A/N: Hmm...This is one of my many (soon to come) oneshots based off of poems by Emily Dickinson.

Disclaimer: The poem nor the characters are mine. Snape, Lord Voldemort, Harry and everything else in Hogwarts belongs to JK Rowling. The poem rightfully belongs to Emily Dickinson. May she rest in peace. bows head slightly Now onto the main attraction!


"What do you see in this?" Severus Snape asked, holding up an inkblot. The spy was seated behind a big oak desk. Thin glasses were perched on the bridge of the man's crooked nose as he looked over them at his patient.

The patient was a bald, ugly man with scaly skin. He had no nose, but rather, two slits where his nose should have been. His red eyes' glared heatedly at Snape. Yes this man, in fact, is Lord Voldemort. And at this moment her was pretty pissed off. The Dark Lord struggled againt the bonds holding him to the chair, but to no avail.

"My Lord, you won't be able to move. The death eaters all agree that you need therapy and I am the most qualified for the job, out of all those dunderheads. You can only leave, when you go through with this," Snape commented only to be ignored.

"Please. It is only one session. All you have to do is answer my questions."

The Dark Lord glanced up. "That is all? THAT IS ALL?! Release me this instant!"

"My Lord, please."

An hour later.

"Please."

"Fine. I'll answer your dumb questions."

Snape sighed in relief. He thought it would never get started. He held up the inkblot again, "What does this inkblot look like?"

"Oh that's easy! It's practically a portrait of Potter! Now show me the next already." Voldemort answered impatiently. Snape looked at the inkblot in astonishment.

"Potter?" It did not look like harry Potter in any way.

"Yes Potter, you deaf old fool"

Snape just shrugged and held up another, "What does this look like?"

"Potter"

"Again?"

"Is it my fault you have no imagination?"

"I beg your pardon my lord, but can you please show me how this resembles Potter?"

"Of course. See there's the head right here and its connected to his foot right here and out of that is his hand and so on?" Voldemort pointed out. Snape just stared.

"What does this remind you of?" Another inkblot.

"Potter"

"This?" Another inkblot.

"Potter"

"This?" A piece of paper.

"Potter"

"This?" A dead bird.

"Potter."

"This?" Canned soup.

"Potter."

Snapes eyes twitched. And he continued holding up more things lying about only to be repeatedly met with the answer 'Potter.' He was exasperated. He couldn't tell if his Lord was just messing with him or if he really was obsessed with Potter. Both ideas were highly likely. He decided to only do one more.

"Okay last one. I will read you a poem and I want you to tell me the first thing that comes to your mind." Voldemort just stared back at him blankly.

"I envy the seas whereon he rides,

I envy the spokes of wheels

Of chariots that him convey,

I envy the speechless hills

That gaze upon his journey;

How easy all can see

What is forbidden utterly

As heaven, unto me!

I envy the nests of sparrows,

That dot his distant eaves

The wealth fly upon his pane,

The happy, happy leaves

That just abroad his window,

Have summer's leave to be

The earrings of Pizarro

Could not obtain for me.

I envy the light that wakes him,

And bells that boldly ring

To tell him it is noon abroad,-

Myself his noon could bring

Yet interdict my blossom,

And abrogate my bee

Lest noon in everlasting night,

Drop Gabriel and me.

By Emily Dickinson. "

"It reminds me of…." The Dark Lord sat there brooding. "Potter"

Snape groaned.

Yup, LV is Potter obsessed... How sad...