The Prince's Tale
"I hate History of Magic," Lily Evans said petulantly, slamming her textbook closed and then angrily sweeping a heavy lock of dark red hair out of her face. "Honestly, who needs to know this?"—she waved a hand in the direction of the books and papers spread out before her—"Who cares about the 'Furious Feuds' between Goblins and Fairies in 1538? Who—"
"—Who wants to waste hours every week sitting on hard chairs in a stuffy classroom listening to a ghost preach about the glories of our magical ancestors?" said Severus Snape amusedly from the seat beside hers. He, too, pushed hair from his face—dark, longish hair, a little greasy, shoved away from narrow, sallow features.
"Well, it's true."
Severus laughed. "It's not that bad. Not like Charms—"
"Oi!" protested Lily, giggling.
"Shh…d'you want Pince to kick us out?"
"No," sighed Lily. "I do need to study, I just—"
"Don't want to?" finished Severus.
"Stop that!" cried Lily, grinning.
"Stop what?"
"Completing my sentences—but that, too. You're flirting with me, Sev. What did I say about that?"
"I don't remember," he whispered. He was so close—very distantly, with the furthest corner of his mind, he could see that she was stiffening, but now was his chance…now…
He pressed his lips against hers. They were soft and yielding, but otherwise troublingly still, and her green eyes, mere millimeters from his own, were wide and startled and untouched by love or lust…
She pulled away and pressed a hand against his chest to keep him at bay. "Sev…" she began, carefully.
She's trying not to hurt my feelings, thought Severus, and that hurt almost as much as her rejection, however gentle it had been. He turned away, her hand falling from him, and stared blindly down at his open book, unable to read the suddenly blurry words sprawled across their worn, second-hand pages.
"Why not me?" he whispered bitterly. He wanted to say, Why can't you love me like I love you? but knew that that would only hurt her, and him.
"I should go," she said quietly, and made quick work of packing up her things and hurrying from the table where Severus still sat, looking smaller and more defeated than ever before.
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At nearly midnight later that day, the boys' fifth-year Slytherin dungeon room was silent and still. At first glance, you would have said that all slept peacefully; but, if you moved to the right angle, you would be able to see the light reflected in the dark and wide-open eyes of Severus Snape—and his mind was far from peaceful.
He lay flat on his back, his thoughts churning slowly and sadly. Why was the word that surfaced most often, cried piteously, but silently—Severus Snape was, and always would be, a man of solitude. Of all who ever know him, only Lily, with her vibrant emerald eyes, was able to look at him and read his heart…
Or could she? If she was truly able to see what he thought—and how desperately he thought it—why wasn't she able to return his love? His face crumpling, he turned onto his side and curled into a tight ball, as though to give himself strength.
Did she love another? he wondered forlornly. Was it—Salazar curse him—James Potter? No, he decided; she still seemed to harbor only the greatest hate for the boy who professed such great love for her…if he hadn't been lying in his own bed, he would have spat. James Potter! he thought venomously, and his body seemed to ache with residual memories of the many injuries the Gryffindor had inflicted on him. What had humanity done to be cursed with him?
Lily…he thought, closing his eyes to the pain of life. And aloud, very quietly in the room of slumbering Muggle-hating Gryffindor rivals, "Lily…"
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And Lily Evans, a castle and a thousand universes away, slept the peaceful, untroubled slumber of one untouched by the woes of love.
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And two days later, angry and miserable and humiliated, Severus would scream an unforgivable word at Lily—"Mudblood!"—and they would never again speak as friends. And three years later, almost to the day, she would wed James Potter; and Severus, alone and utterly excluded from the life of the one he loved, would see the picture in the newspaper and not read the article, and cry as he remembered.
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I felt like taking a break from my other story, so I decided to write this. If you don't like, it could be because I wrote it while watching T.V. (Heroes, actually—I'm now hooked).
Anywho, like or hate—PLEASE REVIEW!!