2. Help Me Dry the Tears I've Cried
My life has become one big blur. I do the same things every day, I feel the same way everyday. I know what will happen and it’s made me question why I stick to the same regime. Why is it that I feel I have to behave properly and predictably? Why is it that I can’t just do something spontaneous? And I answer myself with a simple reason: because I do what is expected of me. I have created an image of the perfect student and I must stick to that.
I’m not completely unhappy “ I do have friends and we have fun together “ but it is simply the inertia of my life that depresses me. I do the same things. I have the same outlook on life every single day. There is never anything that changes my view of the world. Yet I know there could be. Just a small thing, a gesture, an event “ anything.
All I need to do is find someone who can give me all of that.
*
I sat comfortably at the Gryffindor table, eating my breakfast and perusing the Daily Prophet. Bryony and Katrina were excitedly discussing the next Hogsmeade trip and all that they needed to buy. I was too tired to participate in the energetic exchange and I had read all the articles of interest in the newspaper, so I rose from the table and wandered towards the library, casting my mind back to the previous day.
It had been one of the most intriguing days of my four years at Hogwarts. I never would have normally thought of befriending a Slytherin, but Severus Snape suddenly seemed so much more interesting. Who would’ve thought he was so intelligent or polite? I had always thought of him as a brooding figure so deep in the Dark Arts that he could barely see past them. However, this opinion was probably influenced by the negativity towards Slytherin in my house, and “ though I hated to admit it, Potter’s take on Snape. Potter had always disliked Snape, and vice versa. I was beginning to definitely see Snape’s side of things “ Potter was so rude and arrogant he made my skin crawl. But that day had made me see that Severus was…different.
He had acted very strangely that night, though. He was suddenly cagey; not at all the enthusiastic, smart person I had talked with in Potions. He had seemed almost nervous to see me. I wondered if I had said something wrong, or he didn’t want to be seen with me outside of lessons.
Maybe I had been too hopeful. Yes “ it was ludicrous of me to think that just because we had enjoyed a discussion in lesson time we could be friends. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin? Friends?! I laughed at myself in retrospect and strode into the library.
The dusty silence that filled the place gave me a sense of serenity. I ambled along the aisles, running my hand along the spines and searching for the book I knew I would need for my Transfiguration homework.
Just as my finger located the book I wanted, I heard someone call my name.
“Lily! Lily!” Katrina was calling as she poked her head around the aisles, attempting to find me.
“I’m here,” I said as her walnut hair came into view. She flashed me a smile and hurried down to where I was flicking through Peanut to Pecan: Advanced Concepts of Transfiguration.
“Letter for you,” she panted, tossing a yellowing envelope onto the open book. I was surprised to see Petunia’s handwriting, and eagerly set down the book to read the letter within.
“Who’s it from?” Katrina asked, leaning on the nearby shelf.
“My sister,” I answered excitedly, unfolding the piece of paper.
“She doesn’t normally write, does she? I thought you didn’t really get on,” inquired Katrina, a confused expression clouding her face.
I glanced up from the paper. “Yes, I thought so too,” I remarked, “but maybe she’s decided to accept my being a witch. I would like to be able to talk to her like I used to.” I turned back to the letter and began reading.
Dear Lily,
I’m writing to inform you that I am engaged to be married. You remember Vernon Dursley? He proposed a few nights ago. I would like to take this opportunity to say that I deeply disapprove of your utter lunacy in thinking that you are magical, and will therefore not be inviting you to the wedding. I hope that one day you will come to your senses “ but until that day arrives, I wish never to see you again.
Yours, Petunia.
My mind suddenly felt as though it had been filled with freezing water. I choked as I attempted to speak, utter disbelief washing through my stomach. The beginnings of tears pricked my eyes as the letter gently fluttered from my slackened grip.
“Lily? Lily, are you alright?” Katrina’s worried voice seemed to come from very far away, like an echo across a desolate ocean.
“I “ I…” My throat tightened. “I need to be alone,” I managed to force out.
“Lily, whatever is it?”
“Just “ just read this,” I said eventually, picking up the piece of paper and laying in on her outstretched hand. As she began to read, I took my chance and slipped away up to the Owlery.
My feet slid on the damp steps as I ascended to the small room. I let myself go, allowing the tears I had held back previously to cascade down my cheek. I leant against the wall, trying to compose myself, but succeeded only in sliding down onto the floor, my eyes leaking ceaselessly as I tried to come to terms with my sister’s cruelty.
As I sat there, my sobs slowing, I heard someone approaching. I was desperate to hide my weakness, and hastily tried to wipe away the tearstains, but the person reached the door before I could finish.
Severus Snape came through the door, clutching a letter. I registered his surprise and concern at my state as he looked down at me. I scrambled to my feet and tried to escape, but he caught my shoulder and turned me to face him.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I detected concern in his voice and looked into his eyes, surprised to discover that their liquorice was so ensnaring. I paused for a moment then looked to my feet before replying, “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters,” he maintained. “Why are you crying?”
I had a sudden urge to confide in him “ I couldn’t explain why I could tell Snape, even before my best friends. I felt an abrupt…connection with him. And so I backed down and began to tell him. Once I had finished he sighed, resting a hand on my shoulder.
“I know it must be difficult to hear, but you seem to be better off without her,” he stated gently. “She didn’t want to accept you. You deserve better than that.” His hand slowly travelled to my cheek. His wiped away the fresh tear that had escaped my eye with his rough thumb.
I began to grow hot. This wasn’t supposed to happen! Why was I feeling like this just because he touched my cheek? Alarmed, I moved away from his hand. He brought it down quickly and swivelled towards the door, muttering, “Of course.”
As he opened the door, I spoke to him. “Thank you. Thank you for “ for listening. Caring. I “ thank you.” I smiled weakly, my vision slightly blurred.
“It was no problem. Everyone is allowed to cry, even you, Lily.” And with that he moved out of the room, shut the door, and began to descend the steps.
I looked at the door, barely breathing. I didn’t understand what I was feeling and why. I couldn’t make sense of anything. All I could think of was his last word.
“Lily.”