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.)
