Wednesday 2:27 am
You will not believe what happened today. Actually, I can barely believe what happened. It's just so outrageous and ridiculous and – ohmigosh am I going to kill Lily.
OK, I'll start from the beginning. It was two am and I could not sleep. Don't you hate it when you just lie there in the dark, eyes wide open staring at the ceiling? Or in my case, the canopy of my four-poster bed.
So after lying in the dark, bored and tired, but unable to sleep, I decided to pick you up, dear diary. I had left you on the dresser. I have to no fear that anyone would read you because (1) I trust everyone in this dormitory and (2) I've put a Locking Charm on it, which I learned last year. No one in our dormitory would read it, but even so, you never know when someone is going to wander in. And my thoughts are definitely not what I want anyone to read. Not even Lily, which brings me back to what happened.
So I was getting up to pick up my diary and lie in bed, scribbling random thoughts until I'd fall asleep. Sometimes random lines of poetry form in my mind as I lie in the dark, especially if the moon is shining in on my bed. (My bed is pushed up against the wall and part of the window. It's pretty cool to have my own personal window.) I write down these random lines and they make so much sense and sound deep and wise. The next day, I wake up and reread them, thinking, "What the hell is this supposed to mean?"
As I crossed the floor, I glanced over at the four other beds. All of the curtains were shut, except Lily's. Very odd, because she always sleeps with her curtains half-pulled. The exact way they were now. I stepped closer to her bed to investigate. The blankets were strewn around and resting on the empty bed.
"Oh, Lily, you slut!" I exclaimed under my breath. Her bathrobe was also missing, not on its usual hook.
But it was odd. Lily, out visiting the boys' dormitory at night? That was definitely not Lily. If anyone was a slut, it'd be me, Dahlia. Not Lily. Lily was a prude. She wouldn't even change in front of anyone else. But if she had found the right guy...
It was possible.
But why didn't Lily tell me? Saturday night I'd stayed up 'till eleven pm waiting for her, wondering where the hell she could be. I wanted to talk to her. When she didn't arrive by eleven pm, I went to sleep. I confronted her the next day and she wouldn't tell me who the guy was. Obviously she wouldn't wander aimlessly through the halls at midnight. She didn't deny that it was a date. And now she was out again. But this time I knew she'd actually gone to sleep. (She was already asleep by the time I went to bed, 10:00.) Secret midnight visits are the only possibility. But oh-my-gosh this is Lily we're talking about. My best friend Lily who scoffs when I talk about how hot some guys are. She'd gone on dates before, but already this far? It was just unbelievable. I was annoyed she hasn't confided in her best friend Dahlia, who knows a lot more about romance issues than she does.
I paused, my hand on the diary. Did I just hear something?
I stepped towards the door, which was ajar. I thought I had heard faint laughter. Now I was very, very curious. Was that Lily?
I opened the door and walked out into the hall. Standing on the landing, I looked down into the common room.
They were sitting on the sofa. I recognized Lily's red braid hanging down her back. She always braids her hair before going to sleep. Lily, my best friend. She sat perched on the sofa, feet tucked under her. He sat with his feet on the floor, but turned towards her. She had flung her arms around him and his arms tightly encircled her waist. I forced myself to look up, at their faces. Their lips pressed against each other. As Lily tilted her head to the left slightly, his grip around her waist tightened, pulling her closer to him.
Blood rushed through me, my heart pounding like mad. Shock. My weight fell on one foot and the floorboard let out an enormous creak. I gasped as they broke apart and I could see his face better. The guy Lily had been so passionately kissing was Severus Snape.
Lily looked at me. I cannot believe you, Lily. Our eyes met for a brief second, then I couldn't take it any longer and I ran, back here, not caring who I woke and swinging the curtains shut angrily.
Now I continue to lie here, on my stomach, under the covers, the curtains pulled around me, but moonlight spilling onto the bed from the corner of my wall that is a window.
Shortly afterwards, I heard Lily's tentative footsteps on the stairs. What do you think, Lily! You and Snape – oh gosh it was too disturbing a thought. I buried my face into my pillow. Disgusting, Lily. I will never talk to you again.
I feel a bit calmer now. I've been writing for over an hour and it's simmered me down. My question – playing in my head over and over and over again – is why? Why would Lily waste her time on him? Of all people... him?
Obviously he wasn't forcing her. Obviously he wasn't so desperate as he had been...
Let's examine the possibilities:
She's just being a slut who needs her fix of daily (or nightly) "fix" of make-out sessions.
Wow, Lily, you hide your secret personality well.
It was Snape's idea and she didn't want to hurt his feelings.
Two problems with that one: (1) she was so obviously into that kiss and enjoying herself (what the hell, Lily???). (More proof for the slut explanation.) And, (2) why didn't she say no? We've laughed at him enough before – Lily saying what a disgusting slimeball he is.
All the explanations, evidence, everything – contradicts itself. Ugh, it's so confusing.
She's in love with him.
Ha, what a joke.
Seriously now, what is it? The first one makes the most sense, but it's hard to get used to the idea of Lily-the-slut. That is so not Lily, that it's disturbing the hell out of me.
Just seeing them together like that makes me shudder and feel queasy. Lily has had her "pretty boy" crushes – obsessed over them in a Dahlia-like fashion, and then gone out with them only to find out that they're bores. Ah, what does that matter if they're handsome? Or you could be lucky and find someone like Sirius who's both handsome and intelligent... Excuse me while I die in bliss.
I'm back. Sorry for that break of dreaming of my beloved... Back to the Lily/Snape issue (how the thought disgusts me) – Lily's gone on dates before, been kissed of course, but seeing your best friend since age eleven making out like there's no tomorrow is disturbing.
I laugh at myself. I, Dahlia, say this? And I'm the one who – well, we won't go there.
The worst part of it all is that it's Snape! Of all people, of all the hot guys at this schools, she picks the greasy, hook-nosed one who –
Snape. Snape. Ew.
How can she stand him? How does she bear skin contact with him, much less grip him in a death lock and kiss him like a monkey in heat?! How can she possibly stomach the feeling of his disgusting fingers on her waist, his slimy lips on hers?
I can't.
I will never understand Lily.
But it makes no sense. She's Lily. We used to be the best friends in the entire world, spending every moment together and even thinking and talking in unison. That was our third year. Ever since fifth year, we've grown apart. Further and further each year.
I want to cry.
Lily, I could have saved you from this. If you listened to me, it could have been James Potter – or anyone else – someone hot – to lock lips with at two am. Not to go as low as Severus Snape.
It could have been anyone else. Just as long as it's not my habibi Sirius. Now that I think about it, Lily would make an adorable couple with Sirius. But not as cute as the one I'd make with him.
Strands of black hair falling casually into his dreamy dark eyes. Sirius, my tall, dark stranger.
Now why did Lily pick a tall, dark, greasy, ugly stranger?! I really have to talk to that girl. It's been hours... is she awake now?
You will not believe what happened today. Actually, I can barely believe what happened. It's just so outrageous and ridiculous and – ohmigosh am I going to kill Lily.
OK, I'll start from the beginning. It was two am and I could not sleep. Don't you hate it when you just lie there in the dark, eyes wide open staring at the ceiling? Or in my case, the canopy of my four-poster bed.
So after lying in the dark, bored and tired, but unable to sleep, I decided to pick you up, dear diary. I had left you on the dresser. I have to no fear that anyone would read you because (1) I trust everyone in this dormitory and (2) I've put a Locking Charm on it, which I learned last year. No one in our dormitory would read it, but even so, you never know when someone is going to wander in. And my thoughts are definitely not what I want anyone to read. Not even Lily, which brings me back to what happened.
So I was getting up to pick up my diary and lie in bed, scribbling random thoughts until I'd fall asleep. Sometimes random lines of poetry form in my mind as I lie in the dark, especially if the moon is shining in on my bed. (My bed is pushed up against the wall and part of the window. It's pretty cool to have my own personal window.) I write down these random lines and they make so much sense and sound deep and wise. The next day, I wake up and reread them, thinking, "What the hell is this supposed to mean?"
As I crossed the floor, I glanced over at the four other beds. All of the curtains were shut, except Lily's. Very odd, because she always sleeps with her curtains half-pulled. The exact way they were now. I stepped closer to her bed to investigate. The blankets were strewn around and resting on the empty bed.
"Oh, Lily, you slut!" I exclaimed under my breath. Her bathrobe was also missing, not on its usual hook.
But it was odd. Lily, out visiting the boys' dormitory at night? That was definitely not Lily. If anyone was a slut, it'd be me, Dahlia. Not Lily. Lily was a prude. She wouldn't even change in front of anyone else. But if she had found the right guy...
It was possible.
But why didn't Lily tell me? Saturday night I'd stayed up 'till eleven pm waiting for her, wondering where the hell she could be. I wanted to talk to her. When she didn't arrive by eleven pm, I went to sleep. I confronted her the next day and she wouldn't tell me who the guy was. Obviously she wouldn't wander aimlessly through the halls at midnight. She didn't deny that it was a date. And now she was out again. But this time I knew she'd actually gone to sleep. (She was already asleep by the time I went to bed, 10:00.) Secret midnight visits are the only possibility. But oh-my-gosh this is Lily we're talking about. My best friend Lily who scoffs when I talk about how hot some guys are. She'd gone on dates before, but already this far? It was just unbelievable. I was annoyed she hasn't confided in her best friend Dahlia, who knows a lot more about romance issues than she does.
I paused, my hand on the diary. Did I just hear something?
I stepped towards the door, which was ajar. I thought I had heard faint laughter. Now I was very, very curious. Was that Lily?
I opened the door and walked out into the hall. Standing on the landing, I looked down into the common room.
They were sitting on the sofa. I recognized Lily's red braid hanging down her back. She always braids her hair before going to sleep. Lily, my best friend. She sat perched on the sofa, feet tucked under her. He sat with his feet on the floor, but turned towards her. She had flung her arms around him and his arms tightly encircled her waist. I forced myself to look up, at their faces. Their lips pressed against each other. As Lily tilted her head to the left slightly, his grip around her waist tightened, pulling her closer to him.
Blood rushed through me, my heart pounding like mad. Shock. My weight fell on one foot and the floorboard let out an enormous creak. I gasped as they broke apart and I could see his face better. The guy Lily had been so passionately kissing was Severus Snape.
Lily looked at me. I cannot believe you, Lily. Our eyes met for a brief second, then I couldn't take it any longer and I ran, back here, not caring who I woke and swinging the curtains shut angrily.
Now I continue to lie here, on my stomach, under the covers, the curtains pulled around me, but moonlight spilling onto the bed from the corner of my wall that is a window.
Shortly afterwards, I heard Lily's tentative footsteps on the stairs. What do you think, Lily! You and Snape – oh gosh it was too disturbing a thought. I buried my face into my pillow. Disgusting, Lily. I will never talk to you again.
I feel a bit calmer now. I've been writing for over an hour and it's simmered me down. My question – playing in my head over and over and over again – is why? Why would Lily waste her time on him? Of all people... him?
Obviously he wasn't forcing her. Obviously he wasn't so desperate as he had been...
Let's examine the possibilities:
She's just being a slut who needs her fix of daily (or nightly) "fix" of make-out sessions.
Wow, Lily, you hide your secret personality well.
It was Snape's idea and she didn't want to hurt his feelings.
Two problems with that one: (1) she was so obviously into that kiss and enjoying herself (what the hell, Lily???). (More proof for the slut explanation.) And, (2) why didn't she say no? We've laughed at him enough before – Lily saying what a disgusting slimeball he is.
All the explanations, evidence, everything – contradicts itself. Ugh, it's so confusing.
She's in love with him.
Ha, what a joke.
Seriously now, what is it? The first one makes the most sense, but it's hard to get used to the idea of Lily-the-slut. That is so not Lily, that it's disturbing the hell out of me.
Just seeing them together like that makes me shudder and feel queasy. Lily has had her "pretty boy" crushes – obsessed over them in a Dahlia-like fashion, and then gone out with them only to find out that they're bores. Ah, what does that matter if they're handsome? Or you could be lucky and find someone like Sirius who's both handsome and intelligent... Excuse me while I die in bliss.
I'm back. Sorry for that break of dreaming of my beloved... Back to the Lily/Snape issue (how the thought disgusts me) – Lily's gone on dates before, been kissed of course, but seeing your best friend since age eleven making out like there's no tomorrow is disturbing.
I laugh at myself. I, Dahlia, say this? And I'm the one who – well, we won't go there.
The worst part of it all is that it's Snape! Of all people, of all the hot guys at this schools, she picks the greasy, hook-nosed one who –
Snape. Snape. Ew.
How can she stand him? How does she bear skin contact with him, much less grip him in a death lock and kiss him like a monkey in heat?! How can she possibly stomach the feeling of his disgusting fingers on her waist, his slimy lips on hers?
I can't.
I will never understand Lily.
But it makes no sense. She's Lily. We used to be the best friends in the entire world, spending every moment together and even thinking and talking in unison. That was our third year. Ever since fifth year, we've grown apart. Further and further each year.
I want to cry.
Lily, I could have saved you from this. If you listened to me, it could have been James Potter – or anyone else – someone hot – to lock lips with at two am. Not to go as low as Severus Snape.
It could have been anyone else. Just as long as it's not my habibi Sirius. Now that I think about it, Lily would make an adorable couple with Sirius. But not as cute as the one I'd make with him.
Strands of black hair falling casually into his dreamy dark eyes. Sirius, my tall, dark stranger.
Now why did Lily pick a tall, dark, greasy, ugly stranger?! I really have to talk to that girl. It's been hours... is she awake now?