Ummm... let's see... I'm an AVID, RABID Kakashi fangirl (see all my fics about him)... but I also kind of enjoy Snape... so here goes! This is my first Potter fic and I don't know alot of stuff, so please, don't kill me!
Still, read and review! And if you have criticism (constructive, that is) feel free to comment! I'm always open to honest, intelligent opinions! Thanks!
Harry Potter and the whole universe thereof belong to Rawlings, not me.
Italics: Snape's thoughts.
The Memory of Green Eyes
He hated them all.
As he strode past the grey stone columns of the quad, glaring at the chattering little beasts that made up this great school, he hated them all. The feeling niggled at him so much, Snape wondered what was so wrong with this particular day.
Was it the smell of green in the grass and the budding autumn flowers?
Perhaps it was that oaf Hagrid. Snape watched as the idiot giant led yet another strange, fantastic creature to the back of his house – another dangerous lesson for the children to undergo… The ratty gamekeeper (dressed in a very tatty forest green coat) disappeared behind his house for a moment, but he could still hear the jaunty whistle.
Irritating.
But… no… to be honest… that isn't the root of my problem.
Do I have a problem?
He turned away and returned the way he had come, feeling like an idiot, pacing up and down the school grounds. Doing nothing.
But THEY were there.
The countless children who lounged about thinking about nothing more than the boy/girl they wanted or the next Quidditch match between the houses. Silly little children, who hurt each other with venomous looks, had their own cliques to snub and pride.
He hated them all.
He escaped to the dungeons.
Among his herbs, he relaxed. It was after all a familiar place – with a thousand smells only he could categorize. Taking down a familiar bottle, he released the stopper and inhaled the calming scent.
Death in a bottle is the most beautiful smell.
"Severus," a sharp old voice interjected. "We have a problem."
"What now," Snape twitched around to face his collegue – elderly Miss McGonagall. "Let me guess, some sort of potion to mend the idiotic act of a student? Let me guess… a Weasley?"
McGonagall blinked, then smiled.
"Really, Severus, the way you go on, you should take Trelawney's position. Both of you seem to enjoy handing out miscalculated futures. No. Dumbledore wishes to see you."
"Hmph."
He looked at her sharp face – the alert eyes, the perky hat (complete with an emerald feather) and the clean cut cape and the lace just so. She had it all together – at least, she looked like she did. And passing by a mirror, seeing them together, he couldn't help but notice that he too looked totally in control.
Small mercies. Children are like wild animals – ready to tear down anything weak in their path. They can… sense… things….
As he followed McGonagall up and across to Dumbledore's room, he wondered.
Just because she looks in control… does that mean she is? What about the fact that she's been single so long… Does that mean she's unlikable… or strong?
No matter. She wasn't the center of his annoyance – and neither was the bumbling old fool before him – chattering on about the misbehavior of the newest Slytherin, while devouring a small lime sherbert. Snape couldn't but help feel triumphant when Dumbledore asked Snape to brew up some Veritaserum for an upcoming interrogation.
When things went wrong, it was always him who came through. Throughout the whole Voldemort fiasco and the panicked trials afterwards. Even the Aurors had welcomed him and his 'abilities'.
It wasn't everyday that a wizard made his own spells.
He hated them all.
Stalking his way back to his classroom for the first afternoon class, he mused on his feelings. Yes. Lupin. James. Sirius.
But how could he be specifically annoyed by them? After all, where WERE they now? Lupin, a social outcast. James, dead. Sirius, in Azakaban.
We have switched places, old friends… and even then….
His hands met the rough wood of his classroom door, and he flung it open, savoring the bang as it met the wall. Black cloak swirling around him, black eyes burning like the coal in the grate, he stalked in, rounded around the edge of his podium and glared at the class from behind his black greasy locks. Majestically folding his arms across his chest he posed for a moment, to savor the frightened silence.
"Welcome to Potions class," he purred, looking across his class.
It was the youngest class of the school – the newest one. Most of them had a dazed look, some of them were excited – and some were taking it easy – they had prepared for this a long time.
Sure enough – red hair and freckles – Weasley, of course… damn them…. Don't know the girl with the long brown hair and big teeth…. Looks too smart for her own good… hmmm… white hair – ahh… Malfoy… of course… With Crabbe and Goyle beside him… idiots. And – another idiot…a Longbottom, heh… And… what do we have here?
I had forgotten.
Or maybe not.
Suddenly, he understood – and for a moment, fear, hate, anger – and worry boiled to the surface. This boy…
"Mr. Potter."
He looked just like his mother.
Lily.
His – her green eyes.
Without warning, the ache returned in his chest.
Damn it.
And the scar.
She had died saving this brat. What a waste…Lily.
Somehow his voice kept on talking. Even though the horrific realization dawned on him, that in truth, this dungeon classroom WAS a dungeon – a dungeon of his own making. He was stuck here with the walking memory of an angry, lonely, anxious past.
He hated it.
He hated him.
So he looked down and smiled bitterly.
"Our newest celebrity."
I like Snape - even if he is supposedly 'evil'... maybe Rawlings will be unpredictable for once and actually make him a complex character... (read: good)... sigh... why do I fall in love with the wrong characters?
READ AND REVIEW!