Author: Javelin the Silent One Pairings: Lily/Snape, one-sided Snape/Harry love-hate thing. ...fails XP
Rating: M
Word Count: 667
Warnings: Possible disturbing content--nothing sexual, but it DOES depict Snape having some sort of fixiation with Harry's eyes.
Genre: General, Angst
Notes: Takes place during second year sometime, possibly around the Valentine's Day incident.
Disclaimer: JKR owns this world. I just play/spork there.

It was as though Lily and James Potter had been placed on a balance scale, and certainly this boy would be the center over which the two weighing plates were hung.

Snape pursed his lips, but they did not curl.

Perfect, perfect Little Potter. Youngest Quidditch team member, The Boy-Who-Lived, the child of that—

Something like a snarl flared, flailed and died in his throat. But he could not look away.

Potter's face was turned away from his, and right now looked like a lovechild between frustrated determination and preadolescent dreaminess, thin lips slightly parted, and—

Those eyes.

(Sev, do you think she had been so bright that day, that day so white and cold that I could make a love potion? I wonder what I would put in it….)

He could have, should have hated Potter. And something deep within him screamed yes, yes, and the hand was wavering over the ingredients trying to choose something and—

He could have, should have hated the boy.

But right then he looked up and the dark light of the dungeons gave his irises a wet, gleaming look that made them seem to—

(she had been)

And the rage within him withered and died.

(so bright that day)

(…and I think I'd put some cinnamon into it too, and cloves. 'Cause Mama says that love's sweet, but sometimes it has to be a bit spicy, too, to make it stay interesting. And roses, maybe…?)

It was not hate. It was not love.

It was his own beetle-black eyes that found the will to break from those eyes and follow the arm down, down the rabbit hole to one hand, pale and thin and he wondered what it would feel like to hold that hand

(just like we did on that day oh Lily oh Lily)

and fuck, what was he thinking?

"Professor?"

"What?" His voice was a flat, snappish monotone licking out and crushing the boy's questioning with its powerful jaws.

Their eyes met…and oh, how he wanted to hate the boy.

But it was as if the hate he harbored had been sedated. A sleepy, sluggish thing struggling on its own.

"I…oh, there it is…"

The arm elongated, stretching itself in a vain attempt to reach the ebony in the middle of the table.

"Just like your father. I imagine he, too, would risk pouring his cauldron and possibly injuring others to reach for a simple ingredient." This, now this was something he could do, this taunting, jeering jester that—

His arm shot out and plucked the ebony off the table, shoving it into Potter's hands. Their hands met, brushed—and the pads were not quite silky, rather calloused and rough, but it still emanated the warmth of that person that person oh my Lily—

(…and then you'd heat it up and drink it together, I think. Yes, together. It has to be that way, Sev—I don't know why, maybe it'll make it stronger! …no, of COURSE I'm not going to put EVERYTHING in it, Sev, don't be daft…)

Potter's eyes looked into his, both still as statues, frozen in that moment when Severus felt a rush of something, something rushing up and out towards the boy, no not the boy the eyes, the eyes that held everything and warmth and LILY—

Severus whirled around, snatching his hand to himself as if burnt. "Ten points from Gryffindor," he muttered, turning away. "For reckless behavior." His robes billowed around him as he walked into his office.

Somehow it was easier to resent Potter's complaints when he could not see that face—lovely and young, unlovable except for—

(You can't have tears of sadness in it, Severus. It'll ruin the whole thing.)

He had seen, but never comforted. Never. Always, always the lingering regret, the butterfly that fluttered from his sullied fingertips, up and into the sun to never come back down.

"Have you seen the boy, Severus? He has Lily's eyes…."

The beast hung its head and wept.

And now to explain myself before you all try to misconstrue this. xDDedicated to a friend for having the bravery to spork a truly creepy fanfic. May this help speed you along in your recovery.

Why did I write this? I don't know. Because I could. Because I need to keep writing in order to retain this stuff. Because I wrote something in a community on LJ called Deleterius and it got me thinking what it would look like if Snape got something like a fixiation on Harry's eyes. They are, after all, the one reminder of Lily he has left.

After reading the spork of "Little Miss Mary," I decided to try and see what it would be like if I wrote a canon-version of it, of Snape having an attraction to Harry, or at least his eyes, and this is what resulted. This is the first draft--I may go back and revise it. Or I may not. I don't know yet.

I don't expect many people to like this story--I certainly find it creepy, and I wrote the damn thing. Just keep in mind that this is FICTION, and that NOTHING sexual goes on--fuck, Snape doesn't even get a boner. Just...something faded and withered and dead.

Well, I hope you got some enjoyment out of it, and that it was at least semi-canon. Constructive crit is always welcome!