I wrote this in response to a challenge at the ETC Forum. One-shot, VERY short, angst from Snape's POV. Enjoy.


"To love at all is to be venerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin or your selfishness. But in that casket--safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable...The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers...of love is Hell." - C.S. Lewis, "The Four Loves"


To see Harry Potter walking in the grounds, snow clinging softly to his ebony hair, green eyes bright behind his glasses, a smile turning up the edges of his soft lips, his arm draped lightly around Hermione Granger's shoulders, was torture. It wasn't that they didn't make a lovely couple, but then, any two people would make a lovely couple if one of them was Harry Potter.

He was wearing a soft grey polo neck jumper that day. It hugged his body tightly enough to show off a lot of his masculine physique, yet leave plenty to imagine. The jeans... he was wearing my favourite jeans, the really tight ones, with the long hole below the knee to reveal some of that soft, ebony skin.... I closed my eyes to block out the pain, but how could I leave them closed for long? They fluttered open to stare at Harry some more.

Why did he have to be so perfect? He was gorgeous, he was heroic, he was smart. He was perfection itself.

I don't know when I started loving him. But standing by the window in the Transfigurations classroom, watching him in the grounds, I knew I loved him. How could he ever love me back? It was torture.

He looked up suddenly, his expression one of total and utter loathing as his beautiful eyes fell on me. My stomach did a flip, I felt sick. I had brought this hatred down on myself. I twisted my mouth into a cold sneer, and forced myself to hold eye contact. He rolled his eyes and looked away, back to the girl under his arm, and smiled that sweet smile.

I sighed, and forced myself to walk away.