The Letter

One week before the school term was set to begin the past caught up with Severus Snape in the form on an unfamiliar owl and a letter from his former lover.

Severus,

From time to time I allow myself to think of you. In even rarer times I wonder 'what if'. If there was ever anyone who knew me well enough to know how much I hate the game of what if, it was you. That honor once again is mine alone. I'm still as reluctant to trust. I still have a hard time letting people in. I'm still as you once said "seemingly aloof and immature until you see past the stereotype I created to protect myself". But that is the only similarity I have to the boy you knew, the man you loved.

Our time together was brief, perhaps too brief, but now is not the time to dwell upon that. The man you once love no longer exists. He is a part of my past I try not to remember too often. Thinking about him is a painful reminder of the year we were separated, the year I lost myself, the year I pushed you away with very little explanation. When I called you in December that year things were awkward at best. You accepted my apology and we acted as if things were normal.

Then amazingly I showed up on Christmas Eve. You gave me a rare smile and pulled me into a desperate kiss. Now I can see those three days for what they were: an attempt to fix what was beyond repair.

You gave me a journal that Christmas. The inside cover held the inscription:

To Harry-

Your dreams will always haunt you. However, remember you are loved, always.

I still have that journal. Its pages were filled long ago. Now it sits upon my bookshelf. I often read that journal; it contains the story of our beginning, the final months of the war, Voldemort's defeat, our breakup, and the year after.

I was going to come for you when the war ended but there was no way for you to know that. I called you to tell you the battle was over, that I was injured but alive, that I was coming home. You ended things unexpectedly. Why? We finally had our chance to be together and suddenly it was over. I was alone again.

They transferred me to the infirmary at Hogwarts so I could be at home. It was Albus' final request. He died in the bed next to mine while I held his hand and he gave me one final piece of advice. As I watched his chest fall for the final time and the infuriating twinkle leave his eyes I realized, for the first time, my hero was mortal.

I disappeared fifteen years ago to the date. I accomplished what I was "destined" to do. Nobody needed a hero anymore and I was sick of playing the role. So, I fled and not surprisingly no one tried to find me. Although I imagine Poppy was quite upset I left before I was completely healed.

I couldn't stay any longer. Hogwarts was and always will be home but there comes a time when you don't belong at home anymore and I had passed that time years earlier. I exchanged some of my money for Muggle currency, transferred some to the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes account, and left the rest in my vault.

I've drifted since then. I've never stayed anywhere longer than a year. I've worked every odd job imaginable and lived on every continent, as a Muggle. The last time I used magic was during the final battle. I lost my wand just as I finished the final incantation and have not seen it since. For some reason this does not seem to bother me. Hedwig followed me from place to place for some time, during the second year she gave up on me. I supposed she didn't life living as a Muggle, I've always hoped she found a good home.

You told me to get on with my life. You told me to live. You told me I could not love you. You were wrong. I did love you. I still do love you. But nevertheless I got on with my life. I lived. Perhaps not in a traditional manner, perhaps not the way anyone intended. My life is my own and this is how I've chosen to live. Three days ago I turned thirty-five. In two weeks I'm starting University. I bought a house. I guess some would say I'm finally settling down.

It has taken me fifteen years to write this letter. It has taken me fifteen years to get over my childhood and the war.

I still love you; I imagine I always will. But tonight I'm writing to say goodbye. I will continue to love you from a distance but I'm letting go.

I want to pass on Albus' final words to you because to this day I believe they were meant for the both of us: 'As you get older the tomorrows become fewer. Your past will continue to dictate who you are for as long as you allow it to. Do not let yourself become so callous that you can no longer love.'

Thank you Severus for our time together. Thank you for allowing me to love.

Always,

Harry James Potter