The Start of It
Severus Snape had just dismissed his fourth year morning class Gryffindors and his own Slytherins. He stood to retreat into his personal offices to grade the essays he had them do the night before when he noticed that the fourteen-year-old Harry Potter stood in the middle of the classroom, watching his potions professor; a curious look on his face.
"Can I help you, Potter?" asked the Slytherin head-of-house in his normal snide.
Harry only relaxed his estranged expression and looked around the room as if he hadn't known he was still there. "S-sorry, professor." He stammered just as his astute read-haired friend stuck his head in the doorway.
"C'mon Harry." He said confused when he saw his friend there. Harry turned around surprised; his book-bag slung over one shoulder.
"Sorry." He said and then without another word to the befuddled potions master hurried out the door.
"Hey man," said Ron when they were a safe distance away from the dungeons. "We were halfway to the Great Hall before we realized you weren't with us. Hermione went ahead to the Green House but I ran back to find you. What were you doing just standing there, mate?" Ron gave a concerned look at his best friend who still seemed a little off.
"Sorry I really have no idea, one minute I was grabbing my stuff to leave, then the next...I don't know it's like I was lost, like...oh I don't know, then Snape said something just before you came in, is that weird or what?"
"Yeah..." When they arrived at the green house they were late, and had a few points deducted from their house. As they pruned atypical plants the conversation changed to a lighter topic; the upcoming triwizard tournament.
That was the start of it.
Severus had watched the two boys expeditiously leave his classroom and after a few pondering moments he seized the stack of essays and escaped into his office. While he graded the papers he allowed himself to forget the event.
It wasn't until he came upon Harry's paper did he realize what the expression on the boy's face had been whilst he was staring at the man. It was...hungry, but not for food, it was as if the boy was hungry for his potions professor. But surely that wasn't it.
He read the essay twice noticing how frequently Harry doubled words or completely veered off from what he was originally saying; as if the boy had lost his train of thought, and then after recovering himself started where he had left off. There were scribbles over misspelled words or covering notes on the edges of the paper. Severus allowed a small chuckle at the image the golden boy nodding-off in the middle of the night trying to complete his homework.
No doubt he had only written the paper that morning at breakfast instead of doing his homework properly. At least that's what Severus would have normally thought except for what had happened only moments ago.
The potions master quickly shook his head to clear his thoughts; of course the boy had procrastinated and had not done any research of any kind. In fact he hadn't paid attention at all during the day's lesson, not that he ever did, but, --now that Snape was thinking about it-- Harry had seemed a little more distracted then his usual.
The man made a quick swift motion, marking the paper with a large "F"; and continued to the rest of the stack before his next class began.
That night Harry lay in his four poster bed with the curtains drawn unable to fall asleep. Images of his potions professor kept popping up in his mind. What must he have thought when he saw Harry just staring at him?
Harry groaned and ran his hand over his face, he hadn't known how long he had been staring; he hadn't even realized the class had left. He was so lost in his own world imagining a way to get a chance to be alone with the man. And while he was thinking he unintentionally accomplished his goal. But the look on the man's face when he saw Harry staring at him...Snape must think he was mentally ill or something of the sort.
How did Harry want the professor to think about him? Obviously he cared what the man thought or else this wouldn't be bothering him so much. He hadn't been able to pay attention all night while he was writing his essay, he kept loosing track of what he was thinking about, finding his mind wandering to a certain hook-nosed greasy-haired potions professor. And in class he imagined having a real conversation with the man, as he stared at his lips and listened to that, deep yet at the same time nasally, voice. A question suddenly bloomed into his thoughts; what would it be like to kiss those lips?
Instantly Harry was blown away by his imagination. Where in the world did that come from?! What was he thinking?! Snape?! The greasy git, dungeon bat?! No, certainly, he never thought that. It never happened. But Harry couldn't deny it, after that one thought, now he craved to feel the man's arms tightly wrapped around him, and those lips crushed against Harry's. He would never admit to anyone, he couldn't even admit it –outright-- to himself.
Harry sighed heavily and rolled over on his side, and forced nothing but a black screen to fill his thoughts, but Snape's voice crowded in, 'Can I help you, Potter?'
At the time Harry was going to say –while in his trance—"There's many things you can help me with." Or even, "Yes, professor, there is. Is there anything I can help you with?" But of course he didn't say either, too appalled that his mind could conjure up such smut; and he was grateful he hadn't. After all what would his dear old "Greasy Git" think of him if he had?
Harry fell asleep to the repeating sound of the man's low voice, his dreams absurdly filled with Snape.
Severus closed his eyes and saw the "hungry" young boy standing in his classroom, for the twelfth time that evening; and opened them again. He didn't know what to make of it, maybe the boy was having some sort of fit. Maybe Harry was ill, and that was the reason behind the confusion of his essay and his being distracted all morning. Not that he cared; the boy was a nuisance, and certainly lacking in skill when it came to potions.
But for just a moment the man allowed himself to believe that the boy was smitten over him; and imagined what would've happened if his cohort –Ronald Weasley— hadn't intruded. What would it have led to, if, after all, Potter was infatuated with him?
His thoughts wandered to mindless sex, which he had lived much of his life without. It was certainly a sin to imagine the young boy bent over Severus' desk looking over his shoulder with a pleadingly lust-filled look. But, if only for a moment, he let himself.
That was the Beginning.
A/N: End of chapter ichi! (Japanese for one) Let me know what you think of it, I know it's not much so far but it'll get there, and I know many of you will just read it and never review, it's okay I'm that way too. But if you could find it in your hearts, I would really appreciate it, I need all the help I can get. Especially with keeping the characters within character. Thanks for reading!
This story was originally submitted to my fanfiction.net account. I hope you all enjoy it. Bitter Lies by: 185-aixelsyD-581
A/N: So I was inspired by a fellow author to write my first ever FanFic!! Woot! Okay fellow Snarry lovers, I’m sorta just making this up as I go, so bare with me, okay? This takes place sometime at the beginning of the forth-year. There will be a rape scene in this story, (I hope I didn’t scare anyone away T-T) but please if you are appalled by the idea just PLEASE read through it anyway, I assure you the two have equal feelings for each other, and both rather enjoy it. : D Also, there will be M.Preg. (male pregnancy) later in the story. (I hope to go far with this, but I’ll need encouragement) Please stick with me. hope you enjoy and please review and message me. ; )
DISCLAIMER: There is no one on this planet that loves Severus Snape as much as I do, but unfortunately he is a fictional character and I am not the god that created him, I leave the glory and honor to one J.K. Rowling.