The Snarkier He Gets, The More It Means He Cares!
He may be called a
greasy bat,
A royal git, and worse.
But oh that man is
where it's at!
Deep down Snape is
perverse.
It's true that he has
sallow skin;
He's cruel, vile, and
mean.
But when my thoughts
should turn to him,
They tend to get
obscene.
His limply hanging,
greasy hair
Must
feel like silken thread.
His cutting, vicious,
burning stare,
Must
mean he's great in bed!
I've seen his supple,
tapered hands,
With fingers long and
thin.
Those digits mean he
understands
Caressing female skin.
I call his nose quite
aquiline.
Large…limbs….that
would suggest.
And if I could but call
him mine,
I'd put that to the
test.
His robes are blacker
than his soul,
More layered, too, and
daunting.
In my thoughts he makes
me whole.
Nightly my dreams he's
haunting.
Yes he does call me
hateful names,
And scalds me with his
eyes.
I know that he's just
playing games,
His love he must
disguise.
"Insufferable
know-it-all"
The phrase just warms
my spirit.
"Detention!" makes
my skin just crawl,
How glad I am to hear
it!
Tonight I'll don my
best attire
Run to detention
faster.
Seduce the creature I
desire
The
snarky Potions Master!