Disclaimer: I neither own any of these characters nor the plotline! It's all J.K. Rowling's. She really is a twenty-first century genius, like Stephen King, Dan Brown, and others, of course :) I'm doing this story from Snape's point of view. I thought it'd be so much more romantic and sensual…but needless to say, I think I have failed miserably. :O

And I'm warning you now, this is a major spoiler for those of you who haven't read the final book yet! This story is based on almost a whole chapter of the book, which explains to us about Dumbledore's unwavering trust in Severus Snape. (My story doesn't explain that little part though). And incidentally, the chapter happened to be my favorite out of the whole book. I couldn't stop myself from rereading it again and again. It's called The Prince's Tale.

Well, here goes. (This time it's edited and reposted.)

My whole life is ruined. The only one I had ever loved is now gone forever, taking my heart with her. She had died at the hands of the Dark Lord, the one who used to be my master. Many times I have seen her snatched from me, ever since we were young children. I remember the time when she had discovered her magic and used it without knowing what it was. I had loved her before this, but her sister had had the greater influence over her. Watching her throughout the years of Hogwarts, how we grew more and more distant, how she finally sundered herself from me. I watched her in her final year, how she agreed to be with Potter. Potter, my arch enemy, had so triumphantly won her love, while I, a simple man who lacked all the arrogance that Potter was so proud of, looked on. It was but a simple mistake that had cost me her love.

Severus Snape was kneeling in Sirius Black's bedroom in number 12 Grimmauld Place, looking at Lily's torn letter and the picture with her, her son, and Pott—that arrogant jerk. The bittersweet memories were running inside his head, memories that stood out so vividly. Her sweet, beautiful face, the face of the girl who had been his until Potter took over. Although it had been many years, the pain of the heartbreak was still there. It took control and Snape willingly retreated to the depths of his mind, no longer feeling the pain…

They were young children. She and her sister would often wander around many places to play. I would always conceal myself behind bushes, never noticed by anyone unless I decided to let my presence be known. She listens to almost everything that unworthy sister of hers tells her to do—to stop doing this (magic), to stop doing that—yet that filthy hypocrite asks her seconds later how she does it. I gave a silent snort of contempt. How could she, a common little Muggle, hope to compete with a witch-to-be? At that moment, I decided the time was right. Jumping out from behind the bushes, I revealed to her what she was. I guess the Muggles' definition for 'witch' must have been offensive, because she looked at me as if I had just slapped her. Her sister lost no time in degrading me. She accuses me of spying; I denied it, calling her a simple Muggle. Taking offense, she and her sister leave. I was confused...what had I done? I had just stopped her from meddling into other people's business, that was all. How do girls' minds work? I couldn't help but to feel a great disappointment well up inside of me…I had failed once, but another plan was already forming inside of my brain.

A short period of time later…

Oh, Lord, she looked so sweet and innocent laying there. I couldn't stop staring at her. She had many questionsthose concerning Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic, and magic itself. I answered her patiently, for I would do anything in the world for her. As long as she was mine. Finally, she utters what I have been longing to hear for so long…she finally says my name. And for once, I do not resent the word "Severus". I smile to myself, thinking that maybe there just might be a chance between us. But her conniving sister comes and ruins the moment for me…how she dared to embarrass me, how she dared to insult me; she, a filthy, dirt-veined Muggle, insult me, a wizard who would have had pure blood had not my mother married that sorry excuse for a man I call Father; a father from whom I have never learned love from.

Snape snapped back to the present just to look at the picture again. It would have been perfect had it not been marred by the two males present…the ones who were not worthy of her love. Jealousy tore his heart. How that Potter boy dare…he had stolen Lily from him, Severus Snape, and yet they were still united, even in death. Slowly he lifted his eyes from her smiling face and looked away. He could not bear it; her happiness was like a knife that tore his heart even more.

She was sitting all by herself in a compartment, not paying attention to anything, staring out the window, yet her eyes were unfocused and blurry, along with flowing tears. I enter the compartment and try comforting her…until one of the boys regarded me with dislike, as if I had insulted him to his face. He, along with his pathetic friend, mocked me in front of Lily. Despite my hate and anger I could not help but to wonder why is it that I am always made a fool of whenever I happened to be in Lily's company. It was embarrassing and highly disconcerting.

This was the very boy that had stolen his only love, Snape reflected, the very same boy and his friend whom Lily Evans had once hated but presented a change of heart to in their later years in school. Potter and Black. The arrogant boy with the inflated head and the cowardly Animagus who hid in his own house while everyone else was off risking their necks. He looked out the bedroom window. Even the sunny day seemed to mock him now.

I watched as she tremulously sat on the stool, waiting nervously yet impatiently and eagerly to be Sorted, waiting for the hat to decide upon her fate. I felt the same way, my heart in my mouth. Suppose she would end up somewhere else…? As the hat opened its mouth and shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" I felt a sudden pang of misery and loneliness. Always I had felt important in her presence; I, the one whom she used to turn to when she wanted something about the wizarding world answered. Now…she was off. She would go her own way and turn to others when in need. No longer would she need me. She now had others. I felt a bout of depression take over…and suddenly wished that I too could be in Gryffindor, even if it meant that I had to endure the endless taunts of the two boys on the train. I would have given anything

Several years have passed

It has been five years since our Sorting. Lily and I have grown distant, much to my distress. Her beauty grows every day. She was now so popular…while I, on the other hand, hang around with those who terrorize others and have earned themselves a bad reputation. Even conversations between us were now rare. It seems lately that she sees me the same way everyone sees Avery and Mulciber, among others—as bullies, nothing else. However, she even went as far as to defend Potter in front of me, even as much as she hated him. Yet, I found immense relief when she called him "an arrogant toerag". However, if she can defend him, this means that times are changing quickly.

Snape again snapped back to the present, his tears sliding down his face, dripping to the floor. Starting from that moment, she had not needed him anymore. Not that she ever had. However, that was just a simple rebuking remark compared to what happened next.

The torturous memory of that day is still enough to make me hate Potter forever, no matter how many times he may have redeemed himself. I could stand his insults and taunts, even welcomed them, as long as they made Lily see him and his friends as the jerks they were. Yet, on this day, he humiliated me in front of almost the whole school, and yet again, in front of Lily. I would have rather endured the whole process without her noticing rather than to have her come to my rescue, noting, along with the rest of the school, how embarrassing I looked. The moment I heard her voice, I felt an unreasonable anger flare inside of me. No longer would I be made a fool of in front of her. My pride surged up inside of me, and due to my conflicting feelings I yelled that unforgivable, harsh word in front of all the onlookers: Mudblood. The look on her face was enough to break my heart, enough to make me wish I had never known that word and utter it. After giving me a look that was worse than a death glare, she left contemptuously. My heart shattered into a million pieces, knowing that that was the final straw; I could not take back those words now and no amount of apologizing could make her forgive me.

Later that day:

It was nighttime. I was standing in front of the portrait hole, my words prepared and imploring silently to myself that she would come out. I felt as if I would do anything to have her talk to me again, even to treat me as if I were not part of the wall. The portrait hole opened and she came out, and a huge wave of relief swept over me, yet was instantly dispelled upon seeing the look on her face. It was as I had feared; I had gone one step too far this time, and there was no turning back. In that instant I hated myself even more than I had ever hated Potter. She had only been trying to defend me from bullies, but I had cast her away in my shame and humiliation and even insulted her in turn. She refused my apologies and finally let out the truth: how she had been giving me chances again and again despite her friends' disgust and confusion, how she too was repulsed by my behavior and my aim to join the Dark Lord. I made no reply, because I knew it was true, and if I denied it, it would only make things worse. She finally said the words that I knew one day she would say: "I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen my way, I've chosen mine." With that, she left, and I knew from that moment on she and I would never have anything to do with each other again.

At least, not in her living self, Snape finished bitterly. His pallid face was now flushed from anger, depression, and something he couldn't place. He was angry at both Potter and at himself, although the feeling he now felt for himself was hate. Not only two years ago he had told Harry Potter to control his feelings and calm himself down during their Occlumency lessons, and now he finally understood why the junior Potter could not. Even he, Severus Snape, could not control his emotions at the age of fifteen. Yet, some of the blame of his and Lily's sundering had to lie on James Potter too, Snape thought vindictively. Had it not been for the constant bullying and his own inability to control his anger, everything might have been different. Lily might not have died, and he would not have had to end up like this, constantly watching over Dumbledore's naïve, favorite student, making sure he did not get killed, accidentally or otherwise. He himself might not even have been in the service of the Dark Lord. Yes, Potter had many doubts about the headmaster's trust in Severus Snape, but one day the boy would know…and understand.

Snape let the rest of his tears flow and cast a spell that would return his nose and eyes back to normal. He took one last contemptuous look at the portion of the picture that included the the two Potters—the father and the son. He ripped the photo cleanly and dropped that part to the ground without a second glance. Finally, after one last longing look at Lily Evans's smiling face, he tucked the picture into his pocket, along with the ripped part of the letter that contained her farewell, love, and signature.

With a last glance at the room around him, Snape left, feeling his heart break all over again. Finally, he whispered the three words he had been longing to say to her ever since their childhood:

"I love you."

Indeed, heartbreak was a mistress who claimed men for her own. Severus Snape was no exception.

A/N: No one would have ever thought that Snape could love, huh? But apparently J.K. Rowling's proven just the opposite. Yet no matter how improbable it seems, she's made it a point that anyone could love, except for Voldemort himself. Voldemort's one of the most accomplished wizards in the world and all that, but seriously, he has some love issues. Why is it that he never loves? He can be fond of something, even desire something, but never love. We can only guess, since J.K. Rowling's never revealed to us her answer. So how'd you guys like my piece of writing? Reviews would be appreciated. Thank you.