Obsession

Ron had been incredulous when Harry told him what he had witnessed the night before. "You mean Snape has a boyfriend? Bloody hell." Harry was elated in knowing that Snape liked other men but dejected knowing that he was taken and would never love a student. "He'd probably hex me, poison me, and then hit me over the head with a brick if he knew what I was thinking about him."

Snape stared over his desk at the strange student in the front row. Harry was looking absolutely everywhere in the room except at Snape. He found himself wondering if his student was ill or merely insane. It must be his mother's genes. He decided to ignore him and continue working. Harry, who was NOT looking at Snape, stared dejectedly into his cauldron. There was simply no way to get his mind off of the teacher. So, well, he liked guys. He could accept that. But to like a teacher, and much less Snape? He had to have been instantly infatuated with a man who despised him. It was really too much. Well, he would try. What harm could it do? He was merely going to make an advance towards a much older man who was his professor, who hated his guts and would most likely kill him on sight. Harry didn't see any problems with his plan, but then again, he was a Gryffindor.

Snape found himself thinking of Harry at odd moments during the day, no doubt a product of having to deal with the damn child far too often. The creature seemed to bump into him constantly. There was no way he could prove it was intentional, but for gods sakes, he hadn't had this much physical contact with someone at school since Longbottom had accidentally cast a binding curse, and too terrified to say anything, had to remain within fifty feet of feared professor at all times for days until Snape realized the boy was sleeping outside his door. The child nearly died when he went to Luscius' house.

The next morning Snape rose at four thirty in the morning as usual and went for his morning rounds of the school, searching for some new first years to terrify when he stopped at his doorway. There was a bouquet of roses. He stared, then blinked, then stared some more, then upon deep reflection, took a step backward and closed the door and locked it. Bloody hell. What was that? He grumbled to himself "Wash my bloody hair once or twice and grow it out and this happens. I thought I asked Filtch to have all of this cleared away by the time I woke up." Each morning, dozens of cards and flowers were made to disappear from in front of his doorway and reappear en-mass in the bedrooms of various gothic children all over the world. It was Snape's attempt to keep the suicide rate down. There was nothing more annoying than whiny, dark poetry spouting, hormonal gothic teenage ghosts. Honestly. So Filtch would clean out the area in front of his door at four every morning. Someone had put these flowers there, recently. Someone who had been watching. If they were stupid enough to write their name on the card he would make a sincere effort to make their lives miserable until they got over their pathetic little crush. Honestly, the students were simply oozing emotional auras all over the place. It was disgusting to have to walk through that much good feeling at once.

Severus steeled himself, then unlocked his door and stepped out. Discarding the flowers he reached for the card.

Sensuous lips and come hither smile,

Deep hooded eyes,

Passionate,

Wild

Hawk-like eyes, raptor gaze in dim light

Dark intruder of my dreams on sleepless nights

"Who writes this shit? No talent whatsoever", he sighed to himself. No name. Well, he would find out soon enough and put a stop to these ridiculous displays of affection. He picked up the roses and tore them into shreds, gripping the stems so hard that blood welled up in his palm, tiny rivulets of crimson against porcelain skin, blood dripping over the petals.

Harry, watching from around the corner sighed dreamily. To be able to kiss those hands and wipe the blood away. The more rational part of his mind was screaming to run away before Severus tore him apart just as he had cast aside his present. But of course he dismissed those thoughts. He was, after all, a Gryffindor.

He did not know when it began but he started to think of the teacher as Severus instead of Professor, to want to share his every thought and feeling with him, to make him smile more than anything else in the world. He nearly called him Severus or even worse "Sev" in class a couple of times but barely caught himself. He could imagine the consequences. Reoccurring nightmares about having his head smashed in with a brick by the gorgeous professor. The oblivious professor. At least he hoped.