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Black Night of the Soul


I wonder how much of this night you remember, Sirius... in dreams or even just by instinct. I still think it's the reason you set me up to be killed by Lupin in our seventh year. The reason you hate me with such a single-minded determination.

Azkaban might even have helped you remember on a more conscious level. After all, the Dementors had twelve years to rummage around in your memories. Yes, I know how it feels; I spent four weeks in Azkaban after Voldemort's fall.

See, it wasn't Malfoy or any of the others who cast the Oblivate on you afterwards; no, even then Voldemort's followers had perfidy down to a form of art. And while I trembled in fear what would happen to me should it ever come out what we did, a small part of me most likely didn't want you to forget it entirely.

My reasons? I wish I knew. Revenge for the numerous ways you and your friends had bullied me for years? Some kind of twisted pride in my actions? No, not incompetence, for I have always been good at mind spells.

In my defense, I'd like to say that it was perhaps the knowledge that this would always be the closest I came to intimacy, and I couldn't bear to erase all evidence. For, if I was the only one of us who remembered it, had it happened at all? I have never been in what the children of today call so loftily "a relationship". As for love, requited or unrequited... don't be ridiculous, I have never known that particular kind of madness and doubt I ever will.

You were so beautiful. Long black hair, wide grey eyes, a broad, tanned face, straight white teeth always flashing in a smile, and a Quidditch player's body... How could I resist?

Besides, resistance meant death, and I knew it.

So, in the night of my initiation ceremony, the night the Dark Mark was burnt into my arm, I...

Raped.

You.


"Harry Potter" ficlet by allaire mikháil, 340 words, Snape/Black, Snape POV, rated R

I'm still in Chapter 22 of OotP, and I can't seem to gather the courage to read further. See, I know what's going to happen, and I--I'm not ready for it. I'm depressed, I'm angry, I'm unhappy. Hence, this story was born -- a story I can easily see happening in the middle of OotP in Black Mansion.
This is my take on why Sirius feels like he's going to suffocate or go mad in this gloomy, dark place, why he lashes out at anyone. After all, Dumbledore most likely knows what Snape did, but prefers to keep his spy's 'past transgression' quiet. He relies on Snape's information and stresses his importance for the Order, all without caring for how Sirius has to feel, having to work together with his rapist.
I don't own the characters (wish I did, though) and don't get any money off this, either. The respective rights belong to Joanne K. Rowlings, Warner Bros and various other people, while this story belongs to me.


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