Author's notes: I originally intended for this to be the epilogue of my (now dead) fic Letters To Lily, but I kind of became bored of it after I worked out how long it would go on for. Perhaps I'll return to it one day if I have time (doubtful) and if anybody actually wants me to (even more doubtful), but in the meantime here is the epilogue I finished in advance, which also works as a stand-alone chapter. I was rather pleased with it, I like to think that Snape didn't die (quite) so bitterly as he lived, so I hope you like it. :)
Date and time unknown
Dear Lily,
Is this Death? I find myself in that old playground by Spinner's End, the one where I met you, the one where my life was changed forever, but everything is white. As I sit on that old swing, writing this letter to you with a pad of paper and a box of crayons which appeared the second I thought of them, the entire area has a mysterious ethereal quality to it, as though the grass of the field and the hard tarmac of the playground were made entirely out of some glistening vapour or other and could disappear at any moment.
I know I shall be reunited with you before too long, but I felt the need to consolidate some final musings, truly ending my old life, before moving on.
As you can imagine, as I followed the Dark Lord's summons to the Shrieking Shack I was utterly terrified, convinced of my failure in completing my mission, the most important task in my life. Without finishing it, twenty-three years of my life would have been for nought if Harry Potter hadn't understood my true motives, the consequences of my many mistakes and his ultimate role in the defeat of the Dark Lord. Although I am still distraught about the latter, how I was blackmailed for many years under the impression that he (and therefore you) could be saved, I know that soon I shan't have to worry about that.
Despite my fears as that detestable snake bit me, once the Dark Lord had disappeared, leaving me to die on my own, who should step out of thin air but the very man I had been longing to see? Now I had the opportunity to pass on my message, and to look into your eyes for the final time. I gave Harry my memories to take to the pensieve, knowing that they'd explain everything and he'd understand how to use it, but then I asked him to look at me.
It was wonderful to finally be able to look into your eyes in him for the first time without having to mask anything. This time it didn't even matter if he understood why I wasn't wearing my customary expression of hatred, as I blocked out every part of him except for those brilliant green eyes, and for the first time I realised something.
Harry Potter truly is YOUR son.
I understand now that I have spent the past seven years seeing him purely as your husband's child, refusing to acknowledge the many parts of you that exist in the boy in order to fuel my own hatred and to justify my treatment of Harry, the living reminder of your preference for another man. I was so determined to punish him just for reminding me that you never loved me the way I loved you that I intentionally ignored the many wonderful aspects of you that exist in Harry.
Albus Dumbledore told me once that Harry's deepest nature was far more like yours than your husband's. I never accepted the truth in those words, but of course the old man was right. He always was. Would James Potter have taken off that invisibility cloak and approached a dying man (who might very possibly have been armed with a wand) whom he had witnessed murdering, and believed to have been attempting to kill him? No, in those final moments I saw your compassion, sensitivity, courage and kindness in Harry's eyes, and I just feel terrible that I'd treated your flesh and blood so badly for so long and that in doing so I have seriously let you down.
One more giant mistake to add to my collection.
Well, I have done all I can for Harry Potter. Now all I can do is hope that he hasn't inherited your habit of sacrificing himself for the sake of somebody else, but I very strongly suspect that he has. Dropping everything to save people always has been in his nature.
I think it's time to move On, now.
Sure enough, as I think this, a very familiar small girl with long, red hair and green eyes is skipping towards me from somewhere in the distance. It looks very much like the eight-year-old you, but there is a quality about her that is definitely not real. Of course, the real you is somewhere else entirely. Maybe she'll take me to you.
Lily, I'll see you very soon. I can only pray that you'll forgive me the unforgivable my long list of serious mistakes that ultimately ruined your life for which I could not express enough regret if I were to live a thousand years, writing to you every minute of every day.
All my love (and I mean that. All of it. Always),
Sev.
