Through the Years
7
When I first suspected you might be more than just a Muggle, I took to following you around, trying to get concrete proof for my suspicions. I didn't like you, at first. You know, just on principle. You see, I knew what Muggles were like-they were ignorant and weak, like my father. I hated them. Who were you, having absolutely no magical blood, and what right did you have to the glorious secret Muggles would never be able to understand? You practically were a Muggle!
Still, you were a novelty, a way to keep myself busy. And the more I followed you, the more intriguing you became. I'm not exactly sure what exactly made me start liking you, despite your Muggle descent. In fact, I don't think it was ever just one thing. Perhaps the time you accidentally trod on a wilted flower and immediately scooped it up, apologizing. Or maybe when you found that starved orange-and-brown cat with the matted fur, the one everyone else had consistently shooed away, insisting to your revolted sister that you take it home to feed it. It was interesting to see the way you extended kindness to those peripheral things most people just ignored. I mean, who did that?
And it became clear that you had loads of magic. Your sister was always suspicious of your various "tricks," mostly jealous of you and disappointed when you couldn't teach her, too. No one ever believed her when she told them some of the stranger things you'd done, like jump and end up in a tree. I was behind the bushes on the other end of the park when that happened. I remember both of your surprised faces when you climbed down again, and couldn't help but laugh when you attributed it to the wind. You always came up with the funniest things to say.
10
The day I could finally wait no longer to speak to you at first seemed a complete disaster: I was so scared you would never talk to me again for calling you a witch. (I learned that, funnily enough, calling a Muggle a "witch" is the equivalent of calling a witch a "Muggle." How odd.) I was incredibly disappointed-after all, I'd been working up to that moment for three entire years, trying to muster up the nerve.
Thank goodness you snuck away from your sister later that afternoon and found me skulking around your street, brooding on my failure. You dragged me by the sleeve and led me into a little wooded spot nearby, demanding an explanation for why I'd called you a witch. How dare I call you names without even knowing you! I told you the truth, and you believed it. You believed me!
I was so thrilled to finally be speaking with you. You'd become an obsession of mine, something to think about when I was home listening to my parents shout nasty things to each other. I'd spend hours at a time planning adventures for the two of us, Lily and Severus, the greatest Slytherin House had ever known! And here you were, sitting right across from me, quizzing me eagerly about magic and Hogwarts and broomsticks and wands and the Ministry and Azkaban. I answered each of your questions with relish, feeling so incredibly special for being the one to talk to you about such things. To talk to you at all. To have you talk to me!
11
Hogwarts. Hogwarts. We were actually going to Hogwarts! Finally, we would be among our own kind and could do magic-real magic!-away from the prying eyes of Muggles. We wouldn't have to be under constant menace of your sister, who'd taken to following us, ever-near, ever-nosy, and ever-prying. I was leaving home, and though I felt guilty for leaving my mum behind, I was much more glad to be leaving my father, the Muggle. We were going to Hogwarts, and nothing could separate us, nothing could stop us from being the best witch and wizard in the school. You were really talented, I could already tell. And I already knew several spells, though I kept them from you. I had an uneasy feeling you wouldn't like them too much.
You seemed angry with me on the train. Angry. Nothing distressed me more than when you were upset with me, not even my parents fighting. Because if they were fighting, I still had you. If I didn't have you, I just had their shouting and swearing. I couldn't have that-and of course it was all your stupid, pasty-faced sister's fault! But I reminded you that we were finally-finally!-going to Hogwarts together, and you cheered right on up. I could always cheer you up again, and I was proud at my ability to do so.
Unfortunately, we first met Potter and Black in that compartment. Gryffindors. How ludicrous! I couldn't help but sneer at them... but they started it, after all! Those idiotic, arrogant, good-for-nothing sons of cows, embarrassing me in front of you... But you stood up for me! I could tell you disliked them almost as much as I did, and that made my insides feel suddenly lighter. I could have floated out of that compartment, knowing you were on my side, knowing you didn't laugh with them, knowing you liked me. Liked me! Maybe not in the way I liked you, but the fact that you liked me at all was nothing short of a miracle. You were my first, and best, friend.
Sorting. I just knew you'd be a Slytherin. After all, the Sorting Hat couldn't possibly separate us, and I was bound to be in Slytherin. And Slytherin was the best, and you were the best of the best. No, I'd never doubted we'd be together, relaxing in the common room, having all of our classes together. So when your name was called, "Evans, Lily," I was almost writhing, not in agony, but in excited anticipation. I followed your small form, clad in Hogwarts robes, your long red hair swinging behind you as you covered the short distance to the stool. You sat down, and McGonagall placed the hat on your head, over your white, nervous face. The rip near the brim opened, and I leaned forward eagerly, afraid to miss the confirmation of my dreams.
"Gryffindor."
What? No. Gryffindor? How...? I didn't believe it at first, I was in shock for the first few moments. Obviously I'd heard wrong, or I was hallucinating, or I'd fallen asleep on the train and was dreaming, because it was impossible that you were going to Gryffindor, not Slytherin. But how else could I explain why the table at the farthest end of the hall, wearing scarlet and gold scarves, had erupted in cheers? I refused to believe... but then you walked down towards that table, passing me, and threw me a sad little smile, and I knew. I knew right then and there that those hours of planning adventures for the two of us, Lily and Severus, the greatest Slytherin House had ever known, had come to no avail. Because there was no way that I would be Sorted into Gryffindor. On principle, I hated the lot of them! But not you... I could never hate you. But how could this happen...? How could this happen? Later on that night, you assured me that our separation would have no effect on our friendship-we would always be best friends, Sev! No matter what. I couldn't help but believe you.
Ah, Snape. Such a tragic story.
I'd just like to point out that the best Sev/Lily is the one-sided, UNREQUITED kind. Coughcough. Because while I think it's cute to the billionth degree that they were best friends, I have always been a DIE HARD L/J fan, and the Prince's Tale didn't change that. But I like their friendship, and I like the one-sided angsty bit with Snape.
So I wrote about it. It'll be Lily and their relationship through Severus' eyes up until her death.
Part 2 up soon! (?)
