PROLOGUE 1

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The flames danced to a slow, hypnotizing song as they chewed away the wood, turning it into ash. I don’t know exactly how long I’ve been here, staring into the fire, but I really don’t care at this point.

I feel like I’ve lost a huge part of me, like I’ve lost an arm or leg. And nothing is going to change that feeling.

It’s been a month, and the wound is still raw and fresh as ever in my mind. It hurts to know that what we had once is now gone. All because of one word, one choice.

I know that Dumbledore always says that it’s the choices we make that set us apart. But I hate the fact that we are forced to make a choice and take a side. If only he hadn’t been in Slytherin, if only he hadn’t been into the Dark Arts, if only he wasn’t taking that side, if only he didn’t call me that word.

I’ve always known that our friendship was one to be tested time and time again. It wasn’t easy. We both knew that the moment I was sorted into Gryffindor and he was in Slytherin. But I tried to make it work. No one understood me, why I’d be friends with a Slytherin, of all people. At first, I thought they were being completely prejudiced. But slowly, even I noticed how Slytherins treated everyone else: muggle-borns, blood-traitors, half-bloods. It wasn’t pretty. But as long as he wasn’t a part of this, I decided to be his friend.

But that day, by the lake, he proved to me that all my reasoning, all my efforts to keep our friendship alive, were useless.

All because of one word.

I know it was a provoked response, but that day, he opened my eyes to the fact that our friendship forced him to be civil to me and not bring out the obvious prejudices towards me. But everyone else of my birth was scum, to him and his friends. He never did anything to stop them. He never did anything to get out.

Sometimes I tell myself that he was forced to take that side. But I know that deep down he wanted to make that choice. Because I’ve always made it clear that as long as he did the right thing, I would always be friends with him. Even if the inter-house prejudices came into the picture, even if anyone else objected. I told him that I’d always be there for him.

And he turned his back on that, on purpose. He chose them over me.

It hurts, to be completely honest. I mean, he was my best friend. When I was 10, he was the one who told me I was a witch. He was the one who opened the doors of that magical world to me. He was the one who took me Diagon Alley for the first time and helped me buy my school supplies. He was the one who comforted me when Petunia pushed me away. He was my first best friend.

And it’s so hard to imagine everything without him.

But I have to. I don’t think that I can ever forgive him. This was the last straw. I’ve tried and I’ve tried to tell my friends how he’s different, how he wasn’t evil like the rest of them, but I guess I was wrong.

No matter what angle I look at it, I can’t forgive him.

I can’t blame James bloody Potter because even though it is partially his fault for annoying Sev-Snape, he never made Snape say that word.

I can’t blame anyone, but him. I tried helping him, I defended that bloody twat, and he pushed me away.

And now look at me.

I can’t even look near him without feeling like I got punched in the gut. It’s been a month, and I still stay up at night, staring into the fire, wondering where we went wrong. It’s been a month and I still lock myself away from my friends.

I spend every waking moment holed up in the library until I get kicked out. I finish the week’s homework in the first two days and I end up reading a few weeks ahead of the class. I don’t walk with them every evening, I’ve stopped going to Quidditch games, and I’ve stopped talking to everyone during lunch and dinner. I eat in 5 minutes and rush to the library or shower.

I don’t know what I’m doing to myself. I really don’t. I wish I could just get over this.

But I can’t.

I hate this part right here, where it kills me to not forgive him whenever he looks my way and silently apologizes and begs me to let things be the way they were. I know that we can never have what we had.

I’m already gone.

I know I’m going to take more time to heal from this.

I don’t want to think about it, but I’m dreading this summer.

Without him, I won’t have anyone to tell my problems with my sister to.

Alice is a darling, but she’s head over heels in love with Frank, and even though she is patient and understanding, I never really feel like talking about Petunia with her. She’s so happy, blissful, with Frank that I hate to feel like I’m the one who is “killing her buzz”.

And then there’s Aisha. She’s the crazy female version of Sirius Black. And as sweet and caring as she is, I can’t bring myself to talk about Petunia with her either, because I end up sounding like a complete berk that keeps whining.

Snape was always my constant. We both would talk about family problems: me about my sister, and he about his family.

We would walk around for hours every night in summer, just talking about every single thing we could think of.

And now, we wouldn’t do that.

No more long walks, wondering about what the future had in store. No more talks about family issues that we couldn’t tell anyone else. No more laughing about inside jokes, just between us.

Nothing.

I guess life is like that sometimes. Unfair, unpredictable.

I looked at the time: it was around two in the morning.

I dragged my feet up the stairs into my four poster bed, and sighed.

I’ve just lost a friend, one of my best.