Because You Smiled


Title: Because You Smiled
Author: Ketsueki Ookami
Pairing: JP/SS, implied SB/RL
Rating: R Because Sev's thoughts are a 'bit' violent sometimes, and I can't count the foul words. Let it be said that there are a lot of them. If it really offends you and you can't bear to read it that way, send me an email and I'll edit the language for you because I'm just nice like that. (And I have a tendency to forget that other people don't have a mouth a sailor would be ashamed of. Heheheh…)
Genre: ANGST! Supreme angst! Forgive me.
Summary: A ficlet of sorts. Actually, it's more of a monologue. Nobody ever really knew why Snape hated James so much. Everyone assumed it was Quidditch talent. But there is an entirely different reason. What happens when obsession turns against you, and you find you hopelessly need the one thing you can't have?
AN: Yeah, this is only gonna be a one go story. But if you like it…there are always others! Encourage me, please! Yes, I am begging for reviews.I have no shame.
Disclaimer: Gah, I hate these things. I own nothing (but I really wish I did), J.K. Rowling, the WB, and all of her publishing companies own it all. I own nothing. Nada. Not even enough to be worth suing. Get the point?

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I really wanted to hurt you that day. I wanted to make you bleed and scream and cry. I wanted you to be terrified like I was when that monster you call Moony was snapping and slavering at my heels. And I didn't want you to know that I caused it all. Then I would save you. I would save you and be done with you.

I would listen to you glorify me at my feet, and tell me that we were more than even. That you owed me your life, and were forever indebted. And of course you wouldn't mope like I did. You're so fucking noble. It makes me want to gag sometimes. But what pushes me towards painful dry heaves is when I see you and your worthless mudblood woman talking and she's always giggling with her arms thrown around your neck and you kiss her every time she stops. She doesn't deserve you. She doesn't even know you.

I knew you. I knew you long before Hogwarts. Before Black and Lupin and your stupid fanclub. We used to be such good friends. I saw you about half a year after graduation in Hogsmead. I asked you then. About what you think happened.

All you could say was, "People grow apart as they get older. We got sorted into different houses, we got new friends, different interests, and you became a horrible unbearable source of torment…" And I could handle that.

But then, out of the blue, you started yelling. "Of course I'm not your fucking friend! What, do you have your head up your ass?! You are a worthless piece of scum!"

And then you grabbed my robes and pulled me close, so close our noses were touching. I was getting dizzy then. I thought you would kiss me. I wanted you to kiss me. To do something, anything, instead of say the words I knew were coming. Mudblood was there. She looked like she would faint. I hoped she would. It would distract you and then I could run.

"Severus," you said. There was danger in your voice. "If one word, one single solitary word, reaches me about you being a Death Eater, I will do as my right and privilege states. You continue living only because I see fit. And at the time, IF it weren't for Moony and the trouble he and Sirius would get into, I probably wouldn't have seen fit to even save you. Your life is mine. I own you. And I will have nothing of mine bearing the Dark Mark."

I had to retort somehow. I had to make it look like I had no reason to be scared. But I was terrified. Because your hand was now clutching my arm. Right over the Mark that was burnt into it the day after graduation. 'Shit', doesn't begin to describe it.

The crowd that had gathered had soon dissipated. The people in Hogsmead knew you, and they knew (no matter what Dumbledore might say) that you were dangerous when you were angry. Fortunately, it also took an amazing amount of prodding to set you off. You weren't like me. I went off at the drop of a hat, spent my anger fairly quickly, and then held a 'because I have to' grudge for the next month. You built an emotional dam, took careful note of everything that pissed you off, and then regulated the emotional over flow until you needed all that anger to prove a point. I had always wished I had that talent; it must have been nice to have such control over your emotions at such a young age. And suddenly, the crowd that had been my lifeline was gone. There was nothing between me and certain death. Oh, goody. But what you did next shocked me beyond all belief.

You really did kiss me. It was, by no means, soft or gentle or loving. It was an act of marking. I was your chattel, I was your possession. I was marked. And before I knew what was happening, I was indeed marked. Your mouth was hot and warm around my neck, an unbearably sexual pressure. You were applying a very large amount of suction, and your teeth found my skin once or twice, biting almost hard enough to draw blood. I could barely stand. And suddenly, you were gone from my neck, and holding me up. I found myself staring into your eyes. They were full of possessiveness, and a healthy dose of protection. That was when I caught the full implications of what had just happened. I was yours. Forever. And you would not stand for me being touched by anyone else. I wanted to hit you, but I couldn't find the strength to lift my arms. I wanted to hit you. Because you smiled.

And then you were gone, walking in that annoying hip swaying walk you had. The one that can only be called a strut. Any other name didn't do the arrogance in the gait justice. But even I will admit that you have right to be arrogant, if only to myself. Once you were safely inside the Three Broomsticks, I turned and ran towards Hogwarts as fast as my legs could carry me. I had a man to see about a Mark…

I'd really prefer not talk about exactly what happened in Dumbledore's office. Oh, I was so relieved he was there. Imagine trying to explain the reason it was so urgent I see him to McGonagall or Flitwick… Thank the gods that man's life is entirely dedicated to the school. The two things that surprised me were: he was totally unsurprised that I was a Death Eater, and he was by no means going to turn me over to the aurors. Okay, I take it back. Three things. That was when I found out that you had lost your parents to the Death Eaters two days prior. It certainly explained your outburst today. Your father had been an auror, your mother a housewife. They killed your father, then raped and killed your mother. They only did it because she was there. She had done nothing wrong. Those sick bastards. They would have killed you too if you hadn't been helping Black and Lupin move into their flat. They might have wanted to have their way with you too, being that you're so fucking beautiful. Those sick fucking bastards. I should rip their balls of and force feed 'em to them. Oh, wait. Black and Lupin are living together now? How fucking sweet. And for the first time in my life, I was thrilled that you always helped them with whatever they asked you to. Yes, if you need to ask, that information really did piss me off. What? I shouldn't have let it? What's done is done? Get of your high horse, Potter. I will be as pissed as I want about any injustice I did not personally visit on you. Those bastards had no fucking right. No, just…let me breathe for a minute…

Okay, I think I'm alright now. No, really, I am. I remember once, for Order work, Dumbledore assigned you and me as partners. I was less than thrilled. Until, that is, I visited your rooms to discuss our work. I didn't know the pass word, so I just knocked. You called that the door was open, you were expecting me, come in! So I did. Another call, this time of, "I'm in the bedroom!" Well… You were lying on the bed in black pants and a short black robe that hung open, revealing your bare chest. They were silk or something like it. I don't know. You always had put comfort before practicality. You could afford to do that, I suppose. You were reading an advanced transfiguration book, and your glasses had slipped down on your nose. They were perfect for you, not like the big ugly ones I saw mudbloods wearing. They had small silver frames and thin delicate lenses of charmed glass. They were sort of rectangular in shape, and in their current position they only covered the bottom halves of your eyes. Your hair was still quite long at that point; Evans only made you cut it the day before you got married. She said it was because the women would all over her 'Jamie' if you didn't. Personally, I don't think it was women she was worried about. You always had leaned a bit more towards feminine beauty. I think it was the eyes. Your eyes made all the difference. It was tied back with a thin black ribbon, presumably made of the same fabric as your clothes. I found I was lost once again in the deep blue sea that was your eyes. I wanted to drown in them, to get lost forever and never have to face the fact that baiting me was no more than a game to you. And I hate myself for it.

"Do you like transfiguration, Severus?"

It was a start at a real conversation. Not a threat, not about business or the Order. You were really going to talk to me. And I had no clue what to say. "Uh…no, I was…never very good at it," I finally admitted.

"Really? Would you like some help?"

Now this was where I drew the line. I would not accept your help! I wouldn't make it through a lesson without succumbing to the torment of your scent, your presence. Gods, your presence. I wouldn't let you. You wouldn't help me. You would just mock me. And I would be crushed because of something I knew was going to happen. I would have let down all of my defenses for something that I knew would just leave me broken. And that was unacceptable.

As if sensing my thoughts, you started talking again. "You know, I was never very good with potions."

This was more than I could take. "What the hell are you talking about?! You always got top marks in everything!"

You laughed. "That was only because the professor put so much emphasis on theory and so little on practice. I can grasp the theory fine; I know what certain ingredients do when added. You know, properties, side effects, common uses and the like."

"It sounds like you grasp potions just fine to me."

"Oh come off it! You've seen me blow up a cauldron brewing a simple Shrinking Solution! Something always goes wrong in the mixing. I can't ever get it to work right. Cooking is the same, you know. I add all the ingredients, do exactly what the recipe says, and then…it invariably comes out an inedible and sometimes burnt slop." I couldn't help but laugh. Here I was, discussing the cooking skills of my sworn enemy. You smiled at me.

"So, how about this: I'll teach you whatever you want to know about transfiguration, and you help me with potions?" It was an idea I could agree to, and you knew it. It put us on equal ground. I could accept your lessons and not feel like I was putting myself more in your debt, and you could say you were only spending time with me because you needed help on your potion making skills. A fair trade all around. Still, that was a lot of time alone with you… But right then, I had to agree. I really had no choice in the matter. Why? Because you smiled.

We spent a lot of time together in your room under those pretenses. Time full of your suggestive clothing, ethereal beauty, and (gods) your smile. There were 'accidental' touches and brushes of lips on skin. You drove me mad. There were days when I wanted to throw you down on your bed and make you scream my name. I didn't want you, I think, because you were a man. You were the first and to this day only man I have been attracted to. I think, as hopelessly romantic as this sound before it's properly explained, that I wanted you because you were you. You had been my obsession since the moment the sorting hat put me in Slytherin without you and I had realized we would probably never be friends again. I think I had become so obsessed with winning you back that my obsession became love. Not that lovey-dovey sickly sweet kind that little girls dream of, but the dark, brooding, consuming and destructive kind. You know, true love. An emotion, an obsession, so deep it bonds the souls of the involved together. You saving me just acted as a catalyst. It bonded our souls partially, but the emotion I felt did the rest. It was some time during those lessons that I realized I could always feel you. You were like a warm presence in the back of my mind. I knew when you were hurt or angry, and that's why I was so terrified of upsetting you. Not because you would hurt me, but because I could feel it too.

I awoke, Halloween night, to first a splitting headache, then rushes of pain throughout my body, and finally a cold empty feeling. Like part of me was missing. I knew what had happened right away, and I rushed to find Dumbledore as fast as I could. Unfortunately, I never found him. What I found instead was the ruins of Godric's Hollow, your ancestral home, and the aurors pulling your body out of them. You hardly looked like you anymore. Your skin was pale and sallow in death, your eyes dull, and your mouth slack. Your limbs hung at odd angles, obviously having been broken, and ribbons and rivulets of blood and sweat dripped off of you. Your hair was matted in more of the same, making it look dull and greasy. I burst into sobs then and there, uncaring of who saw me. Dumbledore soon found me, and put a comforting arm around my shoulders. Normally I would have shrugged him off, but I didn't have the strength to care. Part of me was dead. The best part. You were dead, and I was all alone in the world. Three days later, at the funeral, Dumbledore mentioned that they would need a new Potions professor the coming year. Inwardly, I jumped at the chance. You had said that I should be a professor, that I should teach, that I was more than skilled enough. Outwardly, I merely said I had nothing to do. Thus, I became the Hogwarts Potions professor, and soon after a Potions Master. I let my skin sallow and neglected my hair. I felt dead, and I wanted to look as though I felt. I had lost my much beloved enemy, the only thing constant in my life.

And then your son came to Hogwarts. I had secretly hoped he would be put in Slytherin. If that had happened, I would have been allowed to dote on him, no questions asked. I had always favored the Slytherins. But of course, he was a Gryffindor. I had really known he would be. How couldn't he have? You had been so brave. Too brave, sometimes, but an honorable trait nonetheless. That boy did not like me from the moment he saw me. Two minutes into his first class, I had decided that he must have been Black's son instead. You had always been fair and slow to judge, even if judgments were almost irrevocably final. Black was rude, hot-tempered, and stupid. Book-smart maybe, but hopeless with people. Everything was always good or bad. I think you recognized more gray areas than I did. There were no gray areas with this little brat. I watched him grow up, and I saved his life more than once because like it or not he was part of you and I would do anything to keep you alive in any way possible.

But he's grown now, and I have nothing left to keep alive. I don't think that anyone, not even Dumbledore, maybe not even you, realized that I loved you. Everyone thought I hated you. Which I do. I hate you for leaving me. But that doesn't matter. I'm with you now. The grass on your grave is cool and sweet, and it smells of spring and Quidditch. The poison in my veins is working fast, and I will be with you. The hole in me was too large. There was nothing left of me. I had no will to live. I lived for you, but what good was that? It didn't bring you back to me. So now I die for you. And as I lay here on your grave, poison like liquid fire in my body, killing me quickly and efficiently, Peace washes over me at last. Because I see you standing there with arms outstretched to greet me, my personal reminder that sometimes courage is letting go. Because you look so understanding of me, not disappointed like I had feared. And because you smile.

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*sniff* So sad. Review my story. Don't make Sevie die in vain! *Bursts into tears* Okay, I'm better. No really, review. Or him and Jamie will come back from the grave to haunt you.
Sevie: Yeah! I worked hard on that death scene!
Jamie: We know you did. *pats head reassuringly*
Sevie: *glares*