maya-morphosis

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So we are supposed to hate Severus for:

1) daring to prioritise himself as a teenager and a young adult, closing his needs for emotional and physical safety and acceptance while being continuously abused and systematically disadvantaged, instead of caring about discrimination of other people; then deflecting at the unforgivably late age of 20 and eventually becoming so selfless it's literally unhealthy;

2) not leading a pedagogical revolution in Hogwarts as the most disadvantaged member of the staff, and having his weak sides/making some unprofessional comments as a teacher while being under insane psychological pressure;

3) having emotions;

and a bunch of made up things he never did.

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Severus: I--

Me: Raw, next question

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don't think much about the spark, i mean he's dead anyway

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I heart my dead wife

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Guys would you unfollow me if a told you on which twitter communities I’m in

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Snape fanatics, HELP

I know I have like three mutuals and very few answer my questions but I wanna make a video for TikTok about Snapes ✨spicier✨ headcanons, but coming up with them is being kind of hard 😭

What are some of yours?? That classic wattpad kittenfemboy shit feels weird for him. But I also don’t see him a dOm dAddY (๑•ૅㅁ•๑) ???

HAHAH idk

Help

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I LOVE THIS

i think about him constantly

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headcanon time: starting with a softball before the hard stuff this one isn’t very problematic sorry y’all, lol

—————————————————————————————————————

Snape didn’t get the nickname Snivellus from James or Sirius. It came from Remus — And it stuck.

But to really understand it, you have to go back—way before Hogwarts.

Severus Snape was a crier. Always had been.

He was a sensitive kid—not dramatic, just easily overwhelmed. The kind of crying that happens when emotions pile up and have nowhere to go. He cried when he was confused, scared, angry, or when things hurt too much. Quiet sobs that wrecked his whole body but never turned into loud wailing. He cried before he could speak what he felt. And his father hated it.

Tobias Snape didn’t tolerate softness. He saw emotion as weakness. Every tear Severus shed was met with disgust or worse.

“Stop blubbering, you little sissy.”

Then came the shouting. The slaps. The silence.

It didn’t toughen him. It just taught him to cry in secret.

When he got to Hogwarts, he tried to hide it. He hadn’t expected the place he’d dreamed of escaping to for years would come with so many new reasons to cry—but it did.

He still cried: furious, silent tears when he was hexed in the hallway. When other students laughed. When Lily ignored him—or worse, defended James. When he aced a potion but still felt like nothing because the Slughorn barely glanced his way. Because he wasn’t well-off. Because he wasn’t liked.

He never grew out of it. He just got better at hiding. But it only worked some of the time.

it’s hard to hide crying in a drafty stone castle full of nosy teenagers, creaky floors, and a rotating class schedule. Hogwarts doesn’t exactly offer solitude—or mercy. There’s always someone watching. Or listening. Or waiting to laugh.

He bit his lip. Clenched his fists. Hated himself for it. But the tears still came.

———

By second year, it got worse.

James and Sirius had made bullying him a routine—petty jinxes, loud insults, constant comments about his hair, his robes, his face, his nose. And his crying. Peter parroted them now, and half of Gryffindor thought it was hilarious. Remus didn’t join in. He laughed sometimes. Stayed quiet other times. But he always looked uneasy. Still unsure of his place. Still afraid that if he didn’t laugh too, they’d look at him next.

He had friends now. A group. A life he hadn’t thought he’d get to have with his…condition. He wasn’t going to risk losing it.

Then one day, they shoved Snape in the corridor. Sent him flying. Books everywhere. One of them—a new journal, clearly new, which stood out because Snape never had new things—was destroyed. Ink soaked the pages.

Snape’s eyes were already watering. His face flushed, lips trembling. But he didn’t say anything. Just started picking his things up, slowly, as if pretending nothing had happened might keep it from being worse.

James grinned and nudged Remus.

“C’mon, Moony. You’ve seen him—blubbers more than a first year who snapped their wand in half.”

Sirius added,

“Gonna sob all the way to the dungeons again? Little snot-nosed princess.”

And then they all looked at him.

Waiting. Expecting. Testing.

Remus—tired, unsure, still convinced his place was fragile—forced a smirk. He didn’t feel it. But he needed to look like he did.

So he said it. Nonchalant. Offhand. Like it didn’t matter:

“You’d think he’d have run out of tears by now. Sniveling all over himself like always. But nope—there he goes again. Snivellus, back on schedule.”

They howled. Sirius clapped him on the back like he’d been knighted. James turned it into a chant. Peter tried to say it through his laughter and failed. By the end of the day, it was echoing through the halls. By the end of the week, it was all anyone called him.

Remus felt sick.

But not sick enough to undo it.

He stayed quiet. That would be his defense—for years.

———

By fifth year, “Snivellus” had stuck so well it might as well have been inked into the castle walls—and that night, walking back from the library, Remus heard something he couldn’t ignore.

Crying.

Ugly, raw, unguarded sobbing, echoing off stone and tile and pipework like something being exorcised.

Not a sniffle. Not a stifled sigh. Full, unrestrained sobbing—broken and gasping and echoing down the corridor from behind a half-closed door.

He froze.

For a moment, he told himself to keep walking. It wasn’t his business.

But then something kicked in—maybe guilt, maybe reflex, maybe just that part of him that still believed he was supposed to be the decent one. The level head. The good one.

A Gryffindor, after all.

He figured it was some overwhelmed third year. A homesick first-year maybe. Someone who didn’t know yet how brutal Hogwarts could be. Someone who needed help.

He followed the sound. It led him to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

The crying was louder now. Choked, gasping. Someone falling apart who clearly thought no one was listening.

Remus pushed the door open slowly.

Just enough.

And there he was.

Snape.

Curled against the base of a long-disused sink, arms wrapped around himself like he was holding in shrapnel. His face was wrecked. Shoulders shaking. Myrtle hovered beside him—uncharacteristically quiet.

Remus stood in the doorway.

His first instinct was to say something. To do something. He was a prefect now, wasn’t he? And this—this was wrong. It was cruel. And he wasn’t cruel.

But then Snape looked up.

Their eyes met.

Red-rimmed. Blotchy. Furious. Ashamed. Miserable.

Remus swallowed.

He thought, I should help.

He told himself, I’m a prefect now. I’m better than this. I shouldn’t just watch anymore.

But then Snape looked up.

And Remus saw everything.

The red-rimmed eyes. The trembling hands. The hollow, bitter hatred burning beneath the wreckage of his face. Not just shame, but fury. And not just at the world—at him.

Because Remus had named him. He was the one who said it.

Snivellus.

He said it to belong.

And it belonged to Snape forever.

The sound echoed between them, even if no one spoke. Remus opened his mouth—he wasn’t sure what he meant to say. An apology? A joke? Something human, maybe.

But nothing came out.

Because deep down, he knew it wouldn’t fix anything.

He turned and left. Quiet, fast, like it meant less that way. The bathroom door closed behind him.

He didn’t say Snivellus again.

But it was already too late.

Because Severus still cried.

He just stopped letting anyone see it. And Remus still told himself silence wasn’t cruelty.

But standing there in that doorway, eyes locked with the boy he’d helped break, he finally knew—

it was.

He knew.

But he still never turned back.

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✨🧪My Severus Snape Headcanons 🐍✨

-Sweaty hands and Moles everywhere

-A really good listener, he might not look like he's paying attention, but he gets out of his way to do something you mentioned

-Left handed writer

-Very, very, very pale. So whenever he's embarrassed (or cold) his blood flushes to his face it's very obvious he blushing frfr

-His face muscles twitch when his uncomfortable/Stressed

- thinks about emotions like science and magic, a way of defense.

-His emotions are written on his face

-always smells like something different due to his potions

-hardcore insomniac

-AMAZING cook (it’s basically like potions) but very rarely cooks for anyone. Food is like an intimate and vulnerable thing for him

I have more!! Probs will post them here too :))

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I don’t see why anyone would speak French

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If I Still Hate That One Guy, Snape Definitely Didn’t Owe Forgiveness

I wasn’t bullied as a kid, but I had one experience during undergrad that gave me a glimpse. I was in a small, selective summer program for POC poli-sci students taking graduate-level classes. There was this one guy—popular, polished, the president of something important at his school—who decided almost immediately that he didn’t like me.

He was one of those “instantly besties” types, trying to bond through oversharing and forced emotional connection, which already felt disingenuous to me. Now, I’m a yapper—I love discourse (which probably is clear through all my other posts lol). It was a political science program, so I was in my element. We talked about everything: misogyny, anti-Blackness, the Depp trial, the Kendrick album and his use of the f-slur, gendered slurs like “bitch,” and how language is weaponized. I was animated, blunt, and analytical. He argued back, and I genuinely thought we were having a spirited intellectual exchange. I thought I’d made a friend. He said he loved a good debate and was glad to meet like-minded thinkers. Yeah—turns out, he only likes debate when he wins.

Over the next few days, his demeanor shifted—he got cold, rude, visibly annoyed when I spoke. It got so bad that other people noticed. He acted like I was the villain for being confident and getting the majority people to agree with me during discussions. At one point, someone else—a non-Black student—had to step in and call out how blatantly anti-Black and misogynistic he (a black guy) was being. He was clearly trying to cast me as the “angry Black woman” because I spoke like someone who didn’t feel the need to shrink herself. At the time, I was undiagnosed with ADHD, but looking back, a lot of what he disliked about me were classic traits: fast-talking, hyper-verbal, assertive, emotionally honest.

It wasn’t trauma, but it sucked—and to this day, I still hate that man. I wouldn’t step on his grave, but I do hope everything he tries professionally flops. And I say that as someone with a good support system, loving parents, relative financial privilege, and more stability than Snape ever had.

So when people say Snape should’ve just “gotten over” years of bullying from the Marauders? I don’t buy it. I dealt with one jerk for a month and I still haven’t let it go. Expecting lifelong forgiveness from someone who was bullied for seven years while isolated, abused at home, and mentally unstable is asking a lot.

Do I think Snape should’ve grown, sought help, and not let his trauma bleed into how he treated others? Absolutely. But I’ll never agree that he owed those boys forgiveness. I know I wouldn’t have given it—and I probably would’ve done worse.

I’m probably gonna delete this later though lol

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Thank you, I love this

Look, I get that a lot of people are really into the whole ugly Snape aesthetic—and hey, I respect the appeal of “his beauty is in the elegance of his hands… the depth of his voice… the quiet suffering behind his eyes.” But personally? I genuinely don’t think I’d find him ugly at all.

Most of the comments on his appearance come from people who either hated him (sometimes very reasonably, sure) or outright bullied him. Like Harry—who was a literal child with a deeply antagonistic relationship to him. Not exactly the most reliable narrator when it comes to rating someone’s hotness.

Also, the idea that a big or hooked nose is inherently unattractive is doing way too much cultural heavy lifting. I’m Gen Z—I highly doubt the Eurocentric beauty standards of 1970s and 1990s Britain align with mine. If they said he was ugly, I’m assuming that just means he had a strong profile and wore too much black for their comfort. Sounds hot to me.

And let’s be honest—half the “let Snape be ugly” energy comes from the fact that people only really hate him because he’s described as poor and unattractive. They love characters with similar personalities and storylines when they’re rich and conventionally hot. So I get it the idea of acknowledging that Snape is ugly and still being a fan has weight — but even putting all that aside, I just know I wouldn’t find him ugly. Not even a little

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unpopular opinion: marauders fans have ruined the character of regulus black and severus snape. regulus is a right-wing, pure-blood supremacist who values ​​his house-elf life more than muggle life. he's not a poor little boy, but someone radicalized(he has admired voldemort from a young age and neither of his parents are death eaters.), in line with his family's ideals. he's an interesting character, but he's not a kind or good person.

you don't like snape for what he did during the golden trio (which, in reality, in the context of a 90s "private" school, isn't particularly shocking. sorry, but the durleys wanted to send harry to a school that caned children) or the fact that he once insulted lily? okay, whatever you want, but by being a spy, he risked his life (and died) for voldemort's downfall. and regulus is a supremacist so overall i'm not sure he was using "muggleborn"

the reality, apart from the fact that you are hypocrites (who for the majority have forgotten that canonically the poor kid who was bullied by a gang of mostly rich and popular kids was severus and not someone else) you prefer to replace severus snape with a bad copy (by distorting a character who could be complex and worth studying)

regulus is easier to like: he's almost empty canon-wise, more handsome than severus, and dies early enough for us to forget he's also a magical n@zi

the ridiculousness no longer has a name when i come across posts saying that lily evans was best friends with regulus black

YeS bUt It'S fAnOn- yes but it remains just as ridiculous (especially with the aim of wanting to demonize a canonically gray character to babygirlized another). the canon is only useful to you for taking down snape, the rest of the time you prefer to forget about it-

you could have made a real bad character who realizes that the world is not as he thinks it is.

(yes, even if you're not ready to debate: snape is one of the rare characters who has physical traits reminiscent of the regions of swana.)

ps - snape isn't a particularly good person, but he's not the devil some marauders like to portray

ps2 - rab has a "redemption" but it doesn't erase who he is (or at least as much as snape's "redemption" doesn't erase his complexity)

ps3- at worst, you can celebrate whatever you want, but honestly, with your comments on snape, I'm scared of what you're like in real life. you look a bit too much like my school bullies who picked on me because i was weird, queer and mixed race (+ dressed strangely).

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Sometimes it really feels like being a Snape fan is signing up to watch everyone pretend he doesn’t exist.

He’s in every book. His story shapes the entire plot. and literally has a book named after him. And yet, when it comes to Marauders content, it’s like he’s been scrubbed out of the timeline completely.

Either he doesn’t exist at all,or he’s turned into some cartoon villain who somehow manages to commit crimes worse than Voldemort. Meanwhile, Mary Macdonald, Marlene McKinnon, and Dorcas Meadowes… who, combined, barely have three lines in the entire series are suddenly stepping in to take his place as major characters.

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me when i think about severus snape for too long

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When is something not

something’s pissing him off

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You ever feel like this