Dear Lily...

You don't know who I am.

It's incredibly difficult for me to write this out, because I'm not used to having my intimate thoughts out on paper, where anyone can see it. I still haven't decided whether or not I'll end up sending this to you.

Whether or not I send this to you, I should try to keep myself honest and concise. Often, I end up either saying the complete opposite of what I feel or blather on until I can't even remember what my point was.

So before I get any more sidetracked, I should say it straight out. I really like you, Lily.

I don't think we've ever really talked before. I mean, really talked. Every single time I attempt a conversation with you, something happens. You become disinterested, or I lose my nerve and say something completely idiotic, or we end up standing in awkward silence.

The truth is, I'm much more of a writer than a speaker. When I talk under pressure, somehow, the words that are in my brain never make it down to my mouth. When I write, though, I'm a hell of a lot calmer. That's why, after years of trying to tell you straight out how I feel, I'm resorting to this letter.

I know this makes me a coward, but I can't help it. You evoke such a strong feeling of nervousness from me that I don't know what to do.

I've liked you for years, Lily. Since I've never had so much as a decent conversation with you, this seems incredibly pathetic. Instead, for years, I've been watching you. Every day, I tell myself I'm helpless. Stalking you like this is scary – for you, I guess, and for me. I don't know the intimate details of your life, but I know your habits.

At first, what attracted me to you was your annoying habit of chewing on the end of your quill. I think I noticed it in third year, when I sat across from you in one of our classes. You'd chew on the end of that quill, and I would think, What a disgusting habit. But I kept watching you do it, and then I started to notice things about you. When you finally got a new quill, I was incredibly proud of myself for noticing. The habits that I noticed from then onwards aren't even flattering habits, or ones that hormone-driven boys are normally attracted to; just plain, ordinary, somewhat repulsive ones.

I promised myself that I would keep this short, but I can't seem to. My friends know as well as me that once I start on you, I can't finish until I exhaust myself. So even though my hand is cramping right now, I'm going to keep writing. Over four years of liking you has made me a coward for not telling you sooner, but it's also making me desperate to let you know before we graduate.

I'm fairly sure that if I continue any longer about you, you'll get bored and start skimming. Good student as you are, and Head Girl to boot, you're not perfect. I've noticed you in the library sometimes, and I've seen you just flip through a book when your eyelids start drooping. Myself, I could never work in the library. The utter silence and stipulation of work would make me drowsy. Instead, I always do my work in my dorm.

My dorm is probably the most comfortable place for me in the entire school. I don't have to worry about what other people think, or how I look, or how I'm acting; I can just let myself go. I think that would be really good for you, Lily. Sometimes, I can see little stress wrinkles around your eyes. I hope I'm not being presumptuous, but taking a little time out of sight would really help you a lot.

It's just occurred to me that what I'm writing is a love letter. How terribly clichéd is that? But I guess you can't really attach a cliché to people's feelings. I've seen how upset you get when people act in that typical way; boys try to act like gentlemen, and girls try to act like those brainless tittering socialites. But I think anyone can notice that the nerve that hurts you the most is the one that has to do with our Houses.

In James Potter's defence, he's trying to do what he was raised to think is right – protecting those that can't protect themselves, and speaking out for people that can't speak for themselves. But deferring to you, he is misguided in who he believes is helpless and voiceless. You can't blame the poor boy; he has a crush on you the size of France. He'd like for you to be helpless, so he could prove his worth by saving you. Anyone can notice that, especially you.

But enough of speaking for James Potter, another boy who can't seem to say what he's actually thinking. Even if he would happen to send you a letter much like this, if he ended up signing it, you wouldn't give it a moment's glance.

One of your habits is to check the end of a book to see how it'll end. If it ends pathetically, or so you think, then you put it aside. If it ends sadly, then you measure the sadness to see if it's worth reading the whole book. And if it ends disappointingly, you throw it out. This letter, if signed by someone you decided you really didn't have the time to listen to, would be thrown out. So the ending for this particular story will be one that is somewhat sad; enough to make you judge that the rest of the letter is intriguing enough and the ending can be lived with.

I won't ask you to reply to me; I've long since given up entertaining notions of having you date me. In a rarely honest confession of mine, when I was in fifth year, I even fantasized someday of making you my wife. At 15, I'm sorry to say that I was a misguided lad.

Sincerely,

Unsigned.


To the nameless stranger...

Thank youever so much for telling me who you are. That certainly takes a load off my terrible stress, as you were so kind to point out.

Forgive me the extreme sarcasm. Would you know that when I'm faced with situations that I don't know how to handle, I lash out? This is definitely a situation that I cannot handle.

I've never received a love letter before; in fact, not one boy at this school has ever said so much to me as Let's go out, huh? So I'm incredibly touched by your feelings, but also slightly miffed. Why can't you tell me who you are? If you are so concerned about me, you wouldn't let me waste my spare thinking time wondering who you are.

Pretty astute of you to notice my habits, especially the one about flipping to the end of a book. It's one that irks me, because it shows my weakness for happy, satisfying endings. I know that books are supposed to reflect reality, and share the trials of the heart and soul, but for me, it's more like an escape. So when I read your letter, I thought I had stumbled upon merely an excerpt of a book. It seemed that unreal.

It scares me, though, to correspond with someone that I don't know. For all I know, you could be James Potter, or you could be Slughorn. Don't you think that ruins the storybook ending that you know I love so dearly? If I'm allowed to continue along this way, then in my mind I'll have built you up to be a perfect, handsome, and faultless man. Spare us both the disappointment, and please tell me who I have the pleasure of talking with.

On another note, I cannot forget exactly why you began this correspondence with me. I must say that I am sceptical about your feelings for me; beginning in third year? When you were thirteen? When I was in fourth year, I had a similar sort of crush on Remus Lupin. It began with me noticing all his weird, quirky little habits, and I began to realize that I liked him. But it didn't last, because I realized that his quirky little habits were really quite unappealing. That's not to say he's not a decent person, but it's just not the same kind of like that you believe you are afflicted with.

Myself, I am not a writer, as I'm sure you already know. So while I wouldlike to keep myself going, I can't. Brevity is a good thing, you know. Just not for essays.

Thus, I will conclude this letter with an unsatisfying end. I hope you found this on top of the Gryffindor house points hourglass. If you're not the person that began the correspondence with me, please leave the letter where you found it.

Lily


A/N: I'm planning on actually continuing this one. I wrote down all the titles of the chapters to follow, so maybe I can remember how the plot goes in a couple of weeks. If not, oh well. Tell me how you thought it was, so I can improve on it. Currently beating my beta to death, so she won't be editing for a while. Please shoot me when I am cognizant enough to realize I uploaded this.