Author's Note: I know you've seen many of these. Please, give this one a chance. It is different, I promise. I wrote this piece mainly b/c I wondered why that particular scene with James & co would be classified as "Snape's Worst Memory". I'm sure worse things have happened to him (being marked by Voldemort comes to mind), so why that one?
***
I curse my stupidity as I watched the wretched Potter boy leave my office at a stumbling run. My chest heaving with indignation, I stare into the pensieve with sightless eyes. Of all the things to do, why had I brainlessly left him alone?
Why, when I know him as I do, did I believe that Potter would do the honest thing and leave?
I left in his possession a piece of my memory, a piece of my very soul. Of all the memories I have, I would not say that Potter's humiliation of me was the worst. No, that honor belongs to another. And one closer to home. Nor am I saying that it is one of my favorites.
Far from it.
Yet it is that particular one of the many that I keep in my mind to help me keep the fire of hate burning.
It is my impetus to keep on hating the boy. To keep pushing him to excel in here. Or be expelled from school. In all honesty, I could care less which it is.
But that is one memory he should never have seen.
His hatred of me, I can handle. In fact, I go out of my way to encourage it and do it with a grin. I'm not an altruistic person, I'll take power where I can get it-even over sniveling brats.
But everyone needs someone to believe in. And for Potter, that is his father. His perfect, walk on water father.
So I made that promise to Dumbledore-even though I felt Potter would never break through my mental shields. I would protect him from seeing what he was like in school.
When asked, I suppose that I could say that I was rushed and not thinking about it. But I'm too honest with myself to believe that kind of tripe. Maybe I wanted him to know the truth and used this as a way around Dumbledore. That boy causes me to do the oddest of things-even betray the one who had faith in me.
I have let the headmaster down.
And shattered Potter's world in the process.
Somehow, it doesn't balance the equation at all.
End.
***
I curse my stupidity as I watched the wretched Potter boy leave my office at a stumbling run. My chest heaving with indignation, I stare into the pensieve with sightless eyes. Of all the things to do, why had I brainlessly left him alone?
Why, when I know him as I do, did I believe that Potter would do the honest thing and leave?
I left in his possession a piece of my memory, a piece of my very soul. Of all the memories I have, I would not say that Potter's humiliation of me was the worst. No, that honor belongs to another. And one closer to home. Nor am I saying that it is one of my favorites.
Far from it.
Yet it is that particular one of the many that I keep in my mind to help me keep the fire of hate burning.
It is my impetus to keep on hating the boy. To keep pushing him to excel in here. Or be expelled from school. In all honesty, I could care less which it is.
But that is one memory he should never have seen.
His hatred of me, I can handle. In fact, I go out of my way to encourage it and do it with a grin. I'm not an altruistic person, I'll take power where I can get it-even over sniveling brats.
But everyone needs someone to believe in. And for Potter, that is his father. His perfect, walk on water father.
So I made that promise to Dumbledore-even though I felt Potter would never break through my mental shields. I would protect him from seeing what he was like in school.
When asked, I suppose that I could say that I was rushed and not thinking about it. But I'm too honest with myself to believe that kind of tripe. Maybe I wanted him to know the truth and used this as a way around Dumbledore. That boy causes me to do the oddest of things-even betray the one who had faith in me.
I have let the headmaster down.
And shattered Potter's world in the process.
Somehow, it doesn't balance the equation at all.
End.