Lily

Sev is staring again.

Severus, I mean. Or maybe Snape - that's what my friends call him; why shouldn't I as well? It's not like the two of us are friends anymore.

But my brain still produces "Sev" by default. Force of habit, I guess.

I wish he wouldn't stare. I don't much like thinking about him. Sometimes I get nostalgic, and it's hard, on those days, to keep myself from reaching back out to him.

But I mustn't let myself. He's not the person he used to be. Hasn't been, not for a long time. He's made his choices, and they're not ones I can abide. No matter how much I might miss that young kid who first introduced me to magic, all those years ago.

I scowl at him, hoping he'll turn away. Relief washes through me when he does.

(And regret, always a tinge of regret.)