The sound of death was a familiar bubbling laughter. Its face would have soft features and green eyes.

And its smile could soften the most cutting eyes, and its temper could lay any man in ruins.

I always knew my obsession with Lily Evans would be the death of me.

She was my only hope for getting through every summer: the fiery light in my pitiful existence.

Sometimes I wonder if I had ended it all of it wasn't for her. Because what else did I have to look forward to, if not for her beautiful smile directed at me? Smiling at me despite all my flaws and unworthiness.

I knew about the Houses at Hogwarts from my mother. She didn't like to talk about her school days or the school in general that much, but she did tell me how all the students were sorted into different houses.

Bravery. Intelligence. Loyalty. Cunning.

That day, I realised that the possibility was there: me and Lily could be separated. I dreaded the day of the sorting. The question nagging in the back of my mind the whole summer before my first year: were I and Lily too different? Was her fiery temper and my shallow acceptance too different?

The train ride, while being enjoyable and exciting, was also a constant reminder of our impeding destiny. It was always there. Eating a chocolate frog—where would she be sorted? Or maybe playing a muggle card game with her—could we get into the same house?

Gryffindor. She was became a Gryffindor.

Not long after, the messy-haired git we met on the train was sorted into the same house. But I knew that I would up with hundred James Potters if I only could stay with Lily.

I gritted my teeth.

The hat's lid obstructed my view of the Great Hall.

Hmm…

A sound echoed through the small space inside the hat. Like it was not just a hat, but a cathedral or an empty courtroom. My breath stopped that moment. How I froze in anticipation and dread...

You did what you had to survive. Although. I'm afraid you would never fit in in the house of your friend.

And a moment after before I could even process the words, it shouted out:

"Slytherin!"

It all happened so fast. A moment later, the Scottish woman—Mcgonagall—ushered me off the chair and another name was called upon. A moment later, I greeted the other Slytherins at the table. A moment later, and a moment too late.

I wondered what would have happened, if I had protested. Put up a bigger fight against the Sorting Hat's choice. Would it have taken my words into consideration?

But maybe if I had had the resolve to do that, my placement wouldn't have been a problem in the first place.

We still spent time together between our classes.

Despite us not having as many classes together as I would've liked to, it was all nice.

James Potter and the Gryffindor Black seemed to hate me, the Slytherins sneered at my name which they didn't recognize and all the other houses seemed to go in small circles around the Slytherins, which included me.

But I had Lily. My light and counsellor. My best and only friend.

She still smiled to me, despite the green rope of a tie hanging around my neck like a sleeping tiger, ready to strike and tear apart everything and everyone.

I assumed it would always go on like this. We'd meet up after our last classes to do homework together. She would laugh at my dry jokes and comfort me whenever I felt down. And I would smile patiently as she rambled on about whatever which was on her mind. I would watch as her green eyes would light up as I explained the use of rare magical plants in potions. It would always be like that.

Then she started speaking to James Potter.

The messy-haired insufferably popular git who always tried to humiliate me. Just because Lily spent more time with me than with him. As if that wasn't an easy choice. Who in the world possessing a single shred of intelligence would want to spend time with James Potter?

But then she did so.

It started in our 5th year. She stopped ignoring his ridiculous advances a bit. Replying to a comment and two. Smiling from time to time.

When I complained, she said that he was growing up. He wasn't the same person he before. I saw the same face as when the 11 year old arrogant boy stuck his head into our compartment 4 years ago. She told me people could change. I told her that maybe it was she who had changed.

Despite Potter, we were still friends. She still seemed to hate him as much as me, sometimes. But not always. Not like it used to be. Bitterly, I ground my teeth every time I saw them together. But I still had her. She still did homework with me every day after the classes were finished. It could still remain so.

But then the Slytherins started approaching me. I had been ignored for the most of my stay, unless one of them wanted help with their potion homework.

They asked if I wanted to join their "club".

I accepted.

Lily didn't like it. She asked why I spent time with the people who called her a mudblood. I asked why she spent time with the people who called me Snivellus and a greasy-haired vampire. Our bond were breaking. And didn't know what to do, as I saw it fall through my fingers like sand in an hourglass. Time ticked by. Every moment a bit too fast.

It was during the exam period the same year it broke. Like shattered glass, it fell down, cutting my skin open with a thousand emotional wounds.

Potter and his blasted gang hung me upside down. Lily defended me, as always. It was humiliating. Why didn't I see this coming? I could've defended myself! If they weren't such cowardly, arrogant shits… they could've held to their Gryffindor honour and fuelled me one on one!

And feeling ever so humiliated for having to rely on Lily for defending myself, I lashed out.

Mudblood.

Mudblood.

The word I swore I would never call her.

It all broke apart from there. Glass shattered. Blood streamed through my broken fingers. It was clear, red blood.

Why did I call her that?

No… no, no no No NO!

The whole world's apologies didn't make up for my unforgivable mistake. Yet my lips formed a silent "I'm sorry" as I saw her red hair blow in the wind. She walked away.

Standing at her grave with a bouquet of red lilies 10 years later, I didn't know what I regretted more: calling her a mudblood or delivering the prophecy to the Dark Lord.

Maybe the first, as I wouldn't have lost her in the first place. Maybe we would've still been friends.

Lily, my sweet, fiery, Lily.

How I missed her.

I placed the flowers down.

They shone brightly against the monotone colours of the gravestone. Just like Lily had brightened up my own life.