Author's notes: I'd just like to apologise for my rubbishness and the fact that I wasn't able to find a measley quarter of an hour over Christmas to update this fanfic, it is inexcusable that I've left it about three weeks. I really am sorry. To make up for my ineptitude and poor time-management, I shall spend a lot of time over the next week writing, so there'll be several more chapters of Letters To Lily in addition to some other stuff, ideas I've got, half-written stuff on my hard-drive (including a little gift to all the StarKids of this website) as a sort-of late Christmas present.

As usual, thank you for reading and for the lovely reviews. You guys all make my day with your kind remarks about my ramblings. :)

The thirteenth of September, 1991

Dear Lily,

I told you that boy was a troublemaker. Why, Filch tells me that in the early hours of this morning by all reports there were students out of bed near the trophy room, and later on by the Charms classroom. (Ah, Charms. The only subject you exceeded at even more than potions – remember when we were learning to cast Orchideous? Everybody was creating rather mediocre bunches of daisies and the like, while you made a perfect bouquet of multi-coloured roses. Also, I do hope you liked those lilies I gave you – I know I did. I was rather proud of those, but of course the rest of the class only had eyes for your roses. Not that I mind, they were exquisite. You deserved the class' attention far more than I.)

What was I saying? Oh yes, students out of bed. Naturally I suspected your kid, it's precisely the type of stunt your husband pulled on numerous occasions. (At least once a month...)

To confirm my suspicions, in his Potions lesson earlier I took the liberty of using Legilimency on him (I'm sure you know what Legilimency is, Lily, I saw you listening intently to old Professor Spungen's Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson on it in our seventh year) and not only did I see Potter, his sidekick Weasley, the buck-toothed Granger know-it-all (actually, probably the brightest in her year from what I've seen although I wouldn't say that to anybody but you. Also a muggle-born. I thought you might like to know that) and the dim-witted Longbottom idiot loitering in the trophy room, but I also learned that the image of Hagrid's blasted pet Cerberus (who is guarding the Philosopher's Stone) is recently ingrained in the boy's memory, which means that he was also flouting Dumbledore's orders to stay away from the third-floor corridor.

Actually, it took all the willpower I had not to just have a heart-attack right there in the classroom. That Cerberus is extremely dangerous, hence its use to guard against certain Dark Forces and also hence Dumbledore's warning; you know perfectly well that the man doesn't utter an unimportant word. After all, it's the boy's second week at Hogwarts and according to Minerva he can't even turn a matchstick into a needle, and I have personally seen his disastrous attempts at even the simplest potions. What chance would he have stood if Cerberus had decided to attack? The boy would be dead before I'd even finished rolling my sleeves up to spend what could be the rest of my life protecting him, and then there would truly be nothing left of you and I would have no reason to be alive.

That's right, without you I'd have nothing to live for. That's how much you mean to me. What the boy means.

I can't stand that boy. I don't even particularly want a reason to live, but this really is the best one; it would be impossible for me to turn away, even if I wanted to.

In other news, Potter has received his top-of-the-range racing broom and as I write he is zooming around the Quidditch pitch (no doubt as arrogantly as his father) at his first Quidditch training session. In the last twenty-four hours I haven't managed to witness his flying, so I can't tell you how proud (or otherwise) you would be, at the moment. I'll fill you in.

I'd best be off now, the evening meal starts before long and if I turned up with a face full of tears, somebody would be sure to get suspicious.

All my love,

Sev.

Author's notes: Last night I was listening to music at 4am when I couldn't sleep, and a couple of songs came on shuffle in my iTunes that just made me think of Snape and this fanfic (which is why I'm updating now - that was the kick in the backside I needed to remind me). Essentially, what I'm asking is how would you all feel about a Tumblog for this fanfic with an mp3 player with some relevant songs, and maybe some other clag I can't put here (a handful of headcanons etc.)? I realise that hardly anybody would go on the blog if I did one, but if there's anybody at all who would like it, I'll make one. That way I'd be able to answer any questions easily, I'll be able to better express what I imagine to be going through Snape's head, it would be easier for you to kick me into writing if I've left updates too long et cetera. If you think it's a bad idea, please tell me in a review. If anybody thinks it's a good idea, tell me, and I will make the Tumblog for you. :) (Actually, it's probably not a good idea as it did occur to me at 6am when I hadn't slept, but I thought I probably ought to put the idea to you anyway as you're the ones who are reading it.)

(TO CLARIFY as I'm exceptionally bad at explaining myself: the only real difference between a Tumblog and here would be that the Tumblog would have a soundtrack. Everything that needs to be in the story will be in the story and here, I just worded it badly: the idea was more to get the full effect. Actually, I'm doing an exceedingly bad job of explaining myself in the clarification, too. Basically, the Tumblog would be this fic + a soundtrack + a letter-like layout. Maybe with some sort of minor conclusion that may or may not make sense that wouldn't make sense here.)

What I have learned writing the last couple of paragraphs: I should really stop communicating unless I'm communicating through fictional characters as I evidently understand their cognition more than I understand my own. XD