To Whom It May Concern:
At one point in my life, I loved him. I honestly did, but then everything changed. I will not say, like some traumatized teenager, that he broke my heart. I am nothing if not honest. He simply left and without a word of warning, not even a goodbye kiss (loathe though I am to admit I would not have been objective to it), not one that I remember at least.
There is some part of me though, something that feels akin to a heart in this withered frame that remembers the impression of young lips upon mine. Though it may have been a dream yet I doubt it. What the brain does not retain, the heart holds. If I had one that is.
But there is no use wallowing in the past, if I did I would be nothing more than an empty shell of a human. The Dementors would not need to have come into play. The fact of the matter, proprietor of this letter, is that he is gone and with him has my soul fled.
He, who with a single upward twitch of his lips, taught me to feel things I had long ago laid waste to. With a blink of eyes still bright with innocence that not even the darkest of presences could remove, taught me to love. I had not loved since...alas that is another story and not remotely important to this letter.
I realise I am making no sense and that my thought process is at best, choppy. That I sound like a common Longbottom is no boon to my self-worth. But this letter was not meant to be a carefully catalogued story for your entertainment, dear reader. This was meant as a release of some sort. A final letting go of my jaded lover.
As I mentioned before, he left one morning. Faded from existence for all of us. For me more so than anyone else. I had gone to bed, allowing myself to be touched for maybe the tenth time in the whole thirty-seven years of my pitiful existence. I woke up alone, utterly alone. For the first time in my life, I was scared of it.
After that, the whole of Hogwarts was in upheaval. Their precious Golden Boy-Who-Lived was gone and he could not be found. The owlery was devoid of any sign of him as was his bed (though he had not slept there in nearly a month) as was every other place one once heard his almost pre-pubescent voice ring out. And I? I was alone as I still am.
I highly doubt I will ever take another lover for none before the Golden Boy, my Potter (for that is what I called him, I never saw reason to address him as everyone else, every star-studded wizard and witch did) has ever impacted me much in the same way he did.
Why did he leave? I am sure there are many reasons, all of which you, the reader of this god forsaken letter, can devise. I, however, have no wish to dwell upon them and therefore will simply accept that he has gone. Most likely not to return. Though one can always hope. Sincerely, S. Snape
A/N: This could be a stand alone piece or the prologue to something else, something great ~.^ As the reader of this, it is up to you to tell me what you want. Do review and cast your vote or even a critique. Flames will be critiqued in another story I choose to write. So by all means, flame me but be prepared to be humilitated.
At one point in my life, I loved him. I honestly did, but then everything changed. I will not say, like some traumatized teenager, that he broke my heart. I am nothing if not honest. He simply left and without a word of warning, not even a goodbye kiss (loathe though I am to admit I would not have been objective to it), not one that I remember at least.
There is some part of me though, something that feels akin to a heart in this withered frame that remembers the impression of young lips upon mine. Though it may have been a dream yet I doubt it. What the brain does not retain, the heart holds. If I had one that is.
But there is no use wallowing in the past, if I did I would be nothing more than an empty shell of a human. The Dementors would not need to have come into play. The fact of the matter, proprietor of this letter, is that he is gone and with him has my soul fled.
He, who with a single upward twitch of his lips, taught me to feel things I had long ago laid waste to. With a blink of eyes still bright with innocence that not even the darkest of presences could remove, taught me to love. I had not loved since...alas that is another story and not remotely important to this letter.
I realise I am making no sense and that my thought process is at best, choppy. That I sound like a common Longbottom is no boon to my self-worth. But this letter was not meant to be a carefully catalogued story for your entertainment, dear reader. This was meant as a release of some sort. A final letting go of my jaded lover.
As I mentioned before, he left one morning. Faded from existence for all of us. For me more so than anyone else. I had gone to bed, allowing myself to be touched for maybe the tenth time in the whole thirty-seven years of my pitiful existence. I woke up alone, utterly alone. For the first time in my life, I was scared of it.
After that, the whole of Hogwarts was in upheaval. Their precious Golden Boy-Who-Lived was gone and he could not be found. The owlery was devoid of any sign of him as was his bed (though he had not slept there in nearly a month) as was every other place one once heard his almost pre-pubescent voice ring out. And I? I was alone as I still am.
I highly doubt I will ever take another lover for none before the Golden Boy, my Potter (for that is what I called him, I never saw reason to address him as everyone else, every star-studded wizard and witch did) has ever impacted me much in the same way he did.
Why did he leave? I am sure there are many reasons, all of which you, the reader of this god forsaken letter, can devise. I, however, have no wish to dwell upon them and therefore will simply accept that he has gone. Most likely not to return. Though one can always hope. Sincerely, S. Snape
A/N: This could be a stand alone piece or the prologue to something else, something great ~.^ As the reader of this, it is up to you to tell me what you want. Do review and cast your vote or even a critique. Flames will be critiqued in another story I choose to write. So by all means, flame me but be prepared to be humilitated.