This is what I imagine Lily Evans thought after ending her friendship with Severus . . . don't own the characters or the plot!
The thing I don't think people understand is that it wasn't what he did to me.
Oh, that was the catalyst, sure. I won't pretend it doesn't sting to hear your best friend call you a "filthy little Mudblood" in front of half your year, including your (and, incidentally, his) group of enemies. Not much fun, that's for sure, especially when you were just trying to help.
But I could forgive that. I understand temper – if not me, then who? – and I understand things slipping out that you didn't mean to say. And even the word – if it was only me, if it was only once, if it was only to preserve his pride – it's a stretch, but I could forgive it. I could. He's the person who has meant the most to me consistently for years, now. He's the one who was there for me when my sister turned her back on me, and the one who explained that I was special, that I was something more than plain little Lily Evans. He's the first one who ever saw me as special.
So I could forgive him. One slip, I could forgive him.
But that one slip was what it took to open my eyes.
And now I'm angry at myself, really – because it was inexcusable of me to turn a blind eye to everything else he was doing. Because it wasn't one slip. It was one slip regarding me, I know, but I'm not the only Muggle-born in our year. Or in our school. And I know I'm the only one he never called a Mudblood. Because of his friends. The Dark magic they use, and think it's funny, and the associations they have with Lord Voldemort. Because of the fact that Sev is probably going to join him.
That's what I can't stand. Because as much as Severus meant to me – still means to me, really – I can't stay his friend if he's going to become a Death Eater. Our friendship will always be something I treasure, and I will never forget him. But I am not just Lily Evans, Severus Snape's best friend. I am Lily Evans, Muggle-born. Lily Evans, Gryffindor. Lily Evans, who, no matter what else may be wrong with her, will never condone killing.
Maybe, if I'd really seen it earlier, if I hadn't been blinded by our friendship, blinded by the past, blinded by the little girl in the playground who first heard that she was out of the ordinary, maybe I could have stopped him.
But after I see how far he's gone, there's no going back.
It's not that he called me a Mudblood. It's that he's so far gone as to call his best friend in the world a Mudblood. It's where he's going. And he's too far on that path for me to stop him.
I hope he'll learn someday. I pray something will happen that will turn him onto the right path. And if – no, when – it does, I will be waiting for him with open arms, to welcome him home.
He needs a catalyst. And it can't be me. I realize that now.
I just wish I had seen it earlier.