Author's note: I do not own, nor intend to infringe the copyright of JK Rowling's Harry Potter characters, etc. Nor do I own Vladmir Nabokov's Lolita, which provides the main theme and inspiration of this fanfic.
I was always watching. Every movement she made. The soft skin of the nape of her neck, the glow of her curls, a careless adolescent. Vivid expressive eyes shone, full lips parted, tongue and tooth an accidental tribute to my temptation. Innocent and virginal exquisiteness. Her very prescence entranced me; I was enraptured. She had become my obsession, a replacement for forgotten sins. Mistakes made. Regrets. But what I have done; how could I regret what had brought me such relief from darkness?
The physical pain of her betrayal was overwhelming. The little know-it-all knew nothing of her own allure. Her unconscious appeal to me was a slow and unceremonious torture. She was taunting me while his filthy lips marred her pure perfection; how dare he spoil my precious Lily, my heroin, my Hermione? She was mine. And yet! Unsympathetic fate would not allow me, for all I had suffered, under her spell; to have her, to own her, to possess her as my own. I was a madman. WAS I mad? Sick? At many times I have wondered. What would my Hermione have become had I not acted. My student! But I couldn't let her leave me; Lily's leaving still tore at my open wounds, every lash of fate's whip rubbing salt into tender flesh. I could not let her leave, run to make love to another, who did not see. Another who would cage her, unappreciative. Unworthy of her lips, her passion, desire. He would not worship her the way I saw her; a goddess of unwilling seduction. He would never know of, never feel what I dreamed , for her and I being alone. Alone! What empty words these are now. But I couldn't stand him; she was mine. She had always been mine, from the first time my eyes drifted over her perfection.
And so forgive me; I took her. Wrestling with my conscience; she was yet a mere child of only fourteen! But I had needed the feel of my hands sliding over her silky smooth skin, her unwilling lips giving way to mine, cold and unyielding. Her cries in my passion. Oh, but her efforts, futile, to make me stop my forceful taking of her innocence could not stop me. How could I stop, I ask you. How could I stop until I had declared my ownership of her, had her accept me? As her former teacher, as a lover. This was confirmation of what I had always knew, confirmation of completion. The consumnation of our love. And she lay, unmoving, spent and exhausted and I knew no matter how I tried! No, Severus Snape would never be able to let this torment go. Lily, Hermione, one and all the same. She had bewitched my mind, robbing me of all practicality to become trapped in her seductive net. Stolen, but mine. Always.
The repercussions of my actions are clear! Be sickened, reader; abhor me, loathe my smitten, dirtied hands. I robbed her of her aspirational life, of her everything. But what I had done was under no means acceptable. I live in my own peaceful oblivion, the moral wrongness of my acts torment me daily. My resigned slave, living satisfaction. Her acceptance, her mesmerizing beauty untouched, ever, by anything but my own hands!
This is immortality, Lily.
My Hermione, always.
Thank you very much for reading; please review! This is my first fanfic so let me know what you think (: