Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be

Dedication: To the person I'm writing about.

I suppose we had been getting too close really. Lots of in-jokes and affectionate nicknames. Lots of laughing, lots of smiles. Lots of touches. Everything to indicate that we were best friends.

But really, it was always James that was the best friend. Friends since early childhood and physically similar and all that. Tell you the truth, there was something about James, even after those years, that irked me. He was always a bit too smug, a bit too… much. I suppose what I didn't like was that no matter what I did, no matter how interesting I was, all James had to say was, 'Let's check out those new dung bombs!' Or something equally mundane. That's all it took to take Sirius away from our conversation and smiles.

But then, we really had been getting to close. Lots of staring. Heavy silences. Paused laughter. I like to think that they meant something, or that they were at least noteworthy. But I suppose not.

It was a mistake of mine really. Not his fault, or even James'. Peter had asked me 'Who's your best friend? Sirius?' I suppose I was feeling particularly bitter that day. Particularly annoyed that yet another sharp intake of breath that followed being too close together had been interrupted by James. So I told Peter, 'I wish. But James.' Not a moment of stunning eloquence, I'll admit, but enough to get the message across.

I suppose I should have expected it. Peter was tactless and never knew when one thing was supposed to be held tight and never uttered again, and when something should be shouted to anyone near.

I'll never forget it, as insignificant as the event may seem. It was the day of the Full Moon and my hands were sweating as always. I remember wiping them on my bed curtains, half laughing at my uncharacteristically disgusting actions. Sirius came into the room, a wild look in his eyes. 'I'm not your best friend.' It was a simple statement, but more than just confusing. 'James is.' Then he walked away.

I must say that his statement made no sense. I'd basically told Peter what I assumed he'd interpret as self-doubt and most probably just bitter. Somewhere along the line, it had become a slur on both Sirius and James and my friendship with Sirius.

I suppose I should have expected to wake up in the Infirmary the next day. Grey eyes looking into mine, a hand on the un-bandaged part of my arm and the only explanation that fell from oft stared at lips being: 'Snape.'

I suppose I should have expected things. But I didn't.

A/N: Not that I suppose many of you care, but I'm glad that I've written something new! I hope anyone who read this liked it.