Disclaimer: I is not teh J.K. Rowling
A/N: A random plot bunny attacked me when I was bored, and this little one-shot is the result.
Potter is a mirror image of his father in every regard; he's self-serving, talent less, and mediocre to the last degree. His hair is the same tangled mess as that of his father, and he has the same sort of glasses perched lopsidedly on his face.
The similarities are enough to make one sick.
In his own way, though, Potter is even worse than his father; every time I look at him, every time I see his face, I see her staring back at me.
Every time I want to punish him, to make his life hell for being Potter's son, I also want to protect him for being hers. I have to focus on how he is James Potter's son, and not how he is Lily's.
When he proves his ignorance, pushes his luck too far, time and time again I insult him, comparing him to his father, telling how so very alike they are; I bring out all of his faults –his impudence, the ineptitude he demonstrates in his classes (mine, at least), his blatant disregard for the rules.
From the first time I met him, I focused on how he was like James. I made myself see the Potter I expected, ignored the traces of Lily that were there. He's just a replica of Potter, made even worse from time spent around that mongrel, Black.
There are times, though, when I will look at him, Potter's son, only to see Lily looking back at me.
Her eyes, on Potter's face.
Her love, her sacrifice, protecting Potter's son.
It's times like that when the guilt overwhelms me, becomes almost too great a burden to bear. The thought of knowing that I sentenced Lily to her death, that I handed her to the Dark Lord...
She could have been spared; she could have stepped aside, but she died for Harry, died so that he could live. Because of that, I hate the boy all the more.
His eyes --her eyes --stare accusingly, burning the guilt even deeper, bringing up the remorse.
However much I try to deny it, Harry Potter is Lily's son, as much, if not more so, as he is Potter's.
Remarkably like James though he is, he is, regrettably, Lily's son as well, and I hate him for it. He's a reminder of everything I want to forget, proof of my treachery and of Lily's sacrifice, the greatest sacrifice a person could make.
I want to hate him, to make his life miserable; and, to a point, I do. But there is also a part of me that wants to protect him, to keep him from serious harm.
I owe that much to Lily, to her memory, and to the boy she died to protect; she died because of me, and of my selfish mistakes.
No matter how hard I try, I don't think I'll ever be able to forget that, nor do I want to. If ever my despair, born from the knowledge that I condemned my only friend to death, lessens, I still will not forget.
For, every time I close my eyes, every time I attempt to sleep, I am haunted by the accusatory stare of a pair of green eyes.
Her eyes.
Snape commands you to review, and tells you to go easy on me as it's my first HP fic.
...The real Snape has commandeered the keyboard to tell you that I'm a review whore, so please ignore the above :P