Disclaimer: Not mine, of course!
A/N: A bit short, angsty and melodramatic, but I like it nonetheless. Written for Megsy42's First Kiss challenge.

Best friends. That what we were. That's all we were.

I loved her. Together. That's all we should have been.

I lost her. Apart. That's all we will ever be.

There was something so perfect about her. There was something so perfect about the way her pale blue veins seemed to be inked across the deliciously milky skin of her graceful hands. There was something perfect about the way her collar bones seemed to slice so elegantly through her shirt. There was something so perfect about the way her hair seemed to ripple down her back, like a beautiful bloody waterfall.

She was perfect the first time I met her, when we were children, and she was the first person to treat me like a person not a freak. She was perfect as her cheeks flared up in anger as she couldn't control the magic she didn't understand. She was perfect as we discovered the wizarding world together, visiting Diagon Alley and riding the Express.

Her perfection wasn't even tarnished when she was sorted into Gryffindor. She looked at me with those green eyes, and it didn't matter anymore. Her eyes always were flawlessly green. Flawlessly Slytherin green.

She was perfect when we were sitting in our field when we were thirteen. She kissed me. It was gentle and sweet, and light and quick. She smiled childishly as she pulled back. 'I'm sorry, Sev, that we haven't been as close this year, but I still meant what I said before. We'll always be best friends.' She whispered. She rose from the grass, perfectly delicately, and skipped home.

We grew apart during our fourth year, and I ruined everything during our fifth. But she was still perfect and pure to me. When I chose the darkness over her, she chose Potter over me. Now her uncouth son wears her perfect green eyes. It makes me sick to see them without her.

Long after Lily was gone, another woman tried to kiss me. I didn't let her. She wasn't perfect. She wasn't Lily.

I still love her. I know I do. She is constantly in my mind.

As I sit in our field now, I am getting older, skinnier, and more broken. I am alone. The field has changed. Someone has cut back the long grasses and taken down our swing, but I all I can see is how it used it be. I can see Lily sitting on the swing, the leaves on the trees changing colour as she gets angry. I can see her paddling in the stream, while my childish self refuses to leave his book to join her. Sometimes, I can even see her playing with Petunia, the two of them still friends.

I sit in the very corner now, the trees shadowing me from the world. Passers-by don't even see me, as I strain my memory to remember everything I can of her. Her face slips away from me a little more each day, but the sound of her laughter echoes through my mind, haunting me.

The one memory that never fades is from over twenty years ago. The memory of my first kiss.

That was my perfect first kiss from my perfect love.

That was my perfect last kiss from my perfect Lily.

It was my perfect kiss. It was my only kiss.