northangel27 | A Love Letter (Reply)

It’s been a really, really long time since I’ve posted any Severus Snape love. Well, I suppose everything I write is a form of Severus Snape love ;-), but I mean specifically made a post singing his praises, so what follows will be just that. I think when I did one of these posts back in March I broke it down into parts of his body. Well, this time I think I’m going to break it down by age. A lot of the details here are personal canon, and based on the Severus in my head so if you don’t agree that’s okay. I’m just feeling like penning a love letter of sorts this evening, so here you go:

The Wee One (ages 4- 8):

I love the way you can see the adult to come in that dear child’s eyes.
I love the insatiable curiosity, the need to discover. It is never enough to be told. He must discover for himself.
I love the collections. Small boxes of stones, bits of dried plants, dead bugs. All of them sorted meticulously.
I love the still, quiet intensity; the way he can sit for hours, nose pressed in a book if it is something he is truly interested in (he learned to read at 5. He learned almost entirely on his own.)
I love how he craves physical affection, but also shuns it. Wide dark eyes, beneath long lashes glare up at you with mistrust if you touch him, but if you sit quietly, talk to him like an adult, engage him in stimulating conversation for long enough, eventually he will forget his fear and climb up into your lap to see for himself, whatever new wonder you are offering him.
I love how his small face lights up at praise, and how quickly he tries to hide it.
I love the way that he sometimes stirs from his solitary pursuits to stare out the window at the children playing in the street, a famished look in his eyes. It also breaks my heart.
I love the way he keeps brushing the hair from his eyes whenever he is bent over, digging grubs from the back garden, smearing his cheeks with dirt, but never thinks to tie it back.
I love that he tries to put together outfits that resemble what he imagines the great wizards his mother has told him about might wear. I love too that he pretends not to care when the muggle children at school laugh at him. He is better than them and in his heart of hearts he knows it.
I love that he has so much faith that life will get infinitely more bearable as soon as he is old enough to go away to school.
I love that he never, ever doubts that his invitation to Hogwarts will come.

The Child (ages 9-12):

I love that every time he hears his parents fight it reminds him of who he is, that he is better than that; that someday he will be far from this house, and this neighborhood, and he will not need friends, or a muggle job, or a wife. He will be a great wizard and will do great things!
I love that just before Christmas in his fifth year at muggle school he is heading home late, having stayed over to help his teacher clean the chalk brushes (he suspects she lets him stay so he won’t have to go home), when he catches a glimpse of a little redheaded girl spinning in the middle of a rare snowfall, face skyward, her tongue stuck out to catch the flakes, as the snow inexplicable lifts from the ground, to dance with her. He is mesmerized, and decides that perhaps it might be alright to have at least one friend.
I love that though his heart slams painfully against his chest every time the girl is near, he never looks away if she happens to look his way on the playground.
I love that he picks up around the house when no one is looking. He knows it irritates his father, and sometimes his mother is just too tired to do it herself.
I love that he longs for a dog like the boy across the street, but knows better than to ask. Money is scarce, and it would only be one more mouth to feed.
I love that the day he first speaks to Lily; he is not planning it at all. He simply cannot contain himself. Afterward he berates himself, and plays the meeting over and over again in his mind, working very hard at determining how he might improve things the next time they speak. He never doubts that there will be a second time.
I love the way he looks at Lily when she speaks, as though he has never heard anything more perfect in all his life.
I love the way his heart swells with pride and importance when he can tell her of the wizarding world, of things that she knows nothing about. It makes him feel needed.
I love that even when the wizarding world proves to be just as unforgiving as the muggle one, he never gives up his belief that he is meant for greatness.

The Teenager (ages 13 – 17):

I love the way his hair falls down in front of his eyes. It makes him look shy, but he is not shy, only cautious.
I love the way he leans in close over his books. The more interested he is, the more concentrated on the subject, the closer to the pages he gets.
I love the way that with each passing year his hands lengthen, until they are long, and pale and fine boned. I love that he has no idea that they are one of his most desirable features. I love also that he is oblivious to the fact that Lily Evans has noticed this.
I love the way that he still scowls up from beneath dark lashes when touched, but then flushes softly, as well.
I love that sometimes he is so tightly wound that he fears that if anyone, male or female, even so much as brushes past him in the wrong way he will explode. He wonders, on occasion, if all boys his age feel this, or if there is something wrong with him.
I love the fact that he notices that Regulus Black seems lost and lonely in a sea of Slytherins, who can do nothing but associate him with his older brother.
I love that he feels slightly guilty that one of his motivations for befriending the boy was to make his brother suffer.
I love even more that this motivation is soon forgotten.
I love that he notices when Narcissa Black wears her hair up, because he admires the soft curve of the back of her neck, not her legs or breasts like the rest of the boys.
I love that he’s smart enough to keep quiet about it.
I love that the mere sight of Bellatrix makes him sick.
I love that there are times when he subtly hints at ways that Lily might make her potions better, and then lets her take credit for it. This also makes me sad.
I love that after considering many monikers for himself, he settles on “Half-Blood Prince” because there is a part of him that just can’t seem to let go of that non-magical part of himself, and he doesn’t know why.
I love that within weeks of Lily Evans breaking off their friendship he has convinced himself that it is her loss. His heart still twists painfully every time he lays eyes on her, however.
I love that he never quite manages to stop caring.
I love that as he nears the end of seventh year, if he is truly honest with himself, he must admit that his greatest objection to her being with James Potter (outside the fact that the boy is a bloody twat) is that he is reckless. He worries for Lily. He hates James. He thinks he hates Sirius more, but it’s a toss up.

The Death Eater (ages 18-21):

I love that the night he takes the dark mark he does not feel the physical pain of the brand on his skin. It is the strange sensation of dark, strangling tentacles wrapping themselves around his heart that stands out more.
I love that he journals more at this time of his life than any other, but always erases it the moment the page is finished. He’s too smart to leave musings that personal lying around for those who might use them against him.
I love that he lets his hair grow until it reaches just below his shoulder blades.
I love that he ties it back when he brews.
I love that he holds himself differently, that for perhaps the only time in his life, he fills out a little.
I love that for the first time in his life he feels powerful (this is unfortunately short lived)
I love that he cannot ever witness a bout of crucio without feeling slightly ill afterward. He wonders why.
I love that by the time Regulus joins him he is already well enough acquainted with the distinct tastes and appetites of his fellow Death Eaters, that he is able to recognize danger before it strikes.
I love that he is willing to trade himself in order to spare his friend a fate he is not sure he would be able to survive.
I love that he never tells him.
I love that even after he realizes that Regulus is in love with him, he remains his friend.
I love that when Regulus goes missing, he secretly hopes that he has somehow managed to get out.
I love that when he finds out that he is dead, he thinks it might kill him.
I love that he does not shy away from interaction with Lily Evans when he happens to encounter her, though he occasionally fights the temptation to make her heart twist and burn as much as his has.
I love that he realizes one night, upon learning that a potion he brewed had nearly been used to take her life, that he would still do anything – anything – to keep her safe.
I love that in the end he follows through on this revelation.

The Young Man (ages 22-30):

I love that at this point in his life he finds contentment for the first time.
I love the gentle, calm center of him, at this age, the way his heart finally seems to have found a quiet rhythm it can sustain.
I love the barely visible shadow of the dark mark on his left forearm, and how he always keeps it carefully covered, except when in private.
I love how he is petrified his first day of teaching, with students in his class who had been in school when he had, but still manages to appear confident.
I love how he learned so quickly how to manage his class.
I love how relieved the Slytherins were when Albus Dumbledore made him head of house in 1985.
I love how much this secretly pleased him.
I love that he is incredibly uncomfortable having to bare his body to Poppy Pomfrey every year for his annual physical.
I love that he goes to Hogsmeade on the weekends simply to sit in the pub, and watch who comes in and out. There is one witch in particular who catches his interest. He never seems to find the right way to approach her.
I love that he has once or twice, during a particularly rough patch, briefly considered kissing Sybill Trelawney when she is drunk.
I love that he once, and only once, considered trying to get Minerva drunk for the same reason.
I love that he gains a certain level of eminence in his field during this period, having been published in several professional journals, and makes a small name for himself not only in Britain, but also in Germany and some of the better schools in America because of it.
I love that he realizes one day, out of the blue, that the color that emanates from one’s wand when casting an Avada Kedavra curse is the exact color of Lily’s eyes. He cries.
I love that he forgets to eat far too often, and smokes far too much.
I love that as he nears thirty, he scowls now and again at an unexplainable and offending white hair, and yanks it out without forethought or mercy. It keeps coming back though. It brings friends.
I love that the day that he first lays eyes on Harry Potter is simultaneously one of the most defining and most painful of his life.

The Adult (ages 30-37):

I love how he battles constantly between the urge to both protect and punish the boy with James insipid face and Lily’s haunting eyes.
I love that his primary reason for wanting to beat Gryffindor in the house cup, not to mention the Quidditch field, is so that he can taunt Minerva about it.
I love that he strongly objects to Albus Dumbledore’s favoritism of Potter, not only because it reminds him painfully of how he always coddled James, but also because he secretly harbors the belief that Lily might not ever forgive him if he allowed the boy to grow up to be as arrogant as his father.
I love that he is still not entirely convinced that it wasn’t Black who betrayed Lily and James Potter, but makes sure to torment Peter whenever possible for good measure.
I love that he has never found the courage to visit Lily’s grave.
I love that when the dark mark begins to burn again, he never once considers running.
I love that every time he says something that truly devastates a student (he sees it in their eyes) he always regrets it. He regrets more that he can never seem to find a way to apologize.
I love the fact that the only thing he was never able to forgive Potter for was staring into that pensive in his office.
I love that in the end he gave him the memory in it anyway.
I love that when performing the requisite duty of playing Death Eater, the one thing that brings him any joy is tormenting Bella.
I love that in his head he always thinks of the Dark Lord as Riddle, but is too smart to ever let it be known.
I love that he thinks Remus Lupin a fool for marrying Nymphadora Tonks, and she a fool for wanting him.
I love that if ever there was a student he would openly admit he felt fatherly toward, it would be Draco Malfoy.
I love that if ever there was a student who impressed him, it was Hermione Granger. It is for precisely this reason he is so hard on her.
I love that if ever there was a student he wanted to throttle for their wanton laziness, and nauseating good luck it is Harry Potter.
I love that he thinks that the Weasley family are mad for having a literal litter of children when they are as poor as they are.
I love that he still occasionally notices the soft curve of Narcissa Malfoy’s neck, and still wisely keeps it to himself.
I love that the picture of Lily that he took from Grimauld Place was in the breast pocket of his jacket when died.
I love that he is a more than a little mortified that Narcissa Malfoy found it when attending to his body.
I love that he pretends to be irritated and indifferent, but deep down is secretly pleased that Potter fought so hard to have his name cleared after his death.

A Few Little Extras:

I love that he is very averse to having the scars on his back touched.
I love that he refuses to give up smoking.
I love the soft look he gets in his eyes if a person mentions either Lily or Regulus.
I love the protectiveness that comes out when he speaks of his mother.
I love how angry he gets if his father is portrayed as worse than he was.
I love his commitment to always speak the truth, and his expectation that those he is close to do the same.
I love his wry sense of humor.
I love the way his hair has always fallen down over his eyes, and probably always will.
I love how he sometimes manages to be simultaneously strong and needy.
I love his unspoken gratitude for small acts of kindness or tenderness.
I love his almost unfathomable courage.
I love how his eyes can be completely unreadable one moment, and then in the span of a single breath show you his entire soul. But only when he chooses.
I love how there always seems to be something of worship in his touch.
I love the ‘greedy and hungry’ look in his eyes that Rowling seemed to consider so vile.
I love the twitch at the corner of his mouth that very occasionally breaks into a small half-smile.
I love how he will suddenly look shy over the oddest things.
I love that he likes to kiss and is good at it.
I love that screaming, misbehaving infants, and worse yet the parents who allow them to do it, are one of his biggest pet peeves. The same can be said for giggling teenage girls and strutting teenage boys.
I love the beauty of his hands. I know I mentioned this already, but it bears repeating.
I love the way he rubs his eyes when he’s tired.
I love the way he instantly loses 20 years when he sleeps.
I love that he takes his tea black, which makes little sense because he has an incurable sweet tooth.
I love the quizzical look he gets on his face when he is confused and bemused by something. It’s (Merlin forbid!) cute ;-)
I love that he is afraid of large bodies of water, and does not like to submerge his head under water.
I love that he likes nothing better than a good pudding.