Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just like to mess with their minds.
Dear Severus,
The only way I am able to write this is knowing that you will never read it. The first thing I plan to do with this when I finish writing it is to lose it so that I no one will ever find it again. Thank Merlin for the Room of Requirements.
Knowing that you will never read this, I am alright with permitting it to exhibit the more atrocious of my writing abilities. I honestly don't give a flying hippogriff's left outermost hot pink toe nail anymore.
I was hoping to be able to put all of this into words in this letter, and then never having to think about any of it ever again. Honestly, it's eating me alive. I tried to hide it, both from myself and from others, but right now, even Ron can tell that something is bothering me.
When I found you in the Shrieking Shack, I think I almost died. There was so much blood I was sure that you were gone. I was shaking so hard when I tried to take your pulse that I almost did not detect the faint beat that was still there. It was so faint that the only way I was able to keep you alive was to share my life energy with you. I connected our souls together for those moments watched as my natural magic interwove with yours to strengthen you so that you would survive long enough to get you to the hospital. In those moments, I felt more at peace that I had in a long time. I literally sat next to you for hours until they were able to send a team to get you to the St. Mungo's. They tried to separate me from you before we left and then after we arrived, but I refused. I knew that I would lose you if I left you without the extra energy you needed, and if they removed me forcefully from you, we would have both died. I slept in a cot next to your hospital bed for a week. I can honestly say that I have never slept better, just knowing you were there.
Professor McGonagal had to finally convince me to leave and recuperate on my own. I felt so empty without our magic interwoven together. I cried for two whole days after that, knowing that you would not even remember it. And the next time I saw you, the look you gave me... It left me at a complete loss for words. It was as though you looked right into my soul.
What am I to do? Now, I cannot concentrate in class; any class, especially yours. I suppose what I am trying to say (and miserably failing to do so...) is that I have fallen in love with you, sir. At first I thought it was a simple generic school girl crush. They kind that all typical teenage girls experience because of their fluctuating hormone levels. And then it became so much more. I am not even sure about what it is now. An infatuation? An obsession? All I know is that I cannot sleep without dreaming of you. I cannot think without wondering what you would do if you were in my situation. I cannot write my papers without getting side tracked wondering about what your opinion would be on the topic I am writing.
I have gone to Madame Pomphrey several times for vile upon vile of Dreamless Sleep potion... According to her, I have gone too many times already. "You never used to have any sleeping issues, my dear," she says as she hands me a vile and sends me on my way. She complains about having to ask you to make more for her stocks, and that never helps my personal situation, because then I cannot take the potion without thinking about you. And, if I don't take the potion, then my dreams taunt me with what they want me to have, what I want to have, or more specifically, what I wish you would do to me and what I really want you to do to me.
The dreams are amazing, but the next morning when I wake up and I am not in your arms, I fall into a terrible slump for the day. I feel sometimes like I will never be able to live without you. It literally burns, knowing that when I wake up, you will not be next to me. I have honestly never felt anything like this before.
If you knew about this, you would probably laugh at me. You would never want an immature, bushy-haired, buck-toothed know-it-all. I personally pride myself in my knowledge, and would love nothing more than to sit by the fire with you every night for the rest of my life and discuss anything. I could then die a happy witch.
Your heroism has absolutely overtaken me. Knowing that you are a spy for the light side, and yet you risk your life to avenge all the wrong that you have done and what had been done to you. I cannot understand why the others do not see that you are not the horrid person that you seem to be. It hurts me to see and hear the things that are said about you. You are not a greasy bat of the dungeons. You are a man who appreciates his privacy and finds solace in his work away from the world and tries to pass along his infinite wisdom to a bunch of dunderheaded students.
Every morning I see you at meal times. Somehow, that has turned into a huge comfort for me. I know that you are still here, that you have not disappeared, and that you are not, in fact, a figment of my imagination. The days that you do not arrive to a meal, I find myself fretting over what is wrong. I always jump to hasty conclusions that revolve around the worst case scenario and work myself into a fit. Even Harry has started noticing that some days I am just more irritable than I should ever be.
I once imagined myself to become an old crazy cat lady. I had everything planned out in my head. My imaginary family portrait included seven cats, each named after one of T.S. Elliot's characters in Old Possum's Book of Cats. In that portrait, I sat in the living room of my flat in front of the fire rereading my copy of Hogwarts: A History, my cats all curled up around me, on the sofa, on the floor, and even one on the book shelves that line the room. It all sounded like such a luxury to me when I was younger, but slowly as I have grown up, most of those cats have been replaced with children. Our children with mops of black hair, some curly, some straight, with varying shades of eye color from the deepest black of your eyes to the plan brown that are mine. The small living room in my flat transformed itself into a moderate sized family room, and all the books were moved into our own personal library that we expanded the extra bedroom to be. I suddenly love my new picture so much that it is hard to even part with it here on this page.
I hope I have managed to get it all on this sheet of parchment and out of my head... And yet I do not want to let it all go. So, I suppose I am back to square one. I am not even going to risk going back to reread this for fear of sending myself into an apoplectic fit over my incoherence and general stupidity. I wish more than anything that you were mine and you loved me as unconditionally as I love you. But, for now, I am stuck wishing on all the stars I can see from the top of the astronomy tower.
My love is forever yours, (I just wish you knew)
Hermione J. Granger