Lily Evans wrinkled up another piece of parchment and threw it in the fire. She let out an exasperated, hopeless sigh as she put down her quill. Why was this so difficult? She picked her quill up to start again, only to throw the seventh piece of parchment in the fire after only writing two sentences.
“Lily, are you all right?” a voice inquired from behind her. Startled, Lily jumped up to her feet to find that it was her friend and dorm mate, Alice Fairchild. “It’s past one in the morning and you’re still here in the Common Room.”
“I’m fine. I’m just having trouble with the essay Professor Clearwater assigned. Go back to bed. You need your rest for your date with Frank Longbottom tomorrow,” Lily said, smiling.
Alice stared at her for a moment, unconvinced. She contemplated whether or not to call Lily up on the lie, but a yawn decided it for her; she’d talk to Lily after she got back from Hogsmeade the next day. After saying goodnight, Alice went to bed.
Lily sighed again. To add to her problems, she now felt guilt for lying to her friend. The truth was that she was not fine. She, Lily Eliza Evans, was in love; in love with someone who she doubted loved her back. The truth was that she was not working on her Defense against the Dark Arts essay (which she had finished hours before), but trying to tell the person she loved of her feelings in the form of a letter.
Even though she figured her love for him was unrequited, Lily knew she had to inform him somehow. She couldn’t take keeping it a secret any longer. She had felt this way about him for months, and no one but her knew.
At first, she tried to deny that she loved him. She came up with every reason she could to not have any reason to like him. She thought of everything from the bad way he treated his peers to his messy handwriting.
But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t deny or change her feelings for him. She couldn’t help staring at him class, thinking about him when she was away from him, and dreaming of him in her sleep.
With revived determination, she picked up her quill again. She was going to finish this love letter, even if it took her all night.
Finally, after going through five more pieces of parchment, she came up with a result she was somewhat satisfied with. She would take it up to the Owlery in the morning and send it to the object of her affections. Maybe, just maybe, her feelings would be returned. She knew there was a slim chance of it, but couldn’t she dream? Couldn’t she hope, even though it was hopeless?
Severus Snape sat in the Slytherin Common Room, reading A History of the Dark Arts by Domitian Bloodlust. The book was fascinating, telling of the ingenious witches and wizards who had invented various Dark Potions, Curses, and Hexes.
Snape was interrupted from his reading time by the sound of an owl’s beak tapping on a window. Recognizing the owl to be his own tawny owl named Titus, he opened the window and took the letter. After sending the owl off, he sat back down and read what was written on the parchment.
Dear Severus Snape,
I hesitate to write this, for I know that you probably have no interest in what is written in this letter. You may even resent me for writing it. You may mock me for it. However, no matter how you feel about it, I must write it, or else I fear I may drive myself crazy.
I’m not sure how to say this, but…I love you. There, I said it. I love you. I love the way you strive so hard at Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions (especially your inventiveness at the latter), love your voice, your gracefulness when you walk, the peaceful look on your face when reading…I love everything about you, except perhaps your habit of hexing people when they don’t bother you. However, since Potter and Black often do the same to you, I love you even despite that.
I know that you probably don’t feel the same about me, but I couldn’t stand keeping this from you any longer.
Lily E. Evans
Snape read the letter a second, and then third time. After pausing to think about it a moment, he read it again. After thinking some more, he decided what to do. Snape then got a piece of parchment from his book bag, along with his quill and ink. After dipping the quill in the ink, he began to write.