Hey,

Guess what? I'm getting married today. Well, not today - it's not midnight yet, so, technically, its tomorrow. Yes, I'm getting married tomorrow. How about that?

All right, I know exactly what your response would be to that; so it's just as well that I'm not telling you face-to-face. Funny how, even after all this time, I can still imagine your exact words. I can even picture the crease that rests almost permanently between your eyebrows. You know, Petunia used to think you were always frowning. I tried to tell her it was just because you were always busy thinking, watching, cautious… but my dear sister couldn't believe that someone could be that at the age of ten.

Tuney and I never really got on, though, so I can't believe I actually want her to be there. I know Mum and Dad would be if they were still alive, and she is the only family I have left. Without her here, this house feels so big. And although it's full of people, I don't really know them. Mary drops by now and then, but it's not the same; I didn't play on the swings with her, didn't copy from her Potions books, didn't whisper secrets to her at night by the lake…

Don't get me wrong - James' parents are wonderful people. They are so very kind and hospitable. They tend to my every need and make sure that I am as comfortable as possible. They go out of their way to make me happy, but, strangely enough, that's what bothers me the most. They have to do things to make me happy. Why can't their presence alone do the job?

James himself is wonderful. He's a perfect gentleman. He is always looking out for me and treats me like a princess. Why, I only have to ask for something for it to be delivered to my side instantly. He is smart, funny, charming, outgoing and friendly. He's honourable, brave, chivalrous… everything a girl could ever hope to find in her Husband-to-Be. He literally waits on me, hand and foot; he is that sweet.

In fact, he took me to dinner last night (it's after midnight now), and we had such a nice time. He was so thoughtful and caring, and kept asking me what I wanted for dinner, dessert; how much sugar I would like in my coffee. So you see, he was absolutely amazing, and it's silly of me to think that he should have somehow known that I always drink my coffee bitter, never eat pasta, and only ever have really dark chocolate for dessert. How would he know all that? I doubt even Mary or Tuney do. In fact, I am sure you're the only one who actually –

So I suppose I am writing this letter to you, Sev. There, I've admitted it. I tried really hard to make this a letter to some anonymous friend, but, apparently, that didn't work out very well. You know something? So what? You are my friend, or at least you were. It's perfectly reasonable that I write a letter to you (even if you never receive it) on a night like this. It doesn't mean anything; I'm just letting all my muddled-up thoughts collect on this bit of parchment here so I can think clearly – or better yet, empty all my thoughts onto this parchment, and never have to think again.

What happened, Sev? Why did it happen? How did we let it happen? How did I?

Although you do have to admit what you did was simply awful. I mean, calling your best friend a 'Mudblood' is really, really… I can't even find a word for it. How could you, Sev? Didn't you know how much it would hurt me? In front of so many people, too.

And you were always hanging around with your Death Eater friends. What was I supposed to think? Imagine my shock when I saw you at Grimmauld Place at that first meeting. How was I to know you were a spy against Voldemort?

But I guess I should have known; I was supposed to be your best friend, after all. I should have known from the start you would never do something like that. I should have also known that you were angry and ashamed back then, and that you did realise how much it hurt me. You even apologised, and would have done so publicly, in front of a hundred people, had I asked. Why didn't I, Sev? Why didn't I just resolve it right there and then? If I had done, you would have forgiven me instantly; so why didn't I? And I knew, even then, that I could have. I could have accepted your apology; I should have apologised back for being so obnoxious, and we would have been friends again before we knew it. But, what I did do was to start dating James. Yes, I do rather hate myself now. I suppose that's why I haven't been admitting it until this very moment – hours before my wedding.

Oh, Sev, this has all turned into such a mess; and this time, you aren't around to make it all better. Remember when I used to muck up my Potions in our first year, and you'd to switch cauldrons with me before Slughorn could notice? Well, ever since then, I always thought of you as someone who could fix anything. Over the years, when you used to hex Sirius for bullying me, comforted me when Tuney wouldn't talk to me, held me as I cried when Mum and Dad were murdered... I always thought you could make all my nightmares go away; that you would always be around to protect me, no matter what.

But it's all my fault that you aren't here with me today; on the day I need you most. I need your calming presence here, telling me I am not the biggest fool to have ever walked this earth, that everything will be okay, and that the hollow feeling where my heart used to be is just pre-wedding jitters.

Look at me! I'm supposed to be the blushing bride, happy about my future, looking forwards to the rest of my life. I am not supposed to be feeling that I have left my entire life behind; locked away in a place I can no longer access, simply because I've lost the key.

I didn't just lose my best friend that day; I lost my laugh, my smile, the ability to be happy, to feel joy. Oh, sure, they see me smiling all the time here; after all, it only befits a bride-to-be. But I would bet every last valuable thing I own (including the precious memories of us, that no one - not even you - can take away from me) that you would be able to see through that smile in less than a second. And that's not all; I didn't just lose the feeling of happiness, I think I lost feeling altogether. You may be surprised to know, Sev, but I don't get mad at anything anymore. I never voice my opinion on anything, either. It's like I watch things happen from a distance rather than being part of them. Nothing ever sparks my interest or curiosity anymore. James is ecstatic; he has the most agreeable wife in the world. She never argues, never talks back, never makes suggestions, and just nods and looks pretty all the time.

She could be replaced with that statue of the one-eyed witch, and he wouldn't know the difference. I'm sure she would be more enthusiastic to his touch, too.

Oh, Merlin, what am I saying? I think I've finally gone of the deep end here, and I don't have a Wit-Sharpening Potion at hand. Too bad James' potion-making is more dismal than Peter's; I'm clearly in no state to whip up a batch. Do you want more reasons why?

Because worse than not feeling happy, worse than not feeling anything, is that bit of satisfaction – maybe not satisfaction, since it could be classed as a feeling – is the knowledge that it's better this way. I don't have the right to feel anything after what I did. No, I don't want to feel anything after what I did. I don't want to feel that I'm still alive after what I did to you.

Because the more I think about it, the more I realise that you were the most essential ingredient in me being me. You were the one that made me happy, sad, nervous, excited; you made me alive. You know, when I first saw your Patronus in our fourth year (when did you learn to conjure it, anyway? When we were ten?), I stupidly hoped that it would be a doe, because mine was too. I had a very embarrassing crush on you back then. Needless to say, it subsided – was replaced completely by love.

There, I finally said it. I love you! I love you, Severus Snape; I have from the very first day I saw you. I loved you when you were hiding behind that bush, watching Tuney and me on the swings. I loved you when you got sorted in Slytherin. I loved you when you called me 'Mudblood'. I loved you when I started dating James. I loved you when we got engaged, and I love you now.

I will love you, more than ever before, when tomorrow I become James' lawfully wedded wife. I can't even tell you how much I love you; it's not something I can put into words. How can you count every drop of water in the ocean, Sev? Even if I could, I would love you more than that total, so much more, infinitely more than that.

And now that I have finally admitted it to myself, what can I do? There is nothing I can do except walk down that aisle. And walk down it I shall. It's not James' fault, it's nobody's but mine. I set up this stage, didn't I? So I have to see it through, right till the end. At least it won't kill me. How do you kill someone who is already dead inside?

I will be a good wife, a loving mother, and an obedient-daughter-in-law. I will be everything that is expected of me after the ceremony is complete. I will become Mrs. Lily Potter, and I will breathe throughout the remainder of my days as best as I can. I will never think about what could have been, because I destroyed that with my own hands; with my pride that ultimately got in the way of my happiness. But I will spend every moment hoping, praying that you will find happiness somewhere, Sev. I will never confront you, because you will no doubt never want to see my face again. This is exactly what I deserve; for you to never look at me, for you to never think of me, for you to forget that there ever was a Lily Evans who used to climb trees with you, swim in the lake with you, tease the Whomping Willow with you, pass notes to you in class, come running into your arms when she had nightmares…

That Lily is dead, Sev. She died the day she lost her reason to live; her source of light from the dungeons. I am now Mrs. Potter, wife of James Potter; and just as well, because I don't want that Lily – the one you knew – to ever be associated with the cold, dead creature that is writing this letter.

I think it's time I stopped writing; I have to try to get some sleep so I will look fresh and eager tomorrow for the wedding. Mrs. Potter wouldn't want to look tired and weepy on her special day, would she? How would that look?

But before I finish this letter, and burn away the Lily of the past with it, I just want you to know that I don't regret for a moment that I figured out how much you mean to me so very late. If anything, I'm extremely grateful to the fates for letting me realise now, because I would rather spend the rest of my days faking every emotion required of me, than not have lived these few precious moments where I finally understand what love really is. Love is you, Sev; only you. And these few moments are enough to last me a lifetime.

Only Yours,

Lily