AN: I have a feeling there are going to be people who hate this. But as usual, that's part of being a writer. I just needed something to vent the injustice from Snape's story.
The thoughts were taking a toll on my heart. My bed creaked under the weight of my turning body. I was restless, and understandably so knowing what I was considering. He had always been there, my childhood friend. Our friendship was a scandal among Hogwarts and a big fat joke to Potter and his stupid friends. Yet, I would never turn my back on Sev. I never would have betrayed him.
He showed me the kindest parts of himself, parts he had to hide when amongst those other Slytherins. He hated the rouse he had to put up just to make it through the day without a cruel hex from one of them. He told me about awful things they planned to do and the things they actually did. Severus had never been like them. He'd never wanted to be like them, either, but he was destined to be in their house. His family had seen to that. No matter how much he detested them, there was a sense of pride in continuing the family line.
After a few years, we became quieter about our friendship. I understood and was not angry with him. The more people knew about it, the more teasing and pestering the two of us would have to deal with. Yet, we stayed strong in our bond. For years we did.
Now, here I was, lying in bed and thinking strange things. I thought of how his voice was becoming huskier and deeper. The way it sounded when he called my name, especially when we were in private and he could call me "Lily" as much as he pleased. I thought about his hands, so pale and with such slender fingers but containing the warmth of a phoenix. Thoughts of how his dark eyes spoke loneliness, yet became so bright with the mere sight of me.
I admired him, I knew that much. He had intelligence to out-do any haughty Ravenclaw, but devoted loyalty and kindness to me better than any Hufflepuff. Yet, he lacked bravery I saw in my fellow Gryffindors. Severus was timid and gentle, which I loved about him, but he couldn't stand up to the Marauders or even his Slytherin classmates. I forgave him on many occasions for pretending to hate the things his fools of friends did. It didn't stop the hurt I sometimes felt, but his friends at least knew better than to say much about me. At least Sev never accepted much of that.
Still, what feelings had I come to foster about the dark, lonely soul that taught me so much about my own existence at an early age? Severus Snape had shown me that I wasn't to fear the things I could do. Severus had called me brilliant on more than one occasion. Severus was my dear friend, but when my thoughts came to his eyes again, then drifted into thoughts of his lips, pursed in thought the way they sometimes were, my stomach tightened. It was a feeling I normally paired with a crippling fear, as well as the way my heart sometimes quickened its beating. It was the warmth that through me off though. The desire to be close to him and remain that way.
After many long nights with little sleep, I finally admitted it to myself. Part of me, and I was yet unsure how substantial this part was, loved Sev as more than a friend. Part of me was mad for him. Other parts remained hesitant, scared, and unsure. I held onto them, not wanting to be overcome with the feeling of love when he was still so afraid of our relationship himself. I would not entrust that much of my heart to someone when he could barely entrust the knowledge to his so-called "friends".
That is why my heart broke so horribly. I had accidentally given my heart to him already. Love does funny things to your mind, as well. It takes your logic and ability to reason and throws it all out the window. So even though my brain was screaming that he was hurt by Potter and Black, that his anger was not really directed at me, that what he said was due to years of pent up frustration and hearing that blasted word uttered daily in hate, all I heard was the voice that I trusted to call my name so sweetly calling me filth. After I trusted him enough to fall for him, after he made me trust what I was and my abilities, he was saying I didn't even deserve to have the power he taught me to trust. Severus Snape was calling the very blood in my veins that pumped through my breaking heart dirty.
To him I was just another mudblood in that instant.
Of course I cried. Even a brave Griffindor cries when they are hurt. Even Potter and Black left me alone for a while in understanding. I was ashamed of myself for loving him and for trusting him. I was ashamed for having thought that he was any different. My friend Mary tried to console me, insisting that I was simply too nice a person, but she didn't understand. Mostly that was because I hadn't allowed anyone other than myself to know what my true feelings for the dark boy were.
If he had known, I was sure he would be disgusted. Loved by a silly Griffindor girl? And muggle-born no less! I admitted to myself that I was stupid for having ever thought, even for an instant that it could have worked.
His apologies only added to the insult I felt. The humiliation was exhausting. After the first few times of answering with fury, I slowly began to tire. Eventually it went from, "I'll never forgive you, Snape!" to "Just… forget it. Please, just leave me be." It would be easier if we could forget. Easier for both of us.
In my last year at Hogwarts, there was only one occasion where I felt hate for myself for allowing us to separate. We were in the library, alone in the quiet. It was too early for anyone else to be there. In fact, that was exactly the time of day we used to go to meet. James would be upset if I told him about it, so I kept the moment to myself.
"Tests this year have been killer," I said offhand, as if it were to no one.
"Mmm," he hummed in agreement. I caught the blush on his pale face, and after years I connected the dots. Nevertheless, it was too late for either of us.
As I took my book from the shelf to go and check it out, I brushed past him. While I knew there was not even a ghost stirring nearby to hear, I leaned close to him and whispered, "I really did love you, back then. I'm sorry things ended the way they did."
I continued marching over to the front desk, where a sleepy Professor was on duty as librarian. I knew he had turned to watch as I went. I knew his mouth was slightly agape, words escaping his mind when he needed those most to keep me. Even if he had managed to say something, I still wouldn't have stopped. I still would have taken the book, went back up to the dormitory, and cuddled up to James as I read, waiting for his Qudditch match later that day. Even if Severus confessed the love I had finally realized he had for me, I don't think my brain would have allowed me to accept it or truly believe it. Because even though his confession would be true, and even though it would all make logical sense in my head, my reason was clouded. Love does funny things to your mind. Heartbreak just worsens the effect.
