Fatal Flaw By Ayune d'Erialc

Summary: Sometimes the hardest thing to do is admit there's nothing to do. Lily/Severus. Sad.

Disclaimer: If I owned them, there would probably be large musical numbers in the movies. I think we can all breathe a sigh of relief that I don't.

I won't let you go.

It's the only thing that's replaying over and over in my head as I watch you head for that door. I've said it a million times now without speaking, and it's all I can do to keep it inside. I want to scream it out as loud as I can. I want to wail it so you really hear me. I want to fall on my knees before you and beg you to stay.

Instead, I'm actually opening the door for you.

You're smiling. Why not? We decided this together, no ill will, no pain. It just won't work, we said. We're just too different, our roads too far apart. I swore to you the feeling was mutual. We agreed to part as friends, even if we could never show it. It's for the best, we said.

But I don't want the best, you bloody Gryffindor. I want you.

I won't let you go. I won't let you go. I won't let you go.

You've forgotten your hairbrush, won't I help you find it? Of course I will.

Now, I think, is my moment. If we can't find the brush, then you can't possibly go. You love that brush. It's the only one that doesn't hurt your scalp when you drag it through the tangled red mess your hair gets to be in the morning.

Morning. The first morning. I remember it so well, how you propped your head up on your hand and just looked at me for the longest time, like I'd grown a spare head or something. I asked you, very kindly, just what you thought you were doing.

"You have a truly spectacular nose, did you know that?"

"Ah. Spectacular. New word for 'gigantic' 'hooked', 'hideous?' That's rich, Evans."

"I mean it!" and then you were on top of me, looking down with those fiery green eyes, "I mean it, you great git. It's beautiful. Unique. Ballsy. It makes a definite statement."

"And that statement is 'Oh my dear Lord, I'm HUUUGE!'"

"And that's a bad statement because...?" You said, with that amazing little grin on your face. Where did a Gryffindor learn to grin like that? Pure evil, that is. I knew in that moment I would love that grin forever.

I have to find that brush, and hide it away forever. We'll just look for it until you see the error of your ways. Until I find the right thing to say to make you stay. You have to stay. I can't let you go, no. Not to him. Never.

You spot the brush on the table, where it always is. My, then our, bedside table. Mine again. No.

I won't let you go. I won't let you go.

It's in your bag in five seconds, and you're smiling at me, again. Oh, yes. That evil word. Friends. Of course.

May I die before I ever have another, if this is what it feels like.

My hand is in yours, and you're squeezing it. You lean in and kiss my cheek. My moment. I'm holding you close to me. I could just hold you here. Surely you would feel it then, if only I hold on long enough. I love you. You love me, I know it.

I know it.

You make to move away, to reach for the door.

I won't let you go.

I CAN'T let you go.

But I can't deny you, either.

Fatal flaw. You are my hubris.

So I smile, and brush a hair out of your emerald eyes.

You turn, and in a moment that goes on eons, you walk out the door. I shut it behind you.

My notes are on my desk; I have work to do.

Which would be far easier if I could see. Damn this blur!

You were always good at blinding me.

Hindsight 20/20.