Truth is what lies in the question itself. The question is merely an example of the seriousness on the answer. 'Who am I? What have I done? What if?' Very serious questions deserve very serious answers.
But how can something so simple be deserving of a true answer? I am Severus Snape, A Hogwarts professor, lover of a woman who I could never have and a very troubled and emotional man. I have done many horrible things to so many people… to myself. I have obsessed over the dark arts, of my childhood sweetheart, Lily Evens. What if she chose me? What if I was something more to her than a fragile, weak boy who needed protection from her lover, James. I've asked the question many a times, mostly over a warm bottle of aged fire whiskey.
There is really no answer to a question with no basis. Many things could have been different, but they are not.
I have given up on the past. It was all a plan set into motion far before even my time. Lily was to be a mother so loving that she would give her life for an infant. The infant would be that of James's blood, and the infant would grow to be a hero, a villain, and a young man.
No one sees it with the last part- a young man. A teenager who was to go through changes much like any other child. One who never had anyone to cry to, one who was never held when he scraped his knee, and one without friends. Kept in a cupboard his entire childhood, he was isolated from the outside world and its entire people. He is well enough known now. His stunning green eyes crowd my mind… Her eyes were the very same.
I suppose that there is knowledge in the fact of how I see him. I am no monster, I can feel for others. However, it would not be fit for me to show such emotions. It could hurt me; hurt Dumbledore's cause… hurt Harry Potter. I've pondered my situation time and time again. I am miserable, truly, aren't I? Perhaps I should give it all up. Stop living for everyone else and Take the boy far from here. I should take him to a place where no one can ever hurt him, not even Albus Dumbledore, not even himself.
Albus… What a laugh. He was the worst out of all the people who had ever mocked him, looked down on him, and planned the boy's destruction. This is because he made Harry trust him. Harry looks up to him still, for guidance and support. He searches for things he will never find. I could tell him the truth, I could tell him that even Albus was simply using him for his own needs. He was letting him live, helping him grown strong so that Harry could take the dive in the end- give his own life to destroy his enemy. A mutual enemy can obviously cause fighting among friends. But it should never have come to this… Building the boy up only to break his will to live, rape his beliefs and send him to his grave!
Snape strode through the halls. Night had fallen, and the castle was mostly empty. He gazed out onto the dark expanse of the school's grounds. He remembered being a young man, running through those grounds, worrying about being late to class… running from James and his friends. He scowled and walked to the tower, sending his owl to his good friend, one who would help him.
As of late, he had been plagued by nightmares of his past and present. Not that he could really tell Lucius about any of his problems, but his friend could relieve the tension and help to bury the anguish that consumed him.
He waited in his chambers by the fire, but not for long. Soon the tall blond arrived in a discolored fire and smoke, via floo. He said nothing but immediately went to Severus's side and pulled him up by the front of the shirt and kissed him until he forgot to breathe. He led him to the bed and made him stop thinking about everything else as well.
Hours later Snape woke in the arms of his best friend. He sat up and kissed his nose, then dressed "You need to get to work. Thanks." Lucius just smirked "Any time old friend." He stood and pulled on his robes from the night before, and left the same way he came.
Snape looked in the mirror and sighed. This was a disgusting act, he knew. But it never stopped him. Not that sleeping with a man was wrong, and Lucius knew how to please either sex, regardless of either party's taste or preference, it was truly an honor to lay with such a man. But the ill feeling he got afterword was a filthiness that set in with the realization of how and why he came to be with Lucius each time.
It had started when he was a boy, lost and confused. He was scared, loneliness was his dearest friend. The only truth he knew was the voice of pain, the demons that said it would never change. Then Lucius found him. An angel among snakes; he offered his hand to hold, a wing to fold under and a bed to warm. It was a disguise, of course, for Lucius knew what Severus needed to hear, and wanted to feel. With this he molded the young male to be his moth, drawn to a black flame that was the dark lord. He warned Severus only that receiving the mark would hurt. He never spoke of clean hands reddening with blood, or the scars on his soul. Perhaps it was because Lucius himself hadn't a clue, they were both young and naïve. Once Snape had been found by his fallen lover, in a pit of despair, drowning himself in whiskey and tears at a bar, Lucius had taken his hand and led him to the darker corners of an ally and forced all doubt and fear from his mind.
He scoffed at his reflection and turned from the glass, taking a clean cloak from the closet he left for breakfast. Draco looked at the head table the moment Snape entered, a scowl directed at him. Snape sighed, the boy always seemed to know when his father visited his teacher's bed chambers, but what could he do about it? As Draco's godfather, Severus never had found it right to keep his little secret from the younger Malfoy. There had to be trust between them, and this, though unforgivable, was something that could not be hidden. His gaze drifted to the Gryffindor table. Harry was pushing his food around, troubled. Snape stroked his chin in thought. The protégé had gotten skinnier, and was looking more like a ghost by the day. He knew something had to be done… and soon.