Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths
Enwrought with golden and silver light
Light. That's the word for Lily. Her movements, half-dancing always. Her laugh, that comes so easily-- she laughs at nothing and everything, but it's never irksome in her, as it might be in someone else.
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
of night and light and half-light
I can see the light in you, Lily, but it isn't in me. I've always been the dark one, the silent one. Some members of the human race are born to carry its baggage, so that people like you can travel light, travel free.
Your laughter hurts me, as you walk with James.
Could you ever laugh like that as you walked with me?
Even I cannot imagine it.
I walk into the Slytherin common room. There is a group of people in the corner, conferring in whispers. Conversation stops: they shoot a hostile glare at me. I am not part of the dark, Lily. Nor could I be.
The half-light, then, is where I shall wither.
I would spread the cloths under your feet.
You're on James' broomstick. You're clinging onto him very tightly, giggling: taking off into the sky, we are all far below you.
Perhaps you don't realise I'm there: I've been watching from the shadows a lot, lately.
He's showing off, looping the loop very fast. You're squealing with delight.
James is irresponsible, I think. If you were mine I would never put you at risk like that.
Even if I could. But James is the one who commands the skies: the heavens are not mine to give you.
But I, being poor, have only my dreams.
I'm watching myself in the mirror. I have to admit it is not the face of a hero.
I'm watching James on the Quidditch pitch. The crowd cheering wildly. You have tears streaming down your face, as he lands triumphantly, holding the Snitch aloft.
I could join you in your tears, if I allowed myself to.
I indulge in fantasies of heroism, of making you love me. Childish: I know it. But it is hard, to watch someone else living my dreams.
I have spread my dreams under your feet.
Perhaps you don't realise my feelings. I hope you don't. Someday I'll tell you. And you'll laugh at me. Or worse, be kind.
Or perhaps you'll jump into my arms and say "Severus-- I thought you'd never ask!" and I'll carry you off into the sunset, neither of us casting a backward glance at James.
Perhaps not. But you're not safe with him, Lily. Not as the storm clouds are gathering. You need someone who'll take care of you. I hope someday you'll realise it.
Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.
Do you know the pain you give me, just by being there? It's a pain I'm addicted to: each smile you deliver to James pierces me to the heart, and still I can't stop watching you. Pain so sharp, and light so dazzling: although you hurt me it reminds me I'm alive.
Tread softly, if you will, Lily. If you can. But I'll understand it if you can't. Some people are born to dance.
***
Author's note: The poem is "He wishes for the Cloths of Heaven" by WB Yeats. I definitely subscribe to the Snape-loved-Lily theory. And I love that poem although I think it's kind of manipulative and controlling. Forgivable, though: if any man tried to manipulate and control me by writing poetry as stunning as that (some chance!) I'd fall straight at his feet. But that's beside the point. The point is: review this, in case you hadn't guessed. Or review Seeking the Seeker 2 (posted yesterday) instead, it's much better and I put more work into it. My sense of irony has gone on holiday and this is quite possibly cornier than anything Kelloggs ever produced but at least it was short!
DISCLAIMER: Snape, Lily, James, belong to JK Rowling. "He Wishes For the Cloths of Heaven" written by WB Yeats.