A/N: I hurriedly wrote this super short prologue as I remembered the birthday of one of the most beloved and dreaded characters that J.K. Rowling had ever written. The dour potion professor is impossible to forget.
Happy Birthday, Professor Snape!
'Take … it … Take … it …'
Severus said it with difficulty, blood choking his breath, and again, fully aware that by giving those memories, he might just have condemned his loved one to an early grave.
'Loved?' Yes—although anyone might find that word to be more than incomprehensible to describe the relationship of one Harry James Potter with him; simply the farthest word to associate with both of them.
Hate was more fitting or maybe despise. For all the boy knew, Severus practically existed just to make him suffer. While it looked like a misguided affection, he was definitely not having a delusional moment as he lied there on the floor, dying, nor had he somehow lost his mind. As ridiculous to admit, he, Severus Snape, the most hated professor at Hogwarts was really in love with Harry James Potter.
Not only for this very last second, but had already been for years. Though, he had guarded it so well that not even the old headmaster had realized about it. Imagine, how unscrupulous of him to fell for both mother and son—how inexcusable. It was logical to keep it hidden when it would only do more harm than good.
Still, dying had that tendency to make people more honest – one final wish, they said.
And so a whisper passed his lips, betrayed his perseverance, 'Look … at … me …'
No hesitation as Potter lifted his eyes to meet his own. As he saw those green eyes, he knew beyond doubt that, even though he regretted many things in his life, he didn't regret to die for Harry Potter.
End of Prologue