Severus Snape didn't see it as a significant moment, on that particular day.

But it was. He completely missed it – Lily had blindsided him, betrayed him, bamboozled him – and it took the demise of their friendship for him to realise it. But he loved her anyway.

Snape was in the owlery, on that fateful day. Hidden in the shadows, amongst the stray feathers and that pungent owl stench, trying to attach a message to one of the stupid bird's legs.

'Stop moving,' he hissed, between his teeth, and then he sensed movement in front of him, a tall figure, facing the large open window.

It wasn't hard to tell that it was James Potter – his tell-tale messy hair and lanky frame made him easy to distinguish in a crowd. But his hands were not rumpling his hair – one was covering his mouth, the other holding the letter he must have received.

Snape couldn't care less about Potter and his letter – he had just attached his own envelope to the quivering bird, scribbled Lucius Malfoy's name as the receiver, and was about to retreat down the stairs when he heard a voice. A familiar voice - low and husky and gentle and Severus stopped in his tracks.

'James?'

He stepped further back into the shadows, as he watched Lily Evans cross the owlery, feathers flying andbirds swooping, and stand next to Potter. Her hair, a coppery colour in the dim lighting, glinted as she tilted her head to look up at Potter's face.

Snape had yet to understand their relationship – they were friends, and he would often see them together, making jokes and laughing at each other. It seemed to be a fragile sort of friendship – or at least, Snape hoped so. And what was she doing, being friends with Potter? He was still the arrogant fool, obnoxious and unbearable.

'I – what you doing here?'

Snape hated the sound of his voice – often it was so loud and exuberant – it croaked now, a deep hollow sound – Snape found that he hated this voice just as much.

'I came to see if you were all right,' Lily answered. Her voice was steady, though he could hear the cracks. 'Are you – are you all right?'

Potter nod his head quickly, vigorously – watched as Lily took Potter's hand in her own, watched as Potter said, in a voice that wasn't so much broken as already broke – 'it's my dad – he's dead.'

The letter dropped to the floor – the git had covered his face with his hand, and his shoulders shook.

Snape looked on Lily started - shocked - put her arm around his shoulder and pull him to her chest. He noticed that she too was shaking slightly.

'James,' she said, so quietly that Snape struggled to hear it. 'It's okay that you're not okay. James. I am – so, so, sorry.'

Potter, the pathetic fool, was crying into the crook of her neck, and her other arm wrapped around his torso, so that she was embracing him, holding him to her. One hand was stroking his back, the other cradling his head to her chest.

'They – they didn't let me come home to see him – after the attack. I should have known – I should have expected it-'

Potter sounded distressed, his voice growing louder and more wretched, and Lily's voice became firmer too.

'No, James – God, it's – you didn't know what was going on – this is not your fault. I'm here, James. I'm here now.'

'Lily-'

She hushed him. 'I'm here, and I'm sorry. So sorry.'

And they remained like that, for minutes; and probably would've stayed there for hours – and Snape felt sick to his stomach, and turned on his heel and left the owlery, quickly and quietly as he had come.