Bleed for your Blood
Blood purity.
The absolute bane of Severus Snape's existence.
He was almost positive that the racism in the wizarding world was worse than the one in the muggle one (they had more options to be racist about, from blood to name to…creature, honestly they’d doomed themselves).
It meant back home, in the disgusting back alleys of Cokeworth, he was considered weird, unknown and “freaky” (as they’d…so kindly put it). Meanwhile in the wizarding world he was regarded as lesser or not enough (better than a muggle born but…not by much, that was for sure).
He was stuck.
And it infuriated him beyond belief.
As if that wasn’t enough, the colors of his house seemed to be of more importance than the fact he was a person and not a pawn or some number in a list. Truly, the height of inclusion.
Because of his blood status, lack of decorum (or etiquette in any sense), and absolute refusal to back down in most situations, he was not only disliked by his house mates but also excluded, hexed, and made fun of.
Because he wore a green and silver tie, had inherited his fathers greasy hair and malformed nose (though part of that was due to being broken and healed improperly a multitude of times (also partially his fault)) and was introverted and quiet (“gloomy and emo” as they’d so delightfully called it) he was regarded as a dark wizard and a bad person who was manipulative and wouldn’t second guess before hexing you (which- wrong. He would only do so if you started it first, he had no interest or intention to draw even more attention to him).
Anyways, that wasn’t what he wanted to gripe about (right now), he was currently pissed off to high heavens because those arseholes that considered themselves “heroes” had humiliated him beyond belief, stripping him bare in front of half the school, something that one hundred percent could be considered not only sexual harassment and assault but also get them jail time if they were in the muggle world (and probably also in the wizarding one). And yet they had gotten away scotch free because in a bit of humiliated frustration he had called Lily the ‘M’ word (his subconscious taunted him, he’d already said it to her once, not to mention all the times before that to others, why couldn’t he now?).
Really, talk about bloody injustice and absolute prejudice this gods forsaken school held. He idly wondered if it was even worth continuing his last two years, he’d already finished his OWL exams, he could just… drop out and get a muggle job (like his damned father always yelled at him to do) until the trace deactivated and then… and then he didn’t know what he’d do, but what did it matter? None of it was going to end well whether he stayed or didn’t, like he was cursed by Lady Fate herself in the matters of having a decent life (as though she’d personally made sure he would suffer for the entirety of it).
Sighing, he slumped forward in his seat, while they didn’t actually have classes anymore for the last two weeks of school, a small period to relax and celebrate (party) after the extreme stress of the exams, he had been practically camping out in the library since that fateful day, it was the only place he could be unbothered by other slytherins or the marauders (or even Lily’s friends who had taken it upon themselves to try and also make his life hell in retaliation for what he’d said). Madam Pince was not someone you wanted to need with, especially in her domain.
His head hit the open book in front of him with a thunk and he held back the urge to groan, Merlin, he hated everything about this. He’d tried apologizing, immediately after and for the next two or so days, waiting for her outside of the gryffindor tower, but, she’d denied him and, essentially, told him to fuck off. Pleasant, he knew. So, because he’d always tried his hardest to be a good friend (not anymore) and respect her wishes, he left without another word and hadn’t so much as looked in her direction afterword, the agony and sadness that came with their “break up” pooling in his gut until it began to turn into something else, an unbridled anger and, most of all, exhaustion at everything in life.
He had nothing. No one, and nowhere, to go, to see, to care for. He could disappear and he highly doubted anyone would even take two seconds to wonder where he was outside of wanting to prank or make fun of him.
…
He was really appreciated at this school (in life), can’t you tell?
Sarcasm? Him? Severus Snape being sarcastic?! Totally not, he would never do such a thing.
…
Glad to see you are enjoying yourself at his humiliation and shitty life. He certainly wasn’t.
With a sigh he picked himself back up, flicking through the book idly without any real interest, he’d really just grabbed the first thing he found that looked even remotely interesting when he saw the marauders tailing him and had practically ran to sit down at the first empty table.
A great way to start his last week of fifth year don’t you think? Yes he was being sarcastic again, congrats, you can read the most obvious of social cues (which was totally not something he still occasionally struggled with. …totally not…).
Briefly, he skimmed the contents on the pages, reading the first few words before moving on, boredom practically oozing from him as he tried not to fall asleep. Then, as he was halfheartedly reading the title of the third chapter, something caught his eye. At the back of the book a small piece of paper with a quickly (and messily) drawn arrow was sticking out, bent and crumbled from where it’s been pressed between the pages haphazardly.
With the most amount of emotion, other than emptiness and anger, he’d felt in days, he quickly flipped to where it was stuck, arriving at the very last page of the book. He hadn’t even really registered what the book was about, uncaring to the max, as long as it kept the bullies away by making him look busy, but the headline that was plastered onto the top of the page made him reconsider, half shutting the book and checking its title with a raised eyebrow, Biology in Magic and its Effects.
Wow, that was fucking boring even for him. Still, intrigued as to what the paper had been pointing to, he quickly scanned the page, How being a halfblood or pureblood changes your grasp and ability on magic.
…Fitting.
Sighing once more he briefly glanced at the ceiling in annoyance, did Lady Fate enjoy toying with him? Watching him watch others have everything he wanted in life served on a golden platter that they definitely didn’t deserve.
With a roll of his eyes he began reading, wondering what could someone possibly find interesting about something like this, something that was a well known fact no matter who you were or what your blood was in the wizarding world. Then he’d found it, a sentence in the middle of a paragraph talking about the magical cells in bodies and their comparison to magical cores, that captured his attention raptly, eyes suddenly glued to the page and unable to tear away as he read.
“-Because the amount of individual DNA nuclei are only half as much as those with a complete amount, the magical cores of half bloods and muggleborns (in specific) have to work almost twice as hard to produce the same amount of magic.”
Of course! That was the issue!
If he wanted to get stronger, to be respected and seen, he needed to get rid of the thing that limited him, his father’s muggle blood. In the blink of an eye he was standing up, closing the book and sending it back to its original spot before practically running out the door, only being mindful enough to not anger the librarian after she’d so kindly ignored how long he’d stayed there and even turned away a few people that had tried to annoy (putting it lightly) him, almost completely forgetting about the reason he’d hidden in the room in the first place (the marauders didn’t matter at that moment, and likely never would again. He was going to fix himself and then they’d be like dirt under his shoe).
In fact, if he was right in his determined haze that practically blocked anything else but what was important out, they had even been waiting for him to leave (a questionable attempt considering he typically spent hours in there, had they been doing that every day? Because if so they were even more idiotic then he’d thought, what an absolute waste of time, seriously), watching him run away with an…uncomfortable smile (or at least one that made everyone else uncomfortable, he felt amazing) practically splitting his face in half and entirely uncaring of everything else in life (he probably looked cracked out now that he was thinking about it, eyes hazy with an indescribable emotion and wholly unaware to the world around him).
Not that he let such a fact bother him, he was determined and once he set his sights on something, he refused to let go (his mother had always said it would be his downfall one day and well… he couldn’t find it in himself to care at that specific moment, if he managed to achieve this, there was a chance he could fix her).
Immediately he dashed through the nearly one hundred percent empty corridors and ducked through passageways with an almost frightening quickness (to maybe someone else, he was unfortunately quite used to doing this (not that it ever seemed to help in the long run)). He didn’t have much time to complete his objective which meant he neededto hurry.
Nothing else mattered, nothing else would. Not if he could rid himself of his own inabilities, if he could liberate himself from the consequences of his mothers (frankly) stupid and bad choices, if he could be at peace.
Narrowly avoiding crashing into the doorframe and one of the tables he precisely threw himself into the classroom, barely pulling out his wand as he cast sealing and collecting charms on the door to keep anyone else (minus Slughorn, an accident he wished to never repeat) out and leave him entirely and while undisturbed as he worked.
He felt like he was floating, like he was on cloud nine with the pure adrenaline and elation flowing through his veins, the same veins that would soon be purged of its muddy blood. He barely contained a grin that threatened to stretch across his face at the thought before remembering he was alone and could do as he liked, there was no one to judge him but lady fate (and he was pretty sure she already did so of his every second of every day, why not add something else to spice it up, he wouldn’t want the goddess getting bored of all things now would he?).
Ingredients and items flew off shelves into his table for about a second in which he pondered whether he would need them, their abilities or conditions, before sending them back with a quick flick of his wand. It was going to be perfect.
(…In his rush of excitement and motivation caused by what he read he missed the sentence right below, one that read as such and likely would’ve changed his view on life quite a bit…
“ But, as found by looking through some of history’s most powerful wizards, light or dark, it also means that their magical cores can stretch and grow almost twice as quickly and achieve unparalleled amounts of magic inaccessible to those of pure roots. ”
A shame, but oh well, that was neither here nor there, now was it?)