Author's Note: Written when I was a teenager (yes, HP was my first fandom) so please excuse the terrible writing. I just wanted to have it archived here because I'd like to put all my fics in one place. This fic was written to the prompt "Color of Loss" and awarded second place.

Can you believe that even after all these years, I still don't own Harry Potter. *needs better lawyers*

MARK OF SACRIFICE

By MissyQuill

Sunday, 15th July, 1978

The gathering was small. Only a handful of people present to watch the amazing James Potter and the brilliant Lily Evans joined in holy matrimony for evermore. However, most guests were in a better position than him. At least they didn't have to lurk in the shadows to watch the clearly love-struck couple take their wedding vows.

Yes, for Severus Snape had come to the wedding uninvited. Though he knew he was not welcome, he had come. Though he'd promised himself that he wouldn't, he had come. Why? He could never answer this question, because to answer it would mean acknowledging the hopeful eleven-year-old boy who still lived deep inside him.

She looked so lovely in her long and flowing white gown. It was not extravagant by any means, but she made it so by wearing it. Yes, his Lily had a way of doing that to everything and everyone she touched.

In her hands, she held the palest shade of blue lilies. She had always said that she preferred her lilies charmed blue, that being her favorite color. Severus averted his eyes from the reminiscent flowers but it was too late.

He was back in Spinner's End, a boy of twelve, talking to a girl holding a pale blue book.

"What's that?" he inquired.

"It's a book, Sev," she replied, obviously trying to avoid giving a direct answer.

"I can see that, but it's definitely not one of ours. And don't bother denying it, Lily, the people on the cover aren't moving." He sneered.

"Well, it's a Muggle fairytale. But it's not stupid, Sev, it's a great story about a boy who loves a girl who doesn't love him back," the girl explained.

Caught against his own will,he asked, " So what happens in the end?"

Her eyes lighted up at his interest. "Well, in the end the girl realizes that the bloke's love is pure and genuine, and she comes back to him."

And that's why he was here, wasn't he? Pathetically hoping that it wasn't too late.

But it was, for when he awoke from his reverie, it was only to see her, eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed, saying, "I do."

Severus didn't see anything after that, his vision too blurry to be relied on as he slunk out of the church as quietly as he had entered.

Monday, 3rd June, 1996

Nothing about the modest gathering suggested that it was for a wedding. For one thing, the wedding minister was not there because he had refused point blank to marry a werewolf, and so in his place stood Alastor Moody, with a certain intimidating air, missing body parts and magical eye daring anyone to laugh at his formal dress robes; and for another, the bride could only be distinguished by her radiant face. Otherwise her pink hair and short white dress wouldn't have looked out of place at Diagon Alley.

Hestia Jones watched all this with a serene expression on her face, never once betraying her true feelings. And only when the bridegroom arrived did she find herself needing the powder room and a bit of fresh air to have a good cry alone.

Out in the courtyard of Grimmauld Place, she chided herself for being stupid to cry when the two getting married were so obviously happy. But she couldn't help herself, he had been wearing robes of palest blue.

She remembered him from Hogwarts though he probably did not. She was always the shy, quiet Hufflepuff who was often left out just because she never spoke up. She still remembered how in fourth year, when Professor Sprout had told them to pick partners and James had pounced on Lily and Peter on Sirius, she, too shy to approach anyone, had been left out … again. But he had come to her, introduced himself, offered to be her partner.They had gotten an "O" on that particular project.

How in fifth year he had given her a soft blue quill for her birthday to keep track of all the prefect duties. How he had suggested she wear something light blue for the graduation ceremony as it brought out the color of her eyes.

Hestia knew it was wrong to blame him for marrying Nymphadora. She obviously made him happy. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt. It was just that he had been the only one who had ever noticed quiet, mousy Hestia Jones.

Fiercely rubbing her eyes, Hestia promised herself that she would not resent him and his new wife. She would not complicate their already conflicted life. She would go in there and give them both a congratulatory hug and breathe in his scent one last time, her face against his pale blue robes.

Monday, 14th February 2000

The Great Hall was full of people. And why shouldn't it be, seeing as the wedding that was taking place there had been the talk of the country for weeks now? The Boy-Who-Lived getting married to his Hogwarts sweetheart and his best friend's sister.

Though Potter would never look presentable in whatever he wore due to his bird's nest hair, Draco supposed the Weasley girl didn't look too bad. She had on an ankle-length white dress that fitted and flowed at all the right places, showing off her stunning figure. The edge of the dress was laced in blue; blue glass slippers and a tiny blue gem in the shape of a pyramid hanging from a delicate silver chain around her long ivory neck completed the look.

But looking at that necklace only served to remind Draco of what could have been if things were different. The many what-if's that until now, he was stubbornly refusing to acknowledge. Automatically, his mind flew back to the dark night near the lake in his seventh year at Hogwarts.

At that time, school had been his sanctuary as being home meant the company of the Dark Lord and his deranged Aunt Bella. Often too worried to go to sleep at night, the Head Boy had taken to wandering the grounds. That's how he had happened upon her one night.

He had reached his most favored spot under a tree by the lake only to find someone already there. That someone had very lovely red hair which gleamed by the light of the full moon and a face buried in her knees, which she hugged tightly.

He wondered why Ginny Weasley was sobbing her heart out in the dead of night and even opened his mouth to ask her before changing his mind. His queries, no matter how well meant, would cause more harm than good.

He didn't know why she evoked this feeling in him. Perhaps some part of him associated with the pain and desperation she was going through. All he was really sure of at that point was that he felt like crying too, and not for reasons very unlike hers. He turned to go.

However, he couldn't just leave her like that, crying as though her heart had been broken a million times over. In the end, he just sat quietly down beside her.

Maybe she really didn't notice him or pretended not to, but in any case, she kept weeping for a very long time. And finally, when she did look up to meet his gaze, her eyes showed no sign of the usual hostility, only unbearable sadness.

"So I'm guessing this is all about old scar head," he had said as a lame attempt at humor.

Most unusually she had not retaliated with a witty retort but had just nodded her head. After a while, she had spoken.

"I just miss him so much. I worry about him all the time … If he's okay, hurt, captured, dead." She choked another sob here. "I wonder if he even thinks of me."

At this point, he had known what to do. Being a Malfoy, he had not done many good things in his life without expecting the favor back, but that had been one of those rare occasions. He had pulled out a silver chain with a blue sapphire pyramid hanging from it. He had handed it to her silently.

"What is this?" she asked after examining it.

"It's got a Memory Charm on it. You can charm it so that when this person is thinking of you, it'll glow. My mother gave it to me so I'd know she is thinking about me, but you need it more. Here, all you have to do it think about Potter and say 'Memoralia'," he'd explained.

She had remained quiet for several seconds, working with her wand to reprogram the charm, and sure, the sapphire had lit up a brilliant blue so suddenly that it almost outshone the moon. "Wow, he must miss you a whole lot," Draco commented dryly.

She clasped the chain around her throat and got up to leave then slowly turned her head around and said the three words that had become the bane of his existence ever since.

"Thank you, Draco."

Now people were rushing to the newlyweds to congratulate them. The ceremony was over, till death do they part.

His parents, having established a sort of casual behavior with Potter since the war, were also among the well wishers. He supposed he'd better join them. His cousin Astoria was with them as well.

And as he stepped up to congratulate the Potters, his eyes caught the blue light pulsing from Ginny's locket and she smiled. A smile meant only for him.

Wednesday, 23rd May, 2001

The first thing he noticed about The Burrow's garden was that it looked pretty, prettier than it had when Fleur had gotten married. Maybe it was just because the threat of 'He Who Must Not Be Named' was no longer thick in the air, but things looked brighter now. Sunshine was warmer, the birds chirpier and the flowers even smelled sweeter.

But the most beautiful sight that evening was, without a doubt, Hermione Granger, the blushing bride.

She looked every bit the happy fiancée as she walked down the aisle in her stunning floor-length gown embroidered with pale blue forget-me-nots, her hair straightened and tied in an elegant chignon and held in place by a pale blue diamond studded comb.

How well he remembered the blue of that comb, the lovely blue of her dress the night at the Yule Ball. The happy dances, the comfortable chats, the quick kisses.

Yes, she had been his first love. The only one to catch the eye of the great Viktor Krum in all his seventeen years. And though he had come to terms with her moving on and finding the love of her life in that red-headed ass, he could never look at her without feeling a sharp pang of regret.

Weasley would never appreciate her the way she was meant to be. He would never notice how her chocolate eyes caught fire and how her jaw set when she was determinedly looking through a pile of dusty volumes for a spell. How her lips relaxed into a small and smug smile when she figured out the answer to a riddle. How her cheeks glowed after a morning walk around the lake in the cold.

But then he looked at Hermione, her face the picture of joy, reciting her wows in the same confident way in which she would have recited Hogwarts:AHistory.

If she was happy, then he supposed he couldn't complain because that was always the one thing he'd wanted, for her to be happy.

With a smile on his face that wasn't as fake as he'd first thought it'd have to be, he made his way through the crowd to congratulate the new Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Friday, 13th July, 2007

Look, Bunny, Neville and that Hannah girl are getting married. That's great isn't it?

But who on earth made the preparations? Look, see? They've got everything wrong, Bunny. They are standing on the left side of the yew tree, don't they want the tree spirit's blessings? And just look at that frill on Hannah's dress, doesn't she know it's bad luck to wear dark colors at weddings? I mean, look at Ginny in that lovely yellow dress, and Hermione in that nice pink one. Didn't I myself choose a nice bright green one to wear today? Well, if they don't want luck at their own wedding, I suppose we shouldn't bother ourselves about it. And they call me weird.

It's true, Bunny, they all think I'm a bit odd because I believe in things like the Crumpled-Horned Snorkack and Nargles and think that gnome spit has medical qualities. Oh, and because I talk in my head to a Wrackspurt I've adopted, namely you, Bunny.

You know, even though they think I'm strange, they like me. I know that for sure because I've fought alongside them many times and they are very willing to sacrifice themselves for my sake. And you know what, Bunny, that's something not many people would do.

I like them all, but do you know who my favorite out of all of them is after Ginny? Why, it's that boy standing on the dais. He was my special friend. He never once called me Loony and would always pair up with me during DA sessions. He also saved my life in the Department of Mysteries in my fourth year and again in the Final Battle in my sixth. He is an amazing boy.

You know, whenever I looked at his blue eyes, Bunny, I always remembered all those fairy tales mum used to read to me. You know, the ones about a lonely princess and how one day a handsome prince with dark hair and blue eye comes and takes her away to his kingdom, where they live happily ever after in a palace made of Treldon's feathers and Nargles' love.

Well I couldn't help it. Neville had dark hair and blue eyes. And when he pulled out that sword, he did look like a prince. But as I told mum at that time, I wasn't a princess. I was Luna Lovegood, heir to the Quibbler.

She laughed then. Her laughter was very nice. I still remember it sometimes and get very sad.

Once that happened in school, Bunny. I got so sad about mum that I went to the Room of Requirement to cry and he walked in on me. He asked me what was wrong and I told him. He looked at me with those blue eyes and said that I shouldn't be sad because mum wouldn't have liked it. Well, he was right. Mum always said that you should only cry when stung by a fizz bug because they can give you pimples and make you go purple. So I stopped crying and it felt nice to have him there, just sitting quietly by my side.

But Bunny, I don't feel so good now. I think I don't like that he's getting married to Hannah. I even think I might be jealous.

You know what, Bunny? I just realized that I don't like sparkly blue eyes anymore!

End Note: Please forgive the lousy formatting. Either it sucks worse than a broken vacuum cleaner or I've been staring at it too long. Anyway, let me know what you think of my teenaged self. I'm expecting a fair amount of constructive nitpicking as I was just starting out back then.