A.N: This is a little drabble that I've had saved for over a month now. It's my first shot at Lily/Snape, so let me know what you think.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you see here, not even the letter, which one of my friends wrote as a story idea and consequently was the inspiration for this story. Bless her and her support of Lily/Snape stories. :)
He'd been clearing out his desk when he found it, tucked away in the corner. The parchment had yellowed over time, curling up at the edges, but the writing on it was still legible, although a little smudged:
Dear Flower,
I know we haven't spoken since, well, that incident in the Gryffindor Common Room, but I don't want to leave this school on bad terms with you as I haven't really got any other friends.
I just wanted to explain why I haven't been the same with you.
During the final term, some fellow Slytherins and I joined a group and it is…well…dangerous, and Flower, you mean more to me than the moon, sun and stars...
Here, the letter stopped, as though the author of it had deliberated on what to write next and had decided to finish it later. Unfortunately, it had never been finished, or delivered to the recipient.
The man sighed deeply, reading the letter through several more times before taking out a raven-feathered quill and adding to the letter, finally finishing it off:
Lily, I never intended for you to get involved in any of this, and I never wanted you to be hurt at all. You became closer to Potter than you ever were to me, and I'm truly sorry that I couldn't do more to save your life.
But I want you to know this from the bottom of my heart; I only ever wanted you to be happy.
Yours till the day I die and beyond,
Severus
A few weeks later, anyone that happened to walk into a small graveyard in the middle of no-where would find a piece of parchment laying by the side of one particular head-stone,with a single white lily attached to it.
As it was April, the continuous rain pattered down, staining the parchment and making the ink run. Droplets of rain dripped down from the petals of the flower, making it seem as if the flower itself was crying, spilling its tears over the parchment.
And anyone that happened to look closely into the overgrowth would be able to make out a hooded figure watching the grave, a small tear trickling down his own face, matching the rain as he mourned for the only woman he ever loved, but never got to tell.
A.N: This, I think, is the shortest story/drabble I've ever written...Please review and tell me what you think!