Harry ain't mine. Need more be said?
Severus Snape was, by nature, a man of obsession.
When he was a child, his obsession was learning. He needed to learn, needed it as he needed water and air- because with learning came power, and with power came safety, and his father would never touch him again.
Eventually, his obsession grew more refined: the Dark Arts.
Because the Dark Arts were the ultimate form of power, the essence of safety, and he could never be hurt again, not by his father or his mother, not by Black or Potter or the werewolf...
But Severus Snape, though a man of obsession, was not blind or without conscience. He was bitter and cold and had questionable morals, oh yes, but the blood of children, muddy or not, sickened him.
And so Severus Snape found himself a new obsession- the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses....
And oh, how very irritating it was, to see the useless dunderheads he strove in vain to teach instead fooling about in his class, blind to everything but their own petty needs...
Potions weren't enough to capture his undying interest, however, and his obsessive nature found a new focus.
Harry Bloody Potter.
At first, it was loathing, pure and simple and sickly beautiful. Oh, how he hated the brat, so much like his father, like his mother. The little bastard was so bloody defiant, so angry and fierce...
It was that intensity that warped the loathing into something else, something infinitely darker and more twisted.
Green green eyes and black hair and red lips, and it was Snow fucking White all over again.
Torture, it was torture during Potter's class, those last few years. Those thrice-damned green eyes full of fury and hatred, those lips compressed in a tight, contemptuous line, those cheeks flushed with humiliation and anger...
God, how Severus wanted the boy.
hands so small and delicate eyes so round so large so green so green skin so pale so smooth
It was a nightmare caught in a wet dream, and Severus had never hated himself more.
He watched the boy like a hawk, and didn't bother lying to himself as to his motivations. He was, after all, a man of relaxed morals, and he hardly thought he'd mind being damned eternally if it meant he could taste the boy, just once.
but once would never be enough he'd be so sweet he'd taste like smoke and honey and grass so green
But it wasn't to be, he knew that as he knew his own name. Harry Potter wasn't for greasy old Potions Masters.
he belonged to the sunshine to the sun to the clouds to the sky to freedom to laughter to smiles to love to love
Severus Snape was a man of obsession. And this obsession wouldn't end.
It was Heaven and Hell together when the boy graduated. Severus kept track of the boy, though, still watching like a hawk, reading the articles and studying the pictures spread liberally through every wizarding magazine in publication.
hands not so small stronger eyes a little darker but still so green so green smile a little colder grown up grown old fucking gorgeous
And Severus Snape was, by nature, obsessive.
Because Harry Potter was all that Severus could never be.
Severus Snape was obsessive. But somewhere down the line, obsession had softened and strengthened into something frighteningly like love. A twisted sort of love, that was a given, but still love, and that was more than Severus had ever felt before.
It was a bittersweet realization, more bitter than sweet, because Severus Snape was a man of obsession, and if he had no obsession, just this ugly sort of love, then what was left?
Severus Snape was a man of obsession. And without his obsession, he found that he was merely human...just like everyone else.
Severus Snape was a man of obsession. And he was lost in the green.