You're flying through the air and you love it. The breeze sweeps back your hair and some dark red strands momentarily block your vision and tickle your nose, but you've never felt better in your life. You laugh out loud without planning to and it's a pure, joyful noise. Slowly you fall, grinning at the wretched face of your sister who shudders as your feet gently brush the ground once more.

'Mummy told you not to!'

You wrinkle your nose at that. Mummy and Daddy fret whenever you do anything they cannot and Tuney claims it's because what you do is unnatural, but nothing has ever come more naturally to you in your life.

'Mummy said you weren't allowed, Lily!'

'But I'm fine,' you counter, still giggling and eager to do more. 'Tuney, look at this. Watch what I can do.'

You pick up the flower and you will it to open and close its petals. The mesmerising, fluid motion of the white-pink flower entrances you.

'Stop it!' Tuney shrieks and though you protest, you do as she wishes. 'It's not right,' she declares as you drop the flower. You glare at her in disagreement but her tone is suddenly quite changed as pure longing seeps through: 'How do you do it?'

And then he appears out of nowhere, a strange lean boy with dark hair and mismatched clothing. His sudden presence shocks you but his next words are wonderful to hear:

'It's obvious, isn't it?'

You hardly notice Petunia's shriek; you're so intent of hearing more of what he has to say. Never before have you heard a reaction to your powers that wasn't one of horror and bewilderment. It reassures you. He reassures you.

'What's obvious?' you hear yourself ask desperately.

You notice his eyes light up. They're dark but they have a fire smouldering deep within them as they focus on you.

And then he calls you a witch.

Disappointment floods you; he's just another rude boy and you have no time for his cruelty. He's nothing special after all. You march off with Tuney in dignified silence, determined to ignore him.

But he follows, his voice adopting on a higher pitch.

'You are. You are a witch. I've been watching you for a while. But there's nothing wrong with that. My mum's one, and I'm a wizard.'

At this Tuney laughs and informs you it's just that "Snape boy" from Spinners End. She looks towards you, expecting for you to laugh too.

You don't laugh, however. You've heard her speak with disdain of that place before, but you're not very interested in what she has to say. You're frowning at his readiness; his absolute certainty that what he says is true. But the idea you're a witch scares you.

And then you realise Petunia is tugging at your arm, ordering you to leave because the Snape boy has called your sister a very rude word indeed. So rude you've never even heard it before. Muggle.

You follow your sister's instruction and walk haughtily away. But you steal one last glance as you walk. You're surprised to see his eyes are genuinely saddened. And you frown slightly because you believe what he says to be true.

Witch.

His face falls, misreading your expression.

'Keep away from him, Lily,' Tuney says derisively, 'he's horrid.'

You nod absentmindedly while resolving to seek the Snape boy out once more and ask him some very important questions.

It's not long before you meet him again and spend hours talking. Gradually, you seek him out more and more and he in turn comes to you. He tells you wonderful things about the wizarding world and you comfort him about his parents. You can ask him anything and he'll answer you earnestly. In a very short space of time, he becomes your very best friend.

And you trust him. So much so that you're not even a little but surprised when your letter from Hogwarts arrives.

After all, he said it would.

You can hardly sit still on the rickety stool as that fierce looking teacher lowers the tattered Sorting Hat onto your head. A part of you hopes for Slytherin because that's where Sev seems so sure he'll end up and you long to be in the same house as your best friend.

However, all the Houses seem so noble and historic and something churns in your stomach as you realise the students at the Slytherin table don't look overly friendly.

You only have a second to feel the touch of the hat on your head before it announces in a booming voice:

'GRYFFINDOR!'

The Gryffindor table erupts with cheers and you can't help but grin as you hurry over to the table. As you glance towards Sev, still waiting for his turn, you see his face is aghast and you're sure your flushed cheeks pale slightly at his expression. Unfortunately, you reach the table only to see one of the awful boys from the train making room for you and your excitement at being a Gryffindor diminishes a small bit. You turn your back on him and focus instead on your best friend as he's sorted.

And yes, you were rather hoping the hat could see how fearless and chivalrous he is, even if he himself doesn't want it to.

But it's 'SLYTHERIN!' - just like he said it would be.

Throughout the feast there's an underlying worry running through your mind as you chat politely to little Mary MacDonald – Sev's words on the train that had previously seemed so light-hearted had a darker meaning now.

'You'd better be in Slytherin.'

As soon as the Headmaster ushers you off to bed, you run to meet Severus. The surrounding Slytherins look as you disapprovingly so you pull him a little bit away.

'Oh Sev,' you say and he looks at you with worried eyes. 'Can we still be best friends?'

A flash of relief crosses his pale features and he smiles at you.

'Of course we can, Lily. We are,' he nods.

'Does it make a difference? Being in separate Houses?'

There's that slight pause again that chilled your heart when you asked him if being a Muggle-born would affect anything, but he gives the same, definite answer.

'No. It doesn't make any difference,' he says and the sheer determination in his voice relaxes you completely.

Impulsively, you hug him and exclaim: 'I can't believe we're actually here!'

Then you run to catch up with the other Gryffindor first years and a warm feeling inside you has replaced the previous dread.

The next day you sit beside him in Potions and subsequently become partners, even though (judging from the reactions of the other students and their portly, cheerful teacher) a Gryffindor and Slytherin being partners is a phenomenon unprecedented.

However, you and Sev have a great class together, whispering about your dormitories and laughing at what the Potions Master says. The wonderful thing is you've realised nothing at all has changed.

But then again, he said it wouldn't.

Years have passed and you've long since recognised that being a Muggle-born does make a difference, but it never does with Sev. Your friendship is constant as ever, even though you detest the company he keeps and you tell him so. He seems unconcerned when you report the awful things Avery, Muliciber and Selwyn do no matter how often you bring the matter up. And, although it feels a little pathetic, you complain about their attitude towards Muggle-borns and the names they call you.

At this, at least, you always get a reaction.

'Did they hurt you?' His eyes are always baleful when he asks this, but relax again into the warm, caring eyes once you shake your head slowly. 'Let's not argue, Lily. They're just messing about. No worse than that Potter does.'

It's always the same cycle; you bring up his friends; he'll bring up Potter.

'Potter is an idiot and I don't care for his awful pranks, but Mulciber makes me shudder every time he looks at me, Sev.'

'They're just looks,' is all he says and there is a brief silence before he speaks again. 'You've been spending a lot of time with Lupin.'

Your lips tighten. You've realised for a long time Sev's suppositions about Remus being a werewolf must be true; he's always absent at full moon, but far from making you want to avoid him the thought of his torment saddens you and you've befriended him. Severus hates this, but only because Remus is Potter's friend.

'You know what your problem is, Lily? You always need someone to look after.'

You don't admit it, but you realise there and then that that's exactly your problem. Sev knows you far too well.

It's many years later when you realise that far from it being your "problem", it's your saving grace.

But with Severus, after all the routine bickering, you can lie back in the grass and talk about anything and concentrate on just having a truly wonderful friendship.

He picks a buttercup and tucks it behind your ear as you smile happily at him, and then he gently straightens a strand of your hair.

'Sev, what's the first word you think of if I say the word "magic"?' you ask him suddenly.

'Hogwarts,' he replies, simply.

'I think of you,' you tell him and his lips curve upwards. But it's true. Sometimes you feel as though it was Sev who willed this world into existence for you as he told you stories about magical Britain back when you were eleven.

Severus is this world. He means the world to you and you're sure you mean the same to him. So everything is right. Just like he promised.

It's nearing Christmastime in fifth year and Professor Slughorn has your restless class brewing Amortentia as something "fun" to do. Potions remains your favourite class; you laugh at Sev as he edits his textbook, the page dark with ink where he's added his own notes. You often marvel at his ingenuity with Potions, although you're not bad yourself.

You have a sixth sense for the exact second you should add your next ingredient at, precisely how much powder is necessary and which blades of grass are perfect for the brew. Potions makes sense to you, but you follow the book's instructions instead of creating your own, like Sev. Luckily, he trusts your judgement.

You're finished ahead of all the other pairs in the class and you relax a moment while watching the almost hypnotic spirals of steam rise up. Within the cauldron you can smell fresh apple tart, camomile tea and a third, indefinable thing and they all smell wonderful.

You grin at Severus contentedly, but he frowns at you.

'Lily, you're wearing far too much perfume. I can't smell the Amortentia – only your perfume. What is it, jasmine?'

You laugh delightedly, he's often teased you about how frivolous wearing perfume is, but you know it's not that strong.

'What do you really smell, Sev?'

'I told you, I can only smell your –' then his eyes widen and he breaks off as though he's just realised something.

'What? What is it?' you press, playfully.

'Um … cinnamon,' he mutters uncertainly and you wonder why his pale cheeks suddenly have a slight flush.

At the end of the lesson, Potter appears before you, brandishing a lily in your face.

'Come to Hogsmeade with me, Evans?'

You almost want to laugh at how pathetic he is; giving a lily to the girl called Lily but something suddenly stops you in your tracks. The mysterious third smell, it seems, is whatever James Potter is wearing.

'Shove off, Potter,' you say furiously and this time your tone of voice is far sharper than when you usually reject him.

In a foul mood at the discovery of the smell, you leave the dungeons with Sev, who is now looking perkier than before.

That Christmas trip to Hogsmeade you go with Sev as always. When the subject of Amortentia comes up over a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks, you both agree it's an inaccurate, laughable potion.

Sev's scathing attitude about Amortentia comforts you – you knew something was wrong if Potter was the third smell – and Sev knows everything there is to know about potions. If he says it's stupid, then it, quite simply, is.

When he calls you a Mudblood, your world stops. You look into his black eyes and see only a flicker of their usual warmth there and a shiver runs down your spine. You can't believe he'd do this to you, can't believe he lied when he promised being a Muggle-born made no difference to him.

He's chosen Avery and Mulciber over you and you hate him for it.

'I don't need help from filthy Mudbloods like her!'

'Fine. I won't bother in future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus.'

It feels good to make him feel as empty as you do, but the words taste bitter in your mouth even as you speak them.

He comes after you later and begs for forgiveness. You've spent the afternoon crying, and you've resolved not to let him sway you. He's chosen his path and it's not one you can ever follow him down.

Next potions lesson you ask Slughorn if he'll allow you to switch partners. Mary and Selwyn, who were forced to be partners, are only too happy to comply.

Mary talks throughout the class about how nice it is to have Lily as a partner instead of "that awful Slytherin" but you have to keep an eye on what she's doing because she keeps messing up. Her book lies on the table, in pristine condition, so different from the book of the person sitting behind you, whose eyes you can feel boring into the back of your head.

But instead of glancing back at him you make a point of agreeing loudly with Mary about those awful Slytherins but you slice your ginger so hard you mark the table. This is the last time you trust someone unconditionally.

Years have passed and you haven't seen Severus since seventh year, not spoken since fifth, but you've heard rumours that he's a Death Eater and you feel so frustrated whenever you think of him and his wasted life.

But you have other things on your mind as you cradle the tiny baby in your arms.

Harry James Potter – the most important thing in your life from now on. Jet-black curls frame his tiny face and you look up at your husband who is grinning broadly down at you.

Sometimes you still can't believe you fell in love with James Potter and occasionally the wedding ring on your finger catches you yet by surprise. The wedding was small but perfect, save one small thing – even though you kind of hate him, you hated it even more that he wasn't at your wedding.

'Lily, we need to choose a godfather,' James tells you.

That pair of black eyes flash upon your memory for an instant. He had been so wonderful to you for so long and, for a second, you wish you could choose him. But in the next second you remember what he's become and how awful a godparent he'd be, not that he'd consent to it in the first place.

'I was thinking Padfoot,' James says to you eagerly.

Padfoot. Motorcycle-loving, adrenaline-junkie, womanising Padfoot.

'Perfect,' you hear yourself say, and James beams then runs to tell his best friend. You know Sirius will love Harry, so you push Severus' face out of your mind.

Caring, loyal, funny Sirius. Perfect. Almost perfect.

You feel so lonely. James has gone out on Order of the Phoenix business and you're left at home minding Harry. On the mantelpiece there's a fresh bunch of lilies; a gift from your reluctantly absent husband. You used to think it pathetic, being given lilies, but now it seems kind of sweet. Though James never did figure out that you preferred the simple buttercup. Sev worked that one out without asking.

It's all right for James; he has Sirius, Peter and Remus to talk to, to hang out with when he pleases. You know they're your friends too but they'll never be quite as close to you, however dear they are in your heart.

Alice Longbottom is wonderful, but the war has confined your freedom to travel and she's increasingly often away on Auror work.

You can't help but wonder why the two people you most loved as a child, Petunia and Severus, are no longer speaking to you. There must be something wrong with you, though you've always tried to be a good friend. Yet you're alone.

And the desire to speak with him is almost unbearable, but you know you can never do that again.

But you can write him letters. It becomes habitual and as soon as Harry is sleeping you grab your quill and draft out long and detailed letters to him, telling him your feelings, your hopes, your fears, all about Harry, all about yourself. Then, you stick them on the fire and they're ash long before James gets home because you know he'd hate this. And you kind of hate it too.

The latest letter, written on his birthday, is tearstained. You stick the letter deep within the flames and watch as it's swallowed up.

You're reminded of Severus' heart as you watch the paper. It's white and unspoiled at first, then it gradually is engulfed by flame until it shrivels up into itself and blackens.

Just like Sev's blackened heart.

Disclaimer: Jo Rowling owns it all!

A/n: This was written for the Character Perspective Challenge. My challenge was (rather luckily, I thought!) Lily (Evans) Potter's perspective on Severus Snape.

I hope you enjoyed it, I had a lot of fun writing it!

Huge thank you to Katamabob, for her generous help with the story!

And finally, I'd really love some feedback on this one, if you could!

Thanks for reading!