The Tale of Slicky Slimy Ick
The night was young and Snape was old, wrinkled, and freshly showered at 7:30 pm at the ripe age of 32.
Sitting on his bed in a bathrobe Severus Snape smelled like the lavender his 3 in 1 body soap falsely advertised. As dictated by his monthly routine, for once, he was clean. All but his hair.
Severus Snape’s hair had a life of its own. It festered on his skull soaking in oils that would disgust anyone but the sensitive and wistful notions of its owner. Sighing, Snape swung his legs laying on his stomach reminiscing the day it all began, like the schoolgirls he enjoyed tormenting.
It was a windy day at Hogwarts on the November morning when Snape left his dorm. Unlike James Potter who had the audacity to sleep in, Snape was studious. So what if James was hot and good at quidditch, transformation, and charms, and got good grades and was also hot? Snape was good at potions and he was actually nice. No one wants nice boys these days though.
There was only one girl who this nice guy loved. He was struck by Cupid’s arrow on the day that he first saw the beautiful, long red hair that Lily Evans grew. Her sensuous charms were beyond the comprehension of most. So many called their love untrue and considered him delusional, but they would never know what it is to love the auburn-haired goddess Lily Evans.
Oh, how he wished the love of his life would notice him! All he wanted was a conversation. Everyone knows that conversations lead to confessions. Once Lily confessed it would only be a matter of time until she held his hand. Then she would kiss him. Once she kissed him, she would never stop. They would spend days locked in the dorms making out to the hymns of the gods as the heavens collided with their touch. While other tongues battled for dominance, theirs would harmoniously relent, allowing him to dominate (after all, he’s an alpha male).
His prophetic dreams halted when the angel herself descended from the stairway, clad with a scarf to tempt his parched soul. Athena- no, Aphrodite personified, she warped her beautiful features into a thin-lipped smile reserved only for him.
“Oh. Severus. Hi?”
“Hello.” He responded with gusto.
“... um, so where are you headed?”
Into our futures, mere seconds apart, to a 2 bedroom townhouse with 3 parakeets and a potions room.
“I’m going to the library. I must study” After all, a 2 bedroom isn’t cheap in this economy.
“Oh,” she said with less tension. She is so kind, she was worried about him. “Um, have fun. I’ll be watching the match”
Ugh, James Potter. He ruined their alone time again. He was so jealous, and he needed to stop getting between their relationship. What a creep.
To express that he regretted being unable to spend his hours in the siren-like raptures of the divine glory that was the distance within a foot radius of Lily Evans, he responded with a grunt. Simple but effective because she quickened down the stairs racing to be over with the match so she could speedily return to his loving embrace. The golden standard of elegance, she moved her friend between them to protect her modesty.
Still, the wind, working with otherworldly powers ruined her demure attempt and carried her scarf to his scalp. His pulse quickened as Lily Evans turned. She faced him. She held up her freckled hand that the lord spent hours perfecting and grasped onto the scarf.
The world stopped. The sun shattered. Plants wilted and regrew. All because Lily Evans’ soft, sultry hand grazed his hair.
“Oops, sorry about that. Uh- um, I’ll head back now”
He wasn’t delusional, and he certainly was not mistaken. Lily Evans had just professed her love. Her lingering touch told him everything he ever needed to know, and everything she could never quite bring herself to say. She expressed her sorrow in denying him this touch. She expressed her raging desire for him. For the future that he dreamed of each night. The parakeets and all. She knew that their love was beyond what could be understood, so she needed to leave him. But he knew then, she was his and he was hers. Always.
That touch that graced his hair, the lingering moments her hand spent on his head, had changed him forever. His heart lurched, wishing his beloved soulmate to rest forever in that state. The beta to his alpha left him. He fell to his knees as his heart acted without reason. His chest was in pain. Some might say he was having a panic attack, but Severus was smart enough to recognize divine intervention.
At that moment he made a vow that he would never release this moment from memory. To commemorate their endless love he would never let go of Lily’s touch. Her finger’s sweet embrace would remain in the coils of his hair forevermore. At least until she graced him with her touch again.
Countless times he felt that the moment would finally come. But the drug-infested miscreant who seduced his Lily interrupted them. Every time. James Cock-blocking Potter should have been his name. Still better than Fleamont.
Severus kept his vow. He would never let go of Lily’s sacred touch. The touch that sealed their love. She married the glorified wannabe-rugrat and had his child who looked disturbingly similar to him. It was almost as if his manifestation spell to make the child his own didn’t work. Despite this, Severus made sure to sustain that moment by never letting anything touch his head. Not even a drop of water.
After all this time, he still kept his vow.
His hair would remain slick, slimy, grimy, and possibly lice-infested. Always.