Fandom: Harry Potter.
Summary: Severus is disgusted with himself...
Author's Notes: Yeah. This is awful. I wrote this ages ago, after being inspired by Mark Brogan from Cape Wrath (btw I missed the last two eps GAI PLZ D:).
Disclaimer: Severus is mine, all mine! ... No, he's not, really.
Severus’ hand shook terribly and he snarled: “Fuck.”
He tried again.
He tried again, this time actually going through with the appliance. It was safe to say that the result wasn’t pretty at all. Not one bit. His eye was bloodshot and his lower eyelashes looked a state, the pigment smudged with untidy black. He looked in the mirror, scowling. He made a small noise of frustration, before setting the eyeliner down with more force than he would usually. He was such a ponce. Why on earth had he even so much as thought of doing this again? Yes, again. Lily suddenly got the idea into her head, one summer’s day, that Severus would look funny with a makeover. He’d protested, of course. But up against Lily when she had a fully-formed boredom cure planned, well, let’s just say he was as useful as a ‘chocolate tea-pot’. He’d snarled and he’d sneered and he’d swore but nothing persuaded nor intimidated Lily into changing her mind.
But now - now - he was doing it of his own accord. When he’d looked in the mirror of Lily’s bedroom, he was repulsed and immediately scrubbed it all off until his face and eyes were sore. It was odd, he had been repulsed then; he was repulsed now. He was repulsed with himself. What was he doing? Make-up was for girls and nancy boy shirt lifters - not Severus Tobias Snape, a perfectly straight young man. Thoughts came to him immediately, bad bad thoughts. Maybe he wasn’t straight? Maybe his lust for Lily was just his subconscious mind tricking him? What if he really fancied boys? Malfoy and Potter and Lupin and Black, Travers and Pettigrew...
He paled. He felt disgusting. Dirty and unclean. Unclean and dirty. He couldn’t help it, if this.. this horrid thing was strangely alluring. It disgusted him to no end, yet the urge to pick it up and do it again until it was perfect was always there, constantly nagging at him. It haunted him and never left him. Not since Lily had made him look so.. so much like a poof. He looked at his reflection, roughly rubbing at his eyes again.
It was no use.
He knew full well that he’d be doing the same thing come two hour’s time.