Hi guys! I'm an avid fan of Lily and Snape, but have long wanted to write about the end of their friendship. This is a rather emotional piece, but I hope you'll enjoy it in-spite of its dark tone. Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Wait, yes I do, it's sitting right there on my shelf...

The portrait slams closed, isolating me from the one person whom I had believed would be my friend for always. I feel utterly enraged with the fresh knowledge that "always" has an expiration date. The silence is too loud, too painful to bear. It only makes me remember Lily's expression of fiery anger—hatred, even—when we spoke only moments ago.

Why did I have to call her a mudblood? Something must not be right with me; I must have some sort of crooked soul to have called Lily Evans something so filthy and inapt!

I give a sigh that's almost a groan and brush my hand over my eyes, fighting to forget the events of the day. The Slytherin side of me is intoxicated with morbid satisfaction. Now I have proved myself. Now, no one will question the Sorting Hat's choice. I should feel satisfied, not as though my heart is being ripped in two.

Finding stillness to be too unbearable, I stride hopelessly down the corridor, the stone walls passing in dizzying repetition.

"Oi, Snivelus!"

I look around sharply and see James Potter smirking at me with disgusting satisfaction.

"Did you and Evans just have a row?"

The blinding fury erases all else from existence. "Shut up!" I roar at James, relishing the expression of shock that crosses his face. "Shut your mouth, Potter!"

He eyes me, his smirk returning. "I believe Evans won't be wasting her time in the future with filthy rubbish like you, Snivelus. You've showed your true colors, and they're as ugly as you are."

Strangely, these harsh words do little to discourage me. I glare fiercely at James. "Her name is Lily."

"Yeah," says James, fingering his wand. "I think we've established that."

But he knows exactly what I'm referring to; the fact that I'm the only one at Hogwarts who doesn't call Lily by her surname. That that used to make be different, special somehow.

All I know is that I wish desperately that Lily would look at me the way she used to; with trust and care. All that has vanished, vanished, as I subconsciously knew it would— because I'm not enough for Lily. I never was, never will be. And it is this that persuades me to slink off with death eaters and other dark scum.

As I stand here in the hall, alone and aching and angry, I swear to God I don't believe I'll ever be enough for anyone on this earth.

It's simple. I can't give what I have never received.

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-Spark Writer-