A/N: As stated in the summary, this is in response to a challenge on the HPFC forum. Almost all of the entries will be entirely unconnected, and if they link back to a previous entry, then I'll throw down an Author's Note.

For the Judges: The round and pairing are both in the chapter title :)


A passing breath, a moment's hesitation, a whisper of a dream—that's all it ever was for them. And now… Now, for him, each breath was a triumph, each moment an eternity, and dreams never found him even in his deepest of sleeps. His days passed in living nightmares as he watched her laughing and dancing and studying—laughing and dancing and studying alongside him.

"You," began a soft voice, intruding on his misery, "are a complete and utter fool."

Severus stiffened instantly, but the darkness cloaked it from the visitor. He couldn't see her, but he knew who it was. "Go write Lucius, Narcissa, and keep your pale nose out of my business." His tone was cold, bitingly so, but Narcissa was long-used to his caustic remarks and so instead she sank into the plush couch beside him, content to fall into their usual dance of words.

"She wasn't ever yours, Severus," she replied in a tone only slightly less frigid than his. "Stop deluding yourself; it's appallingly pathetic."

The snarl she anticipated never came and her eyes narrowed in worry. "Sev, you haven't even spoken to her in over a year. Were you really expecting—"

"I expected nothing but for her not to lower herself to such levels," he cut across her, his voice flat.

Narcissa hesitated only a moment in deliberation; she was a Slytherin after all. "Potter's not so bad, you know, Sev. All the girls think so," she began before forcing a gushing quality into her voice. "He's handsome and rich, a quidditch star with high aspirations. Plus, that thing he does with his hair… Well, it's positively dreamy."

"You can't make me angry, Cissa. I'm…" He paused, looking at her seriously, and she had to force herself not to recoil from the openness of his expression, and the agony written there. "I love her," he whispered hoarsely.

An oppressive silence fell upon them for a moment as Severus warred with the impulse to divulge his feelings, and Narcissa searched her extensive repertoire for words that might possibly be adequate.

They'd always been friends of a sort—though never like he and Lily. Mudblood Evans. The rest of the Slytherins thought he'd long since divested any attachment for her, but Narcissa knew much better. She'd watched as his love had grown: whispered debates over a bubbling cauldron, study sessions that crept late into the night, shared secrets and jokes—she'd never admit it, but they'd been "cute" together.

Lily had always been there when Severus needed. When he was struggling with an assignment, there was no one else he'd ever admit it to; when his mother had died, she was the only one he'd been willing to confide in; and when he was laughing, you knew Lily was somewhere nearby.

The months since Lily had abandoned him—the months since he had made such a simple mistake (Mudblood… Like he didn't hear it all day every day; it was a miracle it hadn't ever slipped out before then.)—had stretched lengthily behind them and Narcissa had continued to watch as he fell farther and farther into darkness. Oh how she longed to curse the girl into oblivion for crushing him so.

She glanced at him. His head was bowed, causing his hair to curtain his face, and she had to restrain herself from taking his hand in hers. As Slytherins they were already being far too sentimental. "You need to let her go, Severus," she confided softly, reluctantly. "What she and Potter have… Can't you see that it's Forever?" His glittering eyes narrowed in the darkness —in denial or frustration, she couldn't tell. "If you don't let go of this, it will haunt you until the end of time…"

Her ominous words dropped heavily, one by one, into the darkness, but she knew he'd never heed them. And so, with a pang of remorse, she resigned herself to watching him slowly fade away.