Disclaimer- Not mine unless you decide to buy Harry Potter for me.
A/N- Hello dear people! Unbetaed because I'm cool like that. And betaless, but no one needs to know that. Angst, blah blah blah, don't worry, I promise that I'll write something nice and funny for you.
First real fic with Snapey contemplation in it, hope ya like it.
Killing Curse Green
You know, I saw my mother suicide when I was seven years old. She told me that she would always love me, and that none of it was my fault. She put me in bed and thought that I was asleep. I was thinking about how she didn't smell right; she smelt of lilies instead of the warm vanilla that I loved, but the next thing I knew, I saw a flash of green and my mother was dead and gone.
But then I remember your eyes so clearly. It stood out more than anything about you, making all your other qualities fall into the shadows. They were killing curse green. That's why I hated looking at you. Hated remembering you, falling in love with you. You reminded me that it was my fault that my mother was dead, that it was my fault my father was driven crazy by grief and anger.
Everyone else thought that the only reason why I hated you was because I thought I was above you. In reality, I didn't care much about blood, as I was half blooded. But you eyes, they haunted me. They gave me nightmares, chills, and pangs of heavy guilt that made me want to retch.
Do you remember trying to be my friend? I couldn't stand it; I couldn't fathom a reason why you would want to be associated with me. But there were reasons why I couldn't accept a friendship from you. You were a Gryffindor for sakes. Then there were my friends, chanting, taunting, Mudblood, Mudblood. But perhaps most of all was that you made me fill up with guilt that I enjoyed spending time of you while I was supposed to feel sorrow.
It's ironic, you know? You were an angel. So perfect, so right, so incredibly amazing. And yet, your eyes, your killing curse green eyes, it represented death, sadness. You were an Angel of Death, I suppose.
And you name. You used something that made you smell like you namesake, which further reminded me of her suicide. Her, leaving me. You know, once I was in school, they made us brew some sort of stupid potion, and I had to do research on lilies. I had haunting memories after that, but I did discover some odd things. One such thing was that lilies meant for regrets to follow to the grave. Lilies, the symbol of death... I was always wondering, did she know what her scent meant? Or did she pick it on a whim, something chosen randomly? It scared me that she might have known that was going to be her last day on earth, her last day as a mother and her last day as a wife to an ignorant drunk of a husband.
I guess the reason why I'm here is to say that my regrets will follow me to my grave too. I regret never reaching out to grasp your hand that was so readily open to me. I regret not being there, saving you from him. And I assume that I'm here to confess... I gave him the information to put you in danger. It's my fault that you're dead instead of staying with your son.
Lily, dear Lily... My regrets will follow me to the grave, which I'm afraid will not be too far off. Just remember that I am so very sorry, and while it may be impossible to think of me kindly, please don't think so badly of me.
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