My first years at Hogwarts are but a blur to me now, few moments standing out of the haze of propriety and
teenaged politics. Trivial things, mostly, winning a quidditch cup, being made a prefect…few very
important, things I can use now. None very clear, but one.
The moment I met Him.
Severus Snape.
I knew him vaguely- a boy's power who rivaled my own, both magical power, and his power over people.
It was shocking to know this when you looked at him- lithe and pale, hair hanging sullen in his sober eyes,
the black school robes always covering all, more and more black, none of the bright jewel tones in fashion
in our 6th year.
But he did have power over them, how little they knew it. They knew I had power over them through my
position, and my money, my family name, and my favors. But while I ruled through adoration, he ruled
through fear. Because they did fear him. All drew away under his sour gaze.
All but me.
- - - - -
There is an old tale of a Princess.
This Princess was in love with a Prince of equal age, a love that hurt her soul with a burning passion.
The old King, father to the Princess, knew this Prince, and felt the lad had no right to the love of his
beautiful, perfect daughter.
The grand arena, the fabulous court, had two doors. The old king presented the young Prince with the
doors, each one a separate choice, a separate future.
Behind one, sinewy death in the form of a tiger, ready to maul and rend and maim.
Behind the other, beautiful freedom in the form of a maiden he could marry, and leave with.
The daughter knew which door held death, and which door held life. She told her lover she would indicate
which door to pick.
The Princess however, was torn.
If she chose the lady, her handsome young lover would live, free of impending death, but he would love
another, taken away from her forever.
If she chose the tiger? He would forever love her, know only her arms, her kisses, the taste of her tears and
lips. But he would die.
And with that, there came the age old question to the Princess. The question that is presented by characters
in literature world wide, the question that reflects a thousand questions, that is repeated in culture
surrounding us, the question that drips in seven syllables from millions of mouths.
The Lady? or the Tiger?
When I looked at him, I finally understood the Princess. Looking at his dark hair, his pale skin, I felt the
burning, all consuming flame of passion ignite in my soul, and I stared at him, all tenderness and beauty. I
loved him deeply, so quickly, the heady red wine floating around in my soul, deepening my awareness of
his soft neck, the vulnerable spots above his veins. I craved the taste of his blood, his flesh, the taste of his
soft malleable skin in my mouth. Looking at him, I was the story.
I wanted to make love to him, sweetly touch that angry, genius young face, wanted to make my name
spring from those lips, drip from them in a moan, jump from them in a cry. I wanted to see those eyes that
know too much stare up at me, glazed in passion, glassy with pleasure. I wanted to make him feel more
than he ever thought possible. I wanted to nuzzle that perfect skin, translucent above the veins, to kiss my
way along that strong jaw, to nibble the delicate shell of that ear. I felt my need for him deep within my
groin, heavy in me, and I almost moaned beneath the weight of my craving.
I wanted to nuzzle that flat stomach, sink my teeth in the skin, bite my way down that long column of his
neck, bring the blood that hesitated beneath his skin to the surface. To taste the blood that refuses to color
the skin, to see if it really is too good for him. I wanted to sink my claws into his thighs, drag them along
that straight strong back, to pull him down to me, to take him, to bring him pain with then pleasure, to see
him enjoy both, because no one as beautiful as that would not realize that pleasure does not come without
pain. I wanted his thin body in my grasp, to hold it and to feel his crunch between my teeth as I devour him
alive and passive.
I wanted to lead him to freedom. Away from the daily ritual of learning, the daily schedule of classrooms
and meals, classrooms and homework, sleep, wake up, more classrooms. I wanted to take him away from
this dreary room, to pull him away from the deep green velvet he sinks deeper into, clinging to the book
that looks huge in his thin lap, as people pass by. Losing himself. I wanted to show him all that he could
find out there. I wanted to show him life is not only about what he can find in those books. I wanted to
show him life is not only the world inside parchment and ink. I wanted to show him the open fields and
sequestering forests, and to see the love of freedom and life in those secretive eyes.
I want to be them all, Lady, Princess, Tiger. I watched my Prince, as his all knowing eyes reflect the fire
back to itself, as he stares into the depths of his book, as he turns a page with those terribly long fingers that
taunt me in my sleep. I swallowed, the alcohol bringing me courage, the warmed wine flowing in my veins
now, threaded through with blinding fire. I stood up from my own chair, and walked over to him, the
seductive swagger that I was used to seeing people fall all over themselves to watch, my hips moving
beneath the material of my pants in a sway that is almost feminine. I felt the eyes on me, the girls eyes, the
boys eyes. I felt the want heating the room, smell it on the air, taste it in my mouth.
Stopping before him, the goblet still in my hand, I took a swallow, licking a spare drop away from the
corner of my lips. I watched him stare at my mouth, at my tongue, and I knew he was in my thrall. His
name came as a purr from my throat, and I saw in the depths of those eyes, those all knowing eyes,
somewhere behind the fear that is fiercely hidden behind boredom and anger, that he knows I have made a
decision.
The Tiger.
- - - - -
Sorry this took so long to come out, I was debating whether I wanted to throw their relationship in this
soon. But to set up what I want to do with the story, I want to set up their relationship and ship the little
one's off to D.E. camp as soon as possible. However, if this switch is not taken well, and it is strongly
objected, I probably will add in more.
teenaged politics. Trivial things, mostly, winning a quidditch cup, being made a prefect…few very
important, things I can use now. None very clear, but one.
The moment I met Him.
Severus Snape.
I knew him vaguely- a boy's power who rivaled my own, both magical power, and his power over people.
It was shocking to know this when you looked at him- lithe and pale, hair hanging sullen in his sober eyes,
the black school robes always covering all, more and more black, none of the bright jewel tones in fashion
in our 6th year.
But he did have power over them, how little they knew it. They knew I had power over them through my
position, and my money, my family name, and my favors. But while I ruled through adoration, he ruled
through fear. Because they did fear him. All drew away under his sour gaze.
All but me.
- - - - -
There is an old tale of a Princess.
This Princess was in love with a Prince of equal age, a love that hurt her soul with a burning passion.
The old King, father to the Princess, knew this Prince, and felt the lad had no right to the love of his
beautiful, perfect daughter.
The grand arena, the fabulous court, had two doors. The old king presented the young Prince with the
doors, each one a separate choice, a separate future.
Behind one, sinewy death in the form of a tiger, ready to maul and rend and maim.
Behind the other, beautiful freedom in the form of a maiden he could marry, and leave with.
The daughter knew which door held death, and which door held life. She told her lover she would indicate
which door to pick.
The Princess however, was torn.
If she chose the lady, her handsome young lover would live, free of impending death, but he would love
another, taken away from her forever.
If she chose the tiger? He would forever love her, know only her arms, her kisses, the taste of her tears and
lips. But he would die.
And with that, there came the age old question to the Princess. The question that is presented by characters
in literature world wide, the question that reflects a thousand questions, that is repeated in culture
surrounding us, the question that drips in seven syllables from millions of mouths.
The Lady? or the Tiger?
When I looked at him, I finally understood the Princess. Looking at his dark hair, his pale skin, I felt the
burning, all consuming flame of passion ignite in my soul, and I stared at him, all tenderness and beauty. I
loved him deeply, so quickly, the heady red wine floating around in my soul, deepening my awareness of
his soft neck, the vulnerable spots above his veins. I craved the taste of his blood, his flesh, the taste of his
soft malleable skin in my mouth. Looking at him, I was the story.
I wanted to make love to him, sweetly touch that angry, genius young face, wanted to make my name
spring from those lips, drip from them in a moan, jump from them in a cry. I wanted to see those eyes that
know too much stare up at me, glazed in passion, glassy with pleasure. I wanted to make him feel more
than he ever thought possible. I wanted to nuzzle that perfect skin, translucent above the veins, to kiss my
way along that strong jaw, to nibble the delicate shell of that ear. I felt my need for him deep within my
groin, heavy in me, and I almost moaned beneath the weight of my craving.
I wanted to nuzzle that flat stomach, sink my teeth in the skin, bite my way down that long column of his
neck, bring the blood that hesitated beneath his skin to the surface. To taste the blood that refuses to color
the skin, to see if it really is too good for him. I wanted to sink my claws into his thighs, drag them along
that straight strong back, to pull him down to me, to take him, to bring him pain with then pleasure, to see
him enjoy both, because no one as beautiful as that would not realize that pleasure does not come without
pain. I wanted his thin body in my grasp, to hold it and to feel his crunch between my teeth as I devour him
alive and passive.
I wanted to lead him to freedom. Away from the daily ritual of learning, the daily schedule of classrooms
and meals, classrooms and homework, sleep, wake up, more classrooms. I wanted to take him away from
this dreary room, to pull him away from the deep green velvet he sinks deeper into, clinging to the book
that looks huge in his thin lap, as people pass by. Losing himself. I wanted to show him all that he could
find out there. I wanted to show him life is not only about what he can find in those books. I wanted to
show him life is not only the world inside parchment and ink. I wanted to show him the open fields and
sequestering forests, and to see the love of freedom and life in those secretive eyes.
I want to be them all, Lady, Princess, Tiger. I watched my Prince, as his all knowing eyes reflect the fire
back to itself, as he stares into the depths of his book, as he turns a page with those terribly long fingers that
taunt me in my sleep. I swallowed, the alcohol bringing me courage, the warmed wine flowing in my veins
now, threaded through with blinding fire. I stood up from my own chair, and walked over to him, the
seductive swagger that I was used to seeing people fall all over themselves to watch, my hips moving
beneath the material of my pants in a sway that is almost feminine. I felt the eyes on me, the girls eyes, the
boys eyes. I felt the want heating the room, smell it on the air, taste it in my mouth.
Stopping before him, the goblet still in my hand, I took a swallow, licking a spare drop away from the
corner of my lips. I watched him stare at my mouth, at my tongue, and I knew he was in my thrall. His
name came as a purr from my throat, and I saw in the depths of those eyes, those all knowing eyes,
somewhere behind the fear that is fiercely hidden behind boredom and anger, that he knows I have made a
decision.
The Tiger.
- - - - -
Sorry this took so long to come out, I was debating whether I wanted to throw their relationship in this
soon. But to set up what I want to do with the story, I want to set up their relationship and ship the little
one's off to D.E. camp as soon as possible. However, if this switch is not taken well, and it is strongly
objected, I probably will add in more.
