I miss him. I miss him. Have I said that yet? Because I do. I miss him and it is awful and I cannot help myself.
“Snape’s an arse. He always was an arse.” Marlene says, throwing a Quaffle in the air and lying on my bed when we’re meant to be studying for charms. I grip my bedpost. Dorcas leans over and hits her.
“McKinnon, shut up.” She looks over at me, gently, like I am delicate. Easily startled. “You don’t need him, Lily. You have us.”
Only- now here is the worst part, the part I can’t ever tell anyone. Occasionally I think I would give them all up if only to have him back. Not how he is now but how he was before, when we were nine years old, on a swing, in a park, with the sun everywhere. That makes me awful. What he did makes me sick and I continue to miss him regardless.
“Lily, please” he hisses at me in potions, because has Slughorn partnered us up again, “I’ll do anything.” his voice cracks on the last word, and I almost give in right there. But then- the field, with everybody staring, wind blowing hair in my face, my heart a chutney in my chest. I set my jaw.