Severus Snape had a thing about buttons.
It was not the sort of thing that he generally liked to think about, because it was not the sort of thing that one would ever admit out loud. And, in Severus's paranoid world, thinking and saying amounted to just about the same thing. Eventually, someone heard.
However, simply because Severus was in denial about his button fixation didn't mean it didn't manifest itself in his everyday life. The most obvious would perhaps be his attire, which displayed more than their fair share of buttons, but there were other less apparent signs too.
As a child the only toy he had wanted to play with had been a rag doll with buttons for eyes. When his father had proclaimed his doll a toy for sissy girls and promptly ripped it's head off, Severus had not been overly upset. He simply picked up the buttons from where the head fell, nimbly plucking then from the dolls head, and started playing right where he left off.
Severus's fascination with buttons was all encompassing. And while he would never admit it, his feelings for buttons affected every aspect of his life.
The first time Severus met Lily Evans, he knew he would like her. It wasn't because of her bright red hair, or her green eyes that practically sparkled with mischief. Not even her kind smile drew him in. He wouldn't like someone for something as plebeian as that. No, what Severus liked about Lily became apparent when fellow first year Dolton Hobb accidentally ripped off one of his buttons and Lily had an extra one to sew on. She said she always carried a few buttons around, you just never knew when they would come in handy.
When Severus had to endure his weekly tea with Albus, a truly torturous event, he would find himself rolling a button in his hand. His fingers would move over the smooth surface, and then outline the creases as Albus expounded on the virtues of love and forgiveness. The fact that the daft old coot was still alive after nearly twenty years of spouting this drivel was proof enough for Severus that buttons could indeed work miracles.
In fact, when Albus would lecture Severus on the necessary compassion he ought to exude when dealing with exam frazzled students, Severus would stare fixedly at the buttons lining Albus's otherwise farcical excuse for a robe. It made it easier to pretend like he didn't always give in to the Headmasters demands.
It might interest one to know that Albus always wore more buttons when he talked to Severus.
Severus's button mania even went so far as to affect his teaching habits. He would catch himself giving "Acceptable" to students who weren't in Slytherin after they wore a few particularly fetching buttons, never mind that they deserved the grade. Once a small first year wore an unregulated sweater lined with shiny green buttons to class and Severus found himself only taking 5 points off. He didn't even try to make the little girl cry. Sometimes Severus worried that the buttons made him soft.
Despite the possible ill effects buttons might have on him Severus simply couldn't give them up. He liked them too much. He liked their smooth surface and their dull sheen. He liked the different patterns of holes on each button. He liked how they could be both practical and decorative. He liked the small pop they made while coming undone, and the feeling on his fingers when he buttoned them back up again. Mostly though he liked how each button was different and yet exactly the same. He thought it was a good metaphor for life.
Such was Severus's love for buttons that someone who didn't wear them couldn't possibly be human. People like that fell more in the line of an abomination, in Severus's opinion. Take the Potter boy for example. Mr. Potter, like all the other students, wore normal robes. It was what he wore underneath his robes that so offended the Professor's senses. Ridiculously over sized t-shirts and jeans held up with a piece of rope, instead of a zipper and button, hideous home made sweaters without a button in sight. The brats entire wardrobe was button free. Severus knew a bad thing when he saw one.
And Severus did know. His life had never been easy, and he learned the hard way to pay attention to the buttons. Buttons after all had never steered Severus wrong, even when people had. They had been his guide to finding friends, people he could trust, they had calmed him and brought a small measure of ease. So he should have known, really, the moment he saw the robes Lucius wanted him to wear. But he hadn't heeded the warning, ignoring the sense of wrongness in favor of his growing excitement. He had thrown the robes on, robes held together only with ties and buckles and nary a button in sight. It was only after the Dark Mark had scorched his flesh that Severus noticed the distinct lack of buttons.
And while Severus hated The Dark Lord and the man's insipid cronies, hated spending hours being tortured in blood-stained, button-deprived robes, hated being debriefed in front of the entire Order of idiots Albus had founded...well, he still had his buttons... so life went on.
So, you see, Severus Snape had a thing about buttons.
One he would never ever admit to.
Luckily, that didn't stop Albus from sending him a tin full every Christmas.