Work Text:
People were always quick to say, 'You're so much like your father'.
However, if he was to be entirely honest – and that would be only under the effects of the most powerful Veritaserum – he didn't really believe that to be true at all.
Of course, there were some blatant similarities; the foolhardy Gryffindor bravery, the proclivity for flying, the uncanny aversion to obeying the rules… All these characteristics had been heavily prevalent in the young Potter child, along with a great number of others that he had absolutely no desire to extoll upon.
There were other obvious traits, too – ones that were often the first noted by the casual observer, and it was based upon these that many seemed to make that oft-repeated statement. Those damnable glasses, the dark unruly – and sometimes unkempt – black hair...
People would take one cursory glance at the child and see James Potter, back from the grave.
Every day, this is the image he forced himself to see – his childhood tormentor, back from beyond to torment him. However, today – alone, deep within the solitude of his personal chambers – Severus Snape was willing to admit – at least to himself – the real truth.
The parent that Harriett J Potter resembled and favored the most strongly was not her father James… but her mother Lily.
Although by all appearances she had inherited her father's penchant for mischief, it was more that she had inherited her mother's selflessness. Like Lily, the girl abhorred bullying – it was no wonder she held such animosity for Lucius' boy – and often took it upon herself to come to the defense of others; the other two members of her so -called 'Golden Trio' especially, along with other members of her house. Of course, with her father's recklessness mixed in, the girl's heroic exploits often made it seem as if she possessed no sense of self-preservation at all. Despite his – and other members of the Staff's best efforts – the girl often wound up spending time in the hospital wing at least once a year.
Of course, Lily's sense of fair play was not all the girl had inherited. Yes, like everyone simply loved to mention, she had inherited her mother's eyes – those sharp, keen eyes, greener than the purest emerald, greener than the liveliest Evergreen. More often than not, when focused on him they conveyed defiance, suspicion, and mistrust. However, when she thought no one was looking they held more secrets, held more melancholy than 15 year old girl's should.
He hated seeing her eyes like that, more than the angry defiance, more than the James-like arrogance. Looking into those eyes was like gazing into an old soul. When he looked into those eyes, he saw Lily once more…
And she was judging him.