The first time was on that first train ride. You walked out of your own carriage into mine, with her. I learnt later that you had met your future enemies. She had taken you out. Of course she was too much of a mudblood for me to notice her. And you were far too much of a half blood for me to acknowledge your presence. Which, of course, I didn't. I just sat in my corner in silence secretly wishing I had a friend like you did. Someone to laugh with and love like you did. Secretly wishing it was me you were smiling with.
The second time was when I saw the look on your face when she was sorted into Gryffindor and you into Slytherin. Was it disgust? Pain? Or just sheer disbelief? What was so bad about our house? Did you think you would never be happy without her?
The third time was when I realised I would always be your second best friend. That she would always be first. I was your house friend – to sit by in classes and in the common room. She was your best friend, the person you would seek out in your spare time. And when you were no longer friends, you simply had no best friend. I was always second.
The fourth time was when you asked me to go to Hogsmeade with you. I leapt at the offer. It was a date right? I had never been asked out before. But no. You were just wanting my advice. My advice on how to ask her out, and what to do with her on your date. And it was at that moment I realised I loved you. And that you loved her. And though I hated her for what she represented – for what I could never be in your life, my love for you was stronger, and I gave my advice freely. I gave it to the best of my ability. And it was only bitter sweet when you told me how wonderfully the date had gone.
The fifth time was when I saw you kiss her. And she kissed you back with the same eagerness. That's what comes from stalking people.
The sixth time was when you called her a mudblood. Seriously, I didn't see the harm in doing so. But that broke whatever friendship you had left with her. You were so upset. It hurt me. Seeing you upset. I tried to comfort you, but you were blind. You didn't see me.
The seventh time was when she got with Potter. You were distraught. This time you saw me when I comforted you. Or saw a part of me. You told me what a wonderful friend I was to you. How you really liked me. Do you really think I wanted to hear that? She was not for you. I was for you. But you didn't see me. Just as she no longer saw you.
The eighth time was at their wedding. Of course I was invited. Potter still held some pureblood tendencies, obviously. You were there too, though unseen. I could sense you. You watched the marriage procession with a stony demeanour and then drunk as much as you could handle. I went to you, and you took me home and made love to me. I lay with you in a blissful state, unbelieving that you had seen me at last. I ignored the fact you called me Lily. Until, the next morning when you were sober, you asked me politely and conversationally when, and to which pureblood, I was getting engaged to did I realise you felt nothing more for me than just a friend. Who wants to be friends?
The ninth time was when she was killed. Few saw your pain. How could they miss it? And though you remained with the death eaters – a spy but nonetheless an effective one – I was a traitor to you in your eyes. Because I was joined to the side which had killed her, through marriage. You conveniently forgot it was you who brought about her demise. You no longer talked to me, unless forced to make polite conversation when amongst my husband and the other death eaters.
The tenth time was when you gave yourself up for her son. I only heard about it later. You became a hero. I know you would have hated that. See? I knew you better than you did, or she. We would have been happy, if only you had looked my way. But you were too busy looking at Lily. Lily, who didn't see you.
A/N: Love it? I know... a bit depressing but... hey it was just itching to come out... Please review!!