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This picture keeps appearing on my Facebook feed. For those of you on mobile, it's a little picture of a person (man?) with long black hair, wearing a dark-colored suit with cuffs, holding hands over eyes. The caption says, "You deserve to be happy." It's an ad for inexpensive therapy.

Let's leave aside the disturbing fact that Facebook's algorithm has diagnosed me as needing inexpensive therapy. Whenever I spot this ad out of the corner of my eye, it reminds me of young Severus Snape. Well, no, the hair's too good. It reminds me of a cosplaying young Severus Snape. And who deserves to be happy more than Severus Snape?
So if you feel like it, in the comments, write a 100-word drabble about Severus Snape in therapy. Bonus points if he doesn't exactly want to be there.

Let's leave aside the disturbing fact that Facebook's algorithm has diagnosed me as needing inexpensive therapy. Whenever I spot this ad out of the corner of my eye, it reminds me of young Severus Snape. Well, no, the hair's too good. It reminds me of a cosplaying young Severus Snape. And who deserves to be happy more than Severus Snape?
So if you feel like it, in the comments, write a 100-word drabble about Severus Snape in therapy. Bonus points if he doesn't exactly want to be there.
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Date: 2015-05-20 01:39 pm (UTC)Hermione sighed. She was exhausted from arguing about this therapy appointment. “Because you’ve reached a point where you need help, and you won’t ask for it.”
“So once again, someone else is telling me what is best for me and the Greater Good.”
Hermione couldn’t find one good argument against that. Quietly, she answered, “You deserve to be happy, love.”
He slumped in defeat. “And a lot of dead people deserve to be alive, Hermione.”
She put her arms around him and kissed him tenderly. “You’re one of them, Severus.”
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Date: 2015-05-20 02:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-20 03:04 pm (UTC)“See you next week, everybody.”
Wizards stood up from the circle of chairs and shuffled out the door, talking amiably amongst themselves. Snape brought his appointment card to the group’s therapist to sign. “Didn’t you get anything out of today’s session?” asked the ghost of Madam Pomfrey.
“One tick,” replied Snape, pointing. “Only forty more to go.”
The Wizengamot had given him a choice: therapy or prison time. After twelve weeks, he wasn’t sure which was worse.
“Next week, we’ll do trust exercises,” said Poppy. She smiled. “I’ll let you sit out—for now.”
“Thanks.” Snape nearly returned her smile.
-o0o-
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Date: 2015-05-20 04:44 pm (UTC)His blue eyes twinkled ever so slightly. Gods! How I hated that twinkle!
"But one must be completely honest with one's therapist, or else it will be useless."
"True. No one else must know our secrets. And so, I must be your therapist…."
My bowels tightened in defiance even as his eyes held mine, and I found my taciturn self speaking… and speaking… and I could not tell him enough.
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Date: 2015-05-20 05:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-20 06:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-20 06:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-20 06:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-20 05:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-20 05:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-20 06:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-20 08:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-20 06:58 pm (UTC)But yes, FB is creepy at the best of times.
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Date: 2015-05-20 07:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-30 04:09 pm (UTC)