Something I wrote a while back, but hadn't posted anywhere. I should start writing again. That would be good.
Character study. Snape POV.
I hate Voldemort. He is an inhuman monster who delights in the pain of others. He is an abomination who should have been dead twice over and whose continued existance is a blight on reality. He is a continuing threat to every freedom-loving, right-thinking witch, wizard, squib and muggle on the face of the planet. I hate that I have to tolerate his presence on a regular basis, to come when he calls and to bow and scrape and writhe in agony at his whim. I hate that I have to constantly lie when I am near him - constantly, lest I die. I think that is why I am so adamant about telling the truth at other times, however unpleasant it may be. I hate those things and I hate him for them, but that is not why I hate him most.
I hate him most of all because when he was given a choice, of all the little boys in all the world to pick as his Destined Adversary, he picked Harry Potter. I'm not fouled in the brain enough to actually want his promised world of death and fear. I can't stand the man himself, but the thing that really gets to me, that gets under my skin and just won't leave me alone, is that everything I do - every lie, every potion, every drop of blood or scrap of pain shed to fight the Dark Lord is done as spear-carrier to that blighted child of Lily and James. I have to spend my life running third fiddle to the kid of one of the pettiest, most immature, most casually obnoxious men I have ever known, and all anyone can remember about that cretinous excuse for a human being is that he gave his life for his child. I hate that. I hate it, but I do it anyway, because this is important, because this matters. These children are stupid and disrespectful and small, but they're children, and I cannot bear the idea that they might die because I didn't do my job. I do my job. I teach, and I desperately try to instill even an inkling of the forces that they will have to fight to survive, and of the idea of discipline. Discipline. I suffer under the Cruciatus curse of the most powerful dark wizard in all the world, and I don't cry out because I am disciplined, because I am controlled. Potions aren't about magic. Potions are about discipline, and preparation, and doing everything exactly right, and if these children are to be saved from the coming storm, then that is what will save them. That and a little boy with a scar. I hate it, but I do my job. I teach them as well as I can, and I try to give them all some scrap of appreciation for the principles most likely to keep them alive. Even Harry Potter.
Thoughts?
Character study. Snape POV.
I hate Voldemort. He is an inhuman monster who delights in the pain of others. He is an abomination who should have been dead twice over and whose continued existance is a blight on reality. He is a continuing threat to every freedom-loving, right-thinking witch, wizard, squib and muggle on the face of the planet. I hate that I have to tolerate his presence on a regular basis, to come when he calls and to bow and scrape and writhe in agony at his whim. I hate that I have to constantly lie when I am near him - constantly, lest I die. I think that is why I am so adamant about telling the truth at other times, however unpleasant it may be. I hate those things and I hate him for them, but that is not why I hate him most.
I hate him most of all because when he was given a choice, of all the little boys in all the world to pick as his Destined Adversary, he picked Harry Potter. I'm not fouled in the brain enough to actually want his promised world of death and fear. I can't stand the man himself, but the thing that really gets to me, that gets under my skin and just won't leave me alone, is that everything I do - every lie, every potion, every drop of blood or scrap of pain shed to fight the Dark Lord is done as spear-carrier to that blighted child of Lily and James. I have to spend my life running third fiddle to the kid of one of the pettiest, most immature, most casually obnoxious men I have ever known, and all anyone can remember about that cretinous excuse for a human being is that he gave his life for his child. I hate that. I hate it, but I do it anyway, because this is important, because this matters. These children are stupid and disrespectful and small, but they're children, and I cannot bear the idea that they might die because I didn't do my job. I do my job. I teach, and I desperately try to instill even an inkling of the forces that they will have to fight to survive, and of the idea of discipline. Discipline. I suffer under the Cruciatus curse of the most powerful dark wizard in all the world, and I don't cry out because I am disciplined, because I am controlled. Potions aren't about magic. Potions are about discipline, and preparation, and doing everything exactly right, and if these children are to be saved from the coming storm, then that is what will save them. That and a little boy with a scar. I hate it, but I do my job. I teach them as well as I can, and I try to give them all some scrap of appreciation for the principles most likely to keep them alive. Even Harry Potter.
Thoughts?