He'd never wanted to lose her.
He knew as soon as he did, he would never get her again.
That's probably why he'd spent so much time trying to make sure she was still his. Well, she was never really his. Not in that way. Not in the way that mattered. And not from lack of effort either. She was just very oblivious to that, it seems. But that was her only fault. That and, well, being a Gryffindor. Nothing else.
He knew as soon as he saw her that something bad would happen.
To be fair, something bad was already happening. He had already been mad and was in the process of being beaten (mostly figuratively) by the stupid Marauders. She'd come up running, hair flying, anger evident on her face. She looked absolutely beautiful, but he hadn't been able to admire it. Maybe if he had, none of it would have happened.
But he was distracted and he was mad and he let it happen. He didn't know what he would later be willing to give to stop and admire her then. He didn't really think of anything; the anger overriding any logic.
She distracted Potter, not for long, but for long enough. He managed to send a sectumsempra at him. It cut open the stupid prat's cheek, a relatively small injury when you thought about what he deserved.
He knew he'd pay for that and, surely enough, he found himself upside down. She protests, insisting they let him go. Potter, of course, listened to her as only a stupid, besotted git would listen to the object of their infatuation. Potter only thought of her as an object. He was the one that knew how much more she really meant, how much more she was worth.
Potter definitely didn't deserve her, yet he still had the nerve to ask her out.
She looked even more beautiful as she denied him. Not that he noticed, of course. He was still trying to get things together enough to fight back. Yet, she keeps sticking up for him, making him look like an idiot. Thank Merlin his friends aren't out here watching the only thing stopping him from being completely overtaken by them be a Mudblood.
He can't help it. He knows how the others will feel about him if they find out. Potter is taunting him, telling him he was lucky she was there to save him. It just slips out of his mouth.
"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!" He doesn't even say it to her, he says it to Potter. Yet she hears it and it's the realization of all her fears. All those conversations they had, all the time they spent together, everything disappears with that one little word. He knows she warned him against this. He knows it's the one thing she asked of him. Yet, he was incapable of stopping himself.
As soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows he's messed up. Her expression immediately changes, immediately turns against him. He watches her realize there's no point to her efforts, that she's been wasting her time. He watches all of this, convinced she's realizing how powerless he is. Because that's all that matters, right? How much power someone has? And he has none. It's evident by this simple encounter. So, as she slips away from him in those horrendously long moments, as she makes up her mind, he comes to the conclusion that might have been correct if she had been a Slytherin. But she's not.
Had he lost her then? The moment it became clear that she wasn't?
"Fine." she says, "Then I won't bother in the future."
No. He hadn't lost her then. He was losing her now. It's not possible to lose someone if you've already lost them. She makes some snide remark about washing his pants, fueling Potter's malice towards him and walks away. The only part of her comment that registers is the end. The moment when she calls him 'Snivellus'. Not Sev, not Severus, not even Snape. Snivellus. That's when he knows the thread has snapped.
That's all it takes: a snide remark, a turn, and a few footsteps, and everything he had is gone. His only friend. The love of his life (not that she knew it). Everything he wanted. Gone. In just a few footsteps.
Just a few footsteps was all it took for him to stop fighting. He stopped caring about the bloody Marauders. He stopped caring about what they did to him. What's the point, he thought, of fighting against them if he can't even stop himself from losing his only friend?
He'd lost her.
Of course, he tried to get her back. He did everything he could. But she wouldn't have it. That one word had been too much. She'd fought against that word, fought against losing him, but, as they say, it takes two to tango. She couldn't continue this never ending dance, this never ending fight of saving him if he didn't want to be saved. So she let him go.
And he lost her.
A/N: Woah, really long unexpected hiatus much? Sorry!
This is a seven part story. I will (unless something major comes up) post one every day for a week.