His Masterpiece

Chapter 5

Some text taken from The Beast Within by Émile Zola (1890).

*****

You're taking things a little too far.

The thought popped up sometimes, a distant siren muffled by the fog that enveloped James whenever he got too close to Snape. But the thing was, Snape didn't fit. He was too proud, too strange, too solitary. He sneered at all the lesser creatures that scurried around, he looked down on James. James Potter, who had wealth and blood and power, and Snape looked at him as if he wasn't fit to wipe his shoes on. Nothing James did made any difference.

Touching him, making him shake, making cry and scream and bleed had become addicting. He wanted to see how far he could push. He wanted to touch more of him, he wanted to cut him open, and prove once and for all that James Potter was better than him. He wanted Snape to look up at him with those dark eyes and know he was nothing; just some poor, pathetic animal who should feel lucky that James even noticed him.

Maybe we took things a little too far, James thought as he dragged Snape from the Shrieking Shack. The other boy was clutching at him, his hands grabbing fistfuls of robe, their bodies pressed against one another. There was no proud, imperious expression on Snape's face now, only terror. James wrapped an arm around his waist as he helped carry him across school grounds, feeling oddly indulgent. If only Snape was like this all the time: docile, clinging, domesticated. Then James wouldn't have done the things he had.

You have to first break a horse if you want to tame it.

James gently brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen across his face, and within that single, crystallized moment something snapped. The glazed-over look in Snape's black eyes vanished, replaced with a burning hate. "Get away from me!" He shrieked, shoving his way out of James's arms and stumbling forward.

Whatever tender feelings James had felt just then instantly vanished. He was reminded that Snape was scum. Incapable of experiencing anything like gratitude, even for the man who saved him. Something must be done about him. He wasn't fit for human society. He would just pollute others, he would pollute Lily with his dirty, greasy hands.

Snape's fingers dug into the wet earth as he stumbled up the path. James followed him silently. He should probably just kill him now. Snape was a danger, he knew Moony's secret. James could do it. He was sure he could. A spell, maybe, or he could just pick up that rock over there and bash Snape's brains in. He'd be doing the world a favour.

He kept thinking about Alison Hayes, and what it must have been like for her killer to see the light fade from her eyes.

Snape picked himself up and started running, and the moment slipped from James's fingers.

*****

It was harder to sneak up on Snape after that. He was spending more and more of his time with Mulciber and Avery and Rosier, sucking up to them, doing their homework for them, willing to do just about anything to keep them around. It was disgusting to see. Snape never acted that way to him, and the Mulcibers were nothing compared to the Potters.

It left James feeling jittery, his mind at loose ends the longer he had to wait to get Snape alone. The only good thing about Snape's newfound friendships was that Lily hated it too.

"... Thought we were supposed to be friends," he overheard Snape say. "Best friends?"

"We are, Sev," Lily answered with a sigh. "But I don't like some of the people you're hanging round with! I'm sorry, but I detest Avery and Mulciber! Mulciber! What do you see in him, Sev, he's creepy! Do you know what he tried to do to Mary MacDonald the other day?"