He waits.
When he first sees her with her sister, he doesn't approach her right away. He doesn't tell her sister off like he wants to, yell at her to look and see what the red headed girl is. Because clearly she is special. Not just because she was a witch, although that certainly made her special to. She didn't know she was a witch yet, but Sev did. He knew as soon as he saw that flower grow in her hand, because he had done the same thing himself not too long ago. Yes, being a witch was special, but she would have been special without that. He knows it.
Her hair makes her special. He has never seen hair that color in his life, not even on any of the models in the magazines that he has seen in stores. Clearly that makes her special. Her smile is certainly special, because it is the single brightest thing he's had ever seen. Brighter than the sun, he reckons, and he has been told by many people that the sun was bright enough to make a man go blind just by looking at it. That is, without a question, yet another thing special about this girl. Her laugh is special too, and of this he is positive because just moments before, when she had been laughing with her sister, he could have sworn that he was hearing music. Normal laughter didn't sound like music, so that was with out a doubt one of the most special things about her.
Her eyes were special.
Sev had never seen eyes like that before, not anywhere. Not on someone walking down a street, or someone in Witch Weekly, or someone in one of his family, or anywhere. They were like the color of grass, the greenest, freshest grass in the world, and he knew for a fact that he could stare into them for hours and not get bored. He was positively hypnotized by them, and he hadn't even been anywhere near her.
And if that didn't make her special, then he's certain he doesn't know the meaning of the word.
He wants to talk to her, but he waits. He waits for the sister to leave, for her to be alone before he can show her what he wants to. That he can be special too, with his magic, and even though he's never going to be anywhere near as special as her, he hopes that she'll at least allow him to try. And when she smiles, he knows she's decided she will.
It's a wonderful feeling, being special.
"What's your name?" she asks, and when he realizes that she's speaking to him it's like her voice just becomes that much more beautiful. Sev has never heard a voice like hers, so musical and light. It must have just been another special thing about her, he decides, and answers her question without much trouble. After all, it was basically impossible to talk when you had to look into those eyes.
"Severus...I mean, Sev," he says, and he smiles. It's been a while since he's smiled, but when he smiles at her it feels like something he does all the time. He should smile more often, he decides, although the thought of smiling at someone other than her seems a more than a little daunting. In all honesty, he couldn't think of anyone else who deserved to be smiled at. Then he decides he'll only smile at her, and it seems like the perfect solution. He just hopes she allows him to smile at her, because he really does like it.
"I'm Lily. Lily Evans." He doesn't bother to tell her that he already knew that. Girls find that kind of thing weird, and Sev has a feeling that the girl in front of him would be no exception. But she's smiling back at him and extending her hand, and without a word he reaches his own hand out and shakes hers.
Her skin is exceptionally soft. He adds that to the list.
He watches.
Sev watches her all the time. She's his best friend, so it's only natural, of course. They're together all the time, as long as they can get away with, and he watches during every second of their time together. Not just watches. No, he studies her. He calculates her every movement, where she's going and what she's doing and why she's doing it. It's an obsession of his, this study of Lily Evans. He knows it's strange, but he also knows he loves her. And for some reason, that seems to make up for it.
Over the years, he's learned many things from his studies. In fact, he figures that he knows more about her than anyone in the castle - quite possibly more than anyone in the world. He doubts that that wretched Petunia knows more about her than he does, or even her own mother. Her other friends, her girl friends, appear to know her quite well, but he still believes he knows her better than all of them combined. None of them have watched her more intensely that he has, he knows that for a fact.
And without a doubt Sev can safely say that he knows more about her than James Potter, because for a man that claims to love her more than the world itself, James knows absolutely nothing about her.
For her birthday in second year, he tried to be clever and give her a bouquet of lilies. If James knew anything about the woman he "loves", he would have known that not only does she despise the flowers from which she recieved her name, but they make her break out in a terrible rash that doesn't go away for days. In all honestly, it was quite amusing and strangely satisfying to watch her throw the bouquet at Potter's head, and walk away contentedly with the dasies that Sev had given her moments before. He had known they were her favorite flowers without her telling them - she always stopped to sniff them on their daily walks around the castle grounds.
Yes, there is no question about it. Severus Snape knows Lily Evans better than anyone.
He tells her this, one day in fourth year. They're sitting together by the Black Lake, and she's rambling on and on about how Potter had made another pathetic attempt to win her heart, although he had gone about it the complete wrong way again, having the exact opposite effect than what he wanted. Sev doesn't want the words to escape from his mouth, because he's afraid she'll be creeped out, but they slip out from his lips before he can even attempt to stop himself.
"I know you better than Potter," he says, and she looks at him curiously. "I know you better than anyone in the whole castle, I can bet on it. Did you know that?" She shakes her head to say 'no', and it's clear in her bright green eyes that she's still very confused. He couldn't blame her, really. It was a rather random outburst, and one that he most certainly wishes he could take back. But there's no going back now, because she's opening her mouth to speak, and he knows that as soon as Lily sets her mind on knowing something, she's going to get the answer one way or another. It's one of the special things about her, one that he had discovered not an hour after their introduction.
"What do you know about me, then?" she asks, a challenge clear in her eyes. She's testing him, he knows that, and he can't help a smile. It's so typical Lily, always wanting to prove someone wrong. Well, Severus knows he's right, and he decides then and there that he's going to prove it to her.
He thinks before he talks, though, because he knows if he says the wrong thing she'll be mad at him for ages. For instance, if he suddenly declares that he knows she's attracted to men who smell like soap and freshly mowed grass, she'll declare that he's wrong out of pure embarrassment and will more than likely storm off in a fit of rage. Then she'll realize that that's probably why he always smells like those two things (a special potion he created himself), she'll just think he's creepy and probably won't speak to him ever again. She's staring at him expectantly though, and Sev knows he's expected to say something soon.
Well, he's got nothing to lose.
Actually, he's got everything to lose. He just chooses to stay positive.
"I know that your favorite color is green," he says, and she rolls her eyes as if to tell him, 'everyone knows that'. But he hold up a finger to stop her before she says anything, showing he's nowhere near done. "And not because it's the color of your eyes, but because it's the color your father painted your nursery back home so it reminds you of someplace safe. I know you twirl your hair when your nervous, and you braid it whenever you have to make a tough decision. I know you originally wanted to be in Ravenclaw, and when you didn't get into the house you threw out everything blue that you owned." Her eyes are wide in shock; she had never told him that story, but once again, he had watched. He didn't have to see it happen to know that it did. "I know you stopped eating chocolate because it makes you bloat, but you always have a stash of chocolate frogs in your pockets for whenever you get hungry. I know you have a secret notebook filled with pictures of the different ways you're going to kill James Potter, and I know you tell people it's your "private dream journal". I just know you, Lily."
She's speechless. He doesn't blame her, really. If someone had gone off on a tangent about all the things they knew about him, he would be speechless too. But her speechlessness makes him nervous, and he wonders if he's said something wrong. God, he hopes he hasn't. He doesn't know what he'd do if she never spoke to him again. Die, most likely.
But instead, she leans over and places a kiss on his cheek. And as soon as he feels her touch, he's glad he's been watching.
He wishes.
He wishes he didn't say it. Merlin, why did he say it? Why did he let the bloody word slip out of his mouth, that one stupid word that would ruin them forever. She trusted him. They were best friend, and in her own way - although it wasn't the way he had always hoped - she loved him. He knew she did. She had looked at him with those eyes, those special, beautiful eyes, and he had seen nothing but love and kindess in there. Love meant only for him.
Love that she was now giving to Potter.
Potter. He hates him. The lucky bastard has everything: the looks, the money, and now the girl. The one girl he loves more than life itself, and she ran off into the arms of his enemy. He can't even be mad at her for doing it either, seeing as it was completely his fault. If he hadn't said the word, none of this would have happened. He knows it, and he's absolutely positive that she knows it too. If he hadn't said that one word, then there could have been a chance that she would have fallen in love with him, too.
So he wishes.
He wishes he had a time turner. Just for one day, one hour, even, just to turn back the clock and stop his past self from saying that world. He wishes he was charming and brave, like Potter, because maybe then he could write her a romantic song or make some huge gesture to win back her heart. He wishes he had just stopped to think instead of losing his temper like he had. He rarely stopped to think before he spoke, and maybe if he had then it would be his arms holding her, his touch comforting her, and his lips meeting hers every time she needed love. He would have been perfect for her. Sev knows it, and he knows that deep down, Lily has to know it too.
As she walks by him in the corridor that day, James' arm draped around her shoulders, he sees a flash of something in her eyes. Something familiar, something that he's been wishing for all this time.
It's then that he knows she loves him, too.
And it's then that Severus Snape really, truly dies.