In the weeks between exams and leaving school, every seventh-year was at the peak of sentimentality. Everyone was having get-togethers. We spent quality time with friends and non-friends alike, playing games, reminiscing, and talking about any plans for the future. I even witnessed a couple of supposed rivals give each other a nod as they passed in the corridor. Knowing I may never walk these halls, or see most of these people, again, my heart grew heavier with each passing day.
It all felt much worse when it came to my favourite professor. I wanted to talk with him, to spend some time with him, to get to know him a bit better before I left and never saw him again. But I was paralysed with the fear of having him reject me as any sort of friend.
Finally, when I'd finished packing everything but the clothes I were to wear on the train home the next day, I decided it was worth a shot. While I was tempted to use some Felix Felicis, or at least a Draught of Peace, I left to find the professor purely as myself, racking nerves and all. After only a few minutes of searching, I found him in his storeroom atop the ladder. I took a calming breath, before moving to stand no closer than the doorway.
"Professor Snape?"
He looked back only long enough to see who had called his name. "Yes, Miss Chambers?"
I swallowed. "Seeing as how this is my last day here, I was wondering— i-if I may write to you."
He paused his work to turn to me and enquire further. "You wish to write to me?"
"Yes, sir," I replied, then quickly continued before he could object. "You're by far my favourite professor. And since the next step in my life is all about potions, I thought maybe you could advise me if you so wished. Or, at the very least, I could keep you up-to-date on how the apprenticeship is going."
He stared at me a moment, apparently in thought. While I hoped he would oblige, I braced myself entirely for a rejection full of insults. Then, he spoke. "Alright, you may write to me, but don't expect me to respond." All at once, my spirits soared, but I kept my appearance calm.
"Right," I agreed, a bit more airy in breath than I'd have liked. "Thank you, sir," I added in full tone. When he went back to his work, I took the cue and immediately exited. Full of happiness over his consent, I allowed a smile to spread across my face as I made my way back to my room.
He did respond, though. There were usually several weeks between my sending a letter and receiving one back, but I got them. Wanting to avoid becoming a nuisance, I tried to match his response times. I would often go a bit longer, just to be on the safe side, and I decided to never write more than once a month.
Things began to change after about two years, though. It started with one letter, which he'd signed simply "Severus." No title or surname. I wondered if this meant we were actually friends now. After that, his replies to my letters came much quicker, and they grew a bit longer in length. It took me another couple of months to give in and respond sooner myself.
I felt like I was getting to know him so well. He didn't actually write much about himself, but rather the happenings around him and wizard stuff. But still, I'd never even dreamed of getting to talk with him one-on-one this much while I was his student. And I'd fallen deeply in love.
Then, three years to the day after my last day at Hogwarts, an owl delivered the shortest letter Severus had ever written me. He asked me to stop writing. He didn't say why. And he'd signed it not only with his full name, but his job title. Whatever the reason might be, he was making sure a full distance was established.
Of course, I wouldn't have it; I at least deserved a reason. I scoured my brain, trying to think of what I might have said wrong in my last letter. I wrote him three different times asking why, but never received a response. I finally gave up. It hurt too much. After three years of writing me, making me think that in some way he cared about me as a human being, he demanded an abrupt stop to the relationship without giving cause. Dick move.