Pressed in a Book (A One-Shot)

The corridor seemed to lengthen as she stood, centered. Disproportional to her small frame, the wooden walkway seemed to engulf her. She strolled, her small feet thudding softly upon the dark floorboards. Her innocence was unconvincing; she stopped.
Her toes lay parallel to a thin strip of light which ebbed out from under the forbidden door. Her eyes glazed over as they took in the looming, wooden barricade. She smiled, shifting her weight and reaching upward.
Tiny fingers curled around the sleek knob. The click of the latch was the loudest she ever heard. And, as it echoed down the hallway, the littlest Potter was sure her mother was on the verge of catching her. A tiny voice whispered in the back of her head that it was quite possible her father heard her stealthy entrance into his quarters from the Ministry.
Feebly, she pushed open the heavy door. Not daring to pry it open any further, she slipped her small frame through the even smaller opening. Her heart pounded and she was sure her red-handed capture would result in something along the lines of a certain cat's death by curiosity.
Closing the door behind her, she exhaled in triumph. Inhaling next, the rich smell of leather and pine filled her nose and lungs.
She adored her father's office. It was unlike any other room in the entire house. The small space seemed to reek of a certain mysterious intelligence that she longed to possess.
She tip-toed forward, making her way towards her father's grand desk. Climbing into the large armchair, she seemed dwarfish in comparison.
Using her lanky arms to pull herself forward, her anxious mind seemed to disregard the squealing wheels of the chair as they grinded against the office's wooden floor. Being found mid-crime was seemingly vanquished from her mind.
Her bright eyes locked in on her favorite picture, which had forever rested upon her father's desk. The dark oak frame captured a swirling couple. Her namesake danced across the autumn scene in the arms of her grandfather.
They looked so in love - her grandmother so happy in the arms of her beloved. They had that glint of something special in their eyes... An everlasting love swept across their features. The possibility of such a future, alone, made the little girl swoon.

Eyes turning from the favored frame, they greedily took in every inch of the cluttered desktop. Her father had never been one for organization...
Her finger tips glided over the various brass knobs which connected to the deep drawers of the desk. Her stomach flopped with excitement as her small fingers curled around the identical brass handles of a long, thin drawer. She was embracing the deep, dark mystery of the pine desk.
An adventurous sort of thrill seized her as a gasp erupted from her throat. The drawer came forward, items tumbling loose with a bare sort of momentum.
Muggle fountain pens rolled forward, along with a set of long-stemmed quills. An ink bottle dully thudded against the frame of the drawer and a roll of Spellotape skidded forward. A half emptied pack of gum, deck of cards, a few knuts, and various bits of rubbish rushed forward.
Everything fascinated her. Even the litter was, in her eyes, drenched in a mature, unknown sort of magic - the kind of magic that only her father would possess. Her fingers delicately brushed an ancient rubber band, feeling the gruff rubber and feeding her childish awe.

Her fingers fled the rubber band as her eyes curved around the tip of something. It was a quite solid something, concealed in the backwards shadows of the drawer. Her anxious fingers yanked at it, pulling it from its place of rest.
"Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage," she whispered, as if the words alone were a cryptic incantation. The text book felt heavy in her hands. She liked the feeling.
Pushing the drawer back, she set the test book delicately atop the cluttered desk. It rested upon post-its and balled up pieces of parchment, slanting upward for her eyes to devour. She lifted the cover, scanning the inner works of the ancient bindings. Jagged handwriting carved a claim of ownership into the yellowed interior. Grimed with age, her literate eyes raced over the barely legible declaration.
"The Half-Blooded Prince?" she questioned aloud, wondering immediately how long it had been since the elegant fingers of royalty had roamed freely across those ivory pages. Her heart seemed to tango loudly with adrenaline, the beat turning fitful.

Hungrily, her eyes consumed page after page. The chapters raced by, complex instructions for millions of potions draped across the endless sheets of paper. Notes, the Prince's surely, swelled int he bindings - black, inky pointers which made little sense to her.
Pictures of smoking cauldrons, swiveling spoons, and exotic weeds filled the pages, ingredients for all sorts of potions incited the young girl's curiosity.
Chapters blended together and she sunk deeper into the book. Her small vocabulary restricted her comprehension. Though some things made a choppy sort of sense, her limited knowledge of potions only seemed to urge her forward.

As she came upon one of the last chapters, her fingers could feel a difference. The pages bulged awkwardly. Fingering them as if they were delicate scraps of lace, she quickly discovered the oddity.
The page gave an airy snap as it fell backwards, revealing a yellowed piece of parchment lying snug between pages one hundred seventy-two and one hundred seventy-three.

She paused momentarily, her heart racing and the playful tango collapsing upon itself. Clammy finger tips pulled the parchment from its home and she feared destruction.
Fully aware of the trouble which loomed over her, she disregarded it quickly. Fear of punishment sank away for the darling piece of paper seemed to glow with epic importance.
Her small hands shook with anxiety as she slowly unfolded the parchment. Eyes flowing like water over rocks, she read the leaves of paper - the letter... His letter...


24 October 1981
Godric's Hallow, England

Dear Lily,
I know you long to crumple this mess up; to dispel it from your sight and forget about every drop of ink that has been smeared across this page.
But I also remember the love we once shared and the Lily who loved my letters to her. You said once that my eloquence would keep you... And I now know the extent of those words.
During our years shared together, you thought neither of an end nor a war. And, here we are, settled roughly in both levels of hell. I miss you.

Even without being near you in so long, I can still feel the fire that could only be produced by your green eyes upon me... Even without being near you in so long, I still love you.
And, despite the intentions of this letter, the mere thought of you touching this parchment after I have poured my soul onto it sends my brain into a rut of confusion... I can't even manage to stay on topic.

"I want to save you." You said that once, too. You whispered it in my ear... It was among other hushed phrases that we shared in the corridors of Hogwarts. James will have my head if he ever finds this; but, only if you heed my words. And I implore you to do so.
Lily, I need to save you. This is the last thing I can resort to - the only thing my mind can conjure up to spare you from him.

You must understand that I am still the damnable git that hurt you at Hogwarts. You must understand that no matter how much I want to change, there is nothing left to drive me forward. You must understand that I cannot take back what I did... No matter how much I want to. But, mostly, you must understand that I am human.
You know who I have pledged my alliance to. And you know what now plagues my forearm. And for all of these reasons, I don't expect you to trust me. But, in this moment, I beg you to look past my choices and remember who I always have been... I need you to believe me.

The Dark Lord wants to kill you. My master, Lord Voldemort, has plans to murder you, James, and the baby.
I overheard a prophecy. In all honesty, it was most uncomfortable to follow Dumbledore around and shift from shadow to shadow... I felt as though I was back int he dungeons of Hogwarts. When he began interviewing that twit, Trelawney, I almost feel asleep.
But, she changed like the wind and rambled ona bout the Dark Lord and a baby born at the end of July. This baby... This baby is your baby, Lily. Harry - Voldemort finds a threat in him, for some reason, and has plans to kill him before he can come into his powers.
I would have never told him if I had known Harry's birthday, Lily... Never would I have wished this situation upon you. I pray you know me better.

I tried to turn him to the Longbottom boy. He was born at the end of July as well... But there is something about your son, Lily. Voldemort must see something you as I do...
Then I begged him. I kneeled before him and begged for your life, love. I need you to live. And I know you cannot and will not live without your son and James Potter... So I have warned you.
I have set aside my hate for Potter, my regret for hurting you... I have humbled myself to spare a man I hate, a baby, and the love of my life.

I don't wish to scare you, Lily... I only wish to save you. I am taking this chance...

Forever Yours,
Severus Snape


Her namesake - the beloved matron of her lost ancestry - was the owner of this Severus' heart.
Her childish mentality seemed to hold on tightly to his love for her grandmother. He had begged for her, betrayed men for her, risked everything to save her...
The little Lily's heart hurt as she pressed the love letter gingerly against her chest. The eight year old was completely struck by this man - a man who failed to be her grandfather, James - and his adoration for her grandmother.

"Lily? Lily, where are you hiding?" Her mother's sweet tones disrupted the silence.
Scurrying about, Lily haphazardly corrected her wrongs. She knew full well any trace of her would result in an awful sort of punishment.


"Here mummy," Lily exhaled, sweeping static locks behind her ears.
"And where were you?" Ginny Potter questioned, eying her youngest thoughtfully. With James and Al away to Hogwarts, things seemed a bit more peaceful. Ginny wondered if she had let her calm mindset deceive her. There were few days perfection blessed them with its presence - such things were saved for Hermione and Ron's household. "Up to no good?"
Lily watched the smile on her mum's face flicker as she shook her head. Taking as seat at the table, a rustic crinkle of parchment could be heard faintly.
"Never," she whispered.
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Hope you all enjoyed this! I loved the idea and had such a wonderful time writing it.
A million thanks to my banner-hero, Sissy.

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