require magic. I should talk to Albus, him being the only one who knows. But I won’t. It’s enough to keep from going scarlet whenever I see him, in truth I can’t handle the fact that anyone knows what happened to me before I enrolled at Hogwarts. To actually bring the subject into the conversation… and what do I expect in return? Hugs? I don’t need a shoulder to cry on because I’m not going to cry. Men should never cry it’s disgusting. I remember watching that little pussy, Lupin, crying all over Black and Potter Snr. He is easily the most pathetic human being I’ve ever come across. Scrap that – he’s not human.
But he might understand…
No! Oh god no, I can’t believe I even considered the idea. Tell the werewolf what happened before I started at Hogwarts?
No, there’s no one for me to turn to.
Damn, lessons started ten minutes ago.
I’d better run.
Oh Dark Lord have mercy! What have they done to my dungeon!
“Potter! Are you responsible for this?”
“No Professor! Honestly!”
He’s still got his wand pointed at the gaping hole in the wall. Looks like his shot missed Malfoy by the whole of two millimetres.
“It was him, Professor”
“Did I ask you to speak, Malfoy?”
“No Professor, but-”
“Then kindly shut up.”
The rest of the lesson goes off without a hitch. The students hate me. I’m very much aware of this. The looks they dish out as they file through the classroom door at the end of the lesson portray their hatred. Those looks say ‘Geez Professor Snape, why are you such a bastard?’ Yeah right, like I’m telling you. Whilst I wait for the next class to enter, I drink one of my own concoctions – an antidepressant ten times stronger than Prozac. However, it’s my belief that when you are ill in the mind, any cure you attempt to administer to yourself, serves only as a placebo. And placebos only work on the grounds that you believe they are a real medicine. As much as I hate to admit it, the only way I could possibly get all this ‘emotional baggage’ off my mind, is by talking it through with someone. Getting it out in the open, hearing how the other person feels so sorry for me, and how they wish there was something they could do.
But before I admit it to someone else, let’s see if I can admit it to myself.
Three weeks before I was due to enrol at Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry, I suffered a terrible attack. On my way home from Diagon Alley – I was collecting my school supplies - I was raped.
I felt someone following me, I quickened my pace, but to no avail. He caught up to me, grabbing me by the throat…
No, I don’t want to think about it yet. I’m not ready.
I’ve admitted it happened. But I can’t go over the details yet – not even in my head. It’s just too painful.