"The information you have gathered, Severus, is greatly appreciated. I will do what has to be done. You are dismissed." The words echoed through my head.

I've just sentenced her to death… I've just sentenced her to death. Lily. My Lily. I've sentenced her to death.

I told Dark Lord of the prophecy. I relayed all I heard to him, and he thinks it's about her and her husband and her son. He thinks he has to kill her. My Lily.

I walked from the stone room, my shoes tapping the floor with each step, reminding me of what I'd done.

She was right. She was right when she'd said, so many years before, that I was a coward. I was a weak wizard. She'd been right when she said that we'd chosen different paths. My path was wrong.

And I doubted an apology would work.

Besides, she had him now. She had Potter. And the son she carried. They were happy. She was happy without me. I knew that she didn't need me; that she didn't want my companionship any longer. I'd made my bed in school when I uttered the loathsome word, and now I had to lay in it.

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

I regretted what I did; I truly regretted it. But she wouldn't believe that. How could she? I broke the friendship we had; I broke her trust. And it had been creeping upon us for years. How had I not sensed that? How had I ignored what we both knew was approaching? For years it had slithered toward us, and I disregarded it. Now that I finally understood it, it was too late. There was nothing I could do for her. She wouldn't believe me.

I could ask, once more, for the Dark Lord's mercy. But I knew it was to no avail. He had no mercy, no pity. Even for me, his most "loyal" and "devoted" servant, he had no pity.

But she was my Lily. And I couldn't stand by as she was given the choice between her death and her son's. I knew her too well for that. She was too kind of a person, too compassionate, to allow her son to be handed over. She would kill herself before letting anyone else suffer.

I went to Dumbledore. Because even though I had disappointed him, he was the only person that I knew would listen. He had a heart, and he had mercy. He kept them safe as long as he could.

But she still died.

When Dumbledore told me of their deaths—of her death—I wept, of course. But I was angry, too. How could Dumbledore allow such a thing to happen? How could one man, the Dark Lord, the one who called himself the most powerful wizard of our time, show no mercy whatsoever?

I promised my protection of the boy—of my Lily's son—to Dumbledore. It was all that was left of her, all I could do for her. So I swore it to Dumbledore. I was to help watch Harry Potter.

Dumbledore had told me he had inherited Lily's eyes, but I had never envisioned that they'd be so exact. And imagine my surprise to find that he was the perfect mixture of his parents: the intelligent, strong Lily and the arrogant, prankster James.

But he was like Lily.

My Lily.

So I kept my promise. Although I couldn't change my past, I could forget it for Lily. Lily would have forgiven me.

I couldn't erase the past; it was carved in stone. But I could scratch it out.

I spent my life chiseling away at my past, trying to forgive myself. And I worked until the last minute to earn that forgiveness.

Harry Potter was a good wizard, a kind wizard. He was like his mother in that respect. When I gazed into his eyes as I died, not only did I see his mother, but I saw sorrow in his eyes. He was saddened by the death of me—the professor he hated, the man he thought was a Death Eater, the wizard who betrayed his parents.

I worked my whole life for something I didn't deserve. I wanted mercy to come over me and, in the end, when I looked into those green eyes, I received it. Though I didn't deserve the forgiveness of Harry Potter, it was given to me.

We all make mistakes, and we can all be forgiven. We just need to need it badly enough. And I did.

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-Kortney