Dear Professor Snape.
Well, I had to write Professor didn't I? It would seem wrong if you were to get a letter addressed to you as Severus. The way you love and hate that name; there's something about it, which makes me shiver everytime I hear it. But yet I dare not be open in case this falls into the wrong hands. Ah, yes, Professor it must still be, yet any reader might guess our relationship, if it can be called that. The concealment that we both must hide behind, just incase someone guesses our true feelings. I say "our" and yet I have no real idea of what you do feel for me. Those looks that are hidden in another; the way I have to work hard to attract you attention, to get detention, to be with you. And now I'm wondering if its worth it?
When I cannot escape my dorm, I lie awake, thinking of you; alone in your bed, no one to warm the sheets, and if maybe you have found someone else. It is something that plagues me as you will not talk to me. You keep closed about it. What can I expect? I'm close to breaking point, and you won't tell me anything. I find myself guessing time and time again what you are going to do or say or what you feel, but I do not know. I cannot cope without knowing so much. You keep me at arms length, and I can no longer stay there. I'm sorry, but it's the way it has to be.
Maybe I have your attention now Severus. Maybe now. Give me a detention or something, but please, lets talk. I need to know. Please don't do this to me. I know things are difficult for you, I worked that out after last summer. The different way you acted. The frown constantly on your forehead. Your unexplained disappearance for a week in the middle of term. I can see that the Dark Mark has returned on your arm. I saw through your explanations and I know enough of the past to work out what happened. People do talk, so there is no need to be surprised.
I'm tired. I'm tired of having no one to talk to. Who could I talk to about us? It is only you, and you will no longer talk to me. I cannot cope. I must know one way or the other and no feeble excuses this time. Whatever happens you know I will not tell a soul, I cannot. I just want to know – I know I'm alone, but am I going to be alone with you, or without you?
I need to know.
R.
Well, I had to write Professor didn't I? It would seem wrong if you were to get a letter addressed to you as Severus. The way you love and hate that name; there's something about it, which makes me shiver everytime I hear it. But yet I dare not be open in case this falls into the wrong hands. Ah, yes, Professor it must still be, yet any reader might guess our relationship, if it can be called that. The concealment that we both must hide behind, just incase someone guesses our true feelings. I say "our" and yet I have no real idea of what you do feel for me. Those looks that are hidden in another; the way I have to work hard to attract you attention, to get detention, to be with you. And now I'm wondering if its worth it?
When I cannot escape my dorm, I lie awake, thinking of you; alone in your bed, no one to warm the sheets, and if maybe you have found someone else. It is something that plagues me as you will not talk to me. You keep closed about it. What can I expect? I'm close to breaking point, and you won't tell me anything. I find myself guessing time and time again what you are going to do or say or what you feel, but I do not know. I cannot cope without knowing so much. You keep me at arms length, and I can no longer stay there. I'm sorry, but it's the way it has to be.
Maybe I have your attention now Severus. Maybe now. Give me a detention or something, but please, lets talk. I need to know. Please don't do this to me. I know things are difficult for you, I worked that out after last summer. The different way you acted. The frown constantly on your forehead. Your unexplained disappearance for a week in the middle of term. I can see that the Dark Mark has returned on your arm. I saw through your explanations and I know enough of the past to work out what happened. People do talk, so there is no need to be surprised.
I'm tired. I'm tired of having no one to talk to. Who could I talk to about us? It is only you, and you will no longer talk to me. I cannot cope. I must know one way or the other and no feeble excuses this time. Whatever happens you know I will not tell a soul, I cannot. I just want to know – I know I'm alone, but am I going to be alone with you, or without you?
I need to know.
R.