Title: Not

Author: Jolie

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Note: Response to the Dictionary Drabble Challenge on the After Class fic-list. And yes, I know I'm about 90 words over. *winces* Ignore that, kay? Anyway, couldn't get to sleep, was inspired at around midnight. This is the result. My first attempt at any kind of romance, so…opinions would be nice. *g*

Warning: Slash.

* * * * *

It is an obsession. A fixation. An infatuation.

That is all it is. All he is.

His face stays in Severus' mind. It hangs there, in front of his own, staring.

At him.

He cannot get it out. At this point, he's not sure that he wants to.

But that is all right. It is just the child's face, it is just Severus' mind. He has not wormed his way into Severus.

It is an obsession. That is all.

It is not love.

The door is opening, and Severus sees--

him

--a black shock of hair. He closes his eyes.

"Professor?"

He shakes his head, not allowing himself to look at his student.

"Professor, I had some trouble with the potion we worked on last class. I was wondering if you were free for some private tutoring?"

And Severus knows, knows that the boy is lying because that potion had been one of his better grades. Not that he ever receives very good grades. So that means that the question is different. It means that he is not asking about a potion.

He has gone very, very still and wants to scream because now he is nodding, he is nodding his head and Potter's hands are in his greasy hair and this isn't right but he can't say that it's wrong because warm chapped lips have touched his and this is so, so good.

The boy is whispering against his mouth--please and so beautiful and I need you and that's wrong, because Severus is the one who needs Potter. Potter is the one who is beautiful and this--this should not be happening. This is--

love

--not right. This is an obsession, a fixation, a fixation that needs to end right now before--

"Severus."

That. But it is as good as done now. He can't end this. He can't because Potter said his name, said it like it meant something and that is precious to him.

He wants to bury himself in the soft, breathy voice, and never, never, never leave.

But then, he wouldn't have to, would he? Potter would be leaving. Soon. Too soon and not soon enough and this should never have happened.

Potter deserves better than him and he is going to get it. He is going to leave, and find someone worthy although Severus doesn't really think anyone is worthy of Potter, his Potter, and no, that's wrong too--Potter isn't his. Potter isn't in love with Severus but that is all right because Severus isn't in love with Potter either and there is wetness on his face. He's not sure if it is from tears or Potter's tongue.

And oh, now he knows--that is Potter's tongue, not the other.

Hands are on him and his clothes have disappeared and Severus is on fire until he can't breathe, can't think, can only feel. Feel owned and vulnerable and real and he can feel Potter, can feel him everywhere.

And when it is over, Severus can feel Potter's hot breath against his neck, feels Potter say "I love you."

But that is a lie. He cannot believe even for an instant that it is true even though he wants to, so much, so much that his heart is actually aching--Severus hadn't known that was possible outside of cliched romance novels but apparently it is, because it is happening to him.

It is a lie, and Severus can deal with that because he--is not--in love--with this--boy.

He can't be.

So he is not.

End.