Word Count: 563
Rating: PG-13
Category: Angst, Drama
Notes: Got this fic idea, after an incident similar to that happening. It hurts believe me, and I can sort of see this happening between Harry and Severus, so call it an experimental fic. I completed this five hours after the incident happened and it’s still fresh in my mind. Thanks to Jean Tarin and Immi for betaing.
Summary: Deception stinks and Severus doesn’t like being taken as a fool.
Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Warnings: Maybe too bitter.
Dedications: None, but considering how I really got into a situation like the one in the story, I guess I should thank that bastard for everything he did to give me an idea for this fanfic.
Completed Date: June 3, 2003
Severus’ POV
I’ve opened up to you and where does it lead me? To an endless amount of foolish love games that will never end. You have shoved me back into my little hole and succeeded very well in doing so. I hope you are satisfied. You and the others are all the same, never changing, and always single-mindedly cruel.
I knew I was a bad person and I still can be, but must I deserve this treatment repeatedly? What is it you want? What is it that you think you can gain from this? Love? Respect from the ones who dared you to do this? If it wasn’t a dare, then was it just so you could gleefully cause me to look like an idiot once and for all? I don’t care what you were expecting out of this little escapade, but what happened was not what I was expecting at all.
It started innocently enough. You, a twenty-one year old wizard, expressed interest in me through owl correspondences. At first I thought you were disillusioned and burned each parchment you sent. I thought to myself, who’d want a greasy, snarky, bastard like me? Such a low self-esteem, I know, but that’s what I believed.
Then you started talking to me in person and gave hand gestures that made me wonder about this strange predicament once again. You seemed so sincere. From what I knew about you, you didn’t seem like the untruthful type. Granted you were a spoiled brat when you first came into the wizarding world, but I thought that you had matured and became truly a special man.
Within one parchment that gave me more clues than anything else, you had filled out a survey you had gotten from Witches’ Weekly about me. Each answer you gave me sounded as if you really were interested in me as a lover. I forced myself not to believe it and decided that you were just attempting to toy with my brain.
I should have known better.
Finally, I decided to make the first move and confronted you. I still don’t know how or what gave me the Gryffindor-stupidity-courage to do so, but I did and now regret doing so. Maybe I wasn’t demanding enough; I’ve learned that through situations like this, one needs to be demanding in order to get an answer out of the person in question. After beating around the bush and getting noncommittal answers, I just bluntly asked whether you wanted us to be lovers or not. You finally said that it was all a joke.
Pretty fucking bad joke. I walked away. I wanted to hex you. I wanted to throttle you . . . but what good would that do? You had already seen me at my weakest point. I wanted to do all the nasty things I’d learned as a Death Eater. In the end I was left with the start realisation that I was just a plain, naïve idiot to fall for such an obvious prank.
So congratulations Potter. Not only have you succeeded in making me realise that you are still the same prat I’ve known since you were eleven years old, but you’ve also made me realise how stupid I can be. You are very good with amorous deception. I hate you so much for it . . . and now I hate myself for falling for that old trick.