I have a stupid sore throat. D: Sooo, I wrote this in hopes of cheering myself up. Read it, and enjoy, and don't forget to review! -hands out cuddly!Snape plushies to everybody-
Severus held himself from leaning forward in anticipation, waiting for Harry Potter's name to be called. Surely he'd look a lot like his mother; both Minerva and Albus had told him so.
He ignored the stuttering Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher beside him and bit the inside of his lip subtly.
He hissed out between his teeth as he finally heard the sorting hat call out.
"Potter, Harry!"
Nobody noticed him leaning slightly forward, since their eyes were trained on the boy. Shaggy black hair, annoyingly round glasses, that stupid mark that made him oh so famous showing proudly on his forehead..
He leaned back, disappointed.
He watched him discreetly from the corner of his eye as Potter was sorted into Gryffindor.. big surprise that is.. a little voice in the back of his head hissed slyly. Potter sat at the Gryffindor table and he waited, and then Potter looked up, wincing and rubbing his stupid infernal scar.
Lily.
He had Lily's eyes.
He looked away, and couldn't breathe, and the other professors didn't notice him as he slowly placed a hand to his chest, and then he looked up and Potter looked away, and he could breathe again. Black, messy hair. Stupid, infernal.
Harry Potter was just another Potter.
What a pity that was.