A Poor Man's Memory

Title 'A Poor Man's Memory' is a song by Explosions In The Sky and is © them.

Part II: First and last

I never fell in love again after losing Lily. Although, I guess the term "losing her" isn't quite right, since we were never an item, but I can't help feeling that the world bereft me of her.

I once heard of a Muggle saying that went: "It is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all" and I am forced to disagree with it, as I myself have done just that - lost and loved. If I could erase all memory I have of her, I would, because it would've spared me from so much pain. There is especially one memory which I would gladly rid myself of, since it, still to this day, brings me great pain to think of.

I remember it so clearly it could've happened yesterday. I was back in Spinner's End over the summer holiday and this brought me both great pleasure and great discomfort. I was glad to be in a place where I could spend time with her without the disturbance of others, but at the same time I dreaded being back home with my parents. The Snape household was never a safe environment for me to grow up in and I guess I have my parents to blame for a lot of things, but that is for another story. The important thing is that I was back home and free to come knocking at her door any time I wanted. Her parents never thought much of me though; they saw me as an odd piece of work, much thanks to my inability to dress properly in Muggle clothes, I guess. Her sister seemed to really loathe me, but I think that had more to do with the fact that I was a wizard.

On one particularly stormy evening, my parents were having a terrible argument and, young and afraid as I was at the time, only fifteen years old, I fled the scene. I went out into the rain and the fierce wind and ran as fast as I could to her house. Her sister opened the door and when I asked if I could come in she merely looked with disgust at me and left the hallway. I took this as a yes, although a reluctant one, and stepped inside, water dripping from my clothes. I headed upstairs to her room and knocked carefully on her door. Her voice told me to enter and I did so.

There she was, dressed in a white sleeping gown, with her red hair in a tidy pony-tail. I blushed immediately and stared at the carpet, which I was dripping water all over, but she came up to me and asked what was the matter. She could tell from my miserable appearance that something was bothering me.

She forced me to remove my wet sweater and with huge red patches all over my face I took it off, revealing to her my pale, hairless chest. She said nothing, but went to hang it over the radiator, then picked up a blanket and wrapped it around my naked shoulders. I could feel the goosebumps rise all over my body as her hand brushed against my skin. We sat down on the floor, leaning our heads on the side of her bed as we had done so many times before.

I think perhaps we sat there a couple of hours, just talking. It felt so good knowing that no matter what state I was in when I came to her, I would always feel better when I went home. She could always find ways to comfort me. Even if she didn't do anything in particular, she always made me think of better things.

It wasn't until my clothes and my hair had dried entirely that we realized how late it was. We laughed at this and I remember thinking I wanted to spend a lifetime just listening to her laughter. We got up from the floor and she went to get my shirt from the radiator. I folded the blanket and put it on her bed, which was nicely made with forget-me-not blue covers. She walked up to me and stopped for a moment, looking at and feeling the fabric of my sweater. I watched her, wondering what she was thinking, and she looked up at me. I could feel her breathing on my chin. I placed a hand on my sweater, which she was still firmly holding, and felt her fingers touch mine. The room seemed to be spinning around us and I closed my eyes to prevent myself from becoming nauseas. It suddenly felt like I had a fever and I began to sweat. I remember her whispering. "Sev... look at me," and I opened my eyes. For a few seconds, which felt like an eternity, we just stood there, looking at each other. Then, without thinking, I placed a hand at the small of her back, drawing her a little closer, and she let go of my shirt and let it fall to the floor. Our lips began to travel in each other's direction, her left hand landed as an eagle on my neck and, for the very first and very last time, I felt her lips brush briefly against mine.

There was no actual kiss, just the two of us breathing heavily into each other's mouths. Thinking back at it, it seemed as though she was trying hard to prevent herself from doing something more. I myself seemed to have frozen, terrified of what I was doing. We both closed our eyes and breathed for a moment. And then I said it. For the very first and the very last time.

"I love you."

In an instant, she had drawn herself out of my arms and I wanted to yell to her to come back, but didn't. She turned her back on me and quivered. I stood nailed to the floor and watched her, feeling the tears burn behind my eyes, unsure of what I had done wrong. Without turning to look at me, she said that she couldn't. I stared at her back, unable to move, as she continued to speak. She was crying and the words came few at a time. She said that she wasn't ready for a relationship. She said that there were too many things going on in her life. She said that she just wanted to have me as a friend.

I leaned down to pick up my shirt. She was still facing away from me and I wanted to say something. But since I couldn't think of anything to say, I turned to the door and left. As I headed down the stairs in a rush, I could hear her sobbing increase, but I shut it out and ran out into the rain once more.

I ran to a nearby park and sat underneath a large, old tree, my face and my body wet yet again from the rain. I didn't mind, though, because the rain made my tears invisible. If anyone would have seen me there, they just would've seen a fifteen-year-old boy sitting with his arms around his knees, looking desperately up at the sky.