I see you. The way that you are, not the way that you pretend to be. You're my best friend, my first friend, and it kills me to see you like this.

I remember the first day we met. Everyone else heard my name and turned around. Shut me out. When you heard it you smiled at me, shrugged and commented that it was 'unfortunate', before offering me a chocolate frog and asking if I liked quidditch. Even then, you knew how to cheer me up.

Then the sorting came, and you seemed like the only one who wasn't nervous. When my turn came to sit on the stool, you gave me a smile, and just like that, I felt brave enough to walk across the stage. In the silence of murderous Slytherins and unwelcoming Gryffindors that remained after the hat made its decision, you were the one who stuck up for me. I can still remember the look on everyone's faces when you whooped and called out 'take that, you gits!' to the Slytherin table, before asking me to save you a seat at the Gryffindor one.

I remember the way you used to smile. Not your charming one that was saved for Evans, but your joyful one; the one that made your eyes sparkle, your face light up, and everyone else in the vicinity happier just to see it. I miss it. I miss you.

I remember when you told me that you had fallen for her. It was the middle of our third year; you whispered it to me like it was some embarrassing secret. Over the years you grew more confident and plucked up the courage to ask her out.

That was the day that I began to hate her.

You went to the library, where you knew she would be. You asked her hesitantly, shyly, yet her reaction was anything but. When you came back to the dormitory, there was only me there. As you opened the door, I saw the cocky grin you showed the outside world fade into a look of heartbreak.

Yet you didn't give up, no matter how many times she broke your heart. Because she did. Every time. And I, I stupidly encouraged you. For some reason, we both thought that one day she would change her mind. Change her answer. Your belief was based on hope. The kind of hope you hear about in old ballads and heroic tales, but rarely see in a realistic world. My belief was based on you. The real you, that you seldom show to the public eye.

I see you now and I wish that I could go back in time. I wish that I could have convinced you to get over her while it was merely a simple crush. But wishes don't change anything, they don't do anything, they just fill your mind with wishful fantasies that we have no hope in achieving. Not in this case anyway. Besides, we all know this is far beyond a simple crush now.

I'm at my wits end. I want to help you like you've always helped me. Comfort you like you've always comforted me. But what can I do? There's no cure to a broken heart. No spell against unrequited love. Only time, as if that actually helps.

She doesn't deserve you. The hypocritical bitch yells at you about not caring about other people. She calls you arrogant, boastful, conceited – pretty much every insult known – yet she refuses to look beyond your exterior.

She doesn't see the side of you that I have seen. That the marauders have seen. She hasn't seen you patiently staying up all night with Pete until he understands the latest transfiguration theory we're supposed to know. She hasn't seen you hold a shaking Remus as he frets about the full moon. She hasn't seen you put on a brave face when you're with your parents so as not to worry them, even though we all know that their illness scares the shit out of you. She wasn't there to see you the day I ran away.

If I could hold the pieces of your heart together, I would. If I could shield you from the pain she has caused you, I would. If I could...but no. What's the use of worrying about ifs and could have beens?

You're my best friend, Jamie, my other half, and I promise you I'm gonna fix this. Whether that means I've got to face the dreaded Evans wrath, or search the world to find someone that will put the light back into your eyes, I will do it. Because that's what best friends are for, right?