A/N: This is an AU of/sort of sequel to one of my other stories, The Other Memory. It will probably work as a standalone, but certain references might make more sense if you read The Other Memory first.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not interested."

"I'm sorry!"

"Save your breath."

The ice in Lily Evans' tone brooked no argument. Severus bit his lip and did his best not to shiver in the draughty corridor outside Gryffindor Tower.

"I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here."

He nodded. "I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just-"

"Slipped out?" she spat, tossing her head. "It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years..."

He listened with his head hung as she vented her anger, wincing at the accusation in her voice but knowing that he had no means or right to defend himself. His blood burned under his skin at the thought of what he had called her that afternoon. Oh, Merlin, if he could only take it back – he truly hadn't meant to say it, but his nerves had already been frayed by the exam and the bullying...and, of course, the kiss.

Their words echoed in his mind again.

"Sev?"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me?"

Her voice, sharp and irate, cut across his thoughts. "You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?"

He jerked himself back to the present and opened his mouth to make a reply, then shut it again. They'd had this discussion that very afternoon. He still had no idea what to say.

"I can't pretend any more. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine."

Panic rose in his throat, cold and cloying. "No – listen, I didn't mean –"

"– to call me Mudblood?" She raised her eyebrows scornfully. "But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?"

"Lily – wait –"

But she had turned her back, cool as ever, and was now climbing back through the portrait hole.

"Please, Lily. I can explain..."

But the Fat Lady swung to a close, folded her arms and regarded him as she might a fly crawling up the frame of her painting.

Severus Snape swallowed and began to make his way back to the dungeons. His eyes stung, hot with moisture. He blinked, cursing the dust of the ancient castle.

That's it, then. The parting of the ways. Like she said, you've both chosen.

Except he hadn't. Not really. By virtue of his house and his friends (excepting Lily), his path had almost been laid before his feet. The Dark Lord and his band of Death Eaters seemed like the answer to so many of his troubles – a stream to slake his thirst for knowledge, a way to finally be free of his father and impress his mother, a chance to matter, to be important, to never be the victim again. Ideas he'd cherished his entire life – that wizards were superior to Muggles, that purity of blood was intrinsically linked with power and authority – might become more than dreams and ideals if Voldemort rose to power.

And yet Lily was a Muggleborn. Lily was the cleverest witch in their year.

Lily had shown him kindness and understanding when nobody else had bothered to find out what lay behind his rude, sullen mask.

According to the Dark Lord, people like Lily had no right to their gift of magic. People like Lily were inferior, and should perhaps not even have attended Hogwarts in the first place. How could that be fair or right?

Severus tugged his fingers through his long black hair, as he often did when anxious. He loved Lily. He had realised that much the moment his lips had touched hers. But Lily now despised him – and besides, could he bring himself to walk away from everything he'd always told himself to want? From the power and freedom that surely awaited him if he chose to follow the Dark Lord?

He collapsed onto his four-poster bed. Tonight would be a long night. He very much doubted he'd be getting any sleep.