1. Maybe I'm Afraid of the Way I Love You

I see her walking along the corridors every day, her fiery hair cascading down her back. The smile on her face makes me glow inwardly, and it brings a tingling sensation to the tips of my fingers. When she laughs, the sound echoes around my heart, and I feel as though I’m warmed throughout my body. She is so fragile, yet she is so bold. She is all that I have ever loved.

*

“I was just telling Bryony that! I know, it’s hilarious, but we really shouldn’t laugh…� Lily said to her friend as she joined her by the bottom of the marble staircase. I watched her from the shadows, hoping that nobody would spot me in the entrance to the dungeons. Lily kept walking up the stairs, chatting to her friend – at complete ease with the world. I wished my life was like hers, carefree and without worries or dark secrets. My entire existence had been one large secret, and always shrouded in lies and mistrust. I had never understood love before now.

Once she was gone, I crept out of my hiding place and headed to Transfiguration, my mind buzzing with the thought of Prefects’ duties the next night. I would be seeing Lily again. So what if Arrowsmith was going to be there? She knew I didn’t like her and I knew she didn’t like me. We had reached a sort of neutral ground on that, and generally avoided each other wherever possible. Then there was Lupin. Yes, of course he would be with her, but it wouldn’t stop me from walking behind them and simply admiring her.

I gave myself a mental slap, trying to siphon these ridiculous thoughts from my mind. She was taking over my life! My public appearance had become a mask – a mask to hide my true feelings.

I sat down heavily at my desk, retrieving my books and watching Potter and his friends messing around at their desks, trying to capture as many peoples’ attention as possible. I saw Lily glance over at Potter exasperatedly and after a moment, turn back around and sigh. I could tell she strongly disapproved and it delighted me more than anything. I hated Potter and his whole attitude, and it was common knowledge to all in our year that Lily thought he was an arrogant prat.

I grinned to myself. I was so true – the way he messed up his hair, his inflated ego, his air of self-importance... It was clear to all those with a brain that he was a waste of time. That was what Lily and I shared – our hate of Potter. We were both intelligent people; we could see his idiocy plainly.

“Hey, Snivelly!� Potter called across the classroom. I ignored him utterly and began reading our Transfiguration textbook.

“Snivelly!� he shouted to me again. I looked up from the book, but only to throw him a contemptuous look before continuing my reading.

“What’s the matter, don’t you feel brave enough to fight me again?� Potter continued to say. By this time the whole class was watching us, and my hand was slowly tightening its grip on my wand.

“You didn’t manage to wash your hair again, Snivellus?� smirked Black from the seat next to Potter. He was rocking onto the back legs of his chair and surveying me with malicious delight. I could see my knuckles turning white as they strained to get a firmer grip on the 10 ½ inch strip of wood in my left hand. There was a mental war going on in my head – to hex or not to hex? What mattered more to me? My feelings for Lily Evans, or my reputation? I was dithering – wishing that I could just leave the room.

Just as I was about to force myself to decide, Professor McGonagall entered the classroom, saving me from my dilemma and sending a huge wave of relief tumbling over me. It was alright. I had not reacted. Yet I knew there would be a next time.

*

I sat hunched up on my ugly four-poster bed in the Slytherin fifth-year boys’ dormitory, trying to find a way to rationalize my feelings for Lily. They made me scared sometimes – made me want to hide from the world and deny their presence. It was as if someone had planted something within me that I did not know and could not bear to explore. I was terrified of that part of me. It was this part that stopped me from whipping out my wand and hexing Potter into oblivion that afternoon. What was happening to me?

I was slowly falling apart, torn up by the memories of her indifferent looks towards me, her distaste for the very sight of me. Just those looks made me want to scream and cry all at the same time. That was what truly petrified me.

She made me want to cry.

*

It was late morning the following day, and I was heading down to Potions with Wells and Smith. They were having an argument involving a toad going missing, but I was barely listening. I was straining my ears for the sound of dainty footsteps and the warm, resonant tone of Lily’s voice.

I was almost at the bottom of the steps when I heard her. My heartbeat sped up as I listened to her talking with her friends, Evenett and Cooper. But then I heard the boastful air of Potter’s voice and immediately my face contorted into a look of disgust.

I continued walking to my desk, sat down and took out my books, then glanced up at what Professor Slughorn was writing on the blackboard. I watched as students from both Slytherin and Gryffindor slowly drifted in, searching fruitlessly for her face.

Once the room was almost full, I checked all the faces of those sat down, but she wasn’t there. I sighed and turned to face the front again, until I heard hurried footsteps and saw Lily stalking irritably to her seat. She was soon followed by Potter, who was looking a little red-faced yet still pompous, and found his seat as well before glancing anxiously over at Lily.

I could tell they had had another fight, and this thought raised my spirit as I began copying down the method and retrieving the ingredients for the potion we were making that lesson. Professor Slughorn then told us we had just over an hour to brew it and that he would be marking this potion, so it was important to be precise in making it. I started eagerly, desperate to do well in the only subject I particularly enjoyed.

I was one of the first to finish, and was instructed to team up with another student that had completed it and discuss the important parts of the procedure. I scanned the classroom for those who had finished, and my eyes instantly fell on Lily, who was reading the method again, presumably to check she had done everything. I smiled inwardly, and approached her carefully.

“Do you want to compare notes?� I asked quietly. Her head jerked up as I spoke, and she studied me intently.

“Alright,� she said finally, “that’s fine by me.�

I gave her a fleeting grateful smile, before returning to my desk to collect my notes and bring them to her.

We spent at least fifteen minutes discussing different points about the potion, while the noise level around us rose as one-by-one, people began to finish. Whenever she spoke, I couldn’t help gazing deep into the emeralds of her eyes. I watched as they glittered faintly when she got to the parts she was most enthusiastic about, all the while admiring her extensive Potions knowledge.

I replied with almost equal enthusiasm, conveying my ideas and sharing my thoughts not just on the potion itself, but the whole subject. Eventually, the time ran out and I rose to return to my seat. Just as I was about to walk away, Lily caught my arm and said, “I never realised just how smart you are when you put your mind to it. You should do it more often – I can see how much you enjoy it.�

All I could do was stare at her transfixed, before attempting a half-smile and dashing off to collect my bag as the bell went.

*

Much later that day, I sat by the fire in the common room, considering the events of the morning and Prefects’ duties that began in the next ten minutes.

When Lily had spoken those magical words of encouragement and admiration; I could barely contain myself from shouting aloud with sheer euphoria. Yet here I was, sat by the fire in the Slytherin common room, too scared to see her again.

She made me afraid that I would break down in front of her, or open my inner heart to her. She made me afraid of losing my reputation, of losing my honour by telling a Gryffindor that I loved her. I was afraid that she would make me into someone who needed to see her everyday just to go on living. Although I was like that already. She had made me fall for her and I feared the love that flowed through my veins. Maybe I was not afraid of what was to come, but what had already happened.

Maybe I was afraid of the way I knew I loved her.