- Story Summary:
- Severus Snape's lust would never be satisfied with one woman, he wants them all. But the best candidate for that role is being less than cooperative.
Author's Notes: Big thank you to Nathaniel for editing this piece.
Severus Snape swiped a pile of books off his antique coffee table and let out an angry roar of frustration.
"W-what is it?" stammered Peter Pettigrew, who, quite sensibly for the situation, was cowering in the corner.
Snape turned to the smaller man, and glared. Wormtail took notice of the murderous look in Snape's black eyes and promptly transformed himself into a rat and left the room.
Snape would normally be pleased. He had managed to clear a room of annoyances without even speaking a word - but not tonight. He poured himself a glass of elf-made wine and sat down.
He had always seen Nymphadora Tonks as pure potential. He had taken an interest in her at a young age, as soon as he had heard of her existence in fact. And she wasn't just any metamorphmagus, but a half-blood Black. Snape had hid a smile when the small brown-haired girl had been sorted into his own house.
Metamorphmagi are malleable. Then could impersonate anyone, male, female, and even some humanoid creatures. During his own school years, when hormones raged, the other boys in Slytherin house would confess their dreams of the perfect woman, the vast majority wanted a Veela, prefect skin, blonde hair, and the ability to make every other man jealous. Some, like Lucius, managed to get the next best thing, a beautiful blonde haired waif to stand at his side through life.
But Severus Snape was never the average Slytherin. He had always had greater aspirations that the other boys, even within a house known for its lofty ambition. No, the lust of Severus Snape would never be content with one woman; he wanted every woman.
He had stumbled across the concept of a metamorphmagus when doing research on human transfiguration. At fifteen he had found the answer to his problem; you can have everyone when you have one person who can be everyone. He dove into further research on the matter, only to find that the only current known metamorphmagus was an old woman living in India.
Disheartened, he dropped his quest for his prefect woman temporarily. That was until one day when he happened to overhear Black and his little fan club talking. It just so happened Black's cousin; whom Severus distantly remembered as the former member of his house who had run off with a mudblood; had a daughter who was capable of wandless human transformation seemingly effortlessly at an incredibly young age. Snape knew his answer had come. She existed. Now all he had to do was sit and wait.
He thought his plan had come into fruition when he took charge of her. He expected her to bend to his will of her house, become his ideal of the prefect little Slytherin with a healthy lust for power and anyone who could supply her with it. But Nymphadora Tonks had other plans. She socialised with the other houses, she took a dislike to Snape, and her ambition was not power or money, like it was for the other half-bloods that were sorted into his house, but to correct the Black legacy.
It was not just her personality that hindered Snape quest; she was also frustratingly rough around the edges. She was clumsy, spoke like her northern father and at any given time could be doing impressions of less than attractive people and behaved in a general flippant manner that made him cringe.
He struck back, refusing to make her a prefect, writing a horrendous reference for entry to the Auror Academy, and most pettily, causing her to trip and fall whenever he could get away with it in an attempt to make her lose her nerve. But it did not work. She spent her years at Hogwarts blissfully unaware of his attempts to destroy her, and yet she still managed to somehow overcome.
Just like that bloody cousin of hers. Pure dumb Black luck.
Quitting was of course an option. Snape always tried to keep his thoughts and ambitions to himself in order to avoid loosing face. He put her out of his mind when she left; a person more pressing of his attention was about to walk into his, one Harry Potter.
But as fate would have it, Nymphadora seemed determined to cross his path again. When Dark Lord rose again, and Dumbledore called the first meeting of the revitalised Order of the Phoenix, there she stood, next to that bloody werewolf, the same unknowing smile on her face.
Where she once had annoyed him, now she allured him. He dreamed at night of screwing her on the table of the Order headquarter, the building a legacy to a life he should have been destined to lead, Sirius Black and James Potter watching on. She changed as she did so, from Lucius' blond waif, Narcissa to her darker sister Bellatrix. From the blond Veela girl spending time with Bill Weasly to Bill's precious red haired little sister. From the brown haired mudblood currently the bane of his potions classes, Miss Granger, to the red-haired mudblood who was once the bane of his potions ambitions, Lily Evans.
He would turn every now again to face the two men standing before him, the jealous, disgusted looks on their faces arousing him more than any female at the table ever could.
He had watched her at Order meetings. She always sat away from him, next to Remus Lupin. Maybe she was aware of his interest, he wondered. If she was, she had smart ploy indeed, somehow she knew he was afraid of werewolves and that one in particular. Lupin had probably told her, or Black.
He realised now that he was a fool to attribute that motive to her actions. But he had never believed that she would fall for a poor old werewolf. Not a good match for an Auror, or a Black. Once again he had underestimated the force of her personality, or rather her overwhelming stupidity.
Foolish girl. Now not only was he going to have to prove to the Dark Lord why his interest in the girl outweighed that of her Aunt's, but he would have to fend of Fenrir Greyback. Once on the scent, that monster was not easily distracted and Snape did not like the idea of having to negotiate with that savage.
But Remus Lupin! Of all people, Remus Lupin! Snape hit his glass on the table next to him. It smashed to pieces in his hand. She was supposed to be his, meant for him. The fact it was the weak boy, now the weak man, that had come closest to defeating him, maiming him, that had her, just made his anger worse.
Though all was not lost he realised. It never was with her. He had thought he might never be near to her again after she had left Hogwarts, and he was wrong then. There was a brief time when he thought that damn Bellatrix might have caused her to be ruined beyond repair after Potter's foolish antics at the ministry. She had recovered.
He would have to remove the wolf. Force Lupin to tell her he did not love her. It wouldn't be a difficult task, Remus Lupin was a selfless man and selfless men were easily exploited.
Snape decided that the next day he was going to visit his old school 'friend', and discuss the role of werewolves in the war to come.
As for her, she was a Black just as sure as he was a Prince. All that was needed was a little pressure in the right spot and they all spiralled down the path to self-destruction. Destroy her, and then he would finally be able to work his influence. All it would take was time; and patience was a virtue Severus Snape held in abundance.
Severus Snape smiled to himself. Oh, yes, Nymphadora Tonks still had much potential.