He still hated himself for it.

He thought about it constantly, the word floating in his mind like pond scum. He had ruined it all, and he couldn't blame anyone for it.

He couldn't place the entire fault on Potter or Black - they didn't control what he said. It was purely him, and he regret it so much that it hurt inside.

With that one word, he had lost his best friend, the one person who kept him the slightest bit connected on the side of good. Over two years, he couldn't move on... He wouldn't move on.

But she did. She became head girl, dated and married Potter, had a baby, fought valiantly. And when she died, he suddenly was there, stepping over Potter's dead body downstairs and cradleing her in his arms, her baby confused, as if his parents would just jump up off the floor, as if they had been playing a game.

But they didn't rise, and he started to wail. And that is when he rose, looked down at her body for the final time, and fled into the shadows. More than anything, he wished he could have stayed, protected the last living piece of her.

And in the dark of a willow tree, far away from Godric's Hollow, he sent a prayer for them. He couldn't have done what Potter had did for her. He had never deserved her.

And it was all his fault.

.

Not much to say. I hope you enjoyed reading!