Part one in a series: The Dark Lord’s Finest

So basically, I have this thing where I don’t really care about what happens to Harry Potter, so long as the Death Eaters are OK. I feel like I might be missing the message, somehow? I don’t know. 

Anyway, I think Alan Rickman’s been the improbable crucible for young ladies’ burgeoning sexuality for two (maybe three?) separate generations. Me, I was like, “Damn Colonel Brandon, you’re a little funny looking. But keep talking. Keep talking. Just … talk.” And now I see young things on the Internets all atwitter about him as Snape, and I feel like a proud old doting aunt. Circle of life, etc.