How many times had he done this before? How many times had he watched, desperate for her attention, knowing it would never change? Surely it had been countless times. Perhaps he thought that if he went back enough, somehow he could break the fourth wall and everything would be different.

Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts, stood trembling before the Pensieve in his office. The room was exactly the same as it had been when Dumbledore was Headmaster; Severus didn't have the heart nor the desire to change it. It was just past midnight as Severus pointed the tip of his wand to his temple and drew out a memory, a long silver strand contrasting against his black hair. He watched, expressionless, as it softly fell into the bowl filled with swirling matter, and then bent forward and stuck his face into the Pensieve.

He was falling, but the sensation didn't frighten him any. He landed, hardly making a sound, in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

"Five more minutes!" Called Professor Flitwick as Snape moved about the rows of desks. He didn't have to look to find himself-there he was, fifteen years old, hunched over a long roll of parchment and scribbling furiously. He watched briefly, emotionless, not having a thought about whether or not this younger-Snape was getting his answers right or wrong (he had, of course, checked in the past; he had found that he hadn't very well described how to fend off a dementor). His eyes, devoid of expression, scanned the hall, and Snape felt a rush of hatred at the back of James Potter's head. At that moment, Snape would have very much liked to thump Potter across the head, but he knew it was pointless to do so. It was his fault that Snape was here now. His fault that every day Snape had to go through the torture of loss. Snarling, he turned, and found who he was looking for.

Her hair was deep red, highlighted with fiery tones, and although he wasn't looking at them now he knew that her almond-shaped eyes, concentrating on the work in front of her, were shimmering emeralds flecked with bright peridots. Severus approached her, and she didn't look up. His eyes trailed down her arm, and rested on her relaxed left hand. His gaze lingered there for several moments, and he so longed to reach out and take that little hand, to kiss her fingers. But, alas, such was impossible.

"Quills down, please!" Called little Professor Flitwick. Snape had heard this many times before; he could have very well recited it along with the teacher. "That means you too, Stebbins! Please remain seated while I collect your parchment! Accio!" He waved his wand so a plethora of rolled up parchment flew into his arms. All around Snape, the students were standing and gathering into groups, meeting with their friends and talking about the exam. He saw his former self stand and stalk off, hungrily reading his exam questions, but Snape wasn't concerned with that. He stayed next to Lily Evans, not wanting to waste a minute of her company, however one-sided it may be. She met up with a few of her friends; Snape recognised her friend Mary, but as for the others he didn't care to identify. He followed them out into the sunshine. He didn't pay much attention to Lily's friend's chatter, but he walked close to Lily. This way, it was easier to pretend that they were still such good friends, and that this wasn't the day everything would be ruined.

"How'd you do, Lily?" Asked Mary.

"Alright, I guess," she replied, and Snape closed his eyes as he walked-he had very nearly forgotten the sound of her voice. "I thought the bit about recognising grindylows was a bit too easy for an exam, you know?"

"I thought it was quite difficult!" Exclaimed another of the girls, her eyes looking a bit fearful. "I hardly remember anything at all about grindylows; we haven't studied those since third year!"

"You would have known had you studied before the exam, Phoebe," said Lily coolly, causing a blush to rise in her friend's cheeks. "You could have joined Sev and I in the library." This caused a bit of giggling among Lily's friends. Snape felt his cheeks burn a bit; this always happened when he visited this memory.

"Oho, so you and Snape were together in the library, were you?" Asked another of her friends, this one rather tall and lanky with a mass of blonde curls. "The two of you get cozy?" She smirked, a knowing gleam in her eye, and the other girls giggled again.

Lily was blushing furiously, her face as red as her hair. "No, of course not, you know Sev and I are just friends." Snape's heart sank. No matter how many times he had heard this, it broke his heart over and over again. Just friends. So there had never been any hope anyway. Regardless, Snape continued on with them, listening as they laughed and joked together. They all sat in a circle under a tree, not too far off from where Potter and his goons were sitting. Snape remained standing, and from a distance he could see his younger self, nose still buried in his examination questions. In just a few moments he was going to suffer the humiliation of being tormented by James Potter.

In the meantime, though, he continued to bask in Lily's presence, wishing with all might that he could change things for the better.

That's when he heard the laughter. He and the girl called Phoebe looked around, although Snape already knew what he'd see. His fifteen-year-old self was lying in a heap on the ground in front of Potter in his friends while several people watched.

"Oy, Lily," said the blonde girl, "looks like your friend's getting made a fool of over there." Lily's head whirled around and her mouth fell open at the young Snape.

"Potter," she said, and Snape was glad to hear the familiar note of disgust in her voice. She stood and ran over, and Snape followed, dreading what was to come. When they arrived at the scene, Young-Snape was on the ground, choking on pink soap bubbles that were covering his mouth, obstructing his airway. Snape didn't feel the old humiliation or pity that used to burn when he looked back on this memory; at this point he only felt a surge of self-loathing.

"Leave him ALONE!"

"Alright, Evans?"

"Leave him alone. What's he done to you?"

Snape eyed his former self, who was beginning to recover from the bubble attack. "Thank her, you idiot!" He snarled, speaking for the first time. "Don't just sit there...look at her! She's helping you!"

His mind didn't register Potter's reply of "Well, it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean." Lily continued arguing with Potter, but at this point Snape wasn't paying either of them much mind. Now, his attention was directed entirely at the younger Snape as the impediment jinx he had been hit with earlier was wearing off. Snape moved frantically around the boy as he reached for his wand.

"Never mind Potter!" Snape cried to himself, his voice growing more and more desperate. "Forget him! Leave it alone!" However, there was no use, although this didn't seem to register in Snape's mind anymore.

He watched as his younger self grabbed for his wand and directed it at Potter. Immediately, a gash appeared on Potter's handsome face, blood spattering everywhere. A second later, Young-Snape was dangling upside down in midair

"Let him down!" Roared Lily, and Snape couldn't help feel a rush of love and gratitude toward her for how she still seemed to care-but not for long. Young-Snape fell to the ground, reached for his wand and prepared to hex Potter, but not before Sirius Black aimed his own wand and shouted, "Petrificus Totalus!" Young-Snape fell again, completely stiff.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Snape was staring wide-eyed, gaze going back and forth from Lily to Young-Snape. He knew what was coming, expected it, begged for it not to happen. Potter took the curse off of the boy in front of him.

Snape was beyond desperation now as he looked at himself, wanting more than anything to grab his robes and shake him. "Don't say it!" Snape begged. "Don't say it! Please, think about what you're about to say-please!"

"There you go," Potter said begrudgingly, "you're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus-"

"DON'T!" Snape bellowed.

"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"

There. It was said. It was done. Snape groaned, covering his eyes with his hands, wanting more than anything to change it. He looked fearfully at Lily, and although she managed to play off the insult, he could read the hurt in her eyes as easily as any potions book.

"Fine," said Lily. "I won't bother in the future. And I'd wash my pants if I were you, Snivellus."

Her tone, icy cold, penetrated Snape, and he felt his eyes burn with the tears he wasn't willing to let fall. "APOLOGISE!" Snape screamed at the boy-him. "APOLOGISE TO HER! DON'T YOU REALISE WHAT YOU'VE DONE?" Even James Potter was telling him to apologise; why, why wasn't he listening? Now, Lily was walking away, a bit stiffly. Snape hurried after her, his long stride matching her quick pace.

"Lily, please," he begged. "Forgive me-I would never-you know I would never, Lily, please, forgive me!" She only kept walking, and now Snape was noticing her eyes, still as brilliant as they were before, now overflowing with large tears that fell down her fair cheeks. Snape wanted nothing more than to take her sadness into himself. She didn't deserve this, she was worth too much, and he felt the pain of knowing that he had caused all of this trouble like a stab in his chest.

"Lily," he said again, for repeating her name like a prayer made him feel as if this could all go away. They were nearing the castle now, and the memory wouldn't go on much further-indeed, the minute they were beyond the Great Hall, the memory would fade. "Lily, I promise you, I didn't mean it, I swear I didn't-forgive me, I beg of you-Lily-I love you!"

Perhaps he had been hoping that this would make her stop, that the Lily he once knew would acknowledge his presence and say she forgave him. It didn't matter that she didn't love him as he loved her, only that she allowed her grace to surround him once more. Lily was furiously wiping tears from her eyes, but as she did, the colour of her hair, eyes, and complexion lightened-she was fading away-Snape's arms reached out; he mad to collect her into his arms, but before he knew it he was back in the Headmaster's office, looking once more into the silver thoughts inside the Pensieve.

Breathing heavily, Snape collapsed into the chair behind the desk and hid his face in his arms. That had been the worst memory he'd ever relived-of course, what else was he to expect from the worst one of all?

He had been through every single one of his memories with Lily Evans, and they all ended up the same way for him: in loneliness, without her. His shoulders shook with repressed sobs. He would not cry. That was the last thing he was going to do, he told himself. Instead, with great effort, he sat up and opened one of the drawers. The only thing he had added to the office, as a personal touch, was the slightly faded wizard photograph that he kept with him at all times. It had, at one time, been a picture of Lily with James Potter, smiling and laughing together with their fingers interlocked. A pair of good, sharp scissors had taken care of that blemish in an otherwise perfect picture. Snape's fingers lovingly caressed the woman's laughing figure.

"Forgive me, Lily," Snape murmured. "I take it back."